Voyage to Italy (Viaggio in Italia) 1953 **

Ingrid Bergman’s “shocking” affair with Italian director Roberto Rossellini was very unfortunate. It wasn’t harmful because they were both married to other people, or that he ran off with another woman seven years after they were married.  No, what was unequivocally catastrophic about their affair was that it caused Bergman’s banishment from the American film industry because by playing a nun in The Bells of St. Mary’s (1945) and Joan of Arc (1948) it was believed that she should have behaved differently than every other actress in Hollywood. No one was calling Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn, or Joan Crawford out on the floor of the U.S. Senate for immorality. And, so at the ripe old age of 34, and at the height of her acting career, she was banished to Italy to make five forgettable films with Rossellini (Stromboli, Europa ‘51, Voyage to Italy, Fear, and Joan of Arc).  Thankfully, French director Jean Renoir saved her from obscurity by giving her the lead in his fun-loving Elena and Her Men (1956) and 20th Century Fox and director Anatole Litvak brought her back to the States to star in Anastasia (1956), in a role that would win her her second Best Actress Oscar. Oh, but the films she made with Rossellini between 1950-1954… One being today’s entry, Voyage to Italy (Viaggio in Italia).

For years the Italian-language version of Rossellini’s Voyage to Italy was nowhere to be seen (or heard) in the U.S., and  it was originally shown in English. However, quite recently Turner Classic Movies aired the film in its original form (in Italian). Loosely based on Colette’s novel, Duo, the story follows an English couple on their trip to Naples to sell an estate that they’ve recently inherited.  Married for more than eight years, Alex (George Sanders) and Katharine Joyce (Bergman) quickly realize on their Italian voyage that they don’t really know anything about one another, and what they do know they don’t seem to like.  He’s a workaholic and she’s an artistic type.  While she’s off visiting museums, the Acropolis, and the catacombs, he’s off licking his wounds and looking for a conquest because she happened to mention an old admirer of hers.  I can see why he might be jealous, as Katharine is years younger than him and much more attractive as well, but to get irked because his wife mentions an old admirer who happens to be dead is a bit of a stretch. Anyway, the couple seem to be on the verge of divorce when divine intervention steps in to save the day.

Did I like Voyage to Italy?  Not particularly, but I didn’t dislike it, either. A movie starring Ingrid Bergman would have to be God-awful for me to truly hate it because she’s such a good actress.  Still, she doesn’t get to do a lot of acting in this—she spends most of her time combing the cultural sites and either looking horrified or mesmerized by what she sees.  However, the few caustic, but semi-polite, exchanges she has with her worthless husband are entertaining to watch.  Sanders, for his part, looks particularly bored throughout the picture. I’m not sure if this was intentional, as Alex was bored by Italy and probably Joyce as well, but Sanders didn’t seem particularly happy at any point in the movie—he despised the way Rossellini “directed” it. 

I’m pretty sure that most of the production was shot on location, and in that sense, at least, it has at least one element of Italian neorealism (however, that particular film period ended in 1952). As such, there is an authentic feel to Voyage to Italy—even if its ending is far from realistic. The fact that Rossellini features the Naples’ National Museum of Archaeology, Duomo Cathedral, hypogea (underground tombs) and, of course, Vesuvius and the ruins of Pompeii makes the film much more enjoyable for me.  You see, I don’t necessarily agree with Francois Truffaut’s assessment that it’s a masterpiece or that it should be labeled as the first modern film—if you are unfamiliar with the French New Wave, here’s a quick history lesson: Truffaut, Godard, and the rest of the Cashiers du Cinema worshiped Voyage to Italy and, as The Guardian has pointed out, saw the film as “the moment when poetic cinema grew up and became indisputably modern”. 

Other than the sights explored by Katharine, the most interesting thing about Voyage to Italy is the climatic staging of the would-be destruction of the Joyce’s marriage.  The couple, rather Alex, matter-of-factly comes to the conclusion that they should get a divorce as they are exploring the ruins of Pompeii.  Perhaps the symbolic correlations between the ruins of a civilization and a marriage is a tad heavy-handed, but nonetheless it was cleverly done.  Still, I’m not exactly sure if this was planned, as most of the movie was shot without a script and Rossellini created most of his “brilliance” haphazardly. 

The absolute worst thing about Voyage to Italy is the ending.  I won’t spoil it for those who haven’t seen it, but I can tell you that it has a symbolic staging as well.  Trite is the word that best describes what I think of the ending.  Which, of course, lessens the overall appeal of the movie for me.

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Tokyo Story (1953) **1/2

 

How can a film be so simplistic but also so elegant?  This is the question you ask yourself after watching director Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953). Everything about this nuanced Japanese film seems so natural: the acting, the cinematography, and the story.  For Ozu there is no climatic conclusion—only a slight transition to the next stage, whatever that may be (the audience is left to decide). Whenever I watch Ozu’s work I feel as though I have spent a few hours maneuvering along the philosophical realm of his (and my) mind.  As such, I have never been disappointed by any of his movies—as a matter of fact, I have found most of them quite delightful (if not slightly depressing, too).

The story is about an elderly couple’s (Chishu Ryu and Chieko Higashiyama) decision to take a trip to Tokyo to visit their far from home adult children.  They obviously have a good relationship with their youngest daughter, Kyoko (Kyoko Kagawa), who still lives at home, so you expect this will be the case with their other three children.  Yet, once they arrive in Tokyo and start being shuffled from one place to the next you realize, as they do, that their adult children are too busy with their own lives to truly embrace the fact that this might be the last time they see their parents alive.

Their oldest son, Koichi (So Yamamura), is a doctor who obviously doesn’t spend much time with his wife and two sons.  His oldest son is disrespectful and outright rude to both his parents—a sure sign that something is amiss regarding filial piety (a tenet of Confucianism). While Koichi may seem preoccupied with his patients, at least he is respectful towards his parents, which is more than I can say about their oldest daughter, Shige (Haruko Sugimura).  Confucius would have had a stroke if he heard some of the things Shige says to her parents. Plus, she’s exceedingly cheap—always worrying about how much their visit it costing her. 

I expect the only true student of Confucianism that they visit is their widowed daughter-in-law, Noriko (Setsuko Hara). In Confucianism there is something called Ren. In this a person attempts to achieve a peaceful existence by being altruistic, which in turn, leaves everyone they encounter with a good feeling. Noriko exudes Ren, and you adore her for it.  As a single woman, she has the least amount of money and comfort of the three children the couple visit. Yet, she is more than happy to take time off work and spend time and money on them.  For her it is an honor to be in their presence—something that cannot be said of Koichi and Shige. 

On their way back home they briefly visit their youngest son, Keizo (Shiro Osaka), when the mother becomes ill.  Keizo is fond of saying, “No one can serve their parents beyond the grave,” but he, like his other siblings, is not an adherent of Confucianism. When it become clear that their mother is going to die it appears that even this is an inconvenience to her children.  Again, it is Noriko who is asked to make sacrifices so that the others can carry on with their own lives.  The pivotal moment in the film comes when Kyoko is so outraged by her sister and brothers behavior that she tells Noriko how disgusted she is. In a calm, peaceful manner Noriko explains the bitter truths of life.  Upon these revelations, Kyoko asks, “Isn’t life disappointing?” Noriko’s simple answer, “Yes, it is.”  Ah, Ozu, I love you! 

Cinematographer Atsuta Yuharu didn’t really have to work very hard on setting up complicated camera shots.  Heck, there was only one tracking shot in the entire film.  Ozu was a fan of a low, static camera. His tatami shot style found the camera at a very low height (often below his characters’ eye levels), usually about one or two feet off the ground.  He wanted the viewer to feel as though they were in the middle of his scenes, which created an intimate relationship between the viewer and the story.  This is probably why his films seem so personal. 

As for the acting, with any Ozu film it must be naturalistic.  There is no place for histrionics in an Ozu story.  While I despised her character, Haruko Sugimura deserves to be recognized for playing Shige so well.  She delivers her lines with both malice and obliviousness, and does a fine job of employing facial expressions.  Of course, the star of the picture is Setsuko Hara. Ozu had a habit of using the some stock actors, and Hara was a particular favorite.  While she was noted for her flawless beauty, it was her ability to touch the hearts of viewers with her light and refined acting style that most endeared her to moviegoers. 

Overall, I enjoyed Tokyo Story. Ozu and I both enjoy philosophizing on the effects society has on the familial unit.  Still, the film is a tad too long and drags in a few places.  Nonetheless, this is an excellent representation of the artistic style and vision of one of the greatest directors in Japanese cinema. 

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Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) ***

In January 1953 President Truman announced that the United States had developed a hydrogen bomb. Later that same year, 20th Century Fox released its own double-barreled bombshell, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, starring Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe.  Christmas had obviously come early for men across America.

Based on the 1925 Anita Loos novel, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes: The Illuminating Diary of a Professional Lady, and the 1949 stage musical starring Carol Channing (really!), this Howard Hawks directed film is as raunchy as a musical could possibly be in 1953.  Start with the risqué costumes, then gasp at the double-entendre laced dialogue, and finally delight in the outrageous song lyrics and choreography—it’s a cornucopia of hysterical crassness. 

Long before actresses were expected to weigh 95 lbs. women actually had curves in the movies.  Voluptuous is the best word to describe Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe—they had curves in all the right places.  Costume designer Travilla (read Christian Esquevin's article) did a spectacular job of showcasing the assets of his leading ladies.  From the very first scene, where the ladies sing “Just Two Little Girls from Little Rock” wearing red sequin gowns with slits up to the hinterlands and suicidal plunging necklines, you know this is a film about sex.  Even when they aren’t wearing their showgirl outfits their clothes are form-fitting and sexy.  Of course, the most iconic outfit is the dress that Monroe wears when she performs “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.” Often imitated (think Madonna) but never surpassed, Monroe looks sensational—and like she’s eaten a few meals in her life.  Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but I have often wondered if this dress was a metaphor for the female vagina (please cover the children’s eyes).  O’Keefe had her orchids, maybe Travilla had his pink silk gown with a huge bow on Monroe’s derriere?  Anyway, the first thing I think about whenever I see this movie is that all of the costumes are absolutely fabulous. 

This was certainly Charles Lederer’s best musical comedy screenplay.  It’s really a simple story about two showgirls looking for the right man. Lorelei Lee (Monroe) wants to marry a rich man (Tommy Noonan) to fulfill her lust for jewels—preferably diamonds—but she also wants love.  Dorothy Shaw (Russell) is a straight-talking gal who just wants an honest man.  When Lorelei’s man gets cold feet after his father threatens to cut him off, the ladies head off on a luxury liner to France. Along the way they meet the U.S. men’s Olympic team, a diamond mine owner (Charles Coburn), and a private detective (Elliott Reid).  When Lorelei gets caught with her hand in the jewelry box the girls find themselves down and out in Paris, and they have to begin performing again as showgirls. 

One of the best lines comes at the beginning of the film when one guys asks: “Say, suppose the ship hits an iceberg and sinks. Which one of them do you save from drowning?” and another guys answers, “Those girls couldn't drown.” Russell gets most of the best lines—she is playing opposite Monroe’s rather vapid character—but Monroe gets some zingers in too, such as when she responds to one of the Olympians who says he’s the only 4-letter man on the team with, “You should be ashamed to admit it.” No one played stupid as well as Monroe, and Russell always shined as a straight-shooting woman. 

So we have gorgeous costumes and witty dialogue and then we pair those two together with great musical numbers and we have a really good film.  Two songwriting teams (Leo Robin/Jule Styne and Hoagy Carmichael/Harold Adamson) were responsible for such memorable songs as: “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend”, “A Little Girl from Little Rock”, “When Love Goes Wrong”, and “Anyone Here for Love?”.  Of course, my favorite Monroe number is “Diamonds”.  The song itself is catchy:

A kiss may be grand, but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat.

Or help you at the automat.

Men grow cold as girls grow old, and we all lose our charm in the end.

But square-cut or pear-shaped, these rocks won't lost their shape.

Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

When you combine the set design and the choreography with such memorable lyrics it becomes musical magic.  While it is often overshadowed by Monroe’s “Diamonds” number, I find Russell’s “Anyone Here for Love?” production with the Olympic team highly entertaining.  The song is bawdy and Russell’s strutting amongst the inattentive athletes is overtly sexual, with such lyrics as:

 

I like big muscles

And red corpuscles

I like a beautiful hunk o' man

But I'm no physical culture fan

Ain't there anyone here for love, sweet love

Each song seems to be perfectly matched to the woman performing it.  As an extra treat, of course, we get to see Russell parody Monroe’s “Diamonds” number when she takes her place in court. 

Hollywood made some outstanding musicals in the 1950s (Singin’ in the Rain and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers being the finest), and I think Gentlemen Prefer Blondes falls into this group.  Which is strange, because I also think that it is an often overlooked musical gem.  People will always remember the “Diamonds” number, but I think that the overall film deserves more respect than it gets. 

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