Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Rhinoceros: Stampede of Mistakes

In 1960, Eugene Ionesco’s play Rhinoceros was first put on stage, and with it came great success. In 1974, director Tom O’Horgan took a stab adapting the “theater of the absurd” to film, and with it came a miss. Now, this is not a review about how the play or the book was better than the movie. One of the cheapest and easiest arguments ever made was “I liked the book better.” Interpreting something on its original median the way the creator wanted you to receive it will be better than the adaptation eight times out of ten. This is not about the simply pompous age long debate of play/book vs. screen. Rather this is a review about a film that loses its significance during its translation from theater to film. With or without any prior knowledge of Eugene Ionesco, the film appears overly directed in all the wrong ways, belittling any argument it could have made. But the film is not unwatchable, and to be fair it does carry some redeeming qualities.
The cast is a saving grace in a film where they were set up for failure. Gene Wilder plays our protagonist named Stanley, a disheartened and blue drunk whose life gets more interesting when his town gets a little outlandish. The film takes place in an unknown U.S. town that is left in shambles after its citizens start turning into Rhinoceroses without explanation. This is the theater of the absurd, where all logic and reasoning is lost and anything is fair game.  Stanley becomes the only person to resist this beastly conformity. Wilder does well in gaining the sympathy of the audience with his natural charm that makes poorly placed lines like “I didn’t used to feel so involved, I just can't seem to take my humanity for granted anymore” feel genuine. Many lines like this seem to come out of nowhere but Wilder’s allure is able make audiences overlook the dubiousness of Stanley.
With an even harder task at hand Zero Mostel delivers a performance that is more than noteworthy. Playing the character named John, who stresses the apparent civilities of life, Mostel takes audiences on a roller coaster ride of insanity. The most memorable scene of the film is watching John transform from the “cultured” man he claims to be, into one of the berserked rhinoceros portrayed in the film. It is during this scene and this scene only that I felt absurdity, and it’s due solely to the performance of Mostel.
The absurd factor of the story is lost in the making of the film. Tom O’Horgan’s tendency towards realism just simply refrained from the possible absurdity and replaced it with foolishness. Tom O’Horgan makes the decision to avoid putting any rhinoceros into frame crippling audiences’ awe factor. The most important aspect of a film is it’s visual. O’Horgan avoids every possibility to make this film cinematic rather thans a video recording of theater. Film has certain visual advantages (like actually being able to show rhinoceros) over theater but the film refuses to take advantage of them. A decision I can not agree with. It is one thing to talk about and hear the rhinoceros in the film but by not allowing audiences to actually see them restricts credibility and excitement. Showing a woman riding a rhinoceros, who she believes to be her husband, through the streets of downtown (with the rhinoceros in frame) would have made the absurdity of the scene way more evident.
O’ Horgan tries to make up for it by adding a dream sequence into the film, but it is without success. The scene feels over-directed with continuing dissolves and emphasise on meaningless symbols like a rod made of kitchen utensils. Including this scene seemed like a force on O’Horgans part to show his creativity and various expertise as a director, but it was to no prevail. It is very difficult to find any substance in this scene that is viable with the film. The entirety of the dream felt stimulating but without direction. Why emphasize the kitchen utensil rod in the shot? How does it relate to the themes of the film (I really don’t know so please let me know if you do)?  Much of the film had the impression of O’Horgan trying to prove himself as a director, forcing audiences to endure excessive shots that felt misused.
It is because of these decisions by O’Horgan that the film is unable to translate the qualities and aspects of the story that had brought it success previously. Before anything else this film is supposed to be comedy, but it simply is not. Punchlines are missed again and again due to poor directing. Using dim lighting and intimate close ups during supposedly comedic moments just does not deliver laughs. O’Horgan choice to include music scored by Galt MacDermot creates a tones that suggests anything but funny. The music feels like an overbearing presence lurking throughout the film with a mysteriously ominous aura. Trying to put in slapstick comedy with this music felt like drinking a beer a tea party. It didn’t work and it wasn’t funny.


O’Horgan accumulated strike one and strike two with his inability to hit the absurd and comedic aspects of the film correctly. He then continues to strike out with a third swing and a complete miss of delivering the message of the play. Eugene Ionesco wrote this play, during the outcome of WWII, with intention of showing audiences the ideology of those who succumb to fascism, communism, and nazism. This metaphor is lost within the film. O’Horgan makes the film more about Stanley and his struggle to understand humanity as he talks about it in constant cliches. The exploration of one's fight against conformity is overshadowed by the director’s superfluous attempt to be accepted. The film is a messy stampede of poor decisions running over a genius story.   

 


The Third Man: Film Noir Throwback

In The Third Man (1949), Carol Reed (director) immerses audience members into the dark ominous ruins of post WWII Vienna. Reed is able to capture the classic eerie film noir atmosphere from the moment the movie begins and we are introduced to the zither. The zither is the instrument that scores the entire movie, pacing us through it’s entirety. It does so with perfection bringing us up with a lively tune in moments of action and right back down in times of gloomy late night enigma. Never once does the zither sound joyous, it continually carries a somber tone which matches the genre of film noir precisely.
The movie follows the point of view of the morally ambiguous as well as alienated protagonist, Holly Martins (played by Joseph Cotton), as he arrives in Vienna to see an old friend. The choice not to use subtitles in the film considering the many non-english speaking characters, felt authentic. It also helped put audiences in the shoes of Martins who is an outsider, unable to understand the people around him. Other characters include Anna Schimdt (played by Allida Valli), the female in distress who smiles a total of once in the film. The cast also includes the villainous Harry Lime (played by Orson Welles).
I believe all three characters to capture the cynical tone needed in a film noir but none better than Harry Lime. He is able to capture essence of the movie when he converses with Martins on a ferry go round overlooking Vienna. Reed shoots an aerial perspective of the city for the first time alluding the people of the ruins as tiny specks. Lime says to Harry “Look down there. Tell me. Would you really feel any pity if one of those dots stopped moving forever?” This type of cynical outlook drives the film to its finish and is the quintessential theme of film noir.
The use of post war Vienna as a setting matches the main characters’ cynical attitudes to perfection. The relic city’s dark, twisted, and corrupt nature is exposed in the film and juxtaposed to the cynical personality of the characters. The ruins aligned with the malevolent agenda of Lime amplifies the pessimistic atmosphere. Not only does the film create this essential atmosphere but there is constantly a sense of tension. Reed uses a European style of canted framing that breaks away from the conventional and develops a sense of tension on screen. The tension felt keeps audiences engaged to the very end.


One of the most import aspects of a film is its ending. It’s the very last bite the audience gets and will leave them with one final taste in their mouthes. Reed ends with a discomforting long take in the cemetery where the story began. The use of a long take leaves audiences yearning for interlace of Martins and Schmidt but doesn’t give it to us. The last scene doesn’t digest properly with most audience members, leaving us malaise. To give the audiences the light at the end we craved wouldn't have felt authentic and would have destroyed the near perfect dark aura created in The Third Man.