Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Sunrise (1927)
Director: F.W. Murnau
* Warning - The following analysis contains a discussion of the entire film including the ending.
Sunrise is a puzzle movie. No, not a mystery; rather one of those few movie gems that does not reveal its full emotional weight and beauty until the final scene. Then it all comes together, complete, and you are left to marvel at its perfect construction. The three other puzzle films I have seen are all Italian black and white masterpieces. In order of brilliance: Federico Fellini's La Strada (1954), Vittorio De Sica’s The Bicycle Thief (1948), Ermanno Olmi's Il Posto (1961). Sunrise is their silent-film precursor by some 30 years and it seems the three directors are emulating Sunrise’s form. Like Sunrise all three movies have long, slowly paced sequences centered around the mundane. In Il Posto it the young boy’s tedious work days, in The Bicycle Thief it is a father and son wandering the streets of their town looking for a stolen bike, and in La Strada it is the daily routine of a traveling carnival. In Sunrise, wonderfully, it is the mundane of falling in love. Falling in love, mundane? Perhaps I should describe it as real – it is not meeting atop the Empire State Building, it is not escaping war torn France and meeting again in Morocco, it is not finding each other again after having your memory erased. No, it is quaint; it is probable; it is believable. She watches him get a shave at the barber, they pose for a photographer and leave giddy with their portrait, she gets tipsy on a few glasses of wine, the bright lights and dancing. These, myriad of little moments, that together, add up to the final emotional impact as the film clicks into place in the final scene.
Unlike the 3 Italian films mentioned, Sunrise has a very dramatic beginning and ending, framing the magnificently mundane middle. As the film begins The Man, a simple country boy, is having an affair with a ‘City Woman’ – an urban temptress who boldly displays and uses her sexuality to hook and control The Man. He is out of his mind in lust, letting his farm, wife and child all suffer by neglect. His wife, a mix of innocence reminiscent of the Virgin Mary and Mary Ingalls, quietly bares his obvious infidelity. Then the wicked city woman talks The Man into killing his wife in a boating accident so he can sell the farm and leave for the sinful city. He agrees, and takes her out on the water with plans for murder, but cannot go through with it. She flees when they reach land; and he follows and pleads for forgiveness. Reluctantly she agrees, and we get the long beautiful middle as they re-fall in love. Ironically, as they return from their wonderful day their boat capsizes in a storm and she, we think, has drown. As a few agonizing minutes The Wife is returned safely and the city temptress is driven out by the country folk like a sacrificial lamb.
They embrace, as she lies recovering in bed: her hair finally down, their love believable. The production affects its full, cumulative emotional impact, and realizes this film was perfectly made.
Should you see it? Absolutely. (However, I am unsure if silent films translate well to the small screen. Look for an art house revivial.)
* Warning - The following analysis contains a discussion of the entire film including the ending.
Sunrise is a puzzle movie. No, not a mystery; rather one of those few movie gems that does not reveal its full emotional weight and beauty until the final scene. Then it all comes together, complete, and you are left to marvel at its perfect construction. The three other puzzle films I have seen are all Italian black and white masterpieces. In order of brilliance: Federico Fellini's La Strada (1954), Vittorio De Sica’s The Bicycle Thief (1948), Ermanno Olmi's Il Posto (1961). Sunrise is their silent-film precursor by some 30 years and it seems the three directors are emulating Sunrise’s form. Like Sunrise all three movies have long, slowly paced sequences centered around the mundane. In Il Posto it the young boy’s tedious work days, in The Bicycle Thief it is a father and son wandering the streets of their town looking for a stolen bike, and in La Strada it is the daily routine of a traveling carnival. In Sunrise, wonderfully, it is the mundane of falling in love. Falling in love, mundane? Perhaps I should describe it as real – it is not meeting atop the Empire State Building, it is not escaping war torn France and meeting again in Morocco, it is not finding each other again after having your memory erased. No, it is quaint; it is probable; it is believable. She watches him get a shave at the barber, they pose for a photographer and leave giddy with their portrait, she gets tipsy on a few glasses of wine, the bright lights and dancing. These, myriad of little moments, that together, add up to the final emotional impact as the film clicks into place in the final scene.
Unlike the 3 Italian films mentioned, Sunrise has a very dramatic beginning and ending, framing the magnificently mundane middle. As the film begins The Man, a simple country boy, is having an affair with a ‘City Woman’ – an urban temptress who boldly displays and uses her sexuality to hook and control The Man. He is out of his mind in lust, letting his farm, wife and child all suffer by neglect. His wife, a mix of innocence reminiscent of the Virgin Mary and Mary Ingalls, quietly bares his obvious infidelity. Then the wicked city woman talks The Man into killing his wife in a boating accident so he can sell the farm and leave for the sinful city. He agrees, and takes her out on the water with plans for murder, but cannot go through with it. She flees when they reach land; and he follows and pleads for forgiveness. Reluctantly she agrees, and we get the long beautiful middle as they re-fall in love. Ironically, as they return from their wonderful day their boat capsizes in a storm and she, we think, has drown. As a few agonizing minutes The Wife is returned safely and the city temptress is driven out by the country folk like a sacrificial lamb.
They embrace, as she lies recovering in bed: her hair finally down, their love believable. The production affects its full, cumulative emotional impact, and realizes this film was perfectly made.
Should you see it? Absolutely. (However, I am unsure if silent films translate well to the small screen. Look for an art house revivial.)
