12 November 2008

Carl Th. Dreyer: Michael (1924)


Michael is a budding artist who visists a famous artist to whom he shows his sketches. The artist, Zoret, is not impressed by the sketches, but rather with the looks of the younger man, who becomes his model, muse and (probably) lover. Zoret is commissioned to paint the portrait of a Russian princess. As he has a go at the task it is embarrasingly clear that his painting is no good. Michael, however, has a completely different eye for the countess, something which initially subtly conveyed in Michael's ability to make a believable reproduction of the princess' eyes. Michael deserts his master to plunge into a love affair with the Russian princess. At the same time, Zoret stoically lets young Michael exploit him economically. Shattered because of the cruelty on the part of the loved one, he creates one last painting, the motif of which is an old man on a rock under a violent sky.

The theme of the film, unrequited or failed love, is more hinted at than exhibited in the style of melodrama (Michael has some melodramatic moments, though). Glances, a gentle rubbing of feet, small physical contact leaves the tenderness (which is far from unproblematic) between the artist and his protegé beyond doubt. But other relations are moulded sensitively as well, without becoming unclear. Dreyer's film, to me, shows how relations often have an open-ended character, so that their nature are not clear to us. Zoret's cynical journalist friend Switt tries to convince him that Michael is taking advantage of his kind heart. Switt, incessantly smoking his pipe, is always in the proximity of Zoret and here we have yet another story of unrequited love. On his death bed, Zoret exclaims that he has "seen great love" (yeahyeah, this sounds terribly silly, but you have to watch the film in order to understand), but it is not clear whether he is talking about his own feelings for Michael or whether it has finally dawned on him that Switt is the one who really loves him. There is also a parallel story of a love triangle taking place in the Zoret salon and this only adds to the sense of gloom and tragedy.

A remarkable aspect of Dreyer's film is that each and every character, no matter how great or small the part is, is carefully developed, full-fledged human being (I'm thinking of Zoret's humble servant, the art-dealer and so on).

Of course, this is also a story about art. The most interesting use of art in this film is, I think, that Dreyer focuses on the way works of art comes alive in the interface of human relations. The painting by Zoret of an almost-naked Michael is shown over and over again and it takes on new meaning as the story moves on; as a symbol of Zoret's love, but later on also as a sign of Michael's lack of feelings for Zoret as he sells the painting.

Just as in The passion of Joan of Arc Dreyer's cinematic approach conveys an almost magical attention to the human body and the human face. There are many pictures in which the stern face of Zoret expresses a thousand emotions at the same time. In one especially moving scene towards the end of the film, his face breaks up into a smile. The effect is curiously mesmerizing. The rough demeanor of the journalist friend Switt is also a true pleasure to watch as the depiction of the relation between the two men is one of the most captivating in the movie even though I did not realize it in the beginning. But not only is it faces that come alive in subtle conveyance of emotions, Dreyer's film is something of a Kammerspiel in which the rooms and the objects in the rooms glow with a mysterious, raw light. We're talking German expressionism (shadows, perspectives, angles...), naturally, but that does not really tell the whole story. In one scene, two lovers in the Zoret salon stands close to each other, while one of them is fondling a small sculpture. Also here is the fondling of the sculpture something that has a meaning as a small gesture conveying emotions between the characters.

I watched "The American version" (there is also a "European" one) with a score of piano music written by Neal Kurz. I am not an expert on silent movies, but for me, the music intermingled elegantly with the story. The film is the second screen adaptation of a novel written by Herman Bang. It would be interesting to watch Mauritz Stiller's version, too.

Michael is a superb film that explores its theme gently but forcefully. I could watch it again tomorrow.

PS Bonus trivia, Walter Slezak, who played Michael, appeared in a few episodes of the Love boat. That, you, is a dignified combo!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

As usual on this blog, this post is so full of good observations that there is not much to add. But perhaps one thing: the importance of the concept of "seeing" in "Micheal".

This is most evident in the scene in which Michael is able to finish Zoret's painting. Obviously, his technique is far below Zoret's, but Michael is able to see the life in her eyes - and the reason is, of course, that he loves her. In that sense the two themes of the film - love and art - are nearly related.

But seeing is important also on other levels. Dreyer's strenght as a director is his ability to see the importance of details and direct out attention to them. And the film as a whole asks a question to me: what is that I have seen, how should the relations between the characters be seen.

Obviously, seeing is here very different from the way philosophers have commonly understood it - as a matter of "perception" - and that makes the film of philosophical importance too.

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A bad score can really ruin a silent movie, but Eureka has usually very good ones. Personally, I found the the European one even better - I guess I like clarinets.

M. Lindman said...

Good point. I agree.