Destino (Dominique Monféry, 2003)

I recently saw the news that there will be a special exhibition opening at the Walt Disney Family Museum in San Francisco on 10th July. Running into January 2016, the exhibition will cover the bond between Walt Disney and surrealist painter Salvador Dali, two men whose creative outputs couldn’t seem further from one another, despite the fact they were good friends who remained in close contact throughout their lives.

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You could take every frame of animation and hang it on your wall.

Were you to create a Venn diagram of the creative output of the two artists, the small ellipse in the middle would be represented by the bizarrely brilliant Destino. First conceptualised in 1946, the film was eventually released in 2003 to the general public as an unusual opening short for Calendar Girls.

Destino may have been realised and released 57 years after it was started, but it was worth the wait. It’s a beautiful, dream-like short that has been lovingly created by a team of Parisian artists based on the original storyboards by Dali and studio artists John Hench. I’ve watched it so many times. I won’t explain the storyline – it’s less than 7 minutes long so you don’t have much to lose.

The film can be watched online at YouTube here:

As a resolution snob, the very best way to watch this excellent work of art is to purchase Fantasia 2000 on Blu-ray“>. For some reason the fact it is included on this disc is barely mentioned anywhere other than on the boxart, with Amazon choosing to just describe the somewhat lacklustre film instead. I feel this is an injustice as something as important as this should be brought to the attention of anyone who might be looking. It really ought to show up when you search “Disney Destino” or “Dali Destino”. It’s a no-brainer.

It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Animated Short in 2004, though both this and the extremely memorable Boundin’ from Pixar were beaten by a short called Harvey Krumpet, which you can watch here.

Listen Up Philip (Alex Ross Perry, 2015)

A fast-paced and uncompromising opening scene introduces us to our lead character Philip Lewis Friedman (Jason Schwartzman), a well-regarded writer on the cusp of releasing the follow-up to a popular and critically praised debut novel. On a rampage to rub his success into people from his previous life, he exposes all his character flaws. He’s rude, frank and cynical and it’s hard from this point to feel any sympathy for him, which on an emotional level makes it hard to connect with him as a central character. Indeed, not many of the characters emote any kind of solicitude at any point in the film, bar perhaps Philip’s long-suffering girlfriend Ashley (Elisabeth Moss). This, however, doesn’t necessarily make for a bad piece of cinema. Quite the contrary.

Schwarzman is at home in a role full of self-importance and low in empathy for those around him.

Schwartzman is at home in a role full of self-importance and low in empathy for those around him.

Philip’s story carries on from here, through the prolonged breakdown of his relationship with Ashley, making a connection with similarly cynical writer Ike Zimmerman (Jonathan Pryce) and his lonesome daughter Melanie (Krysten Ritter) and later on a young and jealous academic Yvette (Josephine de la Baume). It doesn’t refrain from taking gambles on the attention span of the audience, taking several sharp turns in the storyline to cover a lot of ground in a short time frame (109 minutes).

It is communicated in a form that serves as a kind of fake biography, with a narration taking a matter-of-fact tone that gives us a knowing reassurance, almost as if the person behind the voice is channeling his words from a future where it is known that Philip Lewis Friedman is one of the world’s most renowned writers. This is reinforced by the closing credits, where we see a montage of book covers released by the characters from the movie. To be honest, it is the only way the film could tie itself together. Each character is introduced to us from a position of imbalance and for the most part they spiral into a world of depression and failure. It wasn’t until a brilliant final scene that I felt like there was a reason to drag us through the emotional dirt; it perfectly balanced a fine moment of acting from Schwartzman with some clever lighting and cinematography, on top of which laid an overarching statement that justified the cause behind the story itself.

Elisabeth Moss gives an emotional charge to Ashley as she grows in confidence

Elisabeth Moss gives an emotional charge to Ashley as she grows in confidence.

Schwartzman is in fine form throughout, in a role not too dissimilar to others we’ve loved to hate him in (Rushmore, Scott Pilgrim vs. The World). Irritating and overly-confident characters are something of his forte, which is funny if not just because he comes across as anything but irritating in interviews he gives. Moss is also given the opportunity to portray a character of real emotional depth who grows in confidence as the story progresses. It’s a shame that her segment of the film seems like something of a departure from the central thread that was otherwise progressing nicely, though overall it was necessary for the final payoff.

I’ve intelligently reviewed this as this film exits cinemas, though it is seeing a home media release on Masters of Cinema Dual Format Blu-Ray & DVD in late July.

The Fireman (Charlie Chaplin, 1916)

The second in the Mutual Comedies series (the first, The Floorwalker, I have previously reviewed), The Fireman is another great example of master craftsmanship from Chaplin. It involves an insurance fraud setup whereby a man (Lloyd Bacon) colludes with a local fire chief (Eric Campbell) to collect on the insurance money. However, things don’t quite go to plan when a real fire breaks out on the other side of town and the whole plot falls over to humorous results. Chaplin plays a fire engine driver who fails at everything he is involved with and this character is the source of most of the humour, especially in his interactions with the fire chief, played by the brilliant Campbell.

It’s not quite Chaplin at his best, nor is it really quite as effective as The Floorwalker, but it has its charm and is worth watching if only for the few big laughs dotted throughout. There are much worse ways to spend 28 minutes of your day.

I preferred the original Fotoplayer music and sound effects as performed by Robert Israel on this one, but both audio tracks compliment the original visuals perfectly well. It comes down to personal preference and I’m more of a traditionalist.

Charlie Chaplin – The Mutual Comedies is out now on BFI Blu-ray and DVD.

The Floorwalker (Charlie Chaplin, 1916)

On 25th February 1916, Charlie Chaplin signed a $670,000 deal with the Mutual Film Corporation to produce a film a month over a one-year period. This made him the highest-paid entertainer in the world. The deal came as a surprise to the film industry; many had expected him to sign with a larger studio and Mutual hadn’t really been considered as an option. However, the money (according to Dollar Times online calculator it was equivalent to $15.2m in 2015) and the creative freedom swayed him and production began in earnest.

The first of these films, all of which were short comedies, was The Floorwalker, released on 15th May 1916. The basic story involves a department store floorwalker (Lloyd Bacon) who is involved with embezzlement of money with the store manager (Eric Campbell). When they receive a letter informing them that detectives are on the way to investigate the finances, they decide to run. However, when the floorwalker spots a near-perfect lookalike in a tramp (Chaplin), he decides to offer to switch personas with him, without realising that the tramp himself is in trouble with the police for property damage in the shop.

The film has a couple of classic Chaplin comedy moments. The first (which is reused throughout to great hilarity) involves the tramp’s inability to go up or down an escalator. It is just pure comedy gold and though it has been imitated many times over, never has it been done so effectively. Another set piece that has had its imitators over the years is the first meeting of the trap and the floorwalker, in which they become intrigued by one-another and begin to mirror the other’s movement. It requires perfect comic timing and is brilliantly executed. It is perhaps more fondly remembered in The Marx Brothers’ comedy Duck Soup, though the gag in that film involved a mirror so isn’t strictly a copy.

All twelve films from the Mutual Film Corporation period are collected in an excellent Blu-ray (and DVD) released by BFI this month. The presentation of each includes two scores (all have one score by Carl Davis and an alternative score by a range of composers), an audio commentary and a brief discussion in the extensive booklet. The restorations are evidently full of care and attention to detail, which I’ve come to expect of BFI releases but will never stop appreciating.

Go out and buy a copy now and support the important restoration projects for classic cinema. You won’t be disappointed with this release.

Charlie Chaplin – The Mutual Comedies is out now on BFI Blu-ray and DVD.

Ruggles of Red Gap (Leo McCarey, 1935)

Having recently watched McCarey’s excellent Make Way For Tomorrow, I thought I’d dig below the surface and watch some of his other films. I came into Ruggles of Red Gap nothing about Charles Laughton and the other members of the cast, and very little about McCarey. I have to say that on first impression, I am very disappointed.

Laughton portrays Ruggles, an English valet who is working in Paris but is transferred to America to work for a brash American (confusingly portrayed by Charlie Ruggles). Once in Washington, our valet develops as a character and grows in confidence, going from obedient servant to full independence, eventually deciding to open his own Anglo-American restaurant.

Laughton biographer Simon Callow, in a key bonus feature on the UK Masters of Cinema release, discusses in great detail his opinion on the performance and his disappointment having watched it. In context, he was comparing him to his great performances as the Hunchback of Notre Damme and as Henry VIII, to name a couple. I have not seen these, but I wholeheartedly agree with everything he says. I’d got further – as an Englishman, the whole thing is utterly insulting.

The Ruggles that is portrayed is a bumbling Brit that would leave any aristocratic servant-employer worried for their own safety. Indeed, I’d probably ask for a different waiter if I was served by Ruggles in a restaurant. The portrayal leaves the viewer with an air of discomfort. There’s something going on between his flickering eyes and his awkward body language that made me want to look away. In hindsight, I think it was Laughton’s attempt at comedy. Perhaps it was “of the time”, but it really hasn’t aged well.

That he can’t find any route out of servitude until he goes to America, which is patriotically portrayed here – unashamedly – as the land of the free, is undermining of Britain. With very little knowledge of Laughton as a person, I’m willing to guess that he must have been very anti-British to accept such a role.

The film was hugely popular amongst American viewers and very much not popular in Britain, and for the reasons just mentioned I can understand why. Having listened to Callow speak so fondly of Laughton and McCarey, I’m really keen to seek out something that justifies their enduring popularity. I’ll gladly welcome any suggestions!

Ruggles of Red Cap is available now in the UK on Blu-ray and DVD.