Lent Reviews Week 2: Ben-Hur: A Tale of Christ (1925)

I apologize that so much of this review is taken up with comparisons to the more well-known remake but it's hard to watch this film without thinking of it...

     Ben-Hur:A Tale of Christ is on the novel of the same name by General Lew Wallace. It was released on December 30th, 1925 and is directed by Fred Niblo and stars Ramon Navarro as the titular hero. It is the most expensive film of the silent era and, despite being overshadowed by the 1959 William Wyler remake, has had a great influence on the film industry.

     This film follows the same basic plot that most of you are probably familiar with from the 59' film. Judah Ben-Hur is unjustly condemned to the galleys when he inadvertently knocks a tile off the roof of his home, nearly killing the Roman Governor Gratus. He eventually wins his freedom by saving Consul Quintus Arrius (Frank Currier) and sets out to find his mother (Claire McDowell) and his sister Tirzah (Kathleen Key) who were imprisoned by Gratus. Along the way he clashes with his former friend Messala, now a Roman tribune, and comes into contact with a certain young prophet named Jesus.

     Generally speaking this film is much closer to the book, but the 1959 film still borrows ideas directly from it. Jesus' face is never seen, always shown from the back or from a great distance, and his presence always fills those around him with reverence and awe. Both films portray the birth of Christ but this film also shows Him saving the adulteress from being stoned and instituting the Eucharist at the last supper. Unlike in the later film, Ben-Hur is not a pacifist here. As in the book, he becomes a fiery zealot and is inspired by Jesus' popularity to organize a rebellion to overthrow the Romans. After witnessing Jesus' death, and the cure of his mother and sister from leprosy, he gives up this idea. Messala is also far less sympathetic in this version, and doesn't die in the chariot race. Because of this there is less focus on Ben-Hur as a character and more on the suffering caused by the Roman occupation.

     This film is more than an hour shorter than its remake and as a result is much more briskly paced. Since this version is, as already mentioned, less character driven, this faster pace actually serves it fairly well. There's enough time to tell the story but, unlike the 1959 film, there much less time for to sit back and let the drama sink in. Nonetheless this film is still very enjoyable in its own right, provided you like silent movies (which I do). The chariot race is spectacular, rivaling the one from the Wyler film which it clearly had an influence on and the sea battle is also a sight to behold.

     Personally I prefer the remake to both the original movie and the book its based on. It's simply a more character driven story. With that said both have strengths and weaknesses. The romance between Ben-Hur and Esther is more subtle and convincing than the, admittedly, somewhat stilted one in the remake. As I mentioned before it also gives you a better understanding of the political backdrop, which helps to make Judah's rebellious actions more sympathetic. On the other hand, it relies too much on inter-titles to give the audience information and, half the time, they aren't really needed anyway. It also lacks focus at times, with a certain character introduced half-way through the movie who disappears before the climax.

     The silent version of Ben-Hur may be overshadowed by its remake, but it's still a pretty entertaining and inspiring film in its own right. If you like silent epics or are a fan of the novel, it's definitely worth checking out.

Score: 8.5/10

My Favorite Films: Beauty and the Beast (1991) (Musical Mondays)

     When I was a very young boy I, like most American kids, watched many Disney animated films. When I was about three, however, my father decided that many of them were too intense for me and my siblings, and cut us off from watching them. I have very few memories of that time but I do faintly remember watching Beauty and the Beast, specifically the climatic scene where Gaston tries to kill the Beast. Rediscovering the film in my later teenage years, a time when I was becoming interested in film, I found that it held up incredibly well. It's a film that succeeds brilliantly both as a musical and as a surprisingly mature animated fairy-tale.

     In some musical films the songs are just there for show, seemingly interrupting the story between important scenes. Beauty and the Beast's musical score, by musical theater veterans Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, uses the musical numbers to tell the story. It does this both through Ashman's nuanced, evocative lyrics and Menken's beautiful score, which makes great, subtle use of leitmotif. Right from the start. the opening number sets up the story really well. It establishes Belle's intelligence, her independence and her thirst for adventure, Gaston's arrogance and his desire to have Belle as his bride, and the suspicious and noisy nature of the townsfolk, who see Gaston as the town hero and Belle as a misfit. This song also sets up the tone of the film, balancing comedy with heavier dramatic moments. Accompanying, perhaps, my favorite scene in the film, Something there that Wasn't There Before shows Belle and Beast slowly grow in their mutual attraction toward each other. In it they begin to see beyond their outward appearances and appreciate each others inner qualities. It perfectly encapsulates their relationship and serves as the dramatic crux of the film. Ashman, in particular, left an inedible mark on this film but he sadly passed away (from AIDS) before it was released. The film is dedicated to his memory. "To our friend Howard, who gave a mermaid her voice and a beast his soul, we will be forever grateful."

     The animation in Beauty and the Beast is some of the best the studio has ever done. The character's facial expressions are incredibly flexible and varied and the backgrounds intricate, detailed and atmospheric. Every major character was assigned their own chief animator, giving them a chance to really breath life and individuality into the characters. The Beast's servants are all inanimate objects, one's which reflect their unique personalities, hence Cogsworth is stiff and wound up like a clock, Lumiere is passionate and fiery, liking a burning candle, and so on. Of course, good voice actors are essential, both to help imbue the characters with personality and to effectively sing the songs. The cast of Beauty and the Beast, many of them experienced Broadway players, are more than up to the task, with Paige O'Hara (Belle), Angela Lansberry (Mrs. Potts), and Richard White (Gaston) giving particularly stand out performances. The background artists drew inspiration from Jean Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast (1946) and from the French countryside where the crew went on a tour, to create the films beautiful, painterly backgrounds.

     Of all Disney's animated fairy-tales, Beauty and the Beast feels the most mature and complex. It's essentially a study of three principle characters, Belle, the Beast, and Gaston. The latter two are mirrors for each other and are defined, mainly, by their relationship with and attitude toward Belle, who refuses to be defined by either of them. She is strong and independent while also being modest and unassuming, she realizes that she doesn't fit in with the townsfolk and she accepts this. Like most Disney heroines she longs for something she doesn't have, but rather than simply desiring romance Belle's looking for something more, something beyond herself. Of course she also wants someone who can relate to her.

     Early in the story Belle gives up her freedom for her father, proving her love for him and also her heroic nature. She is at first completely repulsed by the Beast, and rightly so. He's taken away her freedom and only treated her with anger and impatience. It's only after she tries to escape, and he risks his life to save her from the wolves, that she slowly begins to see beyond his exterior to the good person he is inside, the person that she is helping him to become. Even then she is not really prepared to give her love to him. It takes his letting her go, and her inadvertently endangering his life, for her to truly fall in love.

     As we discover through the films rather brilliant prologue, told through a series of stained glass windows in the Beast's castle, he was once a young prince who turned away a beggar woman who was looking for shelter. But it turned out that the beggar was actually an enchantress, who cursed the prince by turning him into a hideous beast. He learns that he must fall in love, and and earn the love of another, before his 21st birthday, or else he'll remain a beast forever. The Beast has to find someone who, unlike him, can see past his ugliness, and then prove himself worthy of her love.

     At first, the Beast only sees Belle as a way out of his curse. He has to learn to love her as a person despite the fact that he has selfish reasons for doing so. He also sees her as someone beyond his reach which fuels his frustration and rage. His failure to treat her with patience, or even common dignity, initially drives her away. Meanwhile, Gaston only sees Belle as an trophy to be won. He increasingly shows less concern for her feelings culminating in his attempt to blackmail her into marrying him. Both Gaston and the Beast are given a chance to be better people at different points in the story. The Beast must show that he's not a monster. To start, by risking his own life to save Belle from the wolves he wins her trust to some extent. Then, by letting her leave to save her father, essentially surrendering his own hope of breaking the curse, he allows her the freedom and dignity to make her own choices. Finally, by sparing Gaston's life he completely rejects his Beastly urges, proving that he's a good man inside. This is something Gaston subsequently refuses to do for the Beast. He starts out merely as a chauvinistic product of his environment but in the end his actions make him the real monster.

     Beauty and the Beast is a movie that's seems to get better every time I watch it. There always seems to be a bit of word play that I didn't appreciate before or some detail in the animation that I never noticed. It's a perfect blend of comedy and drama, of animation and musical theater, of enchanting fairy-tale and nuanced romance. It's my favorite Disney animated film.

Lent Reviews Year 4 Week 1: Monsieur Vincent

This week, I review an acclaimed French film about one of my patron saints, Vincent de Paul...

     Monsieur Vincent was released in 1947. It is directed by Maurice Cloche and stars Pierre Fresnay as the titular seventeenth century saint. It won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film in 1949.

     The saint accomplished much in his lifetime, rising from slavery to eventually sit with and advise royalty and almost singlehandedly creating an impetus for organized charitable work in France. As such it is difficult to contain his life to a 110 minute film. As a result of this, the story is told in a somewhat fragmented manner. It's basically an episodic series of vignettes connected by Vincent's continual journey of discovery in regards to the poor of Paris. His constant humility and his insistence that he has not done nearly as much for the poor as he should is, naturally, quite inspiring. His work seems unending and, indeed, his message of social concern for the poor and needy feels just as resonant today as it must have in 1947.

     Pierre Fresnay is great as Vincent De Paul. He really channels the saints simplicity, unassuming manner, and seemingly endless concern for the poor. In many scenes he seems to stare into your soul. There's one scene in particular, near the end of the film, that's almost chilling. Vincent is sitting with Queen Anne, expressing his regret over his live's failures. "I haven't accomplished anything." he tells her. What is one supposed to do in life, then, to accomplish something?" she asks. He replies simply, "More." We see Vincent age over the course of some forty eight years throughout the film and Fresnay, aided by some great makeup, really sells the effect, showing more and more signs of physical deterioration as the film progresses.

     From the very beginning, I was impressed by the stark simplicity of the film, a simplicity that evokes the spirituality of the saint himself. Maurice Cloche and his cinematographer, Claude Renoir, uses long takes and and deep focus photography to draw the viewer in and allow them to get a good look at the poverty and suffering that the saint went to such great lengths to alleviate. The score, by renown French organist Jean-Jacques Grunenwald, recalls Georges Delerue's soundtrack for A Man for all Seasons, in that both evoke Renaissance era music. It's a pretty good score and one that Cloche makes minimal use of, preferring to let ambient sound accompany the proceedings much of the time.

     Though somewhat fragmented in its pacing, Monsieur Vincent remains a compelling film one which tackles issues of charity and concern for the poor whilst also painting a picture of one of France's most influential saints.

Score: 9/10

Blog Update: Lent Reviews and Western Wednesdays

     I've decided to put Western Wednesdays on hold for the lent season (that's from now until Easter on April 16th for you non-Catholic folks) so I can focus on Lent Reviews, which I'm (hopefully) going to post weekly. I will be doing Musical Mondays at least once more before Easter, as I've already started a second review. Thanks for readings guys!