by Allan Fish
(USA 1924/1998 141m) not on DVD
A dentist’s tale
p Erich Von Stroheim, Irving Thalberg d Erich Von Stroheim w Erich Von Stroheim, June Mathis novel “McTeague” by Frank Norris ph Ben Reynolds, William H.Daniels ed Erich Von Stroheim, Rex Ingram, Grant Whytock, June Mathis, Jos W.Farnham m Carl Davis art Richard Day, Cedric Gibbons
Gibson Gowland (John ‘Doc’ McTeague), Zasu Pitts (Trina Sieppe), Jean Hersholt (Marcus Schouler), Chester Conklin (Popper Sieppe), Dale Fuller (Maria), Tempe Pigott (Mother McTeague), Silvin Ashton (Mommer Sieppe), Joan Standing (Selina),
No other film in the history of cinema fills us with such a sense of both awe and loss. Loss because of what the characters go through during the film’s duration, but even more for the loss of the director’s original intention. Greed was butchered like no other film was butchered, and unlike many such films of the modern era, there is no chance of a director’s cut ever emerging. Von Stroheim’s masterpiece was edited down from well over a hundred hours of stock footage to an original length of 8½ hours, from which it was cut to exactly seven for its premiere. When Irving Thalberg insisted he cut it down to a commercial length, Von Stroheim sent it to another artist on the MGM roster, his friend Rex Ingram, whose editor Grant Whytock helped him cut it down to 3¼ hours. Refusing to cut any more, Ingram handed it back, but it was then further cut by June Mathis to 2¼, as it survives to this day. It’s amazing it still stands as a masterpiece.
The story is made into a tragedy of human despair and greed worthy of Hugo and Zola, as we follow McTeague from his beginnings in a gold mine in 1908 to his being sent away by his mother to learn dentistry from a charlatan. Setting up in San Francisco, he comes to know Marcus, who introduces him to Trina, a delicate young girl whose teeth he fixes. Marrying her, their life is thrown into turmoil when Trina wins an illegal lottery and she hoards the money from husband and friend alike, while McTeague is slowly driven to madness and violent retribution.
Von Stroheim always said he could never cheat the audience, and so he sent crews out to film on location in San Francisco, even shooting the interiors on location. It certainly led to a realism that was rare for this period (as in the sequence where his dentist’s office looks out over the street and we see the trolley car taking Trina away from him go past the surgery window). More impressive still is his visual command, from the contrasts of the gloomy interior of the goldmine to the green splendour of the surrounding forests and to the final immortal sequences in Death Valley. Shot on location in temperatures pushing 125 degrees, with actors and crew alike almost driven mad, Von Stroheim gave us the most savagely ironic of endings, one ingrained on the psyche of American cinema itself. Yet this is only one of many great sequences; who can forget the incredibly dark, forbidding and almost funereal wedding ceremony, or the dissolves into glorious richness as Pitts dreams of her golden gains?
Much of the credit here must go to his crew, particularly the photography of Daniels and Reynolds, but the performances are equally grand in stature. Gowland’s Mac is one of the great silent performances, full of a repressed anger and horrific in the way he is slowly driven to domestic violence and murder, and Hersholt, too, was never better than as the ultimately treacherous and doomed friend Marcus. But topping all in the memory is Pitts’ Trina, refusing her husband sexual favours, hair rolled up like a turban, rolling her eyes and rubbing her hands with avaricious glee at her hoarded wealth, literally stripping off into bed to roll around naked, to feel the cold touch of the coins on her skin. As one caption says, “gold was her master”, and as long as such monetary lust exists in the world, Greed will continue to astound and amaze. A four hour versionwith two hours of still footage was released in the late nineties, and it only serves to whet our appetite for the lost masterpiece, the greatest film probably ever made and lost, slithered away like gold dust through a prospector’s sieve.
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Brilliant essay on one of cinema’s truest masterpieces, even in the criminally truncated form that was hoisted upon a heartbroken Von Stroheim (that ruined him in more ways than one) and silent-era audiences who certainly could not have known at the time that this was desecration of the highest order. In fact, the mutilation of GREED cannot be equaled in the history of the cinema, a crime so severe as to merit life in prison for its perpetrators. In my cinematic dreams, I always envision a full print turning up somewhere in the world, even while I know that MGM destroyed every last remaining print while assigning hachet-lady June Mathes to do the devil’s bidding.
I love this film dearly, even in this compromised form. It’s showcases some of the greatest set pieces (the finale in the desert is unforgettable) of all-time, and it’s central theme/conflict is as compelling now as when Frank Norris wrote the great American novel upon which Von Stroheim created his greatest film.
Sam, if you threw Thalberg in jail who’d hire Stroheim for Merry Widow and give his career a second (third?) chance? And if you throw the key of Irving’s cell away, will nothing short of death suffice for Gloria Swanson and Joe Kennedy?
To be more serious for a moment, Stroheim’s problem was that, while he was a pictorial genius, he had an essentially literary rather than cinematic narrative sensibility. His instinct was always in favor of accumulating more detail, but to get away with that as a director you have to be your own master as Griffith had been and Gance was. Why he never went independent when he remained a bankable director throughout the 1920s, despite his highly-publicized debacles, is a tragic mystery. In the system he worked under he was asking for trouble working as he did. Like Ambersons, Greed is a great film as is, and what was done to Greed is perhaps more excusable than what RKO did to the more modestly scaled Welles film, depending on whether you concede any rights to studios in such matters.
Curiously, I feel the same way about ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’, that a print might turn up in Brazil! But then there’s ‘The Red Badge of Courage’, ‘The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes’, some of Visconti’s movies. No more, it’s just too painful. I’ve only ever caught this on TCM, wish I had a dvd recorder in the days of the Thames Silents.
By the way, a six disc box set of welles work has just been released, with the first US releases of ‘The Magnificent Ambersons’ and ‘Chimes at Midnight’
The set you refer to is actually an Asian set available through amazon.com
A hypothetical masterpiece– that’s about all you can say of movies like this. I personally object to experiencing any work that is so savagely compromised beyond repair, so I’m probably never going to watch this flick. Like “The Magnificent Ambersons”, I really have no interest in watching a product that only represents a small fraction of the film that was. Even if it is every bit as spectacular in this broken state, I simply refuse to view a work that isn’t what its maker wanted it to be. Consider it a kind of cinematic civil disobedience in protest against this kind of butchery. I wonder how many others share this philosophy.
Actually, I find that the mutilated Magnificent Ambersons quite keenly reflects the dilemma of its protagonists – as the film declines (and it’s really only as it progresses that the mutilation becomes clear – the early passages appear intact and as-intended) so does the family.
Anyway, I’m not much of a purist in these matters. Sometimes, for sentimental value, I even prefer to watch old, distorted VHS tapes. As for Greed, I need to see it again but it found it more “interesting” than “enjoyable” on first view, due in part no doubt to the preponderence of stills and interpretative titles. I wonder if I’d actually get more out of it, from an enjoyment rather than a historical interest perspective, watching the shorter – but more straightforward – original cut.
Personally, Man, I don’t entertain much in the way of sentimental attachment to old versions or nostalgia. When the new versions of things like “Star Wars”, “Cinema Paradiso” and “Apocalypse Now” came out, I no longer had any use for the old ones. I’m a big believer in director’s cuts, even when the form they take isn’t as popular as the film’s original release. That’s one of the reasons why, philosophically, I refuse to watch movies like “Ambersons” or “Greed” which we know are horribly compromised. If I were to do so, I’d feel like I was supporting the very notion of such studio interference by viewing it. Sometimes, observation implies consent, and I just don’t feel comfortable doing that.
“I’m a big believer in director’s cuts, even when the form they take isn’t as popular as the film’s original release.”
But what about when it isn’t as GOOD? I enjoyed the Special Editions when they came out, but in retrospect they added very little of substance to the films and disrupted a great deal more. The CGI effects did not match the aesthetic of the rest of the film and most of the additions were superfluous at best. As for Apocalypse Now, I’m on the fence, but leaning to the side that feels that original was just fine as it was, and a bit leaner and meaner to boot.
I mean, do you accept Spielberg’s revision of E.T. just because it’s the more recent? Walkie-talkies instead of guns, a weird computer-animated surrogate thrown in at random? Director’s cuts can be improvements, or they can be self-indulgent. I mean, do we REALLY need a longer version of King Kong? Isn’t Peter Jackson’s “vision” cringeworthy enough in truncated form? On this at least I think we can agree. 😉
Anyway, I’m as much an auteurist as the next guy, but in the end the film also has a life of its own – and revisiting a finished product, however incomplete it felt at the time, is often not wise (though, of course, it can be an improvement too – it all depends on the situation at hand).
And
“And” nothing – that’s just a fragment left over from the haphazard way I leapfrog/write posts. Further evidence that in some cases, revisions are justified – but in this case I’ll leave it as evidence of purism run amok…
Actually, both the “Star Wars” special editions and the Redux version of “Apocalypse Now” are two of the key reasons why I’m so dedicated to the notion of director’s cuts, in general. I know those are among the more divisive examples of a filmmaker revising their material, but my own experiences with them have been nothing but positive. After seeing the ’97 theatrical rereleases of the first trilogy, I couldn’t go back to their original forms on VHS– they just weren’t the same, anymore. Maybe it was the effect of seeing them in their full, 2.35:1 scopes (pan and scan just doesn’t compare), maybe it was all the additional scenes that didn’t rely as fully on special effects (critics can lambast Greedo’s marksmanship or the quality of the CGI Jabba model, but few can deny how touching the brief scene between Luke and Biggs is) or maybe it was just the overall sense of continuity and cohesion the new cuts fostered (ROTJ’s celebrations across the galaxy set to John William’s new score always hits me much more than the Ewok campfire singalong), but from then on, I embraced the notion of a director changing a film as they saw fit to fit a vision previously limited by practical limitations or studio interferene.
As for “Apocalypse Now”, I’ll admit that I have a much more personal reason for preferring the Redux cut, besides the fact that I like it more. I was about 10 or 11 the first time I saw the film, in its original form on cable, and I pretty much fell in love with it. Soon after, I brought it up to my dad, thinking that as a Vietnam veteran, he’d be interested in talking about the film.
Guess what? Turned out he absolutely HATED the movie. As he told, it was the first movie he’d seen after returning home from the war, and at first he was excited by the advertising of the time, proclaiming it to be “the TRUE story of Vietnam” (or something like that). Of course, by the time he walked out of the theater with his family, he was royally pissed, seeing as Coppola’s film has roughly NOTHING to do with Vietnam, when you get right down to it. As he told me back then, he considered it something of an insult to see a movie “claiming” to be about a war he’d been in, when it reality it’d been based on a story set around the time of the Boer War (his words). Looking back, I can understand why he took it so personally. During the war, he served in artillery as part of the Air Cavalry– guess which portion of the film he didn’t particularly appreciate?
Fast-forward to 2001, when during a vacation I notice that “Apocalypse Now Redux” is playing in a theater nearby. At that time I was 17, and dying to see the new cut, the contents of which I’d read about in books and articles long before. Thankfully, my father was open minded enough to be willing to come and see it with me, despite the fact that he had never liked the movie. Surprisingly, though, the new cut almost completely changed his mind– he still wasn’t too enamored over the way the movie exagerates and fictionalizes stuff from the war, obviously, but pretty much all of the new bits captured his imagination and put everything into a context he could appreciate. Most of all, he loved what is perhaps the most highly criticized addition to the film– the French Plantation sequence. He loves it because it gives a sense of history and atomsphere to a war he took part in, explains at least partly why he and everybody else was there to begin with.
To this day his favorite Vietnam film remains “Indochine”, with “Full Metal Jacket” as a close second, but it’s only thanks to the Redux cut of “Apocalypse Now” that he’s ever willing to watch it at all. Granted, like the Special Editions, I truly think that the Redux version is superior in every meaningful way, but I still can’t help but value it for personal reasons, above all.
As for Spielberg– well, I’ll admit that his directors’ cuts tend to be pretty awful. Yet even though he started the trend by recutting “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” to give you a long look at the inside of the mothership, I’ll admit that occasionally he’s done good things. It was only when the Blu-Ray of “Close Encounters” came out that I realized I’d grown up watching a revised version of his director’s cut on VHS all these years (which thankfully removed the look at the aliens’ interior decorating, and preserved the air of mystery). The alterations made to the updated version of “ET” never really bothered me, because frankly I’d never really cared for “ET” in the first place.
At any rate, the whole idea of a director’s cut is too important, in my mind, to not preserve it, even in the face of examples you don’t agree with. The fact that I usually do prefer them (I love Jabba in ANH, the Bunnies in Redux, the Unicorn in “Blade Runner”) is just icing on the cake.
Oh, and as for Jackson– frankly I’m just plain done with him entirely. He can add as much or as little as he wants to his films, because from now on I really doubt that I’ll ever be watching any of them again, save maybe “Heavenly Creatures”. Frankly I think even the theatrical versions of the LOTR movies were probably too long. But then, you know me.
If you wanted an example of a director who possibly takes the director’s-cut thing a bit too far, sometimes, I might say Michael Mann. Granted, I love all his films and by and large prefer his longer cuts. But at the same time, I feel like they lose some of their power when he takes another stab at the editing tables. Here, he’s not restoring scenes that weren’t possible at the time due to special-effects limitations or forbidden by studio mandate– instead, he’s just second-guessing himself.
I feel this most, at times, with his DVD cut of “Miami Vice”– in theaters, I loved how it began right in the club, very in medeas res. To this day, I’m not sure if I prefer the longer, slower speedboat race opening. It has a more relaxing pace, a much less confrontational way to begin the film, and I can’t help but feel it waters things down a little. Still, it’s his prerogative.
Well, I think I misunderstood – when you said you were “a big believer in director’s cuts” I thought you meant as a general rule rather than more-often-than-not (which is what your fleshed out response replies). I certainly don’t think director’s cuts should be eliminated, but I’ve seen a lot that really just seemed unnecessary (though there are some that are helped greatly by the restoration of course – I think it depends how badly mutilated the film was in the first place, at least on many ocassions).
As for Star Wars, the only additions which seemed to add anything once the hoopla settled down were the Biggs-Luke scene and the climactic celebration (though one could argue that it’s too over-the-top; sometimes a quieter, while still boisterous, ending is more resonant – but it is fun to see all the different planets). Of course, why wasn’t the first Biggs scene incorporated?
There was a time when I could’ve told you why, as well as, most likely, the name and species of the extra who passes by them in the background. Sadly, those days are long gone, so remind me – I have the impression that the scene still exists but Lucas remained unsatisfied with it and chose to leave it on the cutting room floor yet again. (And, correct me if I’m wrong, but the original-version DVD is STILL in the wrong aspect ratio, no?)
Somehow, overall, much as I loved seeing the Special Editions on the big screen I don’t like to watch them now. The CGI just spoils the magic for me. And personal quibbles aside, I honestly can’t say they ADD anything to the experience (with Apocalypse Now, the one aspect that keeps me on the fence is the French sequence which DOES transform the film – though I’m still not sure if I like it leaner or more overwhelming. I’ll have to watch both versions close together sometime and decide).
Back to Star Wars – I also can’t place too much value on seeing the Special Editions in theaters because I was lucky enough to see all 3 films back to back at the Wang Center in Boston when I was 9, surrounded by an enthusiastic audience and accompanied by my Dad. Speaking of which, very much enjoyed your AN anecdote. What did he think of The Deer Hunter?
And ditto on Jackson. I feel similarly about LOTR but decided to focus on Kong as I’ve given Sam, Allan, et al apoplexy to many times of the Tolkien films – thought I’d spare them for once (there’ll be plenty of time for that when we hit the 00s countdown)! 😉
Man– the Anchorhead sequence in ANH wasn’t put back in, I think, because Lucas really liked introducing us to Luke through the droids. Apparently a lot of initial Tatooine stuff was scripted at first because it felt more mainstream, but after a while he never really intended on puting in in the finished film. I’d love to see it included as deleted scenes on a future DVD, of course, provided there’s some digital additions…
…which brings me to my next point. Perhaps it’s a taste issue, but I really dig all the new CGI in the Special Editions. I love what it adds to the pirate-town atmosphere of Mos Eisley, especially– that giant spaceship stuck in the sand, the floating spy-probe droids, those ride-a-long creatures walking right in front of the camera. It’s just plain fun for me, and I don’t really see it as any more distracting or artificial than all the model effects, stop-motion and matte-lines ever were. Yes, smaller understated celebrations can be better than big to-dos, sometimes, but if anything I actually think the revamped ROTJ sequence is a little more intimate, more subtle– the changed music is a big improvement, mostly drums and flutes, instead of “Yub Nub” (I will admit, though, the original song in Jabba’s palace was cool in its own jazzercise work-out video kind of way). I like the transitions from planet to planet, I like the visuals of large crowds partying to the Empire’s demise– hell, I even like how on the DVD the ghost of Anakin is that young whippersnapper from “Shattered Glass”. Frankly, the SE ending was the first time it really affected me on an emotional level. The original version, with the Ewok song and everything just kinda felt embarassing.
Re: the aspect ratio of the original-trilogy DVD’s– Do you mean how the “unaltered” cuts of the films are presented in non-anamorphic transfers (not adapted for widescreen sets) or do you mean how the films were technically shot for 2.20:1 but are framed in 2.35:1? As far as I know, it’s pretty common for films shot in that slightly larger ratio (Todd-AO, I believe) to be framed down a little, as 2.35:1 is the standard. At any rate, it’s cool you got to see the films theatrically at that age. Part of me hopes all six are eventually ported to 3D just so I can see them on the big-screen again (and because I’m almost certain they’ll be a better use of 3D than “Avatar” was).
Re: “The Deer Hunter”– My dad’s not so crazy about that movie because, again, he has a pretty good bullshit detector where Vietnam is concerned, and all that Russian Roulette stuff probably isn’t quite legit. As for everything else in “Redux”, I can’t help but like it. Screwing Playboy Bunnies and getting more time with Kilgore? I’m there, man.
Re: Jackson– To me, his relative worth to world cinema can be summed up the same way as any filmmaker: The more Oscars they win, the less they matter.
“It’s just plain fun for me, and I don’t really see it as any more distracting or artificial than all the model effects, stop-motion and matte-lines ever were.”
All those things make me smile. They have texture, a sense of art, imagination. CGI leaves me cold…when it doesn’t make me cringe. I liked the velociraptors in Jurassic Park and…well, not much else. When a movie allows the computer animation to be animation, I like it (Wall-E I though was one of the masterpieces of the zeroes). When it tries to be live-action, more often than not, it leaves the taste of melted plastic in my mouth. Yeah, at the end of the day I think there are arguments to be made about its overuse, about its lack of resonance when compared to other visual effect techniques (there often just doesn’t seem to be a “there” there), et cetera. I think those arguments have legitimacy and I’ll make them. But again, at the end of the day we’re left with this fact: I just plain don’t like CGI. I kind of hate it, in fact. It is a magic-killer for me. And there we are.
Re: the aspect ratio; I don’t think I’ve ever seen the trilogy on DVD – I’ve certainly never seen the re-issue New Hope ’77 original. I had heard, from a friend, that the ’77 version can now only be seen on 1.85 instead of the full 2.35. Had no idea about the 2.20. Is this true, or was he misinformed?
Re: aspect ratios– I started writing a long explanation of the nature of anamorphic and non-anamorphic transfers, but lost my patience with it about a paragraph in. To sum up– the “original” versions of Ep.4-6 are all in 2.35, but they won’t conform to fit 1.78 screens, as they hail from transfers of the laserdisc generation. If you watch on a widescreen television, you’ll see the whole scope picture, but it’ll have a windowbox effect, with pillars on the sides as well as bars on top and bottom. In essence, it’s a 1.33 framing of a 2.35 image. If that doesn’t make any sense just google it and I’m sure some obsessive SW purist will explain it far better than I care to.
Re: CGI– Intellectually, I can appreciate the argument that physically photographed special-effects have a greater versimilitude than digital creations, though personally I disagree, somewhat. Practical models are certainly great for creating settings and environments– one of the interesting tid-bits of the Prequels, for instance, is that each successive film wound up using more and more models and miniatures than were ever made for the Originals, except that none (or few) of them were for obvious things like starships, but instead for the various wide shots of planetscapes throughout. CG, however, has a greater range for presenting objects in motion, as it’s easier to clean up and sharpen or blur their image to fit the static or kinetic contours of any given shot, so when you want to focus on characters or any given mobile element, digital is your best bet.
In my opinion both methods have all their own artificial aspects (model effects can particularly have a problem with scale, focus and resolution), and to a certain extent I think that a lot of people claim to prefer practical effects simply because that’s what they’re more used to. Decades of watching films with models, miniatures and stop-motion have trained our eyes to respond largely to a breed of effects-work that hasn’t quite been dying out, at all, but has certainly found more and more competition in recent years. Younger generations have a much easier time adapting to CG, obviously, as it’s what they’re growing up with, and at the same time we’re also seeing artists and filmmakers themselves growing more and more comfortable with the new tools at their disposal.
In the end, I truly believe that the most succesful effects work usually represents a combination of the two methods, and a keen understanding of what works best in the disciplines of digital animation and miniature photography. If we’re seeing more and more filmmakers rely on the former instead of the latter, however, I think it comes down to one thing– money. Digital effects are cheaper to produce than physical models, and while that sometimes creates a trade-off in image quality, it’s often worth it if it means more directors find themselves able to afford to make their movies on their own terms. Like the proliferation of digital-video in the face of time-honored celluloid, CG at its best shows signs of progress in the democratization of the medium, putting more tools and technology into the hands of a wider net of filmmakers than ever before. Besides, it’s not like the old traditions are falling out of practice, so I say it’s worth it.
Then again, I just plain like CG, so I’m biased. It creates opportunities for a whole new set of magic, that we’re only just learning to appreciate, or even have a clear and articulate language for. Perhaps some of the best examples aren’t on the big screen, however, but on television. Watch any number of episodes of “Lost”, with its ethereal monster of black smoke, and you’ll see what I mean– an image so palpably unreal, you hesitate to even put it into words.
And as for artificiality– meh. The best artists learn to cope with it, and even grow playful with it after a while. Hitchcock had his backscreen projection, and Lucas has his greenscreen wonderlands. The surrealists and practitioners of the avant-garde weren’t afraid of it themselves, the so-called “plastic qualities” or the kingdom of kitsch. Done right, that’s what special-effects of any kind are to me– so many melting watches and treacherous non-pipes…
The problem is, I’m 26. CGI has been in use for nearly 2/3 of my life. I just don’t like it. It isn’t a pleasant artificiality, like backscreen, it’s an aggressively distasteful one. And I doubt I’ll ever see it any differently. At its best, I say wow that was cool in a mildly enthusiastic way and then the taste fades almost instantly. Avatar left me impressed as I was watching but with frustratingly very little aftertaste. Whereas something like Where the Wild Things Are, which used CGI sparingly in combination with puppetry, costumes, physical sets, and the like gave me a mood which lingered. I just don’t “respond” to CGI-as-live-action to the point where I don’t even regard it as a legitimate part of the movie universe, but an imposter, an outside invader from some other realm, corrupting and destroying what’s so wonderful about movies. Overkill? Sure. But movies have always been a balancing act between Bazinian mise-en-scene, that is to say physical reality “captured” by the camera, and Melies fantasy – the concoction of illusion. (Full-out animated films exist, and succeed, in a different category.) Now the balance has been tipped way too far in the second direction, and the art is losing its richness. And CGI has a lot to do with this.
It has to do with different ways of responding to the medium, I suppose. We’ve already established that you and I respond to movies somewhat differently – rather crudely, you privilege the pictorial, while I privilege the visceral (and, increasingly lately, the narrative/structural). CGI adds numerous pictorial possibilities – supposing one doesn’t mind the kind of intangibility that you seem to enjoy – while its circumvention of the “charge” of recognition accompanying photography of live action, its defiance of the laws of the physical universe, and its slickness which registers to my eyes at least as a kind of limpid inactivity, all short-circuit the kinetic (I know, you’ll disagree, citing a Star Wars battle but those all sizzle briefly and evaporate almost instantly for me), among other things.
I don’t mind it being one tool in the box – as I said, I still find it pleasing to the eye in Jurassic Park (at least in some moments, like the raptors in the kitchen, more than others). But things have gotten so out of hand, that William F. Buckley-style, I’m tempted to stand athwart movie history and yell, “Stop!” Or maybe, “Back!”
First of all, Man, it does come down to taste– you call backscreen a “pleasant artificiality”, while for me it’s just the opposite. One of the reasons I can’t take half of Hitchcock’s movies seriously is the over-reliance he has on the technique, which has never once convinced me in any way. The only movies I can stand seeing it are ones that telegraph the artificiality either for a stylistic/artistic homage (Tarantino’s movies) or for comedic effect (such as “Airplane!”). Greenscreen, on the other hand, can either come close to fooling me (such as in Polanski’s “The Ghost Writer”) or at the very least has a type of fakery that I don’t mind as much, using a much sharper image with more options for playing with light to create relief effects. Granted, not all filmmakers use it equally well (Rodriguez’ “Sin City” is probably the worst example– you really couldn’t have shot on-location for things like bars and alleyways, guys?) but there are enough out there who know what they’re doing.
Considering we’re the same age, I think this just shows that we’re two sides of a generational coin. Both of us spent most of our childhood with one era of special effects, and obviously not everyone is able to carry over as well into the next. We mark the transitional period.
For my part, I can’t help but enjoy the new creative opportunities CG has afforded filmmakers. There’s uses and kinds of effects that simply wouldn’t be conceptually possible without the advent of computers. How would a guy like David Fincher have been able to even concieve of the microscopic “speed-of-thought” camera or the Ikea lifestyle moment from “Fight Club”? Again, a combination of multiple disciplines is usually your best bet for any largescale film, but at this stage I’m generally most intrigued by what people can concoct out of thin air and pixels than anything else. Yes, I like seeing miniatures put to good use in movies like “Moon” now and then, but by and large I think the anti-CG sentiments are more fueled by fanboyish nostalgia than anything else. But again, I just “respond” to digital effects, personally, and if you don’t, that’s a fair point.
As for the old crude divide between the visual and the visceral, that’s a whole can of worms I’m not really keen on opening at the current moment. I will say that as a writer and designer I actually tend to be much more of a narrativist than anything– when I build a game I’m more interested in building a story and making it playable than I am providing meaningless interactivity. The Bazin perspective is an interesting one, and something I’ve thought alot about lately in regards to cinema’s narrative obligations– does the inclusion of time as a cinematic device (the rhythm of editing, the moving picture) necessarily create a narrative impulse? If anything, I think it brings a more musical quality to the medium than anything, and allows it to remain as abstract or as definite as any particular artist wants it to be.
Quick clarification– I don’t mean to accuse YOU of “fanboyish nostalgia” in the point above. For the most part, though, that’s what I find most arguments against CG to be fueled by. Call it another layer of cinematic Luddism.
Well, in this case I’ll cop to a bit of Ludditism! At any rate, my response is a bit over-dramatic; it isn’t as if I hiss at the screen when a computer-animated shot appears and I’ve enjoyed any number of CGI-heavy films. It’s more the aftereffect I find vaguely displeasing, it just doesn’t “stick” the way more, for lack of a better way, “organic” effects do.
Bob, this is NOT savagely mutiliated beyond repair, not by a long shot. Mathes retained the lion’s share of the film’s greatest individual moments, and even at this length it a staggering dramatic film. Allan’s placement of the film at #3, even with these cuts speaks volumes. I also have this in my top 5, and still feel it’s Von Stroheim’s greatest film as it is.
I remember reading about this film somewhere, and only remember that it was as you’ve mentioned, and the problem with not keeping the original length as it was meant to be.
The question of seeing it or not? I would, otherwise, how would you know anything about it, except from what others have mentioned?
Besides, like Metropolis lately, maybe somewhere hidden in a basement is an intact version.
Nicely written!
Thanks for the kind words as always Michael.
I saw the VHS copy of this restored version a few years ago, and regarded it more as a curio than anything else. Of the Stroheims I’ve seen, I was probably more taken with Foolish Wives. But this plus the Rosenbaum essay – which I read recently – have whetted my appetite big time for a re-viewing, and I’ll be revisiting the film very soon.
I, like many others, though this would probably be your #1 but now I see that it will probably be my “second guessing myself” pick (should’ve listened to that voice…). At least I hope so because the other film, the one that will most likely come in at #2, I don’t really find successful – great sequences but a mess as a whole though I eagerly anticipated seeing it (I’ve seen it twice, once on a big screen, once on my computer and both times retained the same impression).
I couldn’t agree with ALLAN and, particularly, SCHMULEE more. Like my dear school teaching chum, I too have dreamt the dream of hope that a fully restored print might find its way to us, uncovered like the Ark of the Covenant in some ancient tomb buried under miles of sand in a far off land. But, alas, these are just dreams. However, dreams often come to our aid and, after seeing the 1997(?) release (with stills substituting footage) allowed my imagination to run wild and fill in the blanks. In my mind, scenes of desperation and power were combined with awe-inducing visuals of staggering proportions and, in the end, as I’m sure Von Stroheim would approve, the Dennis/Von Stroheim version bowled me over. The germ of his original was enough to set my mind ablaze. You have to give credit to a genius even in truncated form. This film is a masterpiece.
BOB CLARK-I find it a bit closed-minded to dismiss a film without ever seeing it. After all, don’t you have an IMAGINATION? I’ve always preferred horror films that suggest rather than splash buckets of blood and guts all over a wall. Film, like any art, is a jumping off point that sets the mind whirling like the cylinders in a car the moment its ignition is turned. In the case of GREED; there’s enough here to fill a persons mind for hours. Considering the “blank” spots has, for me anyway, elevated the film even higher in my regard to it as a masterpiece. What’s available to us all is so good I find it hard to believe that what I’m imagining could be anything less. I think you do yourself a disservice by not seeing this film. However, I respect the fact that you remain silent on this topic due to your abesence as a viewer and appreciate you have made no speclative comments, good or bad, on this film. I urge you, though, to see this film, in any form as I’m sure you’ll sing a different tune after the experience.
I’m not dismissing the film. I’m just refusing to watch it in a compromised, eviscerated form. Those are two different things.
Though now I wonder– if the full cut of the film had been available all these years, would it have gained the critical reputation it has now? How much of this is love for the film, or love for the idea of the film, as some sort of fabled object?
The answer Bob is simple. The truncated film, that you haven’t seen yet is an absolute, staggering masterpiece even in this form. It’s not a speculative regard but a head on asessment of the print that we do have.
The influence this film has had on cinema after its release is massive. The story itself has been reworked and regurgitated for decades (Anyone remember Raimi’s variation A SIMPLE PLAN?) and its visual style, moral overtones, settings have been borrowed as well (think TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE, THE KILLING, ITS A MAD MAD MAD MAD WORLD, FARGO and, of course, the film that should pay the estate of Von Stroheim residuals, THERE WILL BE BLOOD). The final sequence in the desert, alone, has made film theorists reel since its release and, even in chopped-up form, mesmerized audiences for years. The hard lessons, moral ironies, masterful visual dichotomy all make this film irrefutable in its importance. I’ve seen this film quite a few times. Its hypnotic quality never leaves you.
BOB-Frankly, that’s bullshit. What is here, available to us all is not a skeletal representation of the full film but, rather, most of the meat and bones. Critics, historians, and CASUAL VIEWERS that have seen what’s left have been mesmerized. I find it hard to dismiss a film with a reputation like this as a FABLED OBJECT as you suggest. Out of a full 100% of footage shot by Von Stroheim, one would summize that a variable of 15% would have hit the floor by the directors hand alone if a gun were put to his head. The fact is this, the IMPORTANT footage, at least most of it, is here and waiting. Whether or not you add to it with your own intelligent imagination is up to you. The longest versions available have won it the reputation it so completely deserves. I feel sorry for any film-lover who hasn’t seen this amazing movie. Why not give it a try?
Dennis, don’t take that condescending attitude with me. I find it personally distasteful to watch a film that has been edited this much against the will of its director, in any form. By now I know better than to support that kind of continued behavior on the part of modern-day Irving Thalbergs by viewing any film– even puported classics– that have been sabotaged by cut-happy producers.
A crucial difference, here– you seem to enjoy the act of wondering what shape the rest of the film would take, if you had the chance to see it. I don’t. In fact, I find that sort of experience painful. Whenever I watched the last “Reconstruction” version of Lang’s “Metropolis” (before the most recent, practically full cut was found) I couldn’t help but squirm and cringe whenever a still or intertitle representing a lost scene came up. I don’t enjoy imagining what might’ve been, or worse yet, what might yet be, somewhere out there. It’s distracting. It hurts. Hell, I can’t even watch “Mulholland Drive” anymore without being consumed by the thought of how it would’ve turned out as a full television series, instead of a mere repurposed pilot.
Save your sympathies for the poor bastards who lived loving the incomplete cuts of movies like “Metropolis” or “Passion of Joan of Arc” only to die before their unblemished versions were rescued alive. The rest of us can muddle through as best we can, but forgive me if I’d rather not visit the site of a cinematic massacre like this. I just don’t have the stomach for it.
Your very notion is condescending in itself though, Bob. If you went to Stockholm (I think that’s where it is) would you refuse to view Rembrandt’s Claudius Civilis because it’s only around a fifth of the original painting – he butchered it himself to save SOMETHING. Likewise, would you refuse to read Petronius’ Satyricon because even less of that’s original text survives.
Greed should have survived longer, but the same is true of so many films. By this law you would only watch Blind Husbands and The Merry Widow of Von Stroheim’s entire ouevre, because Queen Kelly was unfinished, The Wedding March is missing its second part, Foolish Wives survives at only a third of its original length and Greed, even in the restored version, at not even half. By your rule, you would encourage others to ignore arguably the greatest genius of the silent screen by saying “better to see nothing if you can’t see it all” when, actually, the reverse is true, and you can say “this is a masterpiece even in this butchered state, so what does that say about his genius.” Only by viewing what we have can we cherish his memory.
Have you ever seen Vidor’s Northwest Passage. If so, you shouldn’t have done, because it was done as part one of two and directed by Vidor accordingly, but part 2 was never filmed. Gance’s Napoleon was originally eight hours and under 6 survive, and was originally to be only part one of several. Likewise, the original cut of Kubrick’s Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon and 2001 were longer originally. The Four Feathers, Things to Come, Love me Tonight, The Bride of Frankenstein, all these are missing at least a reel, so you haven’t/won’t watch them either?
You’re entitled to your opinion, Bob, but frankly, it’d delusional, self-denying and more than a little uppity.
Unfinished serial efforts don’t bother me quite as much, Fish, as long as what was finished remains in a state that’s true to the creator’s intentions. Denying one’s self of the first two parts of “Ivan the Terrible” because the third was never completed would be like refusing to watch “Twin Peaks” or “The Kingdom” because they never got their third seasons. Incomplete is not the same thing as what happened to movies like “Greed” or “Ambersons”, likewise films whose initial cuts were longer before their directors cut them down themselves (as in the case of Kubrick).
As for being uppity or delusional– for cying out loud, don’t get personal and petty. You’re entitled to your opinion that it’s better to marvel at the ruins of great works. All I’m saying is that in cases like these, for me, it’s just plain torture. It’s painful for me to watch a film that’s been so savagely edited beyond repair, plain and simple. To put it in culinary terms– yes, I might be denying myself a great dining experience by turning down a slice of cheesecake, but being allergic to milk & cheese, are a few delicious bites really worth a trip to the emergency room?
Bob, I fully understand where you are coming from on this.
I’m not of the same mind as you but I don’t think your approach to such unfinished or compromised works is anything but sincere and modest and without trace of arrogance or elitist bluster. We can’t change the way we feel about things, especially if we do so strongly.
Personally, I couldn’t get through Greed. I found it deathly tedious and I’m sure I would find it tedious in an unadulterated version.
Stephen – just wondering whether there is a masterpiece out there that you didn’t find deathly tedious or shit, or indeed whether there is any deathly tedious piece of shit you didn’t think was a masterpiece. You’re a fantastic gauge on an antithesis level, just reverse throuhg 180% your opinions about anything and you’ll have the right answer. It’s like losing chess. First one to get himself into checkmate wins.
There’s no need to be rude or sarcastic.
Yes, I don’t like some films that others like and vice versa. Obviously that’s because we’re all different, each with our own minds and reactions.
I just wanted to share what I thought. I don’t see the point in jumping on Bob or myself just because we see things differently.
“just reverse through 180% your opinions about anything and you’ll have the right answer.”
Well, maybe the right answer for you. There is no objective right answer, of course.
Well, if we polled everyone on the site and every critic known to man on the subject, you’d be talking to yourself for company. Stephen, you may think contrariness is the way to be noticed. There are better ways, like talking sense and knowing remotely what you are talking about. Perphaps you should consider them, for the moment you’re the cinematic equivalent of the Flat Earth Society.
The Earth is round. That is a fact.
Greed being a masterpiece is not a provable fact.
Why should having a different experience automatically devalues my opinion and thoughts.
There is a vast logical leap to be made from ‘he doesn’t agree with me’ to ‘he just wants to be different’ or ‘he wants to be noticed.
Sorry that should read:
“Why should having a different experience automatically devalue my opinion and thoughts?”
This is starting to remind me of the Inquisition. Just as zealous in its pursuit, just as closeminded in its dogma, just as torturous in its practice. Either one is burned at the stake for heresy, or one or burned at the stake for not having converted quicker. Anathema or not, keep targeting Stephen for persecution like this, and all you really do is turn him into a martyr.
In some ways true Bob, but if you were trying to have a party at home and an idiot kepot gatecrashing with only one intention – to annoy and be contrary for contrariness’ sake on EVERY SINGLE FILM – wouldn’t you batten down the hatches and fire full blast. Make foolish comments, you get treated like a fool, it’s as simple as that. I have not read one position from Stephen worthy of anything but derision.
Perhaps I haven’t been keeping up on the site here as much lately, but the only other instance where I can recall Stephen’s “contrariness” becoming an issue was in the whole teapot-tempest caused by his commentary on “Citizen Kane”, and while I personally diagree with his dismissal of the film, I don’t begrudge him his opinion, or ever thought it to be an insincere gesture of grandstanding.
In fact, I found his analysis of the film, while largely negative, to be rather insightful in parts, and considering how much he claims to dislike the film, remarkably fair. Take a look at his blog, for instance, where he’s encouraged visitors to suggest their favorite images from world cinema, and guess which movie he picks a shot from: http://checkingonmysausages.blogspot.com/2010/03/gallery-is-open-accepting-submissions.html (a warning, though– you’ll have to wade through some of my usual odes to all things Lucasian on that same thread, but don’t take it too personally).
At any rate, even when Stephen’s gone against the grain, I don’t think he’s ever been impolite (as far as I’ve observed), so I’d ask you do show him the same courtesy, even if you can’t fathom his positions. Besides, all he’s doing here is being polite in stating what he thought about the film– I don’t think anyone can accuse him of making a blanket statement here. Despite what you’ve insisted, Fish, there really can’t be such things as “required” tastes. Without that essential ingredient, a wide and free spectrum of opinion, all we’d really have would be artistic flavors of the month.
DIRECTORS are madmen. Often they bitch and moan about their VISION. In fact, many of them concede to editorial cuts in most situations. The trick is that a smart director will inundate a film with enough useless material to make it seem like he’s cutting deep into the flesh of his patient when, in fact he’s just exfoliating a bit of dead skin. Hitchcock, Kubrick, Spielberg are just a few that understood the maniacal machinations of studio butchery and injected in each of there films a “jigsaw” style of editing (a term fathered by Zanuck) that would make butchery difficult. I find it hard to believe that a genius like Von Stroheim could drop an 8 hour epic on the table and think it would never be touched by scissors. He was too smart to offer the heart of his film up for stabbing. Yes, I think the butchers probably went a little too far, but probably not as far as to render it DOA. Von Stroheims bitching, while justified, was also part of his showmanship. It worked. People have been studying GREED since 1924.
Considering that this was made in the age of monumental epics in European cinema (Lang’s massive, 5 hour “Dr. Mabuse” and “Die Nibelungen” films come to mind), I remain at the very least skeptical that Von Stroheim would be comfortable with an 8 hour long film being sliced down to something a little over 2. Lang employed a jig-saw editing style in his films, as well, but that didn’t save them from being distorted nearly beyond recognition when exported over to American distributors.
Is what remains of this film just skin and bones? No, probably not. Perhaps at the very worst, it’s a cinematic Venus de Milo, with nothing but a few stray amputations away from full beauty, but all the same, we’ll never really know just what was lost. Keep trimming enough fat, and soon enough you’ll lose the best parts. Imagine Bardot without her signature rump– on second thought, no, don’t even think about it. Some things are just too terrible to consider…
TO EACH HIS OWN BOB. I’d rather experience a film and get pleasure from what is left than none at all. Its rather misanthropic to be invited to a party, refuse to go because a particular guest is there, and sit at home the rest of the day miserable. As far as condescending? Please, if I were getting condescending or nasty (and I’d ask Sam about my dark side-he’s seen it a few dozen time), there would be nobody in the room standing. I merely suggested you take the shot with this film as I rather find your opinion of films interesting. Nuff said…
Well, whatever the merits of your or Bob’s argument this reminds me of a concert I went to see a few years ago. The great punk band Television was playing in Central Park, with the whole original lineup planned. At the last minute, it turned out guitarist Richard Lloyd was in the hospital and could not attend, though the rest of the band was intact (including vocalist, lead guitarist and songwriter Tom Verlaine – though admittedly the differing tones and styles of the two guitarists were an integral part of the sound). “Ah, man,” the dude in front of me bitched, “This isn’t Television – it’s just four guys.” “Yeah,” I remarked, “One of whom happens to be Tom Verlaine.”
The show was fantastic, incidentally.
This discussion makes me think about the editing process in the publishing industry. Someone like Maxwell Perkins is hailed as a kind of genius for shepherding Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Thomas Wolfe to literary fame, but the process always (and especially with Wolfe) required considerable cutting. While particular cuts made may be cause for complaint, this generally isn’t regarded as butchery, except perhaps in the problematic case of Wolfe. If anything, editors come in for the harshest criticism when they try to carve something coherent out of an unfinished manuscript by a dead author (Wolfe, Hemingway, Ralph Ellison,etc). When someone like Stroheim turns in a first cut of a feature film, it’s a more finished product than the raw material from which posthumous novels are often made. In the book business, the author is treated more fairly, as far as I know, because he remains in the loop during the editing process. That doesn’t stop authors from kicking and screaming along the way. Nevertheless, editing a novel is considered a necessary process, and the movie business (as opposed to the community of movie artists) might insist on the equal necessity of cutting for length. If anything, the complaint among many readers today is that publishers don’t do enough editing — perhaps because a more cinematic ethic regarding the artist’s integrity has seeped into the book business. To cut to the chase: Stroheim and his fans have every right to complain about excessive cutting of his films, and it could probably be argued objectively that the cutting down of Greed was especially excessive, but the studios have just as much right to cut what they, not the directors, own.
Based on the history of Foolish Wives especially, I agree with Dennis that Stroheim milked the controversies over the budget and length of his films as a form of self-promotion. He almost certainly expected Greed to be cut to the extent that he expected studio executives to be philistines, but he seems to have lived for battle on that front, and it bears noting again that after Greed he kept getting work. That suggests that from the studio point of view Stroheim was worth the trouble he caused.
Samuel, great observations all around.
You’ve piqued my interest in book-editing, incidentally, a topic I know little to nothing about. Would you recommend any particular book that deals with this – or is there one? I’d love to hear of it…
MovieMan, the first book that comes to mind is A. Scott Berg’s MAXWELL PERKINS: EDITOR OF GENIUS. Any biography or critical study of Thomas Wolfe will also give you a good idea of what a contentious and controversial labor editing a novel can be, Wolfe being arguably the most Stroheim-like of American novelists in his challenge to editors.
It’s added to my library list. Thanks…
Yep, typical Samuel Wilson brilliance on display here. Kudos to you sir!
ARGUING? WHO’S ARGUING?!?!? My dear MOVIEMAN, this is par-for-the-course for myself and my old late-nite nemisis BOB CLARK. Compaired to some of our former discussions during the graveyartd shift this is tame. Besides, if my suspicions are correct, it won’t be long before ALLAN comes in here (Whoops! There he is above right now!) and levels one of us! LOL!!!!!!
BOB-In the case of Kubrick and 2001; yes, Kubrick DID make the cuts but by force. The screaming demands of the execs at MGM were so loud that it caused Christianne, Stanley’s wife, to faint from the stress. Therefore the definition of butchering against the directors will and vision is sound. MGM forced Stanley’s hand, hence 2001 is a butchered film. You shouldn’t be watching it, by your terms.
If he really was forced to make all the cuts against his will, then why didn’t he save the footage for later? By all accounts, Kubrick destroyed the prints and negatives of his deleted scenes, so they wouldn’t be seen afterwards. That’s a very odd decision for a director to make unless they’re the ones doing the “butchering” themselves.
SAMUEL WILSON-Thank you for that defining commentary on editing. People like Verna Fields, Thelma Schoonmaker, Robert Wise etc. are in the business because of their harshness. As for rights of ownership, all I can say is this: if a director is so concerned about the finished product qand his “vision” then get it in the contract that they have right to FINAL CUT. Scorsese has final cut. Hitchcock (after 1940) had it. If the director is popular enough, and makes enough per picture to keep the studios wanting more then the director has em by the balls. Do you think Spielberh doesn’t have final cut? Not by a long shot. When you make as much money as he has, YOU GET ANYTHING YOU WANT.
I’ve yet to watch Greed. I attempted to view the restoration, but that was a few years ago when my discipline was slacker (my passion seems to build by the day) and I couldn’t manage it. I recently downloaded a version of the “original” 2 hour version and hope to watch it soon to see how I like it. Even without seeing it, Greed’s backstory fascinates me, and as a fan of film period I find its treatment horrifying. Maybe that’s what has kept me from trying it a second time for so long: if the notion of its butchering upsets me so now, how might I be tortured if the splintered version is as good as it still receives credit for being? But that is a bullet I must bite.
Aye, Jake, it’s a bullet for sure, but what we are left here is still a masterpieces that ranks methinks ahead of most films that are “finished.” Thanks as always for the much-valued response.
I’ve only seen the 2 1/4 hour version, which is sometimes shown on TCM, and, although it took a while to grow on me, in the end thought it was magnificent – I absolutely agree with you, Allan, that the scenes which stick in my mind the most are Zasu Pitts as Trina rolling around on the bed with her gold. Also the scenes near the start where Mac treats her as a dentist, and is tempted when she is unconscious, after he has given her ether.
One of the other things which struck me was the way the colour gold is used in this otherwise black and white film – does anyone know if this was the first film to use this type of effect? I know there were a lot of silent films with colour-washed scenes, but this is something different, more like the recurring colour red in ‘Schindler’s List’, so many years later.
I have also read ‘McTeague’ and the film stays remarkably close to the book, showing the literary sensibility which Samuel talked about – though the book is grimmer. I would like to see the four-hour restoration, but, even at two and a quarter hours, this is still a masterpiece.
Lovely submission here Judy and dead-on. I would add the final scene in the desert to the unforgettable set pieces.
Thanks, Sam – I agree about the finale in the desert being unforgettable. In the book I felt as if this section seemed somewhat tagged on to the main story, but in the film it works and comes as a powerful culmination.
JAKE-thats the whole point. IT IS A BULLET YOU BITE rather than denying yourself the joy of a great film. Its a far bigger bite than BOB is willing to take. Sometimes you just gotta stand at the end of the board, hold your nose, say “fuck it” and jump. JUDY-Absolutely right-on! The color used here is absolutely assential in the metaphors of obsessive greed. Your SCHINDLER’S LIST observation is dead on and Spielberg himself has said in interview that the color use in his Holocaust drama was inspired by GREED. BOB-Sorry, it was a forced hand for Kubrick. According to KUBRICK: A filmography, he clearly states he trimmed the film because he did not have final cut. Every film afterwards, though, he contracted with final cut. He also said in the chapter on SPARTACUS that when a film was finished he “walked away from it forever”.
Thanks for the information about Spielberg, Dennis – that is very interesting to know. I’d wondered if there was an influence there. I’ve been trying to think which other films there are which are mainly black and white with splashes of a single colour (similar to spot colour in newspapers). Apart from ‘Greed’ and ‘Schindler’s List’, the only one I can immediately think of is ‘Sin City’, though there is probably something obvious I have overlooked. At times the Darwin biopic ‘Creation’ gets a similar effect with grey, dingy scenes and just the remembered pink dress of Darwin’s daughter Annie shining out in flashback sequences, but this isn’t actually in black and white.
Judy,
Pleasantville used this particularly effectively, I think. Most of the time it can seem a little shallow, just to look ‘cool’.
There are a few other films that have fallen behind the cushions of my mind. I’ll try and dig them out later.
Von Trier’s “Europa” is one. I believe that’s the one that Spielberg was ripping off, specifically, for “Schindler’s List”. I think Von Trier actually mentions it in the Faber book on him. tThere’s also Cocteau’s “Testament of Orpheus”.
Bob,
Europa was the one I was thinking of. Thanks, it was starting to get to me that I couldn’t remember it.
Dennis, I’ll take Spielberg’s word on his influences, but I’d assumed that his immediate inspiration was the colored smoke from HIGH AND LOW.
Thanks for all the citations of films – I could think of several which have a mix of black and white and colour scenes, but no so many with the single colour effect.
One which totally mixed it up, subliminally as much as for emphasis, was Kinoshita’s The River Fuefuki.
On a weekend where I have been preoccupied with the funeral of a friend’s father, and a a bevy of films (and a play) I just now read through this thread. Oh my. Well, it’s one for the ages, that’s for certain!