Metropolis Restored (1927, 2010)

I suspect many of us knew METROPOLIS before we ever had a chance to actually see it.  I know my first exposure to it as a complete (or as close as it was considered to be then) film came some time in the early 90s, with the color tinted, Giorgio Moroder version, edited and scored by the electronic music pioneer.  But the images - those stark, expressionistic cityscapes rising to the heavens, the iconic "Other" Maria sitting under an inverted pentagram as rings of electricity pulsed around her and, perhaps for me, the brand most burned upon the brain: a solitary man fighting to maneuver two rods attached like the hands of some nightmarish clock (with only ten hours to squeeze in an extra work day I'd learn years later), vainly aligning them to flickering bulbs that never stay for more than an instant -these images that have been etched in my movie memory far longer than I have any right to claim to them.

Watching the new "complete" version of METROPOLIS on Blu-ray, featuring over 30 minutes of additional footage recently unearthed in a vault in Buenos Aries, and boasting a gorgeous 5.1 recording of the original score brings those images vibrantly back to life, feeling as new and striking as the memories I hold of them.  The difference being that those singular visual memories are now tied together in a coherent structure, acting as signposts on a road where the story, long held to be a shortcoming of the film, comes to the forefront.  Running just under two and a half hours, it's surprising that METROPOLIS actually feels shorter, as the additional footage brings a depth to the story that engages the viewer as much as the overall design and effects did in the past.

The Epigram that starts METROPOLIS reads: "THE MEDIATOR BETWEEN BRAIN AND HANDS MUST BE THE HEART!" and this message, seemingly so on the nose for 21st Century viewers, echoes the tone the rest of the film will take.  The colossal city of Metropolis is actually two cities: the sprawling, dreamlike upper city where the white collar executives (the Brain) run everything, building gargantuan gardens and stadiums for the delight of their young, brash sons, and the underground city of the the workers (the Hands), who sweat and starve and toil to keep everything running for those privileged who live above.  The city is run by Joh Fredsersen, who has no time for anything other the running of the city, much to the dismay of his son Freder (Gustav Fröhlich), who after meeting the saintly Maria who intrudes with a mass of children into the Eternal Gardens to introduce Freder to the plight of his "brothers" below decides to head into the Underground to see for himself how the city lives and breathes.  He finds that Maria is the one thing holding the workers in check from rioting, and his heart goes out to both the workers and the beautiful woman who hopes for a brighter future.  Throwing a wrench into the works is Joh Fredersen, who likes things the way they are, and he enlists the assistance of the evil Dr. Rotwang, who uses his newly created Machine Man to take the form of Maria, and incite the workers to revolt, thereby allowing Fredersen the leeway he needs to put the workers down once and for all.

Although the earlier cuts of METROPOLIS were more than enough to show the visual genius of Fritz Lang, the restored, complete version takes his directing prowess to another level entirely.  Entire subplots are revealed, showing a deft hand at parallel storytelling and artful cross-cutting between events.  We see the fate of Worker 11811, the poor man at the clock machine who Freder replaces.  He takes Freder's place, only to fall prey to the vices Freder himself is escaping.  We see the mysterious Thin Man (most assuredly not Nick Charles), hired by Joh Fredersen to find out where his son is and to expose what's going on with the workers.  The climactic flooding of the underground Worker City is much more substantial, and as Lang cuts from one set of action to another we that METROPOLIS is not only the progenitor of much of our now classic science fiction imagery, but it also works as a phenomenal action film, ratcheting up tension as fine as anything that would come a quarter of a century later from more modern masters like Alfred Hitchcock (who was reportedly a visitor to the set, according to the excellent documentary that is included with the DVD/Blu-ray).

I mentioned earlier how much better the restored film plays as a whole, even though it's substantially longer than it was before.  This comes at a small cost to some viewers: due to the conditions of the newly found footage (a 16mm reduction taken from an original 35mm print) the new section are very rough - no amount of digital re mastering can take away the lines of age and missing section of the frame due to size.  Small price to pay, however, to see a true film masterpiece as close to its original format as we can get - there's so much in METROPOLIS that stands out throughout the language of cinema - the excellent documentary included on the disc opens with the direct influence the film's architecture had on Ridley Scott's BLADE RUNNER.  Roger Ebert, in his Great Movies essay on the film, remarks on influences as far reaching as DARK CITY, BATMAN, and even DR. STRANGELOVE.  And after watching the stunning Blu-ray transfers of the BACK TO THE FUTURE films, I can't help but see some of mad Dr. Rotwang in good ol' Doc Brown.

In its truncated form, METROPOLIS was a grand achievement in filmmaking.  Seeing the crisp, clear images now, being able to grasp the story as a whole, and reveling in the sheer joy of the technical effects on display, what was a towering work is made even more colossal, even more grand and enormous.  And even better, the storytelling on display is as fresh, as engaging, as it must have been to people experiencing its like for the first time, over 80 years ago.

* The complete restored METROPOLIS is available in HD on Netflix Instant Streaming service.

In Lieu of Reviews (returning shortly), My Movie Thought of the Day

Having spent an evening watching the in-depth documentaries The Beast Within and Superior Firepower on the ALIEN ANTHOLOGY Blu-ray set, I've come away even more impressed with Ridley Scott and ALIEN, and even less impressed with James Cameron and ALIENS.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Welcome to My Surreal Nightmare: House (1977) in Images

Being a (belated) Film #12 in Hail Horror 5.

I actually watched HOUSE, the 1977 Japanese freak-fest by Nobuhiko Obayashi before either HABIT or SOMBRE, picking it up the day it was released in a typically gorgeous Criterion edition.  The back of the DVD describes the film, a truly inventive visual tour de force by Obayashi (who after a series of similar in aesthetic short films got his start in crazy commercials like the infamous MANDOM spots with Charles Bronson) as "An episode of Scooby-Doo as directed by Mario Bava" and that's not too far off the mark.  Seven quirky school girls travel into the country to stay with lead girl Gorgeous's aunt, who has been alone in her house with just her cat ever for years.  Turns out Auntie is more than just an eccentric spinster, and the trip turns into a surreal nightmare complete with man-eating pianos, flying decapitated heads, musical numbers, animation, some terrific matte painting and martial arts.

The best comparison I can make is to Sam Raimi's EVIL DEAD 2, a "horror" film that was so exuberant and fun you were smiling more than you were screaming.  So rather than go into more detail, here are a few shots to whet your appetite:

Sombre (1998)

Being Film #11 in Hail Horror 5.  Thanks to Leaves for the recommendation.

Extra Note:  One week later this movie still sits like a bad meal in my gut, proof (perhaps) that there's more to the film than my experience and consequent write-up get across.  Leaves came back with a lengthy comment that goes into detail why he thinks the film works, and it's a great counterpoint, so I link to it here and heartily recommend checking it out.

SOMBRE, the debut film by experimental artist Philippe Grandrieux, eschews straight narrative, opting instead to provoke visceral reactions in the viewer.  It succeeds in its goal.  Everything is dark and oppressive, even in daylight.  Images are either ramped up or slowed down to such a degree that even the most innocent activity - children being delighted by a puppet show - turns into a Lynchian nightmare.  The story centers on Jean, a serial killer who preys on prostitutes until a chance encounter with two women in a broken down car on the highway provides a new diversion and a chance to consummate the act whose failure seems to drive jean to his murderous acts.  There is the barest hint of fable in this, but its glow is dampened by enough abuse and violence to take any artistic message SOMBRE has and leave it by the film's end abandoned on the side of the road.

Or at least that's my impression.  I knew after about 15 minutes I was going to hate this movie, although part of that reaction could conceivably be Grandrieux's whole point.  Unlike the stylized (though equally brutal) acts of violence perpetrated by Mario Bava or Dario Argento, there's a depravity and bluntness to Jean's sadistic acts that leaves you sick in the stomach.  This feeling is only enhanced with numerous dead scenes of driving on highways, evil looking children, and sickly pale yellow light when there's any to be found.

So, yeah...not a movie I even remotely enjoyed or recommend.  However I'm open to the chance that I'm just not the target audience for this kind of thing (my tastes running more classic Universal, Hammer, and giallo) so in the interest of fairness there's an in-depth review of the film available at d+kaz which really picks the film apart.  I can definitely see all its points, but it doesn't do anything to improve the experience I had with SOMBRE.

That's it.  One more quick review done in pictures, and then a final 13th review for one of the most anticipated horror television series in a long time...

Habit (1995)

Being Film #10 in Hail Horror 5.  Thanks to J.D. at Radiator Heaven for the recommendation.  

You ever keep hearing about someone, a director or a writer, someone that people keep telling you to check out, and you want to, only somehow it never seems to happen?  And then when you finally do you can't understand what took you so long to do it?

Well, for me that's Larry Fessenden, and HABIT, his 1995 re-working of an independent video he shot back in 1982 is kind of an indie revelation.  Fessenden wrote, directed, edited, and stars in HABIT as Sam, a lost soul in New York City - a witty, nice enough guy who unfortunately is so far down in the drink his entire life is a crumpled heap.  All of this is communicated in a few short sequences as Sam arrives at his friend's Halloween party, "costumed" as a vagabond Cyrano de Bergerac.  It's there that he meets Anna, a mysterious beautiful woman with who he shares an immediate attraction.  She seems to come and go, leaving him after a party in the street but suddenly behind him a few days later at a street fair.  Their first night together leaves Sam in a daze the next morning in a park, his lip bloody...