Round and Round

Film: La Roue (The Wheel)
Format: DVDs from NetFlix on kick-ass portable DVD player.

While I’ve become more and more attuned to silent films the more of them I watch, it’s come to my attention that in general, silent comedies aren’t long enough and silent dramas are far too long. This is no doubt because of the conventions created and necessary in the early days of cinema. With audiences unsophisticated in the language of film and the inability to use actual speech, many things simply took longer to get through to the audience. Abel Gance’s La Roue (The Wheel) is a perfect example of this. While a landmark film for many reasons, even its trimmed length is far longer than it feels like it needs to be.

The story is one to make Freud chomp down harder on his cigar. A train driver named Sisif (Severin-Mars) discovers a young girl after a terrible train crash. He determines that the girl is now an orphan and named Norma, and he takes her home to raise side-by-side with his son. The two children grow up together, and Sisif cares for both of them.

The boy, Elie (Gabriel de Gravone), becomes a violin maker while Norma (Ivy Close) appears to live a life of tending the house and teasing Elie. The two believe themselves to be brother and sister, because Sisif has never told them any differently. However, Sisif knows the girl’s origins, and finds himself slowly becoming entranced with her, which causes him to start drinking heavily. In the meantime, a man named de Hersan (Pierre Magnier) has also taken an interest in Norma. Sisif confesses his completely natural love for his adopted daughter to de Hersan, who blackmails the old train driver: let him marry Norma, or he’ll tell the girl of her origins.

Sisif complies, and sends Norma away, driving the train himself, but the grief and pain causes him so much distraction that he almost crashes. However, de Hersan stays true to his word, and keeps Norma away from the train yard and Sisif’s house. Eventually, Elie discovers Norma’s origins and he pines for her two, and on those rare occasions Norma attempts to visit her adopted family, they send her away because both of them love her. Elie confesses his love in a note he slips into a violin, which de Hersan breaks. He confronts Elie, and the two fight, killing each other.

During all of this, incidentally, Sisif is nearly blinded by an accident, and because of his terrible eyesight is transferred from the main train yard to driving the little funicular train up the side of the Alps, so that confrontation between de Hersan and Elie occurs on a splendid mountain backdrop. Sisif slowly loses his eyesight completely, and Norma discovers this, and moves back into his house without letting him know. Eventually he discovers this and…well, I won’t spoil that part.

While the story is an interesting one and Gance’s style and technique are landmark, La Roue is incredibly slow. The story delineated above takes nearly four-and-a-half hours to chug through, and the original cut of the film clocked in at something closer to seven hours. Much of the reason for this is the conventions of silent film. It takes forever for Gance to show us anything because he has to hammer every truth home repeatedly until he’s sure that the slowest dimwit in the audience gets it. For instance, when Sisif starts to lose his eyesight, we see him look at something, then we see it all blurry from his perspective. Then Sisif looks at something else. We see it blurry. Then he looks at something else. We see it blurry. Then he…you get the pattern. To a modern audience, this was established the moment we saw something blurry from his perspective, but here, we see this time and time again, and then we get a title card telling us that he’s losing his sight.

This is frustrating. It slows down the narrative terribly, and makes a great deal of this film a chore to get through. While perhaps necessary for the time in which the film was made, for a modern audience, at least an hour of this film could easily be removed without losing anything but essentially repeated footage that we no longer really need to establish the things that Gance wants us to know. Other things simply become annoying. Severin-Mars evidently believes that the way to convey blindness is to roll his eyes up into his head and stare out like a zombie, which is both unsettling and weird.

There are some genuinely great things here, too. Gance uses extremely fast cuts from scene to scene, sometimes with multiple edits in a single second of film, giving us almost subliminal flashes of images at times. It’s a technique he continued with Napoleon, but here he shows that it was a technique he had already been developing.

It’s no coincidence that our main character’s name is a couple of sounds off from Sisyphus, who was depicted in the afterlife of Greek mythology as endlessly pushing a boulder up a hill. Sisif here endlessly toils on the rail line and endlessly suffers from his love for his adopted daughter. It’s a nice little sop to those with a love for the classics.

La Roue is a film that I respect for the work that Gance did and the techniques that he worked with and advanced here. It’s not a film I like that much, because I’d love to pare it down even further, to maybe something with a running time of 150 minutes or so. There’s a lot of fat here for the modern viewer, so if you do sit down to watch this one, be prepared.

Why to watch La Roue: It continues Abel Gance’s groundbreaking film techniques.
Why not to watch: It’s much longer than it needs to be.

Able Was I Ere I Saw Elba

Film: Napoleon
Format: VHSs from Freeport Library through interlibrary loan on big ol’ television.

Most people in our society are experienced moviegoers. We’re aware of typical movie conventions and what to expect. We learn quickly what particular shots mean—what it means when we’re shown something in slow motion, or what a particular close-up means in the contexts of a film. Many of these conventions came from the earliest films, and many of these conventions were created by a handful of specific directors. Abel Gance was one of those truly innovative men behind the camera, and he showcases his innovative style in Napoleon.

This is not a film to watch lightly. There’s a lot going on here, as well as more than a dozen different cuts of the film. The one I found was the four-hour version. Evidently the original version of the film stretched to something longer than six hours, and there’s supposed to be a five-hour version considered fairly definitive. However, the four-hour version was all I could locate, and it’ll have to be definitive enough for our purposes here.

I have no idea what is contained in the hour or two I didn’t get to see, but the four hours on the two tapes I watched had plenty worthy of comment. If nothing else, Gance was an innovator and stylist as important (or far more important) than D.W. Griffith. As a real benefit here, Gance is also a much better storyteller than Griffith, or at least tells more interesting stories.

Napoleon, as the title indicates, is something of a biopic of Napoleon Bonaparte (Albert Dieudonne). It stops short of true biopic status, though, because it doesn’t come close to covering the man’s entire life or military career. It covers Bonaparte’s life as a child (Vladimir Roudenko), his early military career, the time of the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror and Bonaparte’s Italian campaign. We don’t see him crown himself Emperor, we don’t see his eventual exile, or his death. What’s here is sort of a career highlight film, a “best-of,” if you will.

There’s also a lot of hero worship going on. The Napoleon character in this film is as close to a perfect human being as can be imagined. He has no real faults or weaknesses. His mere presence inspires men on the battlefield; these men want only to know the name of the brave and intrepid leader who led them before they die, happy in knowing that they served such a great man. Early in the film, when Bonaparte is sent to Corsica to help maintain French rule, he runs into a meat grinder of pandemonium. Everyone, it seems, wants Corsica to belong to a different country. Some want Spain, others Italy, and still others England. The only thing they agree on is that Napoleon should be slain. But brave and forthright Napoleon stares them all down, cowing them into submission with his noble presence, and naturally Corsica remains a French possession.

Very much the same thing happens at the start of the film. Napoleon’s biggest fault as a child is that he’s not much liked by his classmates, in part because of his genius and in part because he comes from the little backward island of Corsica. Napoleon suffers the terrible slings and arrows of these classmates, who are regularly depicted as jealous of the young man’s genius. At one point, two of these young men release Napoleon’s captive falcon, sending the boy into a deep depression and causing him to fight all of his dormitory mates at the same time. All is made well when the bird returns, justifying Napoleon’s confidence in himself somehow.

The hero worship is applied with a very thick brush throughout the film. Much of Dieudonne’s job is evidently to stand perfectly still and stare straight ahead and look impressive. This stare is not the “thousand-yard stare” of combat veterans, but more the piercing gaze of someone touched by the gods of battle. If nothing else, this is an exercise in nationalism and Gallic pride.

All of this can be overlooked. The reason to watch this film is not to see Dieudonne stare piercingly at his enemies or sit statue-still astride a steed (enjoy my kick-ass alliteration!). Napoleon is noteworthy because Gance was a true innovator in terms of how and where he used his camera. Gance believed very much in the idea of a mobile camera, which is easier said than done when cameras weighed a metric ton. Regardless, many scenes are shot with the equivalent of a hand-held camera, predating the shaky-cam visions of films like The Blair Witch Project by more than half a dozen decades. Gance mounted cameras on horses, on a guillotine, on a trapeze, all in an effort to find and create new ways of capturing the action happening before him.

Also innovative is the use of lightning-fast cuts, switching from one scene to another at a pace just fast enough to allow comprehension. Some sequences feature so many quick cuts from one image to the next that it borders on subliminal messaging, and is still visually arresting now. Gance also uses split screens and multiple images, sometimes showing as many as nine different images—a 3x3 box—to indicate confusion, chaos, and constant motion.

The real great moment is when Gance projects three images simultaneously, creating the first ever use of a wide-screen format. Originally this required three projectors, one for each image. It may seem like a nothing these days, when we have become so used to wide-screen and letterboxing, but this is one of those moments when filmmaking truly grew up.

I admit the film seems too long. The copy I found came on a pair of VHS tapes, and with the exception of that wide-screen moment, I felt like I got the point of what Gance wanted to do and was trying to do by the end of the first half. The movie slows down some in the second half only to pick up again and build to that amazing climactic moment. I was tempted to fast-forward to get there. Under further review, the build-up is worth it. But it feels too long.

The story is good, but really secondary here. What’s exciting is what Gance did with the camera and what he showed could be done on celluloid. Its achievement is its innovation.

Why to watch Napoleon: Staggering camerawork.
Why not to watch: The first half is really enough for what’s important here (except for the end).