I have not done right by this little blog because 1) I decided that the name I picked was way too pretentious and 2) I made it too specific and for one reason or another just don’t ever take the time to write reviews anymore, to my own chagrin.

I’ve created a new, more general blog which I’m sure will still contain lots of film stuffs if my epic 3 (count em’) posts I have here is at all intriguing. 

new blog: voteforgracie.blogspot.com

twitter: lastnightsdress

Best to you all, 352 who have viewed this page.

Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Abel Gance’s anti-war film J’accuse may not offer audiences a pocketful of posies, but it does pack a punch, pointing an accusatory finger at those who supported the waste of human life that was World War I.

J’accuse is a story of love, sacrifice, and loss. The film fades in on a still peaceful France, a haven of gaity and frivolity. Jean Diaz (Romuald Joube) cannot bring himself to join in the merriment because he is too busy pining away for Edith (Maryse Dauvray), their love deferred by her abusive husband Francois (Severin-Mars). This story line remains mawkish and predictable until the unpredictable happens, the descent of WWI. Jean and Francois are both sent to the front, and eventually placed in the same unit. In the trenches, Jean learns that Francois really does love Edith as much as he does, and chooses to sacrifice himself on a dangerous reconnaissance mission assigned to Francois. Jean returns victorious, and when Francois learns the truth they form a bond from their mutual position and love for Edith. In the end Francois dies in battle and Jean goes mad, culminating in his warning to those back home that their dead will haunt them if their sacrifice was in vain. Jean dies cursing the deceitful sun, his former poetic muse of beauty and light, now his darkness.

My interest in this film is primarily its complex imagery and juxtapositions, assembled in a somewhat abstract style before the rules of continuity were fully formed. One of the most haunting images is the reoccurrence of skeletons dancing in a ring, making the war seem like a game of death. Another is the way similar images are reused to create a more striking revelation, like the window Jean admires Edith through at the beginning of the film, seemingly insignificant and yet the pattern in the panes of glass are later associated with the cross (sacrifice). Repetition is used in this same way for thematic concerns, the main idea being “J’accuse,” or “I accuse.” In one scene, Jean teaches Edith’s daughter Angele (the result of Edith being raped by a German soldier, the crime represented by a mass of menacing shadows) how to write J’accuse in chalk, moving her hand as one with his in this claim. At the end of the film when Jean has gone mad, Angele takes his hand as he did hers to try to spark his memory, again writing J’accuse for the men who no longer could. The most famous portion of the film is when the war dead return to their living to see if they were worthy of their sacrifice. Many in this sequence were actually soldiers on leave who would soon die  at the front, blurring the line between filmic and actual reality, the images of these men left to haunt future audiences. This film also has a historical importance as actual war footage is used in some of the battle sequences.

Joube and Mars are both good as competing lovers because they have interesting characters to work with. Jean because of his fall from innocence, Francois because of his depth, at first seeming like a cardboard villain that turns into a man who deeply loves his wife but is plagued with jealousy and an inability to communicate his feelings. Dauvray is not given much to do because her role is primarily as an object of affection. In my opinion the best performances in the film are actually Maxime Desjardins as Maria Lazare, Edith’s father and Mancini as  Jean’s mother. In a heartbreaking scene where Mancini says goodbye to her son, she is left to hold his cello (a representation of his artistic and sensitive character) in her arms as she weeps, the instrument covered by one of Jean’s coats.

This only provides a rough sketch for this 3 hour tour de force, therefore I recommend viewing it for its powerful indictment of the crime of war and waste 11 years before the groundbreaking All Quiet on the Western Front, which also relies on a distinction between pre and post, home and war front. Gance later remade the film in 1938 to warn the French, about to enter another conflict, with ghosts of the past.

I accuse. 

Fortuosity, the byword of Walt Disney’s “The Happiest Millionaire,” may not roll off the tongue as well as supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (possibly proven by the fact that Word accepts the latter and not the former?) and as Disney’s swan song, it squaked on for a little too long (a whopping 164 minutes in the United States before it was cut down), but like the spirit of this overwrought run on sentence, it possesses a certain charm that makes it interesting to watch.

The film, based on a forgotten Broadway play starring Walter Pidgeon, explores the wild world of the wealthy Biddle family through the eyes of an Irish immigrant just off the boat, John Lawless (Tommy Steele), who clearly had no idea what he was getting himself in to. In a haze of alligators and boxing gloves, John sticks, helping to save the day at the end of the film.

The greatest treat is hearing Fred MacMurray (Anthony J. Drexel Biddle) sing, and very well! So well that it makes one wish the famous grocery scene in Double Indemnity had involved him engaging in a musical romp with Barbara Stanwyck down the canned food aisle. It might have been a bit off putting but not more so than that horrendous wig. Also notable in the cast is the vivacious Lesley Ann Warren (Cordy Biddle) in a very early screen role, whose vibrance is contagious. And credit must be paid to Tommy Steele for dancing with and amongst alligators that didn’t seem too happy to be there.

One of the best numbers in the film, “It Won’t Be Long Till Christmas,” cut in the original version, gives Fred and his wife, played by Greer Garson (Mrs. Cordelia Biddle), their most touching moment in the film. Their children all out in the world, they contemplate a now empty home. Greer had a lovely, husky voice that blended very well with Fred’s. This isn’t one of my favorite Garson roles as the tranquil calm doesn’t come off as well as it does in some of her more polished 40s films, especially considering that she first signed on to play Mrs. Duke, a part with considerably more vivre. Geraldine Page decided she wanted the part, and Greer resigned to playing Mrs. Biddle. Greer wasn’t happy about it, and I’m not happy about it as someone who appreciates her most in the few instances where she got to show signs of humor and life. One of the highlights of this film? Hearing Gladys Cooper sing. I’m not saying she sings well but it is a treat nonetheless. I don’t think she ever gave a bad performance.

The major faux pas in this film is the embarrassingly apparent and excessive post dubbing. I found it very jarring, especially considering the otherworldly ease and charm the film promotes. The songs aren’t what I would call standards, but they certainly aren’t unpleasant spectacle. It is very hit and miss, but the odd subject matter did give the songwriters some interesting material to work with.  Most memorable is “Fortuosity,” written by Tommy Steele.

This isn’t Mary Poppins, but if you enjoy the Disney magic it is worth a look. Maybe just one look.

“Some will wind up in the short end, but not me, baby. I know all the angles, and I think I’m smart enough to keep one step ahead of them.”