Flicks
by Chris Dashiell

CLAIRE'S KNEE (Eric Rohmer, 1970).

Of Rohmer's early films, this is the first that has really pleased me. It concerns a thirtyish man (Jean-Claude Brialy), about to be married, on vacation at a lake resort. A rather meddlesome friend (Aurora Cornu) prompts him to flirt with her friend's teenage daughter (Beatrice Romand). After toying with this spirited girl's feelings, the tables are turned when her older half-sister, Claire (Laurence De Monaghan) arrives. She is far less intelligent than her sister, but beautiful, and he finds himself smitten with her, while she is unattainable and aloof.

The dialogue has a relaxed and sensitive quality - plot developments that other directors might underline are presented quite naturally here, so that moral ironies arise gradually from the situation. The coltish Romand is wonderful as the young girl with strong ideas. As usual, Rohmer's technique can seem a little dry - he doesn't scold his characters or explicitly make fun of their intellectual pretensions, but he does reveal the subtle psychological consequences of their actions. Brialy's part, whom we tend to identify with since he is the main character, becomes more disturbing as the film goes one. There is a feeling of sadness in the end, and a sense of sympathy for someone we didn't expect to care about. I like the sneaky way Claire's Knee questions certain aspects of relations between the sexes, under the guise of a tale which seems to take a more conventional point of view.

DON JUAN (Alan Crosland, 1926).

A year before The Jazz Singer, there was this, the first movie with a synchronized musical score. John Barrymore is dashing in the title role, the editing is fluid, the sets are marvelous. Most of all, William Axt's score really moves the film up a notch - it must have been a strange sensation for the audience to hear the music with no orchestra in the pit. Now it's simply a chance to hear how music was composed to fit just right with the flow of a picture.

As for the story, thrown together by Bess Meredyth, well - Lorenzo da Ponte it ain't. Nothing could be more foreign to the formulaic story methods of old Hollywood than the tale of the cheerfully amoral don. So Warner Brothers turns him into a swashbuckling good guy, with some nonsense about falling in love with a sweet innocent girl and rescuing her from the evil Borgias of Florence. It has the effect of turning what could have been a delightful story into just another crappy potboiler. Poor Mary Astor plays the virginal victim - she even gets strapped to the torture wheel, ugh - but she does look beautiful with her long dark hair. (Myrna Loy pops up as a sort of vamp - this was way before she was famous, of course.) All in all, although Don Juan doesn't have a brain in its head, it's nice to look at and listen to, and the great Barrymore lends the proceedings some charm.

SIX OF A KIND (Leo McCarey, 1934).

A nervous couple (Charles Ruggles and Mary Boland) go on a cross-country trip with a pair of lunatics (George Burns and Gracie Allen). Stopping in a hick town, they encounter an eccentric hotel owner (Alison Skipworth) and sheriff (W.C. Fields). You'd think with all this talent, under the direction of comic genius McCarey, that the result would be a funnier picture. Unfortunately, Burns and Allen - hilarious on the radio and (later) TV - come off as annoying and even scary on screen. They are merely the purveyors of one gag after another, many of which do not come off - and their tormenting effect on Ruggles and Boland produces more sympathy for the latter than laughs. The picture jerks and stops, and starts again, with an occasional bit of fun - the sort of mid-level comedy that was churned out regularly by Paramount in those days. The one shining spot is W.C. Fields, who turns up halfway through the movie and almost saves it. He does one of his best billiards routines, and is generally in top form.

MAEDCHEN IN UNIFORM (Leontine Sagan, 1931).

A sensitive girl (Hertha Thiele) does not respond well to the disciplinarian atmosphere of a boarding school, and develops an attachment to the one teacher (Dorothea Wieck) who shows her some sympathy. This German film was made right before Hitler came to power and was written and directed by women with an all-female cast. Although it has become famous for its subtle hint of lesbian desire, the picture is more about the destructiveness of authoritarianism. The strict, rigid methods of the headmistress contrast with the emotional vulnerability of the girls. (And the school's striped uniforms seem to eerily foretell the concentration camps.) The story takes an unusual turn, with a climax which is surprisingly tender and profound. I'm frankly amazed that this deeply humanist film was made at all. Although not a masterpiece of style (the acting is sometimes a bit wooden as well), I was touched by Maedchen in Uniform, and saddened by my knowledge of what was to come.

PADRE PADRONE (Paolo and Vittorio Taviani, 1977).

A Sardinian boy is brutalized by his father, a shepherd who wants his son to be a shepherd. He must gradually learn to break free and find his own way. This film, which swept the major prizes at Cannes, has a rough-hewn quality which lends it a great deal of power, even though it is uneven. Omero Antonutti is splendid as the father - not a mere ogre, but a man whom we can understand, and see why he is a tyrant. The picture has a bitter attitude towards rural life with its ignorance and squalor - an interesting change from the usual bucolic romanticism. The Tavianis also try some inventive tricks with the soundtrack - in one sequence we are treated to the secret sounds of an entire village's sexual frenzy as a counterpoint to the young hero's discovery of his own lust, in another we hear the inner thoughts and desires of a group of people preparing a corpse for burial. On the other hand, the use of music is clumsy - orchestral music slapped onto the action in an attempt at emotional impact only manages to be jarring. Some scenes don't move as well as others. The directors had not yet completely found a smooth editing style either. But in a way, the movie's faults even seem to work to its advantage - Padre Padrone's rough edges give it freshness and sincerity, and the message is clearer for the lack of artifice.

Chris Dashiell