The Train (1964)

A friend, Daniel St. Vincent, recommended checking out The Train (1964), a black-and-white WW2 action drama directed by John Frankenheimer (Seconds, Ronin) and starring Burt Lancaster. For some reason, with that title, I thought the majority of the movie took place on a train like Runaway Train or Unstoppable. Rather, the train is like a giant game piece that is continually in play. In the final days of Occupied France, Nazi officer Colonel Franz von Waldheim (Paul Scofield) wants to transport all of France’s heritage, their priceless art (all the classic masters – Monet, Cezanne, etc) to Germany as currency to be banker and sold for the war effort. The French Resistance (and Allied forces) want to stop the train, keeping it in France. A reluctant hero is train master Labiche (Burt Lancaster, not attempting a French accent) who doesn’t really care about the art and thinks human life isn’t worth sacrificing for it, but then is pulled into action by the amount of people who do believe in preserving the art. With strong wide-screen close ups and placement of characters in the frame, alongside Lancaster’s considerable athleticism and stoic front, this was an engaging thriller, particularly after a measured start. Once a grumpy engineer by the name of Papa Boul (Michel Simon – you don’t see faces like his on the big screen anymore) gets into the mix, there’s a moment where I was emotionally pulled in more, and the film delights in the moves made by both sides to stop and start the train, and the increasing stakes in completing this seemingly impossible mission. This is also a post-war action movie shot in France, so it is amazing to watch the leftover war machines being used for filmimb, actual trains smashing into each other, and a train yard of explosions captured by distant photography. Jeanne Moreau also stars as Christine, a sympathetic, strong-willed hotel owner who is forced to help. Though it is a thrilling ride, the film isn’t all about derring do, and considers the sacrifice of life on the side of the resistance, right up to the sobering, expertly delivered, strong final scenes. Rented on iTunes. Recommended.

Red Beard (1965)

Akira Kurosawa’s Red Beard (1965; Akahige) might intimidate with its three hour length. But this drama, the last film Kurosawa would make in black and white, and with regular collaborator and star Toshiro Mifune, is a beautiful, moving experience. Set in the 19th century in Koshikawa, it is basically a medical drama focused on the young, brash doctor Dr. Noboru Yasumoto (Yuzo Kayama) who was expecting a high position as the personal physician to the Shogunate. Yet he has been assigned to a rural clinic presided over by Dr Niide (Mifune) nick named “Red Beard” due to the colour of his facial hair. The lengthy running time allows us to see the slow journey and transformation of Yasumoto from his opening arrogance (refusing to wear the doctor’s uniform) to gradually understanding the importance of giving care and consideration to those who are poor and dying. Structurally the film unfolds like a series of short stories as different patients enter the picture and open up about their lives, and hovering at the edges is the wise, gruff, self-critical Red Beard in a great, charismatic performance by Mifune. The use of framing and lighting is masterful in the way the relationships between characters are maintained spatially, or the emotion of a scene is heightened by how it is lit (for example, a young, orphaned girl, Oyoto, who is taken into Yasumoto’s care and whose haunted, sickly face is lit by a single beam of light). Masaru Sato’s score often sounds very collegial, like what you’d hear at a graduation ceremony, which at its centre, this film is. I remember a Roger Ebert quote about what makes him cry at the movies is less about sad things occuring on screen and more watching humans do good things; this film has that quality and my tears welled up a few times at the open display of compassion and humanity. I was also surprised (and delighted) that even in a three hour drama about human compassion, Kurosawa includes a sequence with Mifune whomping a bunch of thugs in a village square. I really loved this movie and its overall effect. Recommended.

Rocco And His Brothers (1960)

Sometimes watching an old classic might feel like homework. A three hour black and white movie seems like a heavy undertaking. Then you watch a film of that length and vintage, and the time passes by quicker than you thought because you are deeply invested in the characters and storytelling. So it was with Luchino Visconti’s Rocco And His Brothers (1960; Rocco e i suoi fratelli), which I watched one Saturday night over a weekend, an Italian neo-realist epic that is available to stream on Stan (a beautiful 2015 remastered edition). It’s about a widowed mother Rosaria Parondi (Katina Paxinou) and her five sons who move from the South and their poor rural village to the city of Milan, joining the influx of people trying to find work and money. Beginning with neo-realistic observations of how the Parondi are belittled and marginalised for coming from the South, and have to find a place in a state housing apartment building, the brothers wake up one morning to see snow in the street, happy that there is a call for work from street sweepers. As the months proceed, the appeal of boxing is offered as a way to earn money as well as status, and is something that makes the shiftless Simone (Renato Salvatori) a star. Rocco (Alain Delon) is the soulful saint who longs for the hardships of their old life for how the family was closer; he winds up joining the army as well as taking up boxing. Both brothers are drawn to their neighbour Nadia (Annie Girardot), a forward free spirit who becomes self-employed as a sex worker in order to make money and gain independence from her oppressive family. The eldest brother Vincenzo (Spyros Fokas) begins a family with Ginetti (Claudia Cardinale) who is from a wealthier family. There is also the studious Ciro (Max Cartier) who works hard to study at college and the youngest brother, a boy, Luca (Rocco Vidolazzi) who takes up work as an errand boy. At certain points, the name of a character will appear on screen, announcing a new chapter in this narrative epic, following the changing fortunes of the brothers and shifting dynamics within the family as they become accustomed to urban life. Brilliant performances from Delon and Girardot in particular (both French actors who were dubbed), and Salvatori as the brother whose life spirals out of control due to crime. The characters wrestle and wail with monumental emotions. Even the most sympathetic characters make wrong, destructive decisions, and there’s a complexity in how everyone seems to be shaped by their past and the different values they struggle with. Overall, you see where filmmakers like Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese took their cues from with the clear influence of Rocco And His Brothers; for example, Nino Rotta provides the music, which inspired Coppola to ask him to produce the score for The Godfather. An emotional, involving knock-out. Recommended. Warning: There are some harrowing sequences involving sexual assault and murder, so viewer discretion be advised.

Cold War (2018)

Beautifully shot and composed in black and white by cinematographer Lukasz Zal, director Pawel Pawlikowski’s Cold War (2018; Zimna wojna) is an ode to a love that endures over decades despite great suffering. Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) meets Zula (Joanna Kulig) while both working for a state-sponsored music troupe that travels throughout post-war Poland. Their attraction and developing relationship is affected by the communist state and the cold war climate continues to pressure their separation, union, separation and reunion across borders. It’s ultimately a depressing drama about how individual lives are shaped by the changing fortunes of governments and global political disagreements. Yet Kot and Kuling are an iconically attractive couple, and their swooning, messy love is a sweet, sad thing to observe for a tight 88 minute running time. Available to stream in Australia on SBS On Demand. Recommended.