DreamFeel

       Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, and their frequent cinematogapher
Jack Cardiff, were an English filmmaking powerhouse, known as the Archers, creating a plethora of classics: The Red Shoes, A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus, The Tales of Hoffman and many more. Generally, Powell was the driving force and the visual pioneer, whereas Pressburger would be the talent behind the scripts, a symbiotic partnerhip that greatly benefited both and resulting in over 20 films together. Unfortunately, despite their influence and even ground breaking work, they seemed to have grown largely forgotten when they didn't fit into either the Classic Hollywood camp or indeed the classic arthouse films from Europe and Japan. This past year has seen some resurgence in their popularity, perhaps with the Black Swan cribbing so heavily from the Red Shoes, and I hope to write about some of their films in the coming months.

      To begin we have 'The Life and Death of Colone Blimp', one of their earliest collaborations. That this 1943 movie was filmed and released at the height of WW2 is staggering. It's difficult to find such an intelligent and balanced look at World War 2 today, certainly if you consider Inglorious Basterds, a film I admittedly love, the definitive such work of the moment. It's no wonder the British Home Office tried to ban this statement that so clearly made the divide between Nazi and German. In fact, it is Theo, the German officer played by Anton Walbrook, who is the most empathetic character of the whole film, and who gives one of the most powerful, underplayed speeches I've ever seen: 10 minutes, largely a single shot, of a broken man. It is in this rousing moment that you can see Emeric Pressburger's formidable talents as a screenwriter. I can only see this scene, and even the entire film, as being a very personal sentiment from the Hungarian who came to love England.

      However, this is a film about Colonel Blimp, a Mr. Wynne Candy played by Roger Livesey, who is thoroughly outdated and who the world has thoroughly left behind. In a stroke of genius we start in the present, barely able to keep up, as the home guard begins a training maneuver early to catch the fat, old, lazy men off guard in the Turkish baths. Our first impressions of the ridiculous, walrus-like Colonel Blimp are poor, and as he falls into the bathing pool we are transported back 40 years. We follow this man's life; his relationship with Theo; a number of women all played fantastically by Deborah Kerr; his admirable but misguided world view where he only sees evidence that fits himself; and he grows on us. A lot. And the closer we get to horrible present the more the introduction, and all its dramatic irony, comes back to haunt us.

      That the first hour and a half is largely all set up for later events and emotions, albeit never being dull, could be a negative, but this is a true blockbuster in the greatest sense of the word. It's their first Technicolor feature too, featuring the gorgeous colours and cinematography that they would become famous for, and is, like always, very visually inventive. A transitionary shot that you'd sooner expect in a film 20 years its younger, takes us through through time as per Candy's hunting trophies prior to the First World War, and one so impressive Powell made the cameraman, a Mr. Jack Cardiff, his go-to cinematographer for his following features.    

A fantastic film.

"Are you mad? War starts at midnight!"