brogmiller

By all accounts, although Federico Fellini had earlier collaborated with Alberto Lattuada on 'Luci di Varietá', Lattuarda declined to direct Fellini's adaptation of a story by Michelangelo Antonioni who also showed no interest so Fellini stepped up to the plate and has given us a piece which is superficially lighter than his later offerings but contains several ideas and characters which would dominate his oeuvre.

His directorial style is already 'baroque' but his characters here are mainly one-dimensional whilst the post-synchronisation is pretty awful, in keeping with so many Italian films of the period. His recurrent theme of fantasy versus reality is very much in evidence and child-like dreamer Wanda could be seen as a prototype for Gelsomina and Cabiria. She is touchingly played by Brunella Bovo who had already made an impression in de Sica's' 'Miracolo in Milano' but this alas turned out to be her last film of note and was followed by a succession of 'B's. The weak link in the film is that of her husband who is not only an utter bozo but is played by fledgling actor Leopoldo Trieste with a perpetual expression that resembles a rabbit in the headlights.

The film is mainly of interest in that Fellini's insistence on casting the relatively unknown Alberto Sordi in the title role enhanced the reputation of this immensely gifted artist, leading to his award winning performance in 'I Vitelloni' for the same director and thence to a long and brilliant career. Fascinating also is a brief scene featuring Fellini's wife Giulietta Masina as tart with a heart Cabiria whose character was of course to be expanded by Fellini five years later, resulting in one of her greatest performances and arguably one of his greatest films.

Every director has to start somewhere and although this piece is a little rough around the edges, it is the proverbial acorn from which grew a mighty oak.

It comes as no surprise to learn that this psychological drama depicting a woman's descent into madness has been adapted from a stage play and anyone familiar with the films of Roberto Gavaldón will know this intense material to be right up his street whilst Mexico's finest cinematographer Gabriel Figueroa provides striking Expressionist touches. Both men were awarded Ariels as was Gloria Schoemann for her exemplary editing and Maurice Fontanels for Production Design. In the role of Marta who 'works in silence like a spider', Dolores del Rio received her third Ariel whilst Alejandro Ciangherotti who hailed from the Soler acting family, was recognised as best child actor.

The undisputed Prima Donna of Mexico's Golden Age, del Rio is almost imperceptibly graduating to maturer roles, including Elvis Presley's mother in 'Flaming Star' but in this, as a very well-preserved forty-nine year old she convinces as a woman who can still arouse the desire of two men, her long-suffering husband and her former love who comes back into her life in a way only possible in the world of film melodrama.

She and Gavaldón enjoyed a fruitful collaboration and under his direction she gives a mesmering performance which is by turns disturbing and sympathetic. The climactic scene in which she sits and knits having sent out her somnambulist son to kill her inconvenient spouse lingers long in the memory. Yes, the plot is far-fetched and the film very much of its time but can still be appreciated for both its conception and execution.

Had this film been given a Hollywood makeover one can of course think of certain actresses who would have given their eye-teeth to play Mad Marta.

Just as Akira Kurosawa was influenced by the West, so the West has 'borrowed' from him and indeed it was 'Rashomon' that prompted the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to introduce the Foreign Film category in 1952. His films have always been more appreciated in Hollywoodland than in Japan which considered his films too 'westernised' as opposed to those of Ozu and Mizoguchi and it is bitterly ironic that his sole directorial assignment in Hollywood proved to be a deeply humiliating experience.

How does one begin to describe the extraordinary 'Yojimbo'? Coming at the end of a particularly creative period for its director, it is inspired by the Japanese Jidai-geki and its sub-category Chambera but subverts those genres by virtue of its graphic violence, dark humour, parody, caricatured villains and the introduction of a cynical anti-hero in the person of wandering Samurai Sanjuro who offers his services to the highest bidder in 'a town full of people who deserve to die'.

Kurosowa's love of the Western genre reveals itself in the plot and especially in the set-up of the wide street in a small town and effective use of the 'Scope image, a compliment repaid by Sergio Leone three years later. Kazuo Miyagawa is again behind the camera and Kurosawa's compositions are masterful whilst the far from subdued jazzy score by Masuro Sato although seemingly incongruous, actually works wonderfully.

As well as depicting the absurd, self-destructive nature of humankind, Kurosawa and Ryuzo Kikushima have created in Sanjuro a fascinating, three-dimensional character given one of the screen's most iconic central performances by the magnificent Toshiro Mifune who was to reprise the role in the semi-sequel for the same director the following year. In fact the quality of their collaborations from 'Drunken Angel' in 1948 to 'Red Beard' in 1965 remains unequalled.

One of Kurosawa's staunchest devotees was George Lucas so best to leave the final words to him: "The art of moving pictures is in every frame of his films."