THE LAST LAUGH

THE LAST LAUGH (1924/Germany). Director: F. W. Murnau.

The head doorman at a prestigious hotel is demoted to basement wash room attendant on the day of his daughter's wedding, and we watch his despair and disintegration as he tries to cover up the disgrace and is rejected by friends and family when the truth is uncovered. Although slow at times, this is a powerful film, greatly aided by the strong lead performance of Emil Jannings, who can be broad at times but is always effective and moving. The film has to be taken as a fairy tale of sorts, as on some occasions it stretches credulity [that only one person, the night watchman, has any sympathy for Jannings, for instance], and the ending is the purest fantasy. Yet the ending has its own quiet power and charm, and can also be taken as a mere expression of the defeated, desperate Jannings innermost desires. The new orchestral score by Timothy Brock is evocative and excellent and adds immeasurably to the film's modern-day impact. A masterpiece. [Karl Freund, who photographed the film, later worked on I Love Lucy which might be seen as a comedown -- at the very least a big change in tone -- were it not for the fact that he helped revolutionize the way TV series were filmed and became an important part of one of television's most enduring and memorable programs.]

Verdict: A near-masterpiece. ***1/2.

IL GRIDO

IL GRIDO/THE OUTCRY (1957). Directed by Michael Antonioni.

A dubbed but reasonably effective Steve Cochran plays Luigi, a worker in a small Italian city who wants to marry his lover Irma (Alida Valli) upon finding out that her husband has died, but discovers that she's fallen in love with another man. He takes off to forget her, encountering a number of women he treats even more insensitively than Irma treated him. These include his broken-hearted ex, who has mixed emotions about seeing him; a lady who runs a gas station; and a free spirit who seems borderline batty. Luigi is a stoic man who holds his pain all inside until it comes out in what we are presumably meant to see as an act of inescapable self-violence. No doubt the film is fraught with significance of a sort, but the end result – while it holds the attention – seems to be much ado about nothing. Cochran's performance isn't at all bad, but the film would have been better off with a more sensitive type who could at least register some of the character's inner torment. Some good performances, atmospheric photography, but this lacks the brilliance and emotional resonance of the best of Fellini and De Sica.

Verdict: **1/2.

AIDA

AIDA (1953). Director: Clemente Fracassi; Conductor: Giuseppe Morelli.

An Italian film version of Verdi's great opera that stars Sophia Loren in the title role, Luciano Della Marra as Radames, and Lois Maxwell (yes, Miss Moneypenny of the James Bond films) as Amneris, the other woman who adores Radames. The roles are actually sung by Renata Tebaldi, Giuseppi Campora, and Ebe Stignani, respectively. The emphasis in the film is on spectacle -- battle scenes, marches, big sets of temples with pillars and the like, long ballet sequences with long-stemmed beauties in colorful costumes and so on. Unfortunately, the opera itself is occasionally severely cut to make room for these scenes, with narration telling the audience what they might have missed in the meantime. The acting by the two ladies is quite good; Della Marra comes off as handsome and heroic and noble (and is almost prettier than Loren) but a bit stiff in the more emotional moments. The singing is simply superb. Loren's delicate lip-syncing doesn't quite match the powerful vocal performance of Tebaldi. Although quite attractive, Loren in Ethiopian colorings is not as beautiful as she became in later films; Maxwell, however, looks so gorgeous that you can't imagine James Bond wouldn't have taken her up on her offers if he saw her in this movie (made a few years before the first Bond film). Musical highlights that have not been cut include Radames' “Celeste Aida” (sung magnificently by Campora); the great martial chorus from act one; the Grand March and choruses from act two; Amonasro's act two aria; Aida's “O patria mia” from act three; Amneris' aria and the final duet for Radames and Aria from act four.

Verdict: An interesting curiosity featuring much of Verdi's great score. ***.

I VITELLONI

I VITELLONI (1953). Director/writer: Federico Fellini.

This is a charming and engaging slice of life about five friends and their life in a small post-war Italian town. Fausto (Franco Fabrizi) is a rake who has knocked up a young lady, Sandra ([E]Leonora Ruffo), and who wants to flee, but his father forces him to marry her – although he can't keep his hands off other women. Alberto (Alberto Sordi) lives with – and is supported by – his mother and sister but it looks like he'll have to get a job when his sister, who's involved with a married man, leaves home. Leopoldo (Leopoldo Trieste) is a would-be playwright who shows his work to an aging actor who's more interested in cadging a meal – and perhaps sexual favors – from the fellow than he is in mounting his work. Riccardo (Riccardo Fellini) is a tenor, and sensitive Moraldo (Franco Interlenghi) is the brother of Sandra who longs for something that small- town life cannot give him. The movie may not necessarily be “deep,” but there's a lot going on beneath the surface, and it casts a spell if for no other reason than its sheer quality: it is beautifully directed, photographed, acted, and features a lovely score by Nino Rota. Moraldo is a bit of a shadowy figure – today his friendship with the twelve-year-old Guido (Guido Martufi) would raise eyebrows, although in Guido he actually sees himself – but perhaps the saddest character is Leopoldo. He is representative of all the wannabes in small towns who long for art and culture but haven't the talent or wherewithal to make their dreams a reality. All of these young men long for something else, but Moraldo [Fellini himself?] – whose dreams are never expressed – is the only one who actually leaves. There are many striking characters and images in the film, such as the village "idiot" poignantly touching the statue of the angel on the beach, and the middle-aged wife of Fausto's boss, whose sensuality is momentarily awakened by Fausto's touch even as she recoils from it. The actors playing these young men may all seem a few years too old but I think the point is that they are all past the age where they should have long since left home and found themselves.

Verdict: A lovely movie. ****.