#2,853. Peeping Tom (1960) - The Films of Michael Powell

 

Before I launch into my review of Peeping Tom, I want to take a moment to discuss proto-slashers. In a nutshell, proto-slashers are movies that predate the slasher films of the late ‘70s and ‘80s - Halloween, Friday the 13th, My Bloody Valentine, etc - that feature elements which would eventually become synonymous with the slasher subgenre.

In fact, two of the finest proto-slashers ever produced were released in 1960: Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho and Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom. Both are considered spiritual ancestors of the slasher film, with many of the tropes that would come to define that particular subgenre, yet each informs the slashers that followed in a very different way.

Mark (Carl Boehm) is a troubled young man. Subjected as a boy to experiments conducted by his scientist father, who was studying how fear affects children, Mark is himself now fascinated with fear, to the point that it has turned him into a killer.

And his weapon of choice is a movie camera! A cameraman employed by a London-based studio specializing in low-budget films, Mark turns his camera (a gift from his father) on his targets, filming them in what would prove to be the final moments of their lives, then heading home to develop the film and watch it back. His secondary job – shooting risqué photos of scantily-clad girls for the owner of a local news agency – provides him with potential victims.

Mark’s life takes an unexpected turn, however, when he meets and falls in love with Helen (Anna Massey), a tenant who lives on the first floor of his building (Mark is the landlord, actually, though he usually keeps to himself). His newfound feelings for Helen inspire Mark to seek treatment for his “condition”, but can he cure himself before the police catch up with him?

Directed by the great Michael Powell (Black Narcissus, Age of Consent), Peeping Tom is as much an exercise in voyeurism as Hitchcock’s Rear Window; Mark (played superbly by Carl Boehm) uses his beloved camera to shoot and capture for posterity the murders he commits (his tripod is equipped with a knife, which he uses to stab his female victims in the neck, all as his camera is rolling). More than the actual killing, he gets enjoyment out of watching the murders on film (it’s in this particular fascination that the movie gets its title; Mark is a Peeping Tom after the fact).

In addition to its similarities with Rear Window, Peeping Tom has quite a bit in common with another Hitchcock film, released the very same year: Psycho. Besides being proto-slashers, both feature main characters who have been damaged by their parents; Mark’s father is the cause of his disorder, while Norman Bates, played by Anthony Perkins, has some definite mommy issues. What’s more, we like both Mark and Norman; they are shy and socially awkward, yet we connect with them on an emotional level, and understand, even pity, the predicament they find themselves in.

Yet it’s in this very aspect that the two films also differ from one another. We like Psycho’s Norman Bates before we know what he is; there is a major reveal at the end of the movie that casts Norman in an entirely new light (and even though Psycho is over 60 years old, I won’t spoil it by saying anything more about the ending). We like Norman up to the point of that reveal.

In Peeping Tom, we know what Mark is in the first 10 minutes. The opening scene features the murder of a prostitute (Brenda Bruce), and though it was shot in POV (another slasher trope), the very next scene has Mark sitting in his apartment, watching a film of the murder we just witnessed. Right off the bat, we realize Mark is the killer, and yet we like him anyway! Even as the film progresses, and Mark continues to stalk and murder innocent girls, we find ourselves hoping he can get help and live happily ever after.

In this way, Peeping Tom is more of a proto-slasher than Psycho. In the ‘80s, audiences went to see the Halloween and Friday the 13th films not to root for the final girl, but to see the creative ways in which Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees would finish off their victims. Viewers connected with the killers, not the prey, much like we connect with Mark in Peeping Tom.

The fact that it is also a masterpiece, made by an immensely talented filmmaker at the top of his game, puts Peeping Tom on a level that few movies - slashers and proto-slashers alike - ever reach.
Rating: 10 out of 10

#2,521. Black Narcissus (1947) - The Films of Michael Powell

Black Narcissus was filmed entirely within the confines of England’s Pinewood Studios. Watch the movie, and I guarantee you’ll find this tidbit of trivia as amazing as I did. With its gorgeous colors and setting high atop the Himalayan Mountains, you'd swear the film was shot on-location in India or Tibet. 

This is but one of the movie’s many strengths. Black Narcissus is a beautiful, frightening, incredibly moving motion picture, with flawless performances and two skilled filmmakers (Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger) at the helm, turning out what I consider to be their masterpiece. 

The story centers on a group of Anglican nuns who have been invited by the Rajput (the ruler of the local Indian community) to establish a school and hospital to serve his people. Given a building (a former harem) situated on a sheer cliff in the Himalayas and under the guidance of newly appointed Mother Superior Sister Clodagh (Deborah Kerr), the sisters get to work immediately. 

Warned by Mr. Dean (David Farrar), an aide of General Dilip Rai (played by Sabu, star of - among others - 1940’s The Thief of Bagdad), that the customs in this area of the world are different from anything they may have experienced before, Sister Clodagh and her order nonetheless are determined to make a go of it. It isn’t long, however, before troubles with the locals, combined with the beauty of their surroundings, cause the sisters to lose sight of their objective, and question whether they made the right decision taking up residence in this remote corner of the globe. 

The nuns and their experiences in this far-off land are what give Black Narcissus its energy, with each sister experiencing a strange combination of sexual repression and spiritual conflict that is compounded by their picturesque environment. Deborah Kerr’s Sister Clodagh takes her position quite seriously, yet the beauty of this area reawakens memories of a past romance, which we see several times in flashbacks. As for Sister Ruth (Kathleen Byron), she falls in love with Mr Dean so deeply that she begins to see Sister Clodagh (who deals with Dean on an almost-daily basis) as a potential rival for his affections, and it’s more than her mind can handle. Even Flora Robsen’s Sister Philippa, the oldest in their order, is taken in by the landscape and the simplicity of the people.

The palace that serves as their home also works against them. Built years earlier by the then-Prince for his harem, Sister Clodagh and her order had hoped to transform it into a holy place, an institute of learning and care that would bring the indigenous population closer to God. But the ghosts of the building’s past are strong indeed, causing a spiritual crisis within each and every one of the good sisters. 

The performances are superb, from Deborah Kerr’s controlled yet emotional turn as Sister Clodagh to Kathleen Byron’s occasionally manic take on Sister Ruth. Also quite good in a supporting role is Jean Simmons as Kanchi, a local girl who, after being caught stealing, is brought to the convent and turned over to the sisters. Equally as remarkable is the cinematography of Jack Cardiff, who won an Oscar for his work here. Cardiff shoots a late scene in the bell tower in such a way as to make it positively nerve-racking. Black Narcissus also netted an Academy Award for Alfred Junge’s Art Design and Set Decoration, both of which convince us that we’ve been whisked away to an exotic locale. 

All of these elements - along with a profoundly emotional story - work in unison to make Black Narcissus an undisputed cinematic classic. 
Rating: 10 out of 10 - add it to your collection immediately!

#2,057. A Matter of Life and Death (1946) - The Films of Michael Powell

Directed By: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger

Starring: David Niven, Kim Hunter, Robert Coote


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Tag line: "The Greatest Adventure a Man Ever Lived!"

Trivia: It was during a visit to Hollywood in 1945 that director Michael Powell decided to cast the then-unknown Kim Hunter as June, the American servicewoman, largely upon the recommendation of Alfred Hitchcock








Equal parts fantasy and romance, 1946’s A Matter of Life and Death, from the creative team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, is a wildly imaginative motion picture that is sure to work its magic on you, a movie that, all at once, will challenge your mind, tug at your heart strings, and excite your senses.

May, 1945. A heavily damaged bomber is returning from Germany, and its pilot, Peter Carter (David Niven), on his own after the rest of his crew bailed out, makes radio contact with June (Kim Hunter), a young American servicewoman stationed off the coast of England. During the brief moments they share together, a strong bond forms between the two. But Peter knows his chances of survival are slim. His plane about to crash, and with no working parachute (his was damaged by shrapnel), he must leap from his speeding aircraft into the unforgiving English Channel below. Realizing he may never get another chance, Peter declares his love for June, then jumps.

But to Peter's surprise, he does not die. Instead, he washes up on the beach, where, as luck would have it, he has a chance encounter with June! From the moment their eyes meet, Peter and June know they were meant to be together, and spend the entire day in each other’s company. 

As it turns out, though, fate had, indeed, marked Peter Carter for death, but Conductor 71 (Marius Goring), the angel sent to collect his spirit, lost Peter when he leapt from the plane and disappeared in the fog. When confronted by Conductor 71 and informed that heaven is expecting him, Peter argues his situation has changed, and he’s not the same person he was a day earlier. Now in love, he feels he should be allowed to continue living, if not for his sake, then for June’s. 

Due to these extenuating circumstances, Peter is granted the opportunity to defend his life in a heavenly court, and, with the help of Conductor 71, he presents his case. But is Peter truly on trial, or, as his physician Dr. Reeves (Roger Livesey) contends, is he suffering brain trauma that is causing him to hallucinate? 

Either way, June and Dr. Reeves know that time is of the essence, because whether the trial is real or not, Peter believes it is, and should the “ruling” go against him, he will most likely die.

From start to finish, A Matter of Life and Death (retitled Stairway to Heaven for its U.S. release) is a dazzling motion picture that combines rich technicolor (the “real” world) with stunning black and white (in an interesting twist, all of the scenes set in heaven are monochrome). In addition, the movie boasts a number of incredible set pieces. While in heaven, waiting for Carter to arrive, his co-pilot Bob Trubshawe (Robert Coote), who was killed in the attack, peers down through a large opening into the hall of records (which, considering it contains the names of every deceased person since the beginning of time, is quite huge). The film's most amazing scene, however, has Peter and Conductor 71 riding an “escalator” to heaven, lined with statues of history’s greatest thinkers. During the trip, they even discuss which of these famous minds Peter should choose to serve as his defense council! 

These sequences, and many others (including Peter’s trial, which takes place in an area large enough to seat thousands upon thousands of spectators), do their part to transform A Matter of Life and Death into a remarkably vibrant visual experience.

But like other Powell / Pressburger collaborations (Black Narcissus, The Red Shoes), A Matter of Life and Death is more than a great-looking film. It’s also quite moving; the opening scene, where Peter talks with June on the radio as his plane goes down, is sure to bring a tear to your eye. In addition, this 1946 movie is both incredibly romantic (thanks to Niven and Hunter, both of whom are exceptional, we believe that a man and woman can fall helplessly in love in a few hours’ time) and extremely smart. During Peter’s trial, the prosecuting attorney, Abraham Farlan (Raymond Massey), who was the first American killed in the Revolutionary War, argues that no woman of “Good American Stock” would fall in love with an Englishman, let alone one she has only just met. Peter’s attorney (I’ll leave his identity a surprise) counters that love knows no physical boundaries, and that his client's current situation necessitates he be granted a new “due date” in heaven, one that is hopefully many, many years down the road. The sometimes spirited debate presented in this sequence is fascinating, to say the least, and will leave us to ponder what role love should play when life and death are on the line.

Clever, touching, and oh so beautiful, A Matter of Life and Death is more than Powell / Pressburger’s finest film. It is also one of the best movies of the 1940’s. If you are seeing it for the first time, know that I m envious; you’re in for one hell of a treat!