Essential-Films
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"Heaven, I'm in Heaven/And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak,/And I seem to find the happiness I seek,/When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek..." (Irving Berlin)
The popularity of Irving Berlin's song is indeed astonishing, even after seventy years since it was written. It appeared in the repertoire of a plethora of soloists, starting with Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald; it featured in such great productions such as Spielberg's "Artificial Intelligence: AI" and Minghella's "The English Patient"; it is quite a rarity for anybody in the Western World, (and not only), not to have caught its tune at least once in a lifetime. Its classic status has cemented over the years in what we may identify as American popular culture. Berlin wrote a good song, and was fortunate enough to have a young Fred Astaire to sing it. The year was 1935, the recording was done for "Top Hat".
When one indulges to assess the quality of a musical, a different approach seems imminent. The soundtrack is less of a supporting player, it becomes a lead in its own right. A great song score can secure a film immortality, despite certain weaknesses in plot, direction, or performance. Arguably, this is the case with Mark Sandrich's second collaboration with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. At least, this appears to be the common argument.
In "Top Hat" we have a traditional drawing room comedy of errors. A famous American dancer, Jerry Travers (Fred Astaire), arrives in London 'incognito', to perform in a musical produced by Horace Hardwick, a rather conservative, affable, but rather nervous man, played to utter eccentricity by Edward Everett Horton. Traverse is a mischievous sort, and enjoys disturbing someone's peace with his dancing, particularly during the night. One victim is the lady occupying the room below Hardwick's one, the beautiful Dale Tremont (Ginger Rogers). Her misfortune, and Jerry's chance, is to go and have a chat with the dancing man, who obviously falls for her, and would force his luck to win her love whatever it takes. The errors start when Dale mistakes her 'Adam' for Horace, and the circumstances would not allow her to find the truth throughout the film. In a nut-shell, she thinks he's an obsessed womaniser, who happens to be married to her best friend, Madge (Helen Broderick); he, on the other hand, desires to take her to the altar.
Criticising the film for its lack of plot is slightly unfair. The script is witty, and maintains the feeble misunderstanding ingeniously. After all, what is a girl supposed to think when the man occupying Horace's room sends her flowers and has an apparent close relationship with Madge, and then is suddenly pushed by the latter into her arms? Probably that the Hardwick's are having a rather special relationship. A rather special one indeed, as he offers to marry Miss Tremont, and the wife is not even given a notice for divorce.
The comedy is top-notch, and the actors must take the credit for it. Astaire is callous, evading, and quite lecherous, delivering one of the greatest performances of his career. Rogers does appear in his shadow on this occasion, partly because of the irrationality of circumstances her character finds herself in, and yet she manages to create quiet moments of tenderness whenever she is in Fred's arms. However, it is the supporting cast that steals the scenes of confusion. Broderick is particularly well-cast, her matter of fact style and dead-pan humour create the film's loudest laughs. Eric Blore, in his turn as Horace's butler, deals hilariously in his multiple personalities farce. "We are Bates!", he informs Travers, while offering help with his coat. And, of course, Horton excels in his part as the misinformed innocent lamb, threatened to be cut to pieces by Erik Rhodes. Rhodes plays a Narcissistic Italian designer, who supplies Miss Tremont with gowns and financial security, but his performance is arguably the most formulaic and dated, despite contributing to a number of laughs.
When it comes to "Top Hat" the screenplay, despite its qualities, does step back though. The greatness of the film is found in some of the most lyrical dances ever caught on film. From the opening dance on sand in a room hotel under the tune of "No Strings (I'm Fancy Free)" we enter a world in which physical restraints cease to be a human condition. Astaire's legs and his entire body move with an eloquence compared to Beethoven's "5th Symphony" virtuosity. He seems to embody a dream in which there are no barriers to what a man can do. By the time we reach "Cheek to Cheek", one is indeed relaxing in Heaven. Bernard Newman's gown for Ginger Rogers creates the illusion of a flying angel, whenever she is lifted by her partner in crime. Rogers, like all of Astaire's ladies in dance, tends to gain a certain security that imposes a freedom of action, making the camera shiver with excitement. On this occasion, it is Fred that gains that little extra from Ginger, which ultimately ensures perfection.
"The Piccolino", sung by Rogers, is the closing song, which is accompanied by an immense production number, gaining the film the reputation of the most expensive affair for RKO at the time. Sandrich does a great job into ensuring a sense of the grandiose at the end of it all, but he cannot achieve the impossible. "Top Hat" is packed with smart dialogue and a number of exquisite dances, so a grand finale to top the mastery of "Cheek to Cheek", but also Astaire's stage solo "Top Hat, White Tie and Tails", does appear a hopeless enterprise. Smartly, the closing number is rather short, like a teasing dessert after a great dinner. So, lean back, and prepare, as Astaire promises:
"For I'll be there/Puttin' down my top hat,/Mussin' up my white tie,/Dancin' in my tails..." (Irving Berlin)
The popularity of Irving Berlin's song is indeed astonishing, even after seventy years since it was written. It appeared in the repertoire of a plethora of soloists, starting with Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald; it featured in such great productions such as Spielberg's "Artificial Intelligence: AI" and Minghella's "The English Patient"; it is quite a rarity for anybody in the Western World, (and not only), not to have caught its tune at least once in a lifetime. Its classic status has cemented over the years in what we may identify as American popular culture. Berlin wrote a good song, and was fortunate enough to have a young Fred Astaire to sing it. The year was 1935, the recording was done for "Top Hat".
When one indulges to assess the quality of a musical, a different approach seems imminent. The soundtrack is less of a supporting player, it becomes a lead in its own right. A great song score can secure a film immortality, despite certain weaknesses in plot, direction, or performance. Arguably, this is the case with Mark Sandrich's second collaboration with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. At least, this appears to be the common argument.
In "Top Hat" we have a traditional drawing room comedy of errors. A famous American dancer, Jerry Travers (Fred Astaire), arrives in London 'incognito', to perform in a musical produced by Horace Hardwick, a rather conservative, affable, but rather nervous man, played to utter eccentricity by Edward Everett Horton. Traverse is a mischievous sort, and enjoys disturbing someone's peace with his dancing, particularly during the night. One victim is the lady occupying the room below Hardwick's one, the beautiful Dale Tremont (Ginger Rogers). Her misfortune, and Jerry's chance, is to go and have a chat with the dancing man, who obviously falls for her, and would force his luck to win her love whatever it takes. The errors start when Dale mistakes her 'Adam' for Horace, and the circumstances would not allow her to find the truth throughout the film. In a nut-shell, she thinks he's an obsessed womaniser, who happens to be married to her best friend, Madge (Helen Broderick); he, on the other hand, desires to take her to the altar.
Criticising the film for its lack of plot is slightly unfair. The script is witty, and maintains the feeble misunderstanding ingeniously. After all, what is a girl supposed to think when the man occupying Horace's room sends her flowers and has an apparent close relationship with Madge, and then is suddenly pushed by the latter into her arms? Probably that the Hardwick's are having a rather special relationship. A rather special one indeed, as he offers to marry Miss Tremont, and the wife is not even given a notice for divorce.
The comedy is top-notch, and the actors must take the credit for it. Astaire is callous, evading, and quite lecherous, delivering one of the greatest performances of his career. Rogers does appear in his shadow on this occasion, partly because of the irrationality of circumstances her character finds herself in, and yet she manages to create quiet moments of tenderness whenever she is in Fred's arms. However, it is the supporting cast that steals the scenes of confusion. Broderick is particularly well-cast, her matter of fact style and dead-pan humour create the film's loudest laughs. Eric Blore, in his turn as Horace's butler, deals hilariously in his multiple personalities farce. "We are Bates!", he informs Travers, while offering help with his coat. And, of course, Horton excels in his part as the misinformed innocent lamb, threatened to be cut to pieces by Erik Rhodes. Rhodes plays a Narcissistic Italian designer, who supplies Miss Tremont with gowns and financial security, but his performance is arguably the most formulaic and dated, despite contributing to a number of laughs.
When it comes to "Top Hat" the screenplay, despite its qualities, does step back though. The greatness of the film is found in some of the most lyrical dances ever caught on film. From the opening dance on sand in a room hotel under the tune of "No Strings (I'm Fancy Free)" we enter a world in which physical restraints cease to be a human condition. Astaire's legs and his entire body move with an eloquence compared to Beethoven's "5th Symphony" virtuosity. He seems to embody a dream in which there are no barriers to what a man can do. By the time we reach "Cheek to Cheek", one is indeed relaxing in Heaven. Bernard Newman's gown for Ginger Rogers creates the illusion of a flying angel, whenever she is lifted by her partner in crime. Rogers, like all of Astaire's ladies in dance, tends to gain a certain security that imposes a freedom of action, making the camera shiver with excitement. On this occasion, it is Fred that gains that little extra from Ginger, which ultimately ensures perfection.
"The Piccolino", sung by Rogers, is the closing song, which is accompanied by an immense production number, gaining the film the reputation of the most expensive affair for RKO at the time. Sandrich does a great job into ensuring a sense of the grandiose at the end of it all, but he cannot achieve the impossible. "Top Hat" is packed with smart dialogue and a number of exquisite dances, so a grand finale to top the mastery of "Cheek to Cheek", but also Astaire's stage solo "Top Hat, White Tie and Tails", does appear a hopeless enterprise. Smartly, the closing number is rather short, like a teasing dessert after a great dinner. So, lean back, and prepare, as Astaire promises:
"For I'll be there/Puttin' down my top hat,/Mussin' up my white tie,/Dancin' in my tails..." (Irving Berlin)
Michael Mann's longstanding affair with Los Angeles crystallises into a beautiful canvas called "Heat". We are given to read some of the most personal thoughts of an individual who seems to have a pulsating passion for the grandiosity of the city, as well as its law breakers. But he doesn't love these individuals, rather enjoys observing their choices, their moves, and their troubled lives. Ultimately, the dichotomy between the good and the bad world is diminished, leaving the society the law-breakers and the law-protectors naked, with all its scruples and shortcomings.
Neil McCaluey (Robert de Niro) robs banks, with his entire arsenal of armed men. Lt. Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino) is the policeman trying to catch him. But "Heat" is not an usual 'cat-and-mouse' story. Both men do what they do best, and the fact that their interests conflict with each other is a pure accident of nature. There is no invested interest from either side to harm the other, there are no personal gains from succeeding in their plans. The cat would almost willing let the mouse run around the house, until the latter would lose any interest in his mischievous behaviour. It is the social pressure however, the roles designated by man for man, that prevents the chase to stop, and it is precisely this issue which is taken under scrutiny by Mann.
"Heat" excels in its exploration of institutions. Like in a chess game, every detail is given attention, every pawn is regarded as valuable, and the similarity of tactics and emotions on either camps does nothing but to solidify a universal theory of human action. The bank becomes a symbol of social values, and its insecure status (in need of protection) does nothing but to prove a lack of coherence in its construction. Building those values becomes as easy as stealing them, but both actions would still share the same intrinsic characteristics.
The film does not give any answers, but like any good piece of work it raises the right questions, and formulates them quite successfully. The only outcome is probably that the game will go on until one king would leave the chess-board voluntarily, but even them the success of the victor is questionable. Beyond the public war, there is always a private war, one driven by personal convictions, incited by the individuals who surround one's life. The desire to lead a good life, the desire to be loved, becomes the driving engine in this latter conflict. And neither of the protagonists are able to rise above the challenge.
Mann has constructed a complex work, that seems almost incapable of fault. Two outstanding performances from its two legendary leads, who have paved the history of gangster films, are complemented by some career bests from Val Kilmer, Tom Sizemore and Diane Venora. But only Dante Spinotti's shadowy cinematography is able to take the spotlight from its creator. LA becomes the leading character, that is misunderstood, haunted, cherished, and destroyed by its own hand sweating of heat.
Neil McCaluey (Robert de Niro) robs banks, with his entire arsenal of armed men. Lt. Vincent Hanna (Al Pacino) is the policeman trying to catch him. But "Heat" is not an usual 'cat-and-mouse' story. Both men do what they do best, and the fact that their interests conflict with each other is a pure accident of nature. There is no invested interest from either side to harm the other, there are no personal gains from succeeding in their plans. The cat would almost willing let the mouse run around the house, until the latter would lose any interest in his mischievous behaviour. It is the social pressure however, the roles designated by man for man, that prevents the chase to stop, and it is precisely this issue which is taken under scrutiny by Mann.
"Heat" excels in its exploration of institutions. Like in a chess game, every detail is given attention, every pawn is regarded as valuable, and the similarity of tactics and emotions on either camps does nothing but to solidify a universal theory of human action. The bank becomes a symbol of social values, and its insecure status (in need of protection) does nothing but to prove a lack of coherence in its construction. Building those values becomes as easy as stealing them, but both actions would still share the same intrinsic characteristics.
The film does not give any answers, but like any good piece of work it raises the right questions, and formulates them quite successfully. The only outcome is probably that the game will go on until one king would leave the chess-board voluntarily, but even them the success of the victor is questionable. Beyond the public war, there is always a private war, one driven by personal convictions, incited by the individuals who surround one's life. The desire to lead a good life, the desire to be loved, becomes the driving engine in this latter conflict. And neither of the protagonists are able to rise above the challenge.
Mann has constructed a complex work, that seems almost incapable of fault. Two outstanding performances from its two legendary leads, who have paved the history of gangster films, are complemented by some career bests from Val Kilmer, Tom Sizemore and Diane Venora. But only Dante Spinotti's shadowy cinematography is able to take the spotlight from its creator. LA becomes the leading character, that is misunderstood, haunted, cherished, and destroyed by its own hand sweating of heat.