The Red Shoes (1948) - Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger

If The Red Shoes isn’t the greatest film ever about artistic obsession, I’m not sure what is. Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s masterful tour-de-force is also arguably their best film, although I have a very difficult time choosing between this one and Black Narcissus (1947), among several other films in their canon. Their films have a way of completely enwrapping you in cinematic intensity, be it through charm, romance, inspiration, subversion, suspense, horror, fear. It’s this intensity of emotion that gives The Red Shoes so much feeling and flamboyance, while maintaining something resembling civility and restraint when needed, keeping this film from being wildly erratic. Instead, it is as cinematically urgent as any film in history.

Based on Hans Christian Anderson’s fable, The Red Shoes concerns the convergence of three key characters. One is Boris Lermontov (Anton Walbrook), director of a ballet company. He’s intense and filled with a kind of demonic obsession to find both a perfection in a ballet production, and also to find the prima ballerina to help achieve such perfection. Another is Julian Craster (Marius Goring), a talented but uncredited composer who is hired by Boris after convincing him that his work has been pilfered from his current composer. The third is the dancer, Victoria Page (Moira Shearer). She remains fairly unnoticed by Boris until he sees her perform in a small, local production of Swan Lake where he notices her drive and intensity. He soon takes her under his wing and convinces her to be the lead in a new ballet he’s planning, called The Red Shoes, being composed by Julian. Soon, the three of them enter into a sort of love triangle. Vicky falls in love her composer, while Boris maintains that she should be devoted to her work and art, and thus to him. Vicky is torn, literally, between love and art.

Relaying the plot is rather bland when compared to the virtuosity with which the film is presented. I just watched the Blu-Ray of this film, and was again reminded that, yes, The Red Shoes is one of the 5 most beautiful color films ever photographed. Jack Cardiff’s cinematography simply takes my breath away, continually. Powell and Pressburger give the film a brilliant emphasis toward dance, providing atmosphere that feels as authentic as any, regarding the backstage banter and practice sessions. I know many people don’t really think of this film as a musical. I do, if for nothing else than the astounding 15 minute “Red Shoes Ballet” sequence that is not only the greatest dance sequence I’ve ever seen on film, but also one of the truly virtuosic cinematic experiences that one will ever see. This ballet scene is presented as a nearly fluid sequence. It is probably the first and greatest example of dance (0r song) choreographed over a lengthy run time (and influenced Gene Kelly into creating an extended ballet in An American in Paris (1951)). At the beginning of the ballet, the perspective is presented to us as if we’re in the audience and the dancers appear onstage before us where Vicky Page dances and is beguiled by a pair of red ballet shoes in the shop of a local cobbler/magician. Little does she know that these shoes have a mind of their own. Soon, we notice that the scene leaves the realism of a theatre presentation, and enters a cinematic universe where it is free to roam and breathe. We see a mirror image of Vicky in a window, the shoes magically enwrap her feet, she floats through a dreamy landscape, there’s a beautiful slow-motion sequence, she dances with a newspaper and on and on the scene goes with flamboyant propulsion and emotion. Not only is the music, choreography and cinematography in this scene unparalleled, it also contains the essential component of the psyche of the dancer. Vicky’s paranoia and passion are reflected throughout the scene as she hallucinates visions of Julian and Boris, appearing at will. We realize that this ballet is paralleling and presaging personal moments from her life.

Moira Shearer’s presence is best felt during her dancing performances or the extreme emotional close-ups that Cardiff frames so well. But, it’s Anton Wallbrook’s performance as Boris that really stands out, not only as the best performance in the film, but one of the all-time great performances in any film. His possessiveness and slightly cool way of telling someone off gives him a simultaneously creepy and gentile quality. One of his best moments comes as he gives an impassioned and measured speech to the theatre audience at the end of the film, following an intense tragedy. His cadence and projection during this moment are truly memorable. Boris’ insistence upon pure devotion to art which is unfettered and uncluttered by human love is a maniacal obsession and domination which he tries to enact upon Vicky. At first, she loves art and shuns love, ensconcing herself as his artistic lover. When she trades in her ballet shoes for the sake of Julian’s love, she betrays Boris, not just artistically, but emotionally and physically as well. Of course, Boris’ control over Vicky, parallels the red shoes' control over the dancer in the ballet in a perfect symmetry of terror. Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes is about as essential as they get and is unequaled in so many ways. It demands to be seen by anyone who loves cinema, dance or art of any kind.

I end this essay with a visual tribute to The Red Shoes Ballet.

Mr. Technicolor- A New Documentary about Jack Cardiff

I came across this really nice piece at the Criterion site about an interview with Craig McCall, maker of a new documentary floating around the festival circuit about the late Jack Cardiff and his brilliant cinematography. McCall's doc is called Cameraman: The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff. I think it's well worth the quick read and makes me ever more excited to see this documentary and watch Cardiff's work again. If you've never seen Black Narcissus (1947) or The Red Shoes (1948), these are films to put on your short list of things to see soon.

The Small Back Room (1949) - Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger



Directing and writing team Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger are arguably the greatest filmmaking duo in history, along with Joel and Ethan Coen. Also known as The Archers, their string of British films in the 40's ranks them as some of the greatest filmmakers of all time, making some of my personal favorites. Usually Pressburger did most of the writing, while Powell did most of the directing. Everyone knows about The Red Shoes (1948) and Black Narcissus (1947), which are justifiably two of the greatest films and greatest Technicolor achievements ever made (I haven't seen them on Blu-Ray yet, which is a crime, but I'm looking forward to doing so someday). In fact my single-most memorable experience of watching a "color" film, one that used color to the greatest effect, is with Black Narcissus. I remember the first time watching that and feeling so much passion and life coming from that film and how it used color to create emotion that it became an overwhelming experience. Their employment of Jack Cardiff, the great cinamatographer was certainly a choice that added to the beauty and passion of the three films he helped make for The Archers. Outside of The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus, they also made several other brilliant films in this stretch: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943), I Know Where I'm Going! (1945), A Matter of Life and Death (1946). They are truly great pillars of cinema even though most of their films are relatively obscure to the general movie-watching public.

One movie that has in fact slipped past me all these years is their 1949 feature, The Small Back Room. Following on the heels of The Red Shoes, it seems like a curious choice. For one reason, it's in black and white. David Farrar plays Sammy Rice, a bomb disposal and munitions expert, holding a job as a scientist for a unique war outfit who works in "the small back room" for the British Army. Several curious bombs or booby traps begin appearing in parts of England, apparently planted by Germans. It becomes Sammy's job to deal with them. Sammy is an interesting character, suffering from a bomb injury that blew off his foot and recovering from alchoholism, a theme that at times dominates the focus of the film. He has a hard time sticking up for himself on the job and tends to get pushed around by his boss, played by Jack Hawkins. Meanwhile, he has a love affair with the office secretary Sue, played by Kathleen Byron.

Sammy and Sue have a surprisingly forward relationship depiction for this time period, not hiding any fact that they are having sex. This is quite a progressive portrayal of an adult, unmarried couple. David Farrar and Kathleen Byron both appeared in Black Narcissus together 2 years prior. Here their chemistry is easily apparent. Playing well off of each other both in dramatic and lighter moments, showing us they have fallen in love, not just talking about it. There is a passionately filmed scene of the two of them inside a doorway, darkly lit except for a single stream of light illuminating their faces, which is one of the best scenes in the film. Both of them show a range for this type of character study. Neither of them look too polished and movie-star like. Kathleen Byron in particular is absolutely mesmerizing. Her screen presence makes you uneasy and comfortable at the same time. She makes you want to watch and commands the screen whenever she's on it.



There is a brilliant sequence toward the end of the film where Sammy has to diffuse a new type of bomb. This turns into a 17-minute scene on a pebbled beach where some great use of editing makes the scene much more action-like than it really is. As you're watching it, you might be thinking that this scene is out of place. it might appear too separate from the rest of the film. However, I would argue that we see Sammy's true calling come out. He was born to diffuse bombs and he's actually really good at it. This is important for Sammy to have this moment, and it's important for the film to have this conclusion. Powell and Pressburger's movies are always smarter than most. Their ideas about cinema and its form are progressive, singular, and hold up really well today. The Small Back Room is an underrated work from them and worthy of being mentioned with their best films.