THE THIN RED LINE - The Criterion Collection (Blu-ray)

Written by Musgo Del Jefe

There's something to be said about be prolific. Take Alfred Hitchcock's work for example - there are runs of three-four films over a two- to three-year span that are so brilliant that you are willing to forgive the clunkers like Torn Curtain. But there's also something rare and amazing about the director that picks his pieces carefully. Terence Malick hit the ground running in 1973 with Badlands. The well-received film set in South Dakota and middle America in the 1950s starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek has gained in respect since its release. His second film came five years later in 1978, Days Of Heaven - it was another period piece (set in 1916) in the Texas panhandle starring Richard Gere and Brooke Adams. In those five years, Malick found it easier to tell the story he imagined with less dialog and let the cinematography tell a rich story - pulling inspiration from the paintings of Edward Hopper. Malick took a mere twenty-year break before releasing his next film, The Thin Red Line in 1998 - a World War Two film based on a book by James Jones. Musgo has the pleasure of sitting down with the new Criterion Collection release of the movie on Blu-ray and taking another look at a rare work from one of his cinematic heroes.

Twenty years is a long time between films. There was plenty of time for Malick to think about life and death and moviemaking. The war film of this period in cinema was approaching the end of a arc started by Apocalypse Now to start the 1980s, peaking with Platoon in the mid-'80s and seemingly ending with the triumph of Saving Private Ryan earlier in 1998. These movies increasingly were getting away from telling the stories of the soldiers and were leaning more towards letting the war itself be the story. Malick would use the techniques he had in his previous two films to tell a story that was much more about human beings and life than about soldiers and war.

In a literal sense, the movie tells the story of Company C during the battle of Guadalcanal in the Pacific during World War II. Like other movies of the genre, war films require a rather large ensemble cast and this film is no different. There are so many actors that lined up to work with Malick that he couldn't even fit all of them into the final cut. Ones that made the cut include Sean Penn, John Cusack, Woody Harrelson, John C. Reilly, Adrien Brody and John Travolta. Those left on the cutting room floor include Gary Oldman, Mickey Rourke, Martin Sheen and Billy Bob Thornton. But this film isn't about military tactics or finding lost soldiers - this movie is set to shed light on higher philosophical ideals of nature and humanity.

The film starts with a shot of an alligator slipping into a swamp - blending into its surroundings like a perfect predator. It's the same way that the jungle and later the long grass of the mountains will swallow the soldiers. Nature will be a main focus of the film. This film looks wonderful on Blu-ray - the idyllic shots of long green grass against improbably blue skies jump off the screen. Nature is dangerous - there are snakes and bats and predators throughout the film, but they don't interact with the soldiers. This illustrates Malick's philosophical style. He raises questions without really delivering any answers. For some it's frustrating - for others this makes perfect sense. Is Nature evil? Is Man more evil? Or are we powerless against the force of Nature? These are all valid questions to Malick.

The other important element of The Thin Red Line is in its unique use of narration. The film is more narration than actual dialog, I believe. The narration isn't a plot device to summarize the battle, fill in story details or even to explain what we are seeing onscreen. The narration is more a combination of internal monologue as if we are watching a Shakespeare play. Or it's akin to journal entries being read while we see scenes that inspired the words.

"What is this great evil? How did it steal into the world? From what seed, what root did it spring? Who's doing this? Who's killing us? Robbing us of light and life? Mocking us with the sight of what we might have known?"

Almost all of the actors have narration. And there are many points where the voices blur together and it's almost impossible to keep track of who's words we are hearing. That creates the feeling of an "everyman" narrating the film - that what is being observed is more of a universal experience. As the Company overwhelms a Japanese encampment, the narration raises questions. But allows the viewer to ponder the answer. "What is this great evil?" That's not directed specifically at the enemy. As soldiers shoot each other, the lines are blurred. Have we become evil? And how did it happen? Most other war films have not found a way to ask these questions.

The sound design is amazing. In the essay that accompanies the disc, it is mentioned that Malick suggests you watch the film at a loud volume (it also appears in subtitles at the beginning of the disc!). I wholeheartedly agree. There is way too much going on that you would miss at normal volume levels. The island is alive with sound - natural and man made. Malick manipulates sound to establish themes and tones. Unlike a movie like Saving Private Ryan - the battles aren't a cacophony of sound. While there are some traditionally filmed battle scenes - they aren't presented in ways that you have seen them. Malick uses isolated sounds and Hans Zimmer's soaring score to emphasize emotions over action. The battles to take a machine-gun nest on the hill don't become about taking the hill - they are about loss and futility - underscored by the swelling music and the sporadic narration.

The movie is summed up for me in a pivotal scene about halfway through the almost three hours between Lt. Tall (Nick Nolte) and Captain Staros (Elias Koteas). Lt. Tall has been passed over for many promotions and he's looking to make a name for himself in this battle. Lt. Tall is not "tall" in any way - he is the shallowest man on the island - oblivious to anything but his own needs. At one point, Tall orders Staros to take the hill with a frontal assault. The orders are being relayed to him over a battlefield phone. Staros and his men are pinned down by enemy fire. Staros refuses to obey the order. The argument between the two that ensues is brilliant. As we cut back and forth - Nolte is a raging volcano - shaking with anger as he orders Staros to attack. Staros responds in a calm, reasoning manner. There are tense moments of silence as the viewer takes in the scene waiting for the next response. Lt. Tall allows Staros a reprieve as he comes up to the frontline. By the time he arrives - the situation has calmed down and there appears to be no reason that Staros couldn't have attacked. Ultimately, I see the futility of the war in this argument. Neither man wins - Tall doesn't get his shining moment and Staros eventually gets relieved of his command. Emotion and reason both lose.

In the years since the movie's release, there seems to be a renewed interest in the War in the Pacific. Ken Burn's The War focused equally on the war in both theaters - including extended attention to Guadalcanal. And the HBO series The Pacific did a great job of capturing a bit of the thematic threads of the Malick film. It was certainly informed by some of the filming decisions he made here. But this movie could easily be about any war - it aims much deeper.

While Malick is influenced by many sources - in the twenty years between films, you get the feeling he was absorbing all kinds of art that would add depth to his cinematic voice - there is a big nod to The Heart Of Darkness. It's not the Apocalypse Now take on the piece though. The title itself refers to the thin line between sanity and madness. It is truly an ensemble cast but our journey begins and ends with Private Witt played by Jim Caviezal (oddly as a very Christ-like character). We start the film in the bright idyllic Eden-like world with him among the natives. He travels through the film into the jungle and darkness. We end the film with Pvt. Witt peacefully learning to accept death as he sacrifices himself for his men. Sean Penn's character, Sgt. Welsh wonders what difference one man can make. That question lingers as the troops pull away from the island.

"Where is it that we were together? Who were you that I lived with? The brother. The friend. Darkness, light. Strife and love. Are they the workings of one mind? The features of the same face? Oh, my soul. Let me be in you now. Look out through my eyes. Look out at the things you made. All things shining."

The video is presented with a 1080p/MPEG-4 AVC encoded transfer at an aspect ratio of 2.34:1 and a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 audio track. The disc is loaded with extras including commentary from cinematographer John Toll and others from the crew. There's some great audition footage included. Plus, I'm a big fan of the newsreels of the battle of Guadalcanal. It puts the film in perspective that Malick probably didn't think would be important. An impressive movie that will prompt you on a philosophical level.

Lola Montes - The Criterion Collection

Written by Musgo Del Jefe

Criterion may singlehandedly be keeping the idea of Film As Art alive today. The films they release can't appeal to the broad range of people who rent their movies from a box outside of a 7-11. But for those who are willing to put in the time, they can be memorable and rewarding in ways that I usually only get from good literature. Last year, I had the privilege of reviewing their release of a relatively current film, Brand Upon The Brain!. That film was untraditional in its narrative and told a number of stories, rewarding the viewer for repeated viewings with its depth. It was very stylized but the substance was there to be unlocked.

Criterion has now released what is considered a classic of the art/cult film genre, Lola Montès. The film from 1955 is directed by the legendary Max Ophuls. This film is my first opportunity to see one of his films but the German director is legendary for those of us who read about the classic directors. His use of cinematography and long sweeping shots were a definite influence on the works of Kubrick - you can see it almost directly in Barry Lyndon. But while this film was groundbreaking at the time of its release, what is always curious to me know is how will it resonate with audiences 55 years later. We are sophisticated viewers for the most part - and people who are going to pick up a historical film in French by a German director probably have higher expectations of their movie than anybody who pays to see anything with "Squeakquel" in the title.

The movie is told in six parts. Each forms a sort of movement in a symphony. Each part does not necessarily stand alone but they each illustrate the themes of the picture and do form different emotional beats throughout the film. Most of the story will be told through flashbacks - it's an old standard that allows the director to manipulate the story. Dishing out facts at the director's discretion often makes a movie feel forced, which is why the flashback can backfire. Here, it allows a natural progression of themes to illustrate what we see in the beginning and leading into our final scene.

The movie opens in a circus. It's here that we see the glory of all of the director's bag of tricks. It's also the place that I started to worry about the next two hours. The camera tracks back and forth across the members of the circus. There is a cacophony of movement - the camera and characters. It's hard to even know where to focus. That is until the Ringmaster (Peter Ustinov) takes over as our de-facto narrator. He's going to guide us through this early scene and direct us to where we will look in Lola's life during our flashbacks.

A circus is a great symbol for many reasons. For one, it's a little self-contained microcosm. It can represent the world in general with people and animals from all walks of life and geography. Or it can be a simple family. In Lola Montès, the circus is the world that Lola has escaped to from the "real world". But like we'll see in the "real world" - the question will become "Is Lola a prisoner (a trapped and trained animal) or is she really the one in control?" As she descends (as if from the Heavens) for her entrance, she commands the attention of the Ringmaster and the crowd of men. The power of her sex and love is palpable (beautifully portrayed by Martine Carol). That descent is also going to be symbolic of her descent in real life.

After seeing Lola as more of a commodity to the Ringmaster, we are guided to the second movement of her symphony. This is the first of many flashbacks that will be told out of order. Here we see her relationship with Liszt. This scene is Lola at one of her heights. She is at the peak of her talents as an artist - singer, dancer and actress. Dance is her calling and main talent. The colors here are so brilliant - it's amazing to think this is the director's first color film. Baz Luhrmann could only have wished for the colors in Moulin Rouge to be as brilliant or as evocative. Lola's green dress is life in all its glory.

The third movement finds us starting back at the circus - about to reach the halfway point, not at a peek but at one of her deepest valleys. Lola is filmed at such angles to appear a caged animal. The Ringmaster takes us back to her "happy childhood" but his words are juxtaposed by Lola's flashback. The scene with her mother is once again full of movement and disorientation. Lola's mother treats her like a commodity to - an asset to be married off as soon as possible. Their relationship is underscored by the fact that a young Lola is portrayed by the older actress - it shows us that she is still the same scared girl trailing after her mother.

The fourth and fifth sections are where the movie is really made. The symbolism becomes a little heavy handed - she literally bites the hand that feeds her as she escapes her first marriage. As we transition back and forth between the three rings of the circus and their activities and the three ring circus that her life becomes, we get that same dizzy feeling. We see Lola's emergence as a sexual being after leaving her husband - using her sexuality for power in ways that won't be popular in films until almost a decade after this film was released. We also get an insight into her talents as a dancer - "you give your body but you keep your soul" is advice that she gets about her dance but it applies to her sexuality also. The fourth section ends with the Ringmaster promising her money to be in his circus (can she keep her soul if she sells her body for his money?).

The fifth section revolves around her relationship with Ludwig I. It's a wonderful set of scenes that function like a microcosm of the film. Lola and Ludwig have a wonderful seduction of each other through art and dance. But once the King has Lola, he realizes that he can't keep her. This is brilliantly portrayed through a sexually charged painting of her without actually having to show the two of them together. Her power is not one that can be contained. The camera illustrates this with more gorgeous movements and various color schemes.

The last section is the coda to the symphony. The crescendo of the fifth section flows back into the climax in the circus. Lola is literally performing without a net, just as we've seen her the whole movie. Can she survive another fall - in this case, a dive from the high wire. I'll leave the final act to the viewer but once again, Ophuls can't resist taking the viewer by the hand. His final tracking shot lasts a lifetime as he backs further and further away from Lola. It feels like the viewer is being taken off the stage so the curtain can fall on the big top for another day.

So that leaves Musgo to ask the question again - does a 55-year-old movie hold up to today's viewer? In most ways it does. The themes don't mean the same as they did in 1955. The shock of Lola's emerging sexuality is precious but not shocking. In fact, her treatment by men and the Ringmaster is best revisited today as an allegory on how we treat star actresses - not a theme that would have resonated the same way when the film was released. It's hard to do just a multi-layered story justice in a review like this and that's a good sign. Multiple viewings are going to be necessary to put the different sections into the overall context.

The movie is a treasure for those with patience. The acting is flat in spots - but that has to be the direction. It's important that Lola appear to be no more important than a piece of meat or a collection of expensive clothing. As viewers, we're aware that we're watching a movie the whole time - the narration and camerawork call attention to it often. But I compare it to reading a book - every time you turn a page, you realize it's a book but your brain is able to use that time to slow down and let the story expand in your mind. That's what this film does - your brain takes what's on the screen and over time your mind fills in all the missing details. That just doesn't happen with anything described as a "Buddy" movie.

Criterion has done a wonderful restoration. The movie looks tremendous and the extras are just what you'd expect of a cult/art film. The audio commentary by Susan White is like attending a college lecture on the film - very informative. There are multiple features on Max Ophuls that makes me want to explore more films from his career. I hope Criterion finds the right audience for a film like this - someone needs to pick up this torch and continue making films like this.