About 6 months ago, I decided to divide the Film History page here at Movie Parliament into three sections: Classic Films, Cult Movies and Foreign Masterpieces.

Consequentially, I now find myself having to categorise each film I review for the History Page. Sometimes this is more difficult than at other times: “Big Trouble in Little China” is obviously a cult favourite, it isn't foreign (bar the occasional Chinese outcry) and it most definitely isn't a Classic film. My thought process behind categorising “Sunrise” was increasingly more complex.

The film was directed by the German filmmaker F.W. Murnau, who had come to fame in pre-Nazi Germany by making such silent-era classics as “Faust”, “The Last Laugh” and “Nosferatu”. Murnau, along with many other German filmmakers, moved to America. There, he continued to make films in his trademark visual style. A distinct follower of the German Expressionist movement , a visual sense born out of directing for the stage, his sets were framed in shadows, the plots were unusually dark and depressing. It was because of the immigration push from German directors into America, that Film Noir ultimately came to be.

Murnau directed “Sunrise” as if he were directing a German Expressionist film on a Hollywood budget. And yet, there is something very American to the film. After the first act of the film, in which a rural farmer is seduced by a woman from the city, which in turn results in him attempting to kill his wife, the film's story takes a sudden turn. We merely follow the married couple as they walk through the city. They rediscover their love for each other, as she learns to forgive him. All of this comes as a surprise, a pleasant turn of events, made all the more effective by the dark set-up in the first act.
George O'Brien (playing “The Man”) and Janet Gaynor (“The Wife”) make for one of the most effecting on-screen romances in all of film history. Their journey through the big, bad city works not only as a social commentary, but also as a simple delight. Murnau manages to break away from his gloomy oeuvre and reinvents his approach for Hollywood cinema, changing the landscape of film in the process. His pioneering work with miniatures and image overlays stands out in particular. He might not have known at the time, but his work on “Sunrise” was influential to many future Hollywood directors, key amongst these is Billy Wilder. Sadly, Murnau died a few years later, victim of an unfortunate car crash, but his legacy certainly lives on.

A sweeping shot of a bustling, lively city. The black and white cinematography highlights the contrasting light and darkness, the ominous shadows. We move in on a man at a desk, a private detective. This is Humphrey Bogart, an icon of film noir, playing the role of Samuel Spade in John Huston's debut feature The Maltese Falcon.
Spade is about to unknowingly enter the criminal underbelly of the city. The individual against the threatening collective, a key theme in film noir. But in 1941, the year of the film's cinematic release, there was no film noir. Writer-director John Huston, together with his cinematographer Arthur Edeson, tapped into something with his dark crime thriller that inspired audiences and influenced like-minded filmmakers all through Hollywood.

On the outside, The Maltese Falcon might have looked like your average Warner Bros. gangster movie, a genre which they had pursued over the last decade or so. Something, however, had slowly but surely changed the cinematic landscape. Maybe it was the rising influence of French poetic cinema or German expressionism on the American market, or perhaps people began to sense the impending dread and frustration of WW2. For whatever reason, out of all this, private detective Samuel Spade was born. An openly selfish man, who makes morally ambiguous choices and commits adultery. The anti-hero of the 40s and 50s.
Bogart's Spade is repeatedly tricked and seduced by Mary Astor's shady “femme fatale”. She involves him in the search for the Maltese Falcon, a priceless statuette. Along the way, Spade is confronted with numerous henchmen and untrustworthy individuals, such as Peter Lorre's slimy crook Joel Cairo. Our hero is framed in doorways, corridors and other confines of the city in imagery reminiscent of European cinema. Highly evocative and progressive for it's time, with undertones of eroticism, The Maltese Falcon had an instant strong impact on American culture.

Huston would go on to make other film noirs, such as The Asphalt Jungle, and Bogart would soon become Hollywood's biggest star. Bogart and Huston would work together again many times, but in a sense their first collaboration proved to be their most important contribution to film history.

Any admirer of film noir and classic films, should watch The Maltese Falcon.

By Movie Parliament Minister for History,
Leonhard Balk

In a way similar to the story of it's protagonist, Carl Theodor Dreyer's “The Passion of Joan of Arc” (“La passion de Jeanne d'Arc”) has faced a great deal of controversy and was misunderstood by the people of it's time, all of which ultimately ended in flames. For many years, Dreyer's film could only be viewed as an alternative cut, because original prints had been destroyed in the 1928 fire at the UFA studios in Berlin.
The version available to audiences now, the original non-censored cut of the film, was found in a mental institute in Oslo in 1981.

In contrast to the several and various later remakes made, Dreyer chooses to focus solely on the last few hours of Joan of Arc's life in his film. Maria Falconetti's portrayal of the French folk heroine and Roman Catholic saint is intensely emotional and almost too hard to watch. Captured by the British and on trial for the substantial role she played during the Hundred Year's War, we watch her come to terms with both her king and her god seemingly deserting her. Her resilience to deny her connection with god and her final refusal to conform is deeply affecting.
Supplementing Falconetti's impressive performance with his great sense of style, Dreyer's cinematography is both modern and befitting of the subject matter.

Not much else can be said about this masterpiece, other than recommending that everyone should watch it and be thankful that it still exists after all this time.

By Movie Parliament Minister of History,
Leonhard Balk

                                       "Give a guy a gun, he thinks he's Superman. Give him two and he thinks he's God."

In the early years of career, before moving to America and resigning to making Hollywood blockbusters, Chinese director John Woo played a crucial part in forming the Hong Kong action cinema genre. After dabbling in slapstick-comedies and directing several unsuccessful kung-fu films, sometimes collaborating with a young Jackie Chan, Woo exiled himself to Taiwan, wanting to rethink his career.

There, he was able to secure funding to film a pet project of his: 1986's “A Better Tomorrow”. The film was an instant hit and Woo consequentially returned to Hong Kong to continue working. “A Better Tomorrow” not only revived Woo's career, but also introduced him to rising star Chow Yun-Fat. Together, they would go on to make some of the best action films in cinema history.

1992's “Hard Boiled” represents the last effort of their collaboration, as Woo would subsequently move to America to make “Hard Target” with Jean-Claude Van Damme. The film, apart from being a fan-favourite and cult classic, is also arguably Woo's best film to date.

“Hard Boiled” utilises the progress made and expertise gained by Woo in his previous Chow Yun-Fat films and pushes the limits of what could be done in-camera at the time. Technically, the film stands as one of the best choreographed and shot action films in cinema history. One shot, especially, needs to be mentioned here:

The famous long take was done only once. The production had just run out of money and the cast and crew agreed to work overtime without pay, only for this one shot. The shot sees Yun-Fat's Inspector Tequila and Tony Leung's undercover cop Alan snake along the corridors of a hospital crawling with mobsters during the film's climactic battle. Escaping the flying bullets, Tequila and Alan take cover inside an elevator, where Alan begins to wonder whether he just accidentally shot a cop.

Tony Leung, another Woo regular, plays a disgraced police officer, who, in order to get a clean slate, agrees to infiltrate a mob and uncover a gun smuggling operation. Whilst in the mob, he is forced to act more and more like a criminal and soon begins to wonder about who he has become. Meanwhile, on the other side of the law, Tequila loses his partner in a violent shoot-out at a tea house. From there on, he is driven by a need for revenge.

Woo juxtaposes his two main characters to highlight their moral ambiguity, something which would a few years later be seen again in Michael Mann's “Heat”. The way in which Woo treats both his main characters the same, even though they work for different sides, makes the action scenes in the first half of the film even more hard-hitting, as we care for both sides to win and we know both sides will do anything to kill the other.
In the third act, when Tony and Tequila join forces, the result is that both characters can carry the action and the audience's sympathy. “Hard Boiled” is a unique action film, which stands out from all the other mediocre action fare, because it knows how to play with the viewer's allegiance and install a sense of danger into it's over-the-top action scenes. It is the perfect example of what Hong Kong action cinema can do.

By Movie Parliament Minister for History,
Leonhard Balk

                                                                    “I feel the need... the need for speed!”

When Tony Scott, younger-brother to director Ridley Scott, signed on to direct a film about egotistical fighter pilots training at a distinguished military school, nobody suspected the film to have any real, lasting impact. In early pre-production stages, multiple screenwriters passed on the chance to develop the idea, based on a short magazine article. Later in the development process, directors John Carpenter and David Cronenberg turned down an offer to direct. “Top Gun” was written off as a flop even before it went into production.

The careers of relative newcomers Tom Cruise, known at this point for his stand-out performance in 1983's “Risky Business”, and Val Kilmer, forced into starring by a contractual obligation, were riding on the financial and critical success of the $15 million production. However, with sophomore director Tony Scott being fired three times during filming and stunt-pilot Art Scholl dying after a fatal accident on set, the prospects were not looking good.

So, when the film was released on May 16th 1986, it's immediate good reception came as a surprise to everyone involved. Tom Cruise firmly established himself as the charismatic leading man actor he is today and Tony Scott went on to direct such classics as “Man on Fire”, “True Romance” and “Enemy of the State”.

Let's get this out of the way: Obviously, looking at “Top Gun” now, the first thing you notice are the blatant homoerotic tensions throughout the film. The film is very much a product of the camp 80's and co-stars Cruise and Kilmer do share a great number of lingering looks. Also, there is a lot of talk about “busting asses” and “wanting somebody's butt”. Quentin Tarantino puts it best here:

On a more serious note though, the 80's style and aesthetic lends itself perfectly to the core theme and message of the story. “Top Gun” is light entertainment, easy to watch and relate to, and because of it's naivety and innocence it could only properly exist in the small timeframe during which it was released. In this enviroment, Tony Scott's romanticised visual style and Tom Cruise's charismatic performance thrive and combine to form an undeniably inspirational film.

It is the perfect film to remember Tony Scott by, as it is his most up-beat, optimistic and arguably heartfelt work.

By Movie Parliament Minister of History,
Leonhard Balk