NYC's Film Forum screens the seldom-seen-theatrically Ozu film, TOKYO TWILIGHT

I've only seen a half dozen or so films by the Japanese master Yasujirô Ozu, so the chance to view TOKYO TWILIGHT (from 1957) -- not to be confused with his more famous Tokyo Story (1953) -- seemed too good to miss. Being an Ozu film, it proved just that. Here's the stationery camera, along with the mid-level angles he so loved to use, and most important (it seems to TrustMovies at least) is that quiet pacing at a speed that allows (some might say forces) us to fully view and more deeply understand all that is happening and what this means to the participants.

For those raised on (and who never grew out of) car chases, gunshots and explosions, Ozu (shown at right) will no doubt rate a zero. But for those who want a look at Japanese culture and mores of the pre- and post WWII period, together with family tales that are as close to universal as you could want, this filmmaker is a keeper.

That said, Tokyo Twilight seems to me one of Ozu's lesser efforts by virtue of its a-little-to-close-to-soap-opera plotting, along with events that -- though they certainly apply within the framework of his themes and concerns -- do seem awfully coincidental and, well, a little too easy. Not for the characters to bear, mind you, but simply for good storytelling technique.

Still, the man was a master of casting and drawing wonderful performances out of those casts -- all of which is true here once again. A splendid Chishû Ryû (above) plays the banker father of two now-grown daughters, the mother of whom left early on in the marriage, for reasons we'll slowly learn.

The older of the girls (Setsuko Hara, above), pushed into a bad marriage by dad, is now trying to work her way into a better life, while the younger sibling (Ineko Arima, below) is the one with the problem that becomes the movie's main event upon which much of the plot hinges.

Then there is the older woman (Isuzu Yamada, below) with some connection to the family whose identity becomes rather obvious well before Ozu decides to fully confirm it to us. That said, the departure scene at the train station toward film's end is a kind of classic of gratification more than merely delayed.

There are so many lovely and moving moments and scenes in Tokyo Twilight that it almost seems churlish to complain. Yet by the final scene there have been enough soap-opera situations to give us pause. "A shock that great is seldom heard of," notes one character far into the film. This may have been somewhat true in Japan of the 1950s, but that sort of "shock" had been a staple of movies almost since their inception.

While Ozu has often taken what might initially seem like soap opera and raised it to art, here that art may be a little less apparent. Still, this is quite a lovely, poignant and fulfilling movie. And, really, who's going to complain about anything Ozu? (Except for those action lovers.)

Distributed via Janus Films, Tokyo Twilight -- in a new 4K DCP restoration -- opens for a week-long run tomorrow, Friday, November 8, at Film Forum in New York City. (Shown above is Masami Taura, handsome and sleazy, as younger sister's ratfink boyfriend.)

Blu-ray debut for John Farrow's delightful genre-mashing original, THE BIG CLOCK

Anyone who's never seen THE BIG CLOCK, the 1948 film that, while successful enough it is own time has since become what one might call a second-tier classic, should avail him/ herself of any opportunity. It's a keeper -- under just about every criteria. And just because you might have seen the so-so would-be remake from 1987 titled No Way Out, don't think you've even begun to  have discovered the genre-jumping/mashing charm of the original.

As directed by the under-rated journeyman filmmaker from Australia, John Farrow (shown right), with a screenplay by Jonathan Latimer (from the novel by Kenneth Fearing), the film begins with what TrustMovies thinks is an unnecessary prolog in which we learn that our hero is a man on the not-quite-run (only because he can't escape his surroundings).

Had the film simply begun at the beginning and moved along as it soon does, the audience might have imagined they were in for -- not the thriller it partially is -- but either a workplace satire or a comedy of manners, morals and art appreciation.

The Big Clock is all three of the above, as well as a lot more, too, mashing and jumping genres in a manner that would spin the heads of many of today's moviemakers. Plus, it offers a plot that has our hero (Ray Milland, above, right) forced by his evil boss to investigate himself for the very murder that boss has commited. (No spoilers here: most of the fun and multi-surprises come as that "investigation" occurs.)

As the hero, Milland proves his usual adept self at garnering our sympathy, even as he holds us back from fully embracing this somewhat flawed and slightly distanced man, while the great actor Charles Laughton (above) makes a magnificent meal out of the villain, a nasty media mogul named Earl Janoth. Watch the subtle (then not so) changes in Laughton's amazing face in the memorable murder scene for a lesson in fine film acting.

The supporting cast is full of familiar faces, with the wonderful Elsa Lanchester (above, left, and Laughton's real-life wife) a hoot-and-a-half as the artist whose work and bizarre personality figure heavily into the plot machinations. If everyone else were not so splendid, Ms Lanchester would have walked away with the movie. The unveiling of her portrait of the murder suspect is one of the film's highlights -- as is her final line.

A nice surprise, too, is the use of famed character actor Harry (Henry) Morgan, above, playing a masseuse/right-hand man you definitely would not want manhandling your vulnerable body. But then everyone here, including an uncredited Noel Neill as a smart and sassy elevator operator, is first-rate.

Director Farrow's handling of the plot and the melding of genres are also classy indeed. Note how swift and shocking is the murder scene, and how deft and fast-paced is the climax. These days, a filmmaker might drag out scenes like these well past their believability or entertainment quotient. Oh, and that titular clock is used well, too.

All in all as old movies go, this one's a don't miss. From Arrow Academy (distributed here in the USA via MVD Visual) and running just 96 minutes, The Big Clock hits Blu-ray (the transfer seems adequate but nothing to shout about) -- along with several worthwhile Bonus Features, including an appreciation of actor Laughton by Simon Callow, and a fine analysis of the film by Adrian Wootton -- this coming Tuesday, May 14, for purchase and I would hope rental, too.

HEAT AND DUST: Blu-ray/DVD debut for Merchant/Ivory's 4K-restored semi-classic tale of India in the 1920s and the 1980s

If it is not quite up to the levels of those James Ivory and Ismail Merchant classics, Howard's End, Maurice, A Room With a View, or The Remains of the Day, not to worry.  The Cohen Film Collection's new release of the 4K restoration of the duo's 1983 film, HEAT AND DUST is more than good enough to rate a viewing (or two -- if not an outright purchase).

This lesser-known but quite fine collaboration, featuring a screenplay by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala (based on her novel), continues the team's exploration of the sub-continent, its history, culture and mores, with the usual accent on the stupidity and cretinous entitlement of British rule -- without ever leaving out India's own stupidity and backwardness in its attempts at self-rule. The ironies here literally stumble over each other in their sad, merry dance.

Director Ivory, pictured at right, and his screenwriter also poke fun at the American search for "identity and inner peace" that grew ever more assertive during the latter half of the last century, as the young and naive, impacted by the Hare Krishna and other sects, descended upon India in record numbers, searching and/or whining to beat the band.

The young actor, Charles McCaughan (shown below, right), who embodies this American abroad, is a delight, and thanks to the filmmakers' ability to explore human frailty, hypocrisy and denial so cleverly and gracefully, no taint of nastiness or the misanthropic is ever felt.

The director and screenwriter also excel at making clear how the British view of the Indians (just as vice versa) is tainted, so that anything we hear from either about the other must be taken with that proverbial grain of salt. Oh, it very well could be true. But ambiguity always remains.

The stories here span two time periods: India of the 1920s, during which the assistant collector (Christopher Cazenove, above, left) and his new bride (the gloriously beautiful Greta Scacchi, above, right) must adjust to both their British bosses and the India royalty around them.

This tale plays out against another of India in the 1980s, where we find Scacchi's great niece, played by Julie Christie, above, setting out to learn as much as possible about her great aunt's story. Both tales fascinate, and both actresses are, as expected, first-rate -- as is the entire cast, which is also to be expected in a Merchant/Ivory presentation.

Also important to the story is royalty, personified via the Nawab (above, played by Shashi Kapoor, who died only this past week, at age 79), who is quite drawn to the wife of the assistant collector, even as Ms Christie's character finds herself growing closer to the husband (Zakir Hussain) of the Indian family with whom she is boarding during her research.

Back and forth we go, but under Ivory and Jhabwala's firm and constant hands, we are never confused nor unsure about where we are -- even if, quite intentionally, we can not always be certain of motive or even occasional actions. Eventually all (or most) is revealed, and the results leaves us satisfied but a little sad, as does so much the fine work of this storied team.

Along the way, we're treated to some gorgeous and amazing set pieces --state dinners and the like -- and even get another small but sharp and juicy performance from Merchant/Ivory regular Madhur Jaffrey (shown below, behind those binoculars), playing the mother of the Nawab.

And so it goes, for yet another of this pair's remarkable forays into human nature and cultural prisons. Running a lengthy but always interesting two hours and ten minutes, Heat and Dust will hit Blu-ray and DVD this coming Tuesday, December 12, in a two-disc set packed to the gills with Bonus Features. I hope that Cohen Media Group will continue its restorations of these Merchant/Ivory films until we're able to see every last one of them so beautifully and rigorously restored.

Pagnol's Marseille Trilogy--MARIUS, FANNY & CESAR--returns in beautiful new 4K transfers

For those who found themselves less than thrilled with Daniel Auteuil's semi-recent remake of Fanny and Marius (his César was announced but never seems to have made it to production), the newly restored, splendid 4K transfer of the original Marseille Trilogy by Marcel Pagnol from Janus Films should prove eye- and heart-opening. TrustMovies enjoyed Auteuil's work, while finding his adaptation of The Well-Digger's Daughter far superior to either his Fanny or Marius) but TM did wonder, post-viewing, why this "classic" trilogy was so highly revered.
Now, he knows.

For a whole lot of reasons, this original appears to be pretty much irreplaceable. And the truly gorgeous restoration it has now received should result in a slew of new fans. Though Pagnol directed only César, the final of the three films, he adapted all of them from his original plays, and he probably learned a lot by watching his other two directors at work (Alexander Korda on Marius and Marc Allégret on Fanny). The attribution of Pagnol (shown above) as the auteur here is not in the least misplaced, however, because it is his screenplays, specifically his amazing dialog (of which there is a ton) that account for what a knockout these three films are: individually, and even more so in their entirety.

Pagnol was a supreme humanist, and the skill with which he has created his dialog uncovers, time after time, the viewpoints of all his characters. These viewpoints conflict, which makes for the drama, but the author allows us to see each differing one so clearly that we identify with all his people. (Pagnol allows us to take sides, of course, but he doesn't unduly push us into one or the other.)

In the first of the three films, Marius, we meet all the many characters who inhabit this little seaside corner of Marseille, especially bar owner César, his son Marius, and the young woman the latter is in love with, Fanny. Marius is also in love with the sea and longs to sail off on it, and this tug-of-war between his two loves finally results in his sailing away and leaving Fanny pregnant -- though neither of them realizes this at the time.

The remaining two films, Fanny and César, let us see what happens over the next 20 years involving these main characters, as well as their relatives and friends, with special emphasis on an older gentleman named Honoré Panisse, a successful tradesman in town who also loves Fanny and proves pivotal to all that plays out.

In addition to being smitten with humanity in its many specifics, Pagnol was interested in how our needs and desires play with and against the rules of society. He wanted justice, all right, but only so far as it genuinely served the people. His take on everything -- from religion to sexuality, parenting to criminality, hypocrisy to doing-the-right-thing-for-the-right-reason -- is bracing, and the manner in which he tracks all this via his wonderful conversations between characters is among the most assured and entertaining in cinema history.

All this is evident in incident after incident: from stopping a public streetcar so that the players in a game of boules can take proper measurements to the nasty old joke of placing a hat over a rock in the street and watching what happens. Among the many delights is one of the great end-of-life "confession" scenes in which a dying man tells his priest that his greatest sin was how much he enjoyed indulging in that sin. This leads to one of Pagnol's many super-quotable lines, as the priest responds quite properly, "If sinning made us suffer, we'd all be saints,"

Pagnol is so full of rich scenes featuring wonderful dialog that you'll long to remember each and every one. And if these films sometimes grow operatic, not to worry. This is great opera. It's soap opera, too -- but raised to such high level that you won't mind one bit. Again and again, as you're listening intently to that dialog (or, more probably unless you speak French, reading those English subtitles), you'll be continually amazed by the fact that all these conflicting viewpoints are somehow correct -- as is true of all great tales that traffic in genuine humanity.

From Janus Films and running a total of nearly seven hours, the Marseille Trilogy makes its 4K, hi-def debut this Wednesday, January 4, at New York City's Film Forum for a nine-day run. Each film has a separate admission, but all three can often be seen on the same day. Click here to view the schedule and/or purchase tickets. Will Pagnol's Marseille Trilogy be shown elsewhere? Yes! On January 27, it will open in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Royal; on February 11 at the Cleveland Cinematheque in Ohio; on March 10 in both Cambridge, Massachusetts (at the Landmark Kendall Square), and Washington, D.C. (at the Landmark E Street Cinema); and on March 24 in Houston, Texas, at the Museum of Fine Arts.

Luis Buñuel on Blu-ray with one of his best -- THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL

An artist at work and very near (hell, maybe at) the top of his form can be seen in THE EXTERMINATING ANGEL, the 1962 Mexican movie from that world-class filmmaker, Luis Buñuel.  While I run hot to luke-warm on this fellow's overall oeuvre, this particular film is one of my favorites -- which I have seen maybe only once since I first viewed it on its New York debut at the New York Film Festival, back, I believe, in 1963. At that time, the movie provoked the usual reactions from the cultured crowd -- What's going on here? Why is it happening? Is this a metaphor, and if so, for what? --  dividing audiences, of course, but also grabbing them for the film's duration.

That the movie is also all about "the cultured crowd," Mexican version, is no accident. In it, Señor Buñuel (shown at left) tweaks his usual suspects: Class, Religion, and bourgeois hypocrisy. But how he does this is what counts. Why, together with what this means, is left a mystery, but with clues scattered generously about so that we can each draw our own conclusion, while feeling reasonably sure that, of course, this is what Buñuel must have meant. If only Luis were ever that easily "pinned down."

Back in 1963, audiences were only just beginning to tackle movies that had to be deciphered, and we weren't nearly as adept at it as we -- well, some of us -- are now. Seeing The Exterminating Angel again today may also make you realize that deciphering is not all that mandatory. We don't need to know everything. In fact, here, it is best to sit back, relax and go with the flow.

The tale told is of a dinner party among the very wealthy and class-conscious. We see preparations for the party taking place, as certain members of "the help" take their leave of the mansion before that party even begins. Class is already raising its nasty little head.

The guests arrive, are seated and witness a shocking accident that oddly provokes laughter. They eat, they chat, they listen as one of their own plays the piano, and then... they don't leave. They stay and stay and stay. A performing bear and some sheep make appearances (Communism and Religion? Nah: that's too easy). And our pampered guests go slowly from bad to worse.

Just as they are unable to leave the room in which they find themselves trapped (is this some kind of mass agoraphobia?), neither can the outside world find the will or the way to enter this now captive mansion. In other hands we'd have something "magical" and/or otherworldly. Buñuel smartly makes it seems so ordinary and oddly almost normal that we buy it, even as we keep questioning 'why.'

Performances from every last actor are on the nose. This moviemaker had a knack for casting and making sure his cast delivered. Best known among them is probably the lovely Silvia Pinal (above, center), whose character may be more (or less) than we perceive. (There a great interview with Ms Pinal today -- or fairly recently, at least -- in which she talks about Buñuel and his movie-making methods. It's a delight to see, hear and consider.)

Available now on Blu-ray and DVD from The Criterion Collection, the movie -- in Spanish with English subtitles -- runs only 95 minutes. But those minutes are fully packed with amazement and surprise. And as usual with Criterion, the movie arrives with a very nice array of supplementary "bonus" materials.

The photos above are from the film, 

with the exception of Buñuel's 

which is by Jack Manning, 

and comes courtesy of Getty Images.

HOWARD'S END on Blu-ray: the 25th anniversary of a genuine and enduring classic

"Only connect" -- as in, That's what we must do: simply connect with each other -- has become one of the prime themes associated with the famous British author E.M. Forster. His novel, Howard's End, was the book in which that phrase first appeared, I believe, and if the 1992 movie version of HOWARD'S END (releasing to Blu-ray this coming week via the Cohen Film Collection) managed to leave the famous phrase out of the film literally, Forster's plea (maybe command) remains present in every way imaginable -- intellectually, philosophically, visually, artfully -- throughout this splendid movie. TrustMovies loved the film at the time of its initial theatrical release, and he appreciates it even more viewing it this second time around -- having gone from middle age to old age and a perhaps more thoughtful stance.

What the film's director, James Ivory (shown at right), producer Ismail Merchant and screenwriter Ruth Prawer Jhabvala have accomplished is to telescope the novel into filmic form without losing too much of its complexity while keeping those much vaunted connections -- between people and classes -- ever at the ready in ways large and small, obvious and not so. They have also, via their wonderful selection of actors, brought to rich life all these hugely constrained but also minutely detailed and highly complex characters.

Chief among these are the members of two families: the well-off but not wealthy Schlegels (two sisters, a brother, and an aging aunt) and the very rich Wilcoxes, a husband and wife and their several children and grandchildren. The two are connected by what at first appears to be a love match (soon aborted) and then a kind of deep and surprising friendship between the sickly Ruth Wilcox (the Oscar-nominated Vanessa Redgrave, above) and the elder sister Margaret Schlegel (Emma Thompson, below, who won a Best Actress "Oscar" for this role).

Their friendship leads to an unusual real estate transaction, a family's disregarding their dying mother's wish, and beyond this to love, commitment and revelations of past misdeeds -- all of which bring to light Forster's admonition but in ways that prove this connecting to be vastly more complicated than simple. This is what gives both the novel and the film their marvelous sense of encompassing life that spans age and class, gender and behavior with equal acuity and a kind of non-judgmental understanding of human need.

Other major roles are played by Anthony Hopkins (above), as the Wilcox paterfamilias; James Wilby as his thoughtless, entitled son; and especially Samuel West (below, left, with Helena Bonham Carter, riled and radiant as the younger Schlegel sister) in the pivotal role of Leonard Bast, surely one of Forster's most poignant characters -- a man who strives mightily against class force and his own servile nature to succeed in ways material and spiritual that he himself can barely imagine.

There is such deeply buried emotion roiling throughout the story, bubbling to the surface only often enough to carry us along, that the result you may feel post-viewing is something akin to marvel and near-shock as to how very much has been accomplished in terms of story, character and theme within a mere two hours and 22 minutes.

One of Ivory's great strengths as a filmmaker has always been his attention to detail without ever pushing it on us in any "Oooh, look at this!" manner. His film is spectacularly beautiful, but in a kind of "Well, there it is" style in which beauty, sadness, humor, character, performance and theme all blend seamlessly. (If you bypassed, due to the rather stupid critical drubbing it received upon its 2010 theatrical release, the man's most recent film -- a rich and wonderful concoction titled The City of Your Final Destination -- do try to grab a viewing. I hope Cohen eventually gives this one the 4K treatment, too.)

Ivory's oeuvre is so much better and more important that many of our critics have let on over the years -- often lumping the man in with the Masterpiece Theater ilk -- that the Cohen Film Collection's restorations in its ongoing Merchant Ivory Library should prove a gift beyond measure for film buffs worldwide. Meanwhile, Howard's End, after a limited, nationwide theatrical re-release, hits the street on DVD and Blu-ray this coming Tuesday, December 6, for sale and/or rental. In this new, two-disc set, there are plenty of fine Bonus Features, as well, that should keep you busy for extra hours. These include a Collector's Booklet with essays and stills; new interviews with director and cast; Behind-the-Scenes featurettes and documentaries; a 2016 On-Stage Q&A; the original theatrical trailer and the 2016 re-release trailer; and a new audio commentary track.