What I refer to as ‘mirroring’ in media describes the interplay between different artistic elements — sound, image, character, narrative — which reflect and influence one another within a creative work. In cinema, this phenomenon is particularly evident in the relationship between film scores and onscreen characterisation, where music not only underscores emotion but can itself become a character.
My passion for cinema music’s interconnectivity with visual imagery is rooted in both personal and academic pursuits. This draws upon postgraduate studies in the developmental visual language of children, as well as ongoing work in music composition, and creative writing.
‘Vertigo’ (1958)
Film music has long been understood as a tool for emotional guidance and narrative support, but its capacity to ‘mirror’ or even become a character in its own right is a more nuanced phenomenon. Classic examples include Herrmann’s swirling, obsessive motifs in ‘Vertigo’, John Williams’ ominous leitmotif for Darth Vader, and the haunting minimalism of Philip Glass in ‘Koyaanisqatsi’. Each instance demonstrates how the score can reflect, amplify, or even subvert onscreen characterisation, in dialogue with the visual narrative.
The relationship between director and composer is often a crucible for creative mirroring, as evidenced by the storied collaboration between Alfred Hitchcock and Bernard Herrmann. Their partnership was marked by a creative tension that reflected the psychological depth of the films. Among the most striking visual motifs in ‘Vertigo’ is the use of mirrors, which become central to the film’s exploration of identity and duality. Mirror shots, colour design, and framing choices, contribute to its expressionist style.
Herrmann’s musical identity was shaped by a tapestry of influences from Classical repertoire to American modernism. Before and after Hitchcock, his oeuvre encompassed radio dramas, concert works, and landmark scores such as ‘Citizen Kane’ and ‘Fahrenheit 451’. His idiosyncratic approach to orchestration, harmony, and motif, laid the groundwork for later success.
‘Metropolis’ (1927)
Fritz Lang’s silent films, particularly ‘Metropolis’ and ‘Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler’, are foundational texts in the history of cinematic mirroring. Their visual language — rooted in the angular, shadowy aesthetics of German Expressionism — established a template for the interplay between image and sound. The techniques of Expressionist painting and theatre found new life in cinema, influencing not only directors but also composers seeking to ‘mirror’ the fractured psychological landscapes of the films.
German Expressionism’s impact on cinema extended far beyond Weimar, shaping the aesthetic sensibilities of directors and composers across Europe and Hollywood. Its emphasis on abstraction, emotional intensity, and the blurring of boundaries between reality and hallucination provided fertile ground for innovative approaches to film scoring. These principles informed Hitchcock, Herrmann, and the musical language of Max Steiner.
‘The Lady from Shanghai’ (1947)
Heinz Roemheld’s score is integral to The Hall of Mirrors scene from Orson Welles’s ‘The Lady from Shanghai’. The music shapes and echoes the emotional intent; a thread woven into the visual and narrative fabric. Welles’s direction is characterised by elaborate camera work and editing, fragmenting space and perspective. Roemheld provides an emotional anchor, anticipating and responding to
on-screen events.
My engagement with the cinema organ has been both practical and reflective. An instrument designed to ‘mirror’ the action and emotion of silent films, the cinema organ exemplifies the interdependence of sound and image in early cinema. Its capacity for timbral variety and real-time improvisation enabled organists to respond dynamically to onscreen developments.
My research into the developmental visual language of children reveals parallels with the processes by which audiences ‘learn’ to interpret film scores. These involve the acquisition of symbolic understanding, pattern recognition, and the ability to make connections across sensory modalities. As a writer and composer, I have found that the principles of mirroring — reflection, doubling, transformation — are equally applicable to the structure of a poem or the variation of a musical theme. The exploration of mirroring across media is both an academic pursuit and a personal passion.
Reviews of fourteen varied music videos, and their filmic inferences, directed by the British singer and songwriter Kate Bush. The videos are in order of year of release.
Martin is a composer and writer. He has authored reviews for Live In London and What’s On London. An essay, ‘Projected Images Of Light’, is available to read online.
THE BIG SKY (1986)
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Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
The song was the fourth single from the album ‘Hounds of Love’. Playful and uplifting – both the music and the imagery. The latter, creating a delightfully patch-worked semi-narrative concerning aviators and childhood fantasy. This in turn plays upon a notion of diversity, as possessing unifying motives. A range of purposefully stereotyped characters are portrayed in tableau, ranging from Horatio Nelson to Superman. However, and cleverly, this is never over-played. Slightly crazy “but in a good way” and Bush is very much playing upon that, as she will, to maximum effect.
The moon as “a disc of silver light” morphs to a central spotlight, highlighting the singer and her musicians. There follows a transcendence from masquerade to a celebratory crowd scene (compromised of members of her fan club, incidentally). It is absolutely wonderful to see Bush and her entourage enjoying the moment. The piece screams of a capture of youthful energy and creativity. Though marked by its 1980s zeitgeist, it remains, nevertheless, timeless, and timelessly inspirational.
HOUNDS OF LOVE (1986)
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Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Fast-paced and fast-moving, alongside its driving and sawing string accompaniment, the video commences with an actor miming dialogue lifted from the British B-Movie classic ‘The Night of The Demon’. Underlying subtleties, though, maintain its freshness. The aforementioned actor is then re-shot as a child, escaping down a corridor, to the echo of Bush’s childlike vocal ostinato. The filmic influence overall is Hitchcock’s ‘The 39 Steps’. This is stagily choreographed but highly effective. Unflinching in the interplay between performance and reality, the fourth wall, though tacit, is never broken. Changes of scene, of indoor and outdoor, are stitched by the consistent rhythm and tempo, falling in and out of synch with the action.
Further references abound. The unconsummated marriage of the
central figures. The party confetti falling like snow onto Bush’s dark locks, as
she yields to the linked buttresses of party guests. Do they see or not see an
unrestrained passion outside their realm? For whoever is coming as her
paramour, the chanteuse confronts her fear – accepting handcuffs in a slow
tango as the dancefloor disperses. It is not for the viewer to decode the
director’s intent. That would be both getting and missing the point: the not
knowing, the holding back, the mystery that pervades. What is clear though is
love is scary, risky, and challenging... but worth chancing your arm for. A set piece you do not want to end, and all the more
potent in its brevity.
A pity that, unlike the music, these videos are not
remastered and re-released.
EXPERIMENT IV (1986)
««« Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
‘Experiment IV’ was released as a single to promote the greatest hits album ‘The Whole Story’. Another beautiful and inspirational song, this time in the ‘Cloudbusting’ mould. The accompanying video, though, feels stilted and somewhat literal. It does not always, on every occasion, pay for a musician to take the directorial rein. A music video can appear either as a different slant or a promotional force for a pop song. Both surface here. And, for all their artistry, these are, of course, promotional videos.
The best feature, as ever, is Bush herself, in an indeed frightening (yet ethereal) blonde wig – concealing a demonic and ‘Alien’-esque alter ego. Peter Vaughan is expectedly wonderful too. However, the presence of other stars including Dawn French and Hugh Laurie does not necessitate success. This comes off as a fun romp and decidedly tongue-in-cheek. A little light relief, counterbalancing the darker undertones of its soundtrack. Worth the watch, though. For Bush, there are always glimmers of genius. The reversal of ‘Music for Pleasure’ as “music to kill” is crafted brilliantly. The closing shot, not only lovely, proves that she’s been killing us for years.
THE SENSUAL WORLD (1989)
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Novercia / Dir. Peter Richardson & Kate Bush
The title track and first single from the album of the same name. A true work of art, co-directed with Peter Richardson (who directed Kate Bush in the ‘Comic Strip’ film ‘Les Dogs’). Sunlight shimmers and scatters on water, the interplay between illumination and movement. Melding the sacred and the sensual, the symbolism of baptism and rebirth. Setting the tone for what unfolds, church bells underscore the moment.
Bush has one foot in the familiar, the other in the wilds. She is both subject and guide, leading us on a tiptoe path. Attired in medieval garb, she prances but never frivolously. Hers is a slow-wound whirligig, a study in balance. Her aloofness is not detachment but possession, an eccentricity tempered by restraint. Her femininity is neither softness or seduction or defiance or strength. Each step, a negotiation between worlds.
Underpinning all is the music and its echoes of the ancient and the traditional. A testament to Bush’s mastery of intertextuality and her ability to draw upon myriad influences. We are aware that we are witnessing a performance within a constructed world. However, far from detracting from emotional power, the artifice enhances it. There is a fade to black and a moment of silence. As with the best of art, we are left wanting more. The video is an exploration of yearning; of sensuality distilled through the lens of rhythm, nature, and Joyce.
THIS WOMAN’S WORK (1989) «««««
Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Almost impossible to comment. The work in its entirety – the musical and the visual language – speak for themselves. As a director, Bush hits the mark with this video. It would seem that her vision was crystal clear from the start. Tim McInnerny’s contribution, as much as Kate Bush’s, is quietly staggering. Again, there is nothing overplayed. One could begin to dissect its components, the reciprocity of process and time, the real and the imagined... However, its simplicity and effectiveness communicate independently.
It likewise seems arbitrary to mention that Bush appears in opening and closing shots in gentleman’s black tie, at a baby grand. This sequence of tableau concludes with the artist closing the piano lid; a Garbo-esque transposition of emotion to an object. Hers is, after all, a light but deeply assuring touch.
LOVE AND ANGER (1990)
«««« Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Looking for a moment that’ll never happen Living in the gap between past and future…
A mini masterpiece, shimmering with allusion and innovation.
At its heart lies Bush’s characteristic fearlessness, her willingness to
personalise, to distil the private and the mythic into a shared language.
Familiar motifs abound: discs of light, ballet, whirling dervishes, rains of
glitter. And yet, there is a palpable shift. The symbolism turns literal in its
invocation of riches and regalia, orb and sceptre… The trappings of a
figurehead, the currency of authority and spectacle. Dissolving the boundaries between
artifice and authenticity.
We find Bush returning to her roots – to The KT Bush Band
alongside David Gilmour – not in regression but reclamation. She throws
herself with abandon into popular dance formations, bridging the divide between
the cerebral and the corporeal. Glitter bursts at every drumbeat, culminating
in a final flourish: sprayed directly at the viewer, with a self-satisfied
“yeah!” It is, for this artist, a
rare break of the fourth wall. Kate Bush, in contemporary mode, is both a celebration
and a challenge.
ROCKET MAN (1991)
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Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
Another performance video but different again, in black-and-white, a cover of the John/Taupin classic. It won The Observer readers’ award
for ‘The Greatest Cover of All Time’. The video, though, is distinctly
conceptual – and lastingly beautiful. Backing singers miming to Bush’s
voice jar but there is zero allusion. Alan Murphy, who died since recording his
guitar part, is represented by a candle.
Bush does not bother to alter the gender of the protagonist
but maintains it, as if or because it doesn’t matter. The symbolism this time (against billowing parachute silk) is cleverly her own.
She morphs, as she will, through a sequence of characters... culminating – of
course – as a conductor of fireworks in the cosmos. You would bestow her the title
if she hadn’t herself. All this, and she plays the ukulele too.
The video is highly “musical”. This is Bush having fun and
inviting us to join. Stylish, chic, and too good to miss. Very nearly
Five Stars for the Hell (or the Heaven) of it.
THE LINE, THE CROSS AND THE CURVE (1994)
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Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
My abiding memory of ‘The Line, the Cross and the Curve’ was taking my albeit haughty housemate to the local Arts Centre and shrinking in my skin. I believed it would convert him to a Kate Bush fan, but no. I was expecting some form of abstract or Surreal production, an innovative geometric animation as its mathematical title inferred, set to music sparse and new. This occurred in years to come – with the accent on shadow puppetry alongside semi-atonal piano accompaniment (for the ‘50 Words for Snow’ videos). Bush famously described this 40-minute film as “a load of bollocks.” It is more, as critics convey, as series of pop videos strung together. With what? With links which translate poorly – emotive gaps unfilled by the thrown-in musical numbers which subside upon themselves.
How much inspiration is to be had from a figure placed so definingly in a creative bubble? As Terry Staunton wrote at the time, “Can you imagine spending nearly half your life signed to the biggest record company in Britain, while at the same time being cocooned from the rest of the world?” In a kinder light, and as far as the album is concerned, this is a phase of life for Bush when her long-term relationship disbanded, and her beloved mother passed away. The music is superb, its themes universal – offering irony and parallelism, visual in itself. Bush’s efforts in this film, though, miss that artistic balance.
The driving force of the opening number ‘Rubberband Girl’ is not presented as a performance but “in rehearsal.” It fails to hit the mark as a convincing metaphor. A metaphor for what? It is unable to weight the reality it craves; set in a space that is, for most of us, transient or inaccessible. The attempts at acting by most, including Bush, are hammy. Whatever the sudden divergence to an unrelated number – the gorgeous ‘And So Is Love’ – has to do with anything is bewildering. And however brilliant Miranda Richardson is, as some form of summoned-up pixie, she is one more unconvincing preposition.
An overbearing issue is the viewer’s faith in their idol, in
expecting things to take form... It never happens. References to ‘Night of The
Demon’, (a fantastical, faux-futuristic B movie), fail to assist. References to
Powell and Pressburger’s ‘The Red Shoes’ are too much at once. The song
of the same name is terrific, and, yes, alongside the clownlike Lindsay Kemp,
so crazy it is good. Regrettably, shots of Kate with wriggling legs, abjointed
by another actor, add to the unconvincingness. In my edit, these would touch the production floor.
Bush’s stillness at the lap of the medium Lily is out of
synch with the premise of the narration. It is where she loses her audience.
Twenty minutes in, already feels like an eternity. The ‘Lily’ sequence forces a
disjuncture – Bush’s slow and flowing movements in the shoes that previously made
her writhe like a snake. In redux, the entire section could be replaced with
animation à ala ‘The Box of Delights’. I am unsure why, considering the endless
remastering, reissuing, repackaging, of her music, Bush has not considered the
same for this film. The transition between ‘Lily’ and ‘Moments of Pleasure’
conveys potential, if bogged down in self-involvement. However, a commendable
narration extends alongside a rotation of her eyes:
I can’t go on... I am torn between what I was
And what is to become of me
In these shoes every step I take is laced with madness
They fill me with pain and confusion, with thoughts that are not my own
I have danced their dances; I see streets and buildings I know so well
Although I have never been to these places
Together we raced with wild horses till they dropped
We have leapt from cliffs into the raging waters below
And together we tripped from a stage into the pit
I see me falling, I feel my fear and yet I was never here
These shoes are all anger and passion
I am possessed and I no longer have the strength to fight them.
The ‘Moments of Pleasure’ section is nice enough although also
misplaced. As with its preceding sequence, the choreography is lacking. Simply
twirling and whirling cannot sustain an entire musical number. These are unique
songs which do not fit as part of a narrative. Nevertheless, there comes another enjoyable interaction with Miranda Richardson which is imaginative and
well-scripted. Though why, if the shoes are tearing Kate’s mind and body apart,
is she standing still? Such demands upon the viewer are too great. More so,
with an overreaching reliance on theatrics.
This is where my re-edited version in black-and-white morphs, ‘Wizard of
Oz’ style, to “Technicolour”, as Kate and Miranda traipse across snow, ice,
leaf fall, and ripened fruits… To the colourful blaze of the Calypso-styled chant ‘Eat the Music’. Wikipedia notes that “The
standalone video for ‘Eat the Music’ had several differences from the film
version… with additional dancing and singing sequences...” It is a more
considered effort, superior to the original. It could, like the US version of
‘Rubberband Girl’ be reincorporated into an updated version of the whole. Above-bar
scenes with Richardson and Kemp dovetail with effective visuals. Kate slides
back through the looking-glass, Alice-style, before it crashes on the other
side. Washes of fruit against rubble and fire present some pleasingly abstract
shots.
I recall the exit from the arts screening, all those years
ago, overwhelmed with disappointment. However, die-hards discuss it still. And I
review it. As cited on The Kate Bush Encyclopaedia, “The film continues to be
played in arthouse cinemas around the world, such as a screening at Hollywood
Theatre in 2014… along with modern dance interpretations to Bush’s music.” It
is what was overlooked at the time which saves Kate Bush. Her self-awareness,
misnomer-ed in this film, and her willingness to reflect. Even in its year of
release, she commented: “It was very restrictive because it’s not my conceptual
piece from scratch. Also, I’m working around the songs, and I had to put myself
into the film. I would’ve preferred to cast myself in a smaller role. It wasn’t
the ideal situation because it was very rushed, and we had little money. But it
was an intense project. And I’m very glad I went through it, even if the film
is not received well, because I learned so much.” (Now Magazine)
‘The Line, the Cross and the Curve’ could easily be improved
upon, edited to a half-hour film, to fulfil its potential. It remains a missed
opportunity. The best artists have their faults and mishaps which render them
human and likeable. It is in retrospection, too, that Bush’s fans have also
learned much from this questionable yet enduring aspect of her oeuvre.
DEEPER UNDERSTANDING (2011)
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Novercia / Dir. Kate Bush
This video, following a seventeen-year gap, accompanies a reworking of the original and stunning song from ‘The Sensual World’ album. An older Kate Bush indeed reveals a deeper, more knowing, and also rawer voice. She returns to the director’s chair in a retelling of the lyric. As with ‘Experiment IV’, this is not always as effective as employing more abstract, less obvious, imagery. However, it certainly marks a return to form, in the same year that its sister album ‘50 Words for Snow’ was released. The musical arrangement is pared down, so that the strength of the musical arrangement prevails.
Events take a Surreal turn but in a more considered fashion than before. The main character, portrayed by Robbie Coltrane, awakes on a sparse white stage shared with elderly relatives. He then takes a “curtain call” to those living. Frances Barber, as always, is also impeccable. The vocals of The Trio Bulgarka are incomparable. At six minutes, it is twice as long as standard pop videos and stands as one of Bush’s better efforts. Tragic and chilling, it would work well in monotone. The closing shot of eyes sliding above the monitor’s lips (à la Jean Cocteau) seem redundant, as if Bush does not yet trust herself – visually – to leave the last word unspoken.
MISTRALDESPAIR (2011)
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Noble and Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
‘Mistraldespair’ is an animated short directed by Kate Bush, with animation by Tommy Thompson and Gary Pureton. It stands as testament, albeit brief, to an ever-evolving creative spirit. Borrowing its title from one of Bush’s invented ‘50 words for snow’, the piece illustrates Bush’s refusal to tether to convention. The music is an excerpt from a larger composition titled ‘Misty’. At its core lies a metaphor for love: the relationship between a woman and her fantasy of a snowman who melts when she touches him.
Visually, the animation employs a childlike directness rendering its emotional impact profoundly. It draws the viewer into a sense of intimacy, painting (or un-painting) the gentlest of ‘meltdowns’. A sensation that lingers, due to the powerful dichotomy which Bush and her team create: images at once gentle yet strong, comforting yet unsettling. In comparison to ‘Deeper Understanding’, the discomfort nestles in the inevitability of loss, the unease of longing, and the knowledge that some things exist only in the imagination. The visuals belie an existential melancholy – a uniquely Bushian twist.
Artistry, for Bush, has always been about risk. It is why we are so forgiving towards her. It was somewhere in the liner notes of a boxed set that she commented, “Be kind to my mistakes – because I’m not.” ‘Mistraldespair’ is more than a brief animated interlude. It is a microcosm of Bush’s artistic ethos. Emotionally honest, and seeking new ways to communicate the ineffable. We only hope that her creative exploration continues.
“And dawn will
come soon…”
EIDER FALLS AT LAKE TAHOE (2012) «««««
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
Simple and engaging, this is a gorgeous shadow puppet presentation alongside a highly affecting lyrical piece in which the mature Kate Bush thrives. Photographed by Roger Pratt, with puppets by Robert Allsopp, its historic aspect reaches to the beginnings of moving image with sound. The central figure is, likewise, a Victorian era ghost – a woman who, drowned in the lake, rises to call to her dog. Set in sepia tones, with a featherlight piano accompaniment, it seems at first a more traditional art song before touches of dissonance suggest otherwise. Only in the last minute is percussion gently released.
‘Eider Falls’ prefixes the original title ‘Lake Tahoe’ and is half the length of the album track. This is a five-minute film that passes too quickly. Eider refers to the background of falling feathers which suggest snow or leaf fall. It is also, pleasingly, unlike earlier videos, available to watch in high definition. When the music and the visuals eventually fade, a cutout house – like its owner – appears to shuffle off, off-screen. An apt non-conclusion that very much leaves us wanting more.
Martin’s essay, ‘Projected Images Of Light’, is available to read online.
AND DREAM OF SHEEP (2016) «««««
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
The ‘Before the Dawn’ shows of 2014 marked a return and a reawakening, under the direction of Kate Bush and Adrian Noble. Within this undertaking was a “live” reworking of a track from ‘The Ninth Wave’ song cycle, as a film projected above the stage. This opening number situates the main character adrift, lost at sea, her lifejacket pulsing with a gentle red light.
Bush’s willingness to embody the narrative (she developed mild hypothermia) infuses a palpable chill. When simplicity works it is arresting. She appears in monochrome, save for the orange of the jacket, signalling both danger and hope. It calls to mind Bill Viola’s ‘The Messenger’ as Bush, despite the Mae West, sinks beneath the waves. I ponder the effect if she had kept her eyes open.
It is not an unblemished voice that moves us, but the evidence of time and endurance which surface. The performance is a cumulation of decades of creative exploration. Neither is this merely a showpiece, it is a standalone work; a liminal space in which the audience drown too. This is art at its most honest: raw, imperfect, and, from the depths, human.
THE BASKERVILLE EDITION (Unboxing Video, 2023) «««½
Noble And Brite / Dir. Kate Bush
This entry underlines an endless re-branding and remastering of a concise back-catalogue unbalanced by anything new. Why not? Why repeat it. It weakens its ardour. Music ain’t books to be reissued. Music is constantly available, minus the need for the physical.
Nevertheless, this is clever enough and, in actuality, lovely enough. Like the repackaging (for those who can afford it), it holds its appeal. This does, though, draw, in parallel, a line on the accessibility of art. Not that it is necessarily catering to a mass market. But neither can it circumvent an aspect of elitism, particularly in the artistic mirror that Bush’s work is considered. This edition of the ‘Hounds of Love’ album will set you back at just under £150.
Such concerns aside, this is a commendable short, relayed in flashbacks and flash-forwards, and rescued by touches of humour. A willing companion piece to the original album, referencing the ‘Cloudbusting’ story and, in turn, ‘A Book of Dreams’ by Peter Reich – the budding author admirably portrayed by Gus Turner. In its best light, it serves as a prequel to the original and faultless ‘Cloudbusting’ video directed by Julian Doyle. Off screen, this time, it is Ian McKellen wrapping things up.
LITTLE SHREW (2025) «««««
Inkubus / Dir. Kate Bush
Another childlike animation far from childish. I am reminded of the quote by CS Lewis, “A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story...” It is based on Bush’s own storyboard as developed by Jim Kay. The soundtrack, an artfully truncated version of a song from the ’50 Words for Snow’ album, beautifully performed by Kate Bush’s son, Bertie. The shrew of the title is a personable characterisation, traversing a black-and-white stratum accented by a pale-yellow comet.
On the ground, the creature emerges from a tunic, before scurrying along an arm, into the hand of a dead soldier. The shrew is caught in an icy torpedo-blast that sends its frail body into spasms. As Bush commented, it causes more outrage to witness an animal suffer than a human. The next shot is a stunning yet appalling illustration, based on a photograph by the late Ukrainian reporter Maksim Levin. The rodent is depicted in free fall, clasping at the ball of light – the glowing astral snowflake.
A task of love, garnering universal acclaim, it was also shown in cinemas as a precursor to the WWII drama ‘From Hilde, With Love’. Kate Bush must take satisfaction from this achievement that, amongst other efforts, deserves to be taken seriously. It collected several awards, including Best Animation Film and Best Female Director Short Film at Cannes. ‘Little Shrew’ is emotionally challenging, simple in spirit, and haunting.
Overlong, mushy, the villain not present (or terrifying) enough, his demise non-spectacular – although Bond’s is? Lacking tension or suspense – movement too far against type – Bond not only decommissioned but losing his 00 number? It starts well, and Paloma (Ana de Armas) is fantastic. But to move too far in the opposite direction is to lose momentum. In parallel, a reasonable but forgettable Theme Toon suffers in comparison with Louis Armstrong. Again: why? ‘OHMSS’, the film that ‘No Time To Die’ wanted to be?
Plus, a central character again falling through ice. No! Craig’s other efforts are commendable. And ‘Quantum Of Solace’ is a great film too – greater than this. Unlikely, the director’s intention, but to kill-off a slushy and schmaltzy James Bond almost leaves this viewer relieved.
What it is is that it is too close to reality for an audience craving escape – the greater part of its appeal. Once the subject matter matches or crosses-over what it parodies, it dies. ‘Carry On Emmanuel’ – no joke – another example at the tail-end of a franchise. We don’t want Bond on his knees, begging forgiveness, human, failable. It misses the point. It is the pretend world that saves us.
As a series that became a mirror of its time – is it now or more so? – my feeling with the Craig films is these are good action thrillers that don’t quite cut it as Bond. Somehow, something came together with ‘Spectre’. Not dismissing the mother-fixation with Judi Dench’s M, on her departure, even that is lacking (its obvious pseudo-sexual frisson). I enjoy the Roger Moore 007s as the fun intended. Connery had ‘something’ on screen, again evident in Hitch’s ‘Marnie’. However, it is the entire style of the presentation and era that cannot be replicated. ‘Licence To Kill’ with Timothy Dalton is a terrific Bond film. I question how many times the wheel may be reinvented.
A female friend lauds the emotional development of the character. However, my aunt loves “James” because “he just gets on with it.” There is the appeal to both men and women – for different reasons. In ‘OHMSS’, an emotional depth is reached but underplayed as a finishing touch. I suspect that a Post-Feminist Bond is in danger of losing his mystique.
Martin Slidel’s reviews of the silent movies directed by Fritz Lang.
THE SPIDERS: PART 1: THE GOLDEN LAKE (1919)
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Decla Film / Dir. Fritz Lang
An engrossing adventure-mystery steered by charismatic lead Carl de Vogt. A ‘national film archive’ restoration currently available on YouTube, thank goodness, boasts a fitting and admirable score by Ben Model. Its view of a contemporary Yachting Club alone is intriguing. A fantastic and fantastical escapade which one hundred years later keeps you glued to the screen and your seat. This is not Lang’s debut – but follows two lost films.
The action and excitement plays-out in a series of clever plot twists via scenes of Mexico. Save for brief snatches of silent familiarity – the bad cut between inconsistent scenes (such as an awkward junket of a horse chase) – it is masterfully shot and edited. Something of a distant forerunner of 007. Part 1 partially resolves in a mythical Incan landscape very beautifully filmed – but terrifyingly too; Lang toying with the concept of human sacrifice. The last battle itself is carnage, a Langian parable on the true price of greed.
Then again. Hell hath no fury…
HARAKIRI (1919)
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Decla Film / Dir. Fritz Lang
Lang’s version of ‘Madame Butterfly’ is marked by basic
flaws. O-Take-San portrayed by the wonderful though non-Japanese actor Lil
Dagover who, granted, lights-up the screen. Despite lavish sets and location
shots it’s a little like Hitch’s referral to ‘Juno and the Paycock’ as a “photograph
of a play” with just a touch of something more – in that it is very beautifully
photographed. The albeit cliched shots of willows, punts, and lanterns, are nevertheless
exquisite. Contemporaneously, an attractive score by Aljoscha Zimmermann, for the Nederlands Filmmuseum restoration, is far removed from Puccini.
Lil Dagover
Lang is not in full-rein of his creative powers. Unlike Mauritz
Stiller, in example, born of innate insight. It is often as if Lang is going
through the motions; proceedings appearing routine. As much as is relayed in
the plot, there is a sense of containment; of needing to break free. In this sense,
there is something integral in Lang’s craft. He is able to balance the existential ‘opposites’
(or equals) of West and East. It is a story told with sensitivity and
tenderness; its insightful parallelism concerning a perceived ‘coolness’ in both
cultures. The pivotal farewell remorseless and heart-breaking.
This is far from Lang’s greatest effort and yet somehow, still, adds to this fabled tale. Unabashedly brutal, it accentuates the arrogance of Western Capitalist entitlement. Its emotive conflict, a recognisable reference-point of Langian darkness – of the brutality of one human to another – due or because of love. These inevitable entanglements become more engrossing as the film progresses, allowed to grow darker and bleaker. The outcome, if predictable and knowing, is devastating.
THE SPIDERS: PART 2: THE DIAMOND SHIP (1920)
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Decla Film / Dir. Fritz Lang
Part 2 of ‘The Spiders’ bears the already familiar Langian urban shots, interior and exterior. Filmed from above or on high at a wide angle, and setting-up maze-like propositions. Lang is, at his beginnings, engaged with the concept of the city as a labyrinth and a trap. The sets and photography are as much characters as the actors, all integrated as part of the visual narrative. The camera relentlessly gravitates to Carl de Vogt and his astonishingly ‘cinematic’ face, also lit from above to accentuate his ‘brooding’ features.
Like many sequels, this is not as good as Part 1. A touch seedier, shadier, and shabbier, than its predecessor. (It is not in sequence of making but follows an adaptation of ‘Madame Butterfly’ – 1919’s ‘Harakiri’.) However, there is much of note of Lang’s directorial progression. Following a dramatic police raid, the viewer is pulled into a literal ‘underground’ of a subterranean Chinatown, alongside displays of carefully constructed thespian choreography. A nightmarish twist holds the protagonist captured in a flooded cell, not amiss in James Bond.
The story trundles along, though diverting for an ‘episode’ to Indian spiritualism. There are beautiful shots at sea and of the titular ‘Diamond Ship.’ The subterranean world at the start is later mirrored by caves in the Falklands. And, again, the score by Ben Model works pleasingly. Overall, the film feels overlong and overplayed. Dare I mention it could benefit from serious editing. ‘Spiders 1’ is a better instalment which stands in its own right. Nevertheless, when the hero finally uncovers the lost stone is a moment of excitement. A terrific punch-up, indubitably, follows. And a neat-ish plot twist at ‘The End’ rounds things-off well enough.
Martin Slidel’s reviews of Greta Garbo’s silent movies.
With an original poem commissioned from Brighton-based playwright Yassin Zelestine.
Gerda Lundequist and Greta Garbo
THE STORY OF GOSTA BERLING (1924)
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AB Svensk Filmindustri / Dir. Mauritz Stiller
The Swedish Film Institute 1975 restoration is a beautiful print. It is perfectly matched with Matti Bye’s 2008 score in the folk tradition, exquisite and jaunty in turn. The film in its entirety lasts three hours although it is pleasingly split into two equal parts. Lars Hanson who like Garbo also made the transition to Hollywood (where he would again star with her) is a charismatic lead, and part of an exceptionally strong cast. The film is extremely well edited, excellently paced, with carefully placed touches of humour to balance its pathos.
The ‘story’ concerns the trials of an unfortunate preacher afflicted by booze. A sorry but poignant tale with a layered narrative mirrored in its stunning visual representation. Berling, thrown out of church, stumbles upon a new role as tutor to a clan of compromised aristos whose matriarch plots his union with her daughter. Her goal, to deflect the inheritance to her ill-gotten son Henrik. It is quite something to see Garbo, as Henrik’s Italian wife, in her first major film role. Stiller and she cast their spell and weave the viewer, like the intertwining plotlines, in. The fracas comes when the daughter discovers who and what is behind it all. Garbo’s performance is that of a pro. Equally so, Lars Hanson whose despair, when down on his luck once more, is heart-breaking. An initially slower and more reflective phase is led by the phenomenal Gerda Lundequist who rebuffs Gösta with her own tale of woe. A tumultuous dinner party in which the mayor turns out his wife (Lundequist) is riotous and ultimately soul-destroying.
It is remarkable how Stiller has mastered the art of motion image in its infancy. A pity, then, that he did not survive Hollywood. Any melodrama in this masterpiece is played-out minus the sentimentality ingrained in Tinsel Town. Part Two follows the immediate fates of the victims, sorrowful but poetic and aesthetically rich. The visual storytelling remains incredibly strong. It is slowly cranked-up to a fiery terror amid the snow. And from fire to ice… Garbo, in quiet panic, driven at speed across a frozen lake, no ‘silence’ in her dramatic range. The second half seems to speed by indeed. This never feels like the three-hour epic it is. Not in terms of entertainment value, too often lost these days. Part Two makes a satisfying conclusion not as a separate film but as part of a whole. Following darkness there is hope and renewal, making way for a refreshingly happy ending. It befits a wonderful film which more than merits it.
THE JOYLESS STREET (1925)
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Sofar-Film / Dir. G W Pabst
Set in a depressive pocket of post-WWI Vienna, ‘The Joyless Street’ makes contrast with the wealthier social stratum as a parable of the divisions between rich and poor. Joyless it certainly is. Quite different in tone from ‘Gösta Berling’. Garbo is different too – shedding her slight teenage dumpiness, now every inch the star, albeit in a less-than-glamourous role. When life recedes to its lowest ebb, a twist of fate marks a crossover between the two worlds. And, in its hour-long version, it is a tale which seems to simplify and refine itself towards its end. As much as two people able to connect are, in so doing, also able to resolve something of the trials of life.
The sadly common 60-minute edit is the outcome of different versions cobbled-together over the decades. Due the censors whose initial cuts were bloodier than any on (or off) screen. The challenge now is to view the original, fuller, if sorrier tale – wholly lacking from a scant hour. It was restored some seventy years later to a 150-minute running time. Of which, there are tantalising glimpses on YouTube. These alone add literal and emotional colour, depth and clarity. As joyless as times are in 2020, you will need a spare £30 to get your hands on the DVD via Edition Film Museum. (Maybe, like Greta, once I get a job...) It seems potent: the cost of art mirroring the ethos of Pabst’s intent. Not affording Garbo and Pabst the freer recognition so richly deserved.
TORRENT (1926)
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MGM / Dir. Monta Bell
‘Torrent’ is Garbo’s first Hollywood film in which she appears slightly different again. If anything, with a noticeably healthier glow befitting her role as the Spanish farm girl Leonora. She pulls it off, owing (and owning) its silence. The part surprisingly suits her. It in turn demonstrates her versatility, as does the evolution of the role within the film. Being Hollywood, there is a noticeably improved level of production alongside an effective rationale to entertain. This is supported by a strong narrative, very competently directed by Monta Bell. The screenplay by Dorothy Farnum is based on Ibáñez’ novel minus the definitive article. The adaptation leans towards a generic big-studio melodrama, reliant upon recognisable and somewhat hackneyed themes of class divide and maternal interference.
From humble roots, Leonora rather astonishingly finds fame and fortune in Paris. Slipping effortlessly into dripping glamour and relishing it. On returning home, she faces down her former beau (a subtle and convincing portrayal by Ricardo Cortez). It is perfectly timed for the raging titular torrent metaphoric of the overpouring of inner ardour. The special effects are superb. These burst through the confines of the era, remaining legitimately contemporary as does – as ever – Garbo herself. Alack, the homely love of youth is not to be. No thanks to the shrewish matriarch, played in glorious appalling-ness by the excellent Martha Mattox. Rejected once more, Leonora makes tracks to the alternate world she has made her own.
Arthur Barrow’s narrative musical score is commendable. Again, a great film, honest and poignant. As good as Garbo’s previous efforts but in a quite different manner. Nearly four stars! I already feel stingy. For, through the lens of a century past, it remains obviously apparent why it was such a huge hit.
THE TEMPTRESS (1926) «««½ MGM / Dir. Fred Niblo
Her second Hollywood film and top billing already. But at what cost. A wise face in a juvenile role, a mystery in itself. However, the lavish production is a feast for the eyes. The leading lady sparkles opposite the charismatic and personable Antonio Moreno. A clear print benefits from a terrific score by Michael Picton. The opening masquerade is a joy, poetry onscreen, the editing imaginative and artistic. Its exquisite cinematography (typically William Daniels but coupled with Tony Gaudio) includes intriguing shots of Paris in the 1920s. However, the plot, though involving enough, threads themes of tangential experience extrapolated at a distance of light years. It is high-octane Soap.
A dramatic dinner party with its characterisation of legs beneath the table is outstanding. The entire film is expertly choreographed: each actor’s movement, their placement onscreen, the mime and gesture of the central figures and all those around them. Worth watching as an example of the best craft-person-ship on offer by Old Hollywood. Its former art: silent film far from silent. A transfer of action to ‘The Argentine’ is apt excitement in itself, lent gravitas by the ever-wonderful Lionel Barrymore. There Greta/Elena predictably attracts the worst kind of attention.
By its latter half, it does seem to lose the plot altogether – if ever there was one. Various suitors, sometimes en masse, squabble over Elena or die like her spouse at her overly polished heels. Another dam break, another ominous storm, another Ibáñez adaptation by Farnum. It is easy to envisage Mauritz Stiller’s thunderous fury at the studio. His successor Fred Niblo did a worthy job on this notable and enjoyable epic, more dazzling than ‘Torrent’ if not as affecting. Again, even via an historic mist it is clear to perceive its box office success. Suitably tragic closing scenes mark Garbo’s return to Paris years later where she depicts, in stark contrast, a drunken down-and-out. She alone claims the poignant, memorable, and provocative ending.
FLESH AND THE DEVIL (1926)
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MGM / Dir. Clarence Brown
A top-billing John Gilbert flick and rightly so, alongside the superb Lars Hanson. On one level, yes, another melodrama… albeit expertly executed and infused with realism and wit. Like its processor, beautifully shot and choreographed, a treat for the eyes. The fabulous 1988 score by Carl Davis, uncompromisingly thematic, is its perfect match. I had the pleasure of seeing him introduce the film at the BFI some thirty years ago. The film is, pleasingly, better than I remember. Gilbert appears every inch as attractive as his leading lady, and you find yourself needing to believe that their off-screen romance was real.
Brown manages with masterful ease to cut through the schmaltz, same as Garbo. William Daniel’s stunning camerawork cements it. Greta appears more astonishingly beautiful than ever. Despite of or because of her slightly wide shoulders (which I am so envious of) and her slightly heavy nose. It only seems to complement the ungainliness of youth, of which there is something innately appealing. She hasn’t completely learned to carry-off an already defining uniqueness. Impossible to accept how any sentient being could not fall instantaneously in love with her.
The film captures the lost days of first love, precious both in the history of cinema and of human experience. Barbara Kent’s portrayal of Hertha is very moving; you cannot help but be touched by her puppy love for Leo (Gilbert’s central role). These are top-notch performances. Eugenie Besserer, as Leo’s mother, offers a genuinely affectionate portrayal. George Fawcett as the beer-addled pastor is a delight. Brown wrings every last drop of emotion from the tale, and you don’t notice until it hits the floor. Unlike ‘The Temptress’ this keeps you gripped throughout, to its dark and bitter close.
‘Garbo Dans Ma Chambre’ by Yassin Zelestine, set as text art by Martin
LOVE (1927)
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MGM / Dir. Edmund Goulding
Garbo’s hopes of serious fare were marred by the studio’s decision to change the ending of Tolstoy. This provided an alternative ‘happy ending’ for American audiences whilst Anna’s fate remained a mystery in the original edit (possibly the better option). Another alternative for the European market granted her fatalism. I have only seen the ‘happy’ version and feel unhappier for it. A rightful adaptation for its times? Why not, to keep an audience satisfied, it is all fiction to begin. Gilbo are quite the pair and it is easy to imagine the fans whipped into a frenzy, in the days of silver-screen idols enshrined in cinematic palaces. Likewise, the studio used the title to capitalise upon their supposed romance, with the publicity reading ‘Gilbert and Garbo in Love’. However, in bumping-off Karenin instead of Anna, to reunite the lovers in the very final shot, a classic is butchered.
I was lucky enough to see Arnold Brostoff introduce and conduct his orchestral score at The Barbican in London, in the early 1990s. His music offers affecting, gentle and sensitive motifs. A pity that the current print runs alongside a live recording, as you can hear the idiots in the audience retching their guts up throughout.
Easily noted, that Garbo has reached a new level of maturity and ease. Confident, calm, and stunning in every sense. Despite all, it is a more substantial platform for a nuanced performance captured as beautifully as ever by Daniels. English thespian Brandon Hurst is excellent as Karenin, his cold sternness in dichotomy with his wife’s passion. George Fawcett, terrific as the Grand Duke, quickly establishes a lively if silent repartee with Vronsky. The film has a definite lustre. Particularly touching are the scenes with Philippe De Lacy as the Karenins’ son. Though not destined for motherhood (or indeed love) in real life, Greta’s portrayal as a mother is affectionate and absorbing. As a dress rehearsal for greater things, for her unsurpassed 1935 talkie version, this first effort cannot be regretted.
THE MYSTERIOUS LADY (1928)
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MGM / Dir. Fred Niblo
In ‘The Mysterious Lady’, Garbo appears, in progression, more beautiful than ever. I feel as if I have written that before. She is astonishingly contemporary and, as with all classics, timeless. This is regardless that she finds herself playing another of MGM’s “bad womens” embroiled in another affair guaranteed to sour. This time, due the revelation that she is, no less, a Russian spy. And blindingly good she is at it. This is Very Hollywood and extremely far removed from her early European films: now trapped in the bubble of superstardom, every trapping of which she would forever be in denial of.
Forgivably, though, this is stirring stuff; its visual narrative quite wonderous. Conrad Nagel, as the lover ageing alongside the arc of his fate, plays his part to perfection. Prison scenes in which he depicts a degraded officer’s torment are particularly affecting. The production maintains our attention, as does the fullness of character to which Garbo and Nagel are able to commit. Near close comes a cleverly played (and filmed) tension, descending, like the sweep of Greta on the sweeping stairs, towards something Hitchcockian. Death spliced with shots of Cossacks, alongside Garbo’s measure of realism, sparks brilliance.
The original film ran alongside music with sound effects, so that it was never purely ‘silent’. I viewed a version with a top-drawer score by Vivek Maddala which made for a highly enjoyable experience. It does ‘underscore’ that ‘Mata Hari’ has a ‘silent’ soundtrack being dialogue only. Its lack of score, to my mind, forever lacking. ‘The Mysterious Lady’ belies the simplicity of its title. It is, like ‘Love’ a bit of a run-through for its successor. However, of Garbo’s two spy films, it definitely has the edge.
A WOMAN OF AFFAIRS (1928)
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MGM / Dir. Clarence Brown
‘A Woman of Affairs’ was another huge hit for MGM. Its screenplay
by Michael Arlen and Bess Meredyth is based on Arlen’s book ‘The Green Hat’ if significantly
compromised to appease the censors. The studio again capitalised upon the Garbo-Gilbert coupling as the main leads of Diana and Neville. What initially appears as a fairly average love
triangle is knocked out of kilter half an hour in, with the suicide
of Diana’s husband. Garbo retains a magical ability to quietly dominate the
scene as the grieving widow; her emotional control superb. Everything is laid bare and yet never overplayed. Thus rescued from borderline schmaltz, at times with near-devastating effect.
Proceedings do though, at stages, dip close to melodrama if
of the more scandalous brand. Again saved by the mere presence of Garbo
plus the emotional lynchpin of the great Lewis Stone. There comes another tragedy with the death of Diana’s brother, a desperate and agitated alcoholic very effectively played by an eighteen-year-old Douglas Fairbanks Jr. It is
enough to land Diana in a nursing home. Here, affecting scenes are played-out with underlying desperation by a skilled quartet including the sensitive Dorothy Sebastian. I last viewed a print sadly depleted in sections, held together by William Axt’s original and attractive music. I also enjoyed a London screening with Carl Davis’ memorable
1984 score.
WILD ORCHIDS (1929)
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MGM / Dir. Sidney Franklin
Garbo offers an innocence to the character of Lillie. Despite or because of lavish locations the film meanders along, often diminishing to travelogue. You question why Garbo gave herself up so entirely to Hollywood, instead of returning home to weightier concerns. Granted, though, scenes of her flirting with herself in Javanese costume, prior the approaching shadow of Nils Aster’s prince, are quite something. Harder these days to accord sympathy to the privileged white elite, indulging in a tiger hunt and bossing-about indigenous servants, however appealing the coupling of Greta and Lewis Stone.
It is a good enough film, with a good enough script by John Colton. The original score or ‘musical synchronisation’ by William Axt with its layered sound effects lends itself well to the visual narrative. But one finds oneself, in spite of oneself, yearning for the grit and drama of ‘The Temptress’. In its time it garnered favourable reviews and why not, with the star at the height of her power and influence. But time like stars fade. It now feels slightly over-drawn. A remaster and re-edit could offer something more deserving of its meritable qualities remaining. And yet... of all of the Garbo silents it, for some mysterious reason (perhaps as mysteriousness as its star) remains one of the most memorable.
THE SINGLE STANDARD(1929)
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MGM / Dir. John S Robertson
A second film with fellow Swede Nils Asther proves livelier fare than the first and a box office smash to boot. Again, different in tone. And, again, though Garbo is the centre of the eternal love triangle she pulls it off brilliantly. It does slip, however, into the by-now-familiar routine of The Divine One elevating (an above-average) melodrama light years beyond its origin. However, this feisty pre-Feminist parable, skilfully adapted by Josephine Lovett from the novel by Adela Rogers St. Johns, offers something a little different. Together with tantalising glimpses of the vestige of 1920s architecture and fashion. Unlike ‘Wild Orchids’ it is consistently well-paced with rarely a dull moment; John S Robertson makes fine work of direction. Johnny Mack Brown is perfect as the devoted husband. Whilst Asther, on return as the lovelorn lover, develops a more sensitive portrayal than before – ‘The Male Garbo’ as effective as his counterpart. Missing though, the poetry of Daniel’s camerawork if no criticism of Oliver T Marsh.
THE KISS(1929)
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MGM / Dir. Jacques Feyder
Another albeit above-par melodrama would be tedious if
not for its speedy metamorphosis to a mystery-romance demi-thriller.
A welcome return to Daniels on camera falls under the expert direction of Jacques
Feyder (who went on to direct the outstanding German-language version of ‘Anna Christie’) and is further complimented by the stunning Art Deco sets of Cedric
Gibbons. Not to mention the ultimate architectural feature of Garbo’s face.
A fine ensemble features Conrad Nagel and Lew Ayers. But Greta steals the
show. Others appear as bit-part actors around her. Of course, it works. Sensationally so. The picture represents the height of the craft of the silents, the final effort of MGM and its greatest star. Never overdrawn, at an hour’s duration, it is pacey and
entertaining. Just when the final court scenes seem to drag, there comes another
startling flashback. ‘Garbo Smiles’ as the chapter closes with refreshing whimsy. A smash hit, both relieving and agonising for the studio.
These reviews do not include the 1928 film ‘The Divine Woman’ which was lost in the 1965 MGM vault fire.
GARBO DANS MA CHAMBRE
Azure dreamtime In a ruptured evening Go-to-bed / Make-up on Like ‘Greta Garbo’ I drift drift… Somnambulant ocean…
Snap! Acute Awake Alert A white silhouette At the edge of the bed Some spectre goes there Beware beware A familiar visage / Regardez La mademoiselle, white-veiled Queen of Subterranea
Voile in layer’d transparence Her stare fixed at me Cannot move a muscle until Lifted at last: “With wisdom to impart ‘I put on my mask ‘Took life by instinct. ‘You must not be afraid ‘To do the same…”
Before I could answer her She vanished: Half Mata Hari / Half curious cat Spun woven dreams into corporeality I walked to the window The night irresistible Violet intoxication My blood fecund, alive Fixed myself up in a vintage look
She did not intend to be alone But let alone / To chase shadows And exits of alleyways As well as the tread of the carpet, red She didn’t look back / Neither shall I Toute de suite! Around the next corner I meet Sid Vicious singing “I did it my way…”
Spirit of the present Phantom of the future The dead are not threat It’s the living to watch out for! Fare thee well The night remains ours, as ‘I put on my mask…’
