The Rep Report (September 12--19)

Phil Nugent — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 15:00:00 GMT

NEW YORK: If you've ever wondered why Robert Downey, Jr. keeps that "junior" in his name, it's because, once upon a time, when Downey was starting out in the mid-1980s, it still seemed prudent to make it easier for casting directors to figure out that he was not his own father, a man who until recently did not have to be advertised as "Robert Downey, Sr." In the 1960s, Downey the Elder made a string of low-budget satirical comedies, notably Babo 73 (1964), which starred underground cinema mainstay Taylor Mead and 1965's Chafed Elbows, arguably the first "underground" to receive a significant measure of commercial and critical success. Though he had an almost-mainstream hit with 1969's Putney Swope, he pretty much dropped off the radar after 1972's Greaser's Palace. (In between, he made the 1970 Pound, which is set in one, and which features Robert Downey the Younger's film debut. He played a puppy.) But while most of his later feature-film work made it to home video in the 1980s--even Up the Academy, the infamous (and disowned) attempt to start a Mad magazine movie franchise to compete with the National Lampoon--those early-'60s films just dropped off the face of the Earth, and were generally assumed to have been lost.. Now Anthology Film Archives is bringing them back for a week's run. Bruce Bennett at New York Sun has the story of how Martin Scorsese's Film Foundation got on board with the project of restoring Downey's early work. It is reported that Downey, upon learning that Martin Scorsese agreed that it was worth putting up the "small fortune" necessary to restore these films because of their cultural significance, had a quick answer: "Has he seen them?"

Film Forum, in association with the BFI, commences a two-week tribute to David Lean on Friday. Yeah, Lawrence of Arabia and the other late epics are made for the big screen, but for some of us, the really choice news here is that many of Lean's finely crafted, early entertainments are brought together, many in handsome new prints. The program kicks off perfectly with the Dickens-adaptation double feature: Great Expectations, a rousing entertainment that famously inaugurated Lean's lifelong partnership with Alec Guinness (seen here in the role of Herbert Pocket), and Oliver Twist, in which Guinness actually caused the movie some problem with Jewish groups for his alarmingly faithful embodiment of Dickens's Fagin. There's also the chance to see Charles Laughton tear it up with a splendidly undomesticated performance in the domestic comedy Hobson's Choice, Noel Coward perfect the stiff upper lip in the wartime propaganda film In Which We Serve, and Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard take out a patent on the masochistic romantic agony of shared self-denial in Brief Encounter. A word to the wise: if it's epic you're after, take a pass on the latest drive to "re-evaluate" Lean's misbegotten 1970 waste of time Ryan's Daughter and, instead, check out his last film, the sumptuous, brilliantly acted 1984 version of E. M. Forster's A Passage to India.

LOS ANGELES: The 12th Annual Latino International Film Festival, one of the pre-eminent opportunities for Latino filmmakers to show their work to audiences in the U.S., runs September 12 through the 19th. The 132-film program ranges from the popular and timely Colombian drama Paraiso Travel to music documentary profiles of Celia Cruz and Israel "Cachao" Lopez.

David Lean's Centennial

Phil Nugent — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 15:00:00 GMT

This week marks the one hundredth birthday of the late director David Lean. As Anthony Lane notes in The New Yorker, Lean is best remembered now as Mr. Spectacle for the epics he turned out in the last decades of his career (Lawrence of Arabia, Dr. Zhivago, A Passage to India), but the onetime editor had earlier made his mark with a string of tight, emotionally compressed entertainments, including his terrific Dickens adaptations (Great Expectations and Oliver Twist) and a number of works derived from the writings of Noel Coward, who actually served as co-director of Lean's first job behind the camera, the 1942 In Which We Serve. They made for an intriguing team, with Coward's stylish reserve — the glorifying embodiment of the cliche of the "British stiff upper lip" — sometimes pressing against Lean's own show of restraint, which could seem prudish but which also sometimes felt as if it were barely keeping a lid on the rush of feelings that his work had flowing through it. As Lane points out, the definitive expression of this tension is their final collaboration, the 1945 Brief Encounter: "Its main event is what never happens: Laura (Celia Johnson), a married woman, does not have an affair with Alec (Trevor Howard), a married man, despite their being ardently in love. The film has been a favorite, almost a fetish, among British audiences ever since. This year, on Valentine’s Day, it was screened outside the National Theatre, in London, so that young lovers could sit in the cold, huddle together, and learn just how incredibly miserable the business of love can be. What other country would subscribe to this? The saga of thwartings is played out in the pleasure domes of suburbia: railway stations, luncheon tables, and boating lakes. For Lean, the humdrum was drenched in emotion... The couple first meet at a station and, unbearably, part there for the last time, with Alec’s hand resting briefly on Laura’s shoulder in the refreshment room. They have measured out their love in coffee spoons."

The station where the key romantic moments of Brief Encounter were shot is still there, and Kathryn Flett reports that she "took the opportunity to celebrate... with a visit to Carnforth railway station's refreshment room, ideally for a nice cup of tea and a Banbury, but not ruling out the possibility of getting some grit in my eye and having it removed by a kindly doctor who might just be the love of my life." She discovered that "There is now something of a Brief Encounter mini-industry at Carnforth, what with the famous clock, the visitors' centre and the delightful refreshment room — a replica of the set, which was itself a copy of the original." The tea room is managed by Andrew Coates and Helen Dytham, who didn't know about it place in film history when they first made the site's acquaintance; Coates hadn't even heard of the movie before. "They are up to speed now," writes Flett, reassuringly.

The Screengrab : brief encounter

The Rep Report (September 12--19)

David Lean's Centennial