The Agony of Byzance depicts the Sack of Constantinople in the 13th Century. Stood outside the city in full view of its terrified guards, Muslim soldiers prepare for battle. Emperor Constantine takes responsibility for his Christian subjects, arranging his own soldiers and comforting the rest of the citizens. Each opponent prays to their god for fortitude before the carnage begins, but while the Muslims seem strengthened with each prayer on the promise that their fallen soldiers will receive paradise, the Christian Byzantines feel they have been forsaken by God, and hold little hope for future battles. Emperor Constantine is only able to absolve his people before the city is inevitably taken over, an act which becomes more brutal than anyone could have imagined.
The Agony of Byzance, while ostensibly a war epic, places much of its attention on the religious aspect of the events. The power of prayer stands out as a central theme, and while it is a little unusual for a French film in the 1910s to appear to champion Islam over Christianity, the message of strong-mindedness is clear. Unlike many contemporary films, it is easy to forget that the entire film takes place on sound stages, or at least the enthusiastic battle sequences would have one believe. The scene in which the city is captured is particularly impressive, hundreds of extras trembling as they await their fate. The ending is slightly macabre, but the film is a reasonable delight if one watches it as a historical reenactment.
René and Suzanne are on their honeymoon in a château the Cévennes, a romantic mountainous setting in the Massif Central. During their holiday, the couple visits the cinema to watch a comedy called Onésime The Vagabond, in which René spots a woman he believes to be Suzanne linking arms with another man. Rather than confront Suzanne, René procures a copy of the reel to examine later on, which serves to fuel his paranoia. Once back at the château, René obsessively rifles through his new wife’s possessions, but finds nothing. When Suzanne mysteriously leaves the château, René finds a loving letter addressed to her from a man named Roger, which confirms his suspicions, and he hatches a dastardly scheme which is to change the couple’s lives forever.
Tragic Error, though presumably not intended to be avant-garde at the time,sets the foundations for metacinema in its evocation of the third reality between the viewer and the film. René’s frantic perusal of the film reel reminds the viewer of cinema’s subliminal power – just a few frames of the film-within-a-film sets him into a panic which leads to a dramatic conclusion. To a modern audience, the film’s twist does not come as much of a surprise, but director Louis Feuillade nonetheless does a good job of working up suspense. René as a character is unpredictable and untrustworthy – that we see the film from his perspective means we uncover the mystery gradually without once considering Suzanne’s story. An intriguing short from the early master.
Warded off by cautions about a spread of icebergs in the Atlantic, trader Jacques Trévoux postpones his upcoming trip to the States. The ship he is to travel on is of course the ill-fated Titanic, described in the film as a ‘masterpiece of modern naval engineering’. His wife later consults a palmreader who predicts that a tragedy will befall someone close to her. Keeping this knowledge to herself, she kisses Jacques goodbye as he heads out to the ship, left at home with only her son and godfather for company. When news reaches her of the tragedy, she feels guilt not only for neglecting to warn her husband, but also for her son’s rapidly declining health which is attributed to his grief.
Although not the first Titanic film (Étienne Arnaud’s Saved From The Titanic has that honour, being released just a month after the accident), The Obsession presents an interesting version of events, focusing more on the loved ones left behind than the cataclysmic events on board. Mrs. Trévoux’s concern for her husband’s wellbeing is the obsession of the title, beautifully epitomised by a scene where she stares at a light beaming from the Eiffel Tower, which she takes as an omen. The film’s main drawback is its use of a model boat for scenes showing the Titanic at night, an understandable technological constraint. These short sequences keep a distance between the drama conveyed through the telegrams and the real event, but it isn’t distracting enough to dampen the emotions.
We begin this early Louis Feuillade drama at the end of a custodial hearing. Members of the jury leave the courthouse as the child in question sits outside being comforted by the mother who has lost legal guardianship of him. As he is literally torn from his mother’s arms, it becomes clear how strong a relationship the two share. Now privileged in his new home, he sits alone, bored by every possible distraction. As a treat, his father takes him to see his grandmother, but the timing couldn’t be more inopportune as the boy’s mother just happens to be visiting at the same time. Mother takes advantage of the situation, sneaking her son back to her house where she works full-time as a seamstress. Meanwhile, father reports the case to the police, but the officious language of the authorities seems to be no match for the heartfelt pleas of a young child.
From the title alone (the French title uses the word ‘possession’ for custody), it is clear that Feuillade wants us to accept the incredulity of the son’s status as a mere legal entity. The child is bounced from parent to parent as if no-one is concerned for the child’s emotional needs. On the minus side, the film often becomes farcical under its technical constraints. When the police come knocking on the mother’s door, her solution is to hide her son under a small table already in frame. On the whole, a touching story, but not a memorable film.
Darbois, the stubborn head of a rubber company, finds himself continually hectored by letters inviting him to join a ‘Rubber Trust’ with rival businessman Jacob Berwick, an invitation he rebuffs politely. Berwick, displeased at the response, hires a private detective named Julius Kieffer to kidnap Darbois’ trusted inventor Brémond, in the hopes of discovering his secret recipe for artificial rubber. Kieffer employs the assistance of an actor to dress up as Darbois’ wife in order to infiltrate his office and steal information on Brémond’s whereabouts. Darbois, feeling defenceless, hires himself a detective who, unbeknownst to him, also happens to be Kieffer. Kieffer uses his position to his advantage, but while he manages to eventually track down Brémond and question him, he underestimates the young inventor’s intelligence and soon finds himself on the receiving end of an ingenious ruse.
The Trust, or The Battles For Money is a clever forerunner to director Louis Feuillade’s enchanting crime serials such as Fantômas and Judex. Berwick makes for a convincingly greedy villain, and Kieffer is the first in a long line of Feuilladean double agents. While a lot of the action is confined to interior stages, the spaces are used wisely and many of the important events take place outside – the kidnapping in particular is all the more frightening for taking place in broad daylight. It’s all essentially a long, drawn-out joke, but this doesn’t stop it being very watchable, and even quite thrilling. No doubt Feuillade knew he was on to something here.
Anna Moulin is a waitress at a sleazy dancehall in Paris. When she breaks down to a customer named Dr. Perrin about wanting to leave her job, he offers her a position as a nurse at his charitable hospital. Anna accepts the post without hesitation and starts her job by bringing meals to the infirmed children. Almost immediately, Anna’s compassionate bedside manner endears herself to the patients and, impressed with her knack for the job, Perrin appoints Anna as director of the hospital, an offer she gratefully accepts. But before long, the wind is taken out of her sails as a former colleague visits the hospital, threatening to expose secrets from her past.
One often wonders if director Louis Feuillade truly thought it necessary to show some of the more tedious events in their entirety – whether it was compensating for a lack of action or just showing off a higher budget is up for debate. More time ought to have been devoted to Anna’s past, as one is left to assume the events that make Anna so ashamed of her former life. And although it is encouraging to believe that a person’s circumstances can be changed so facilely, it is hard to swallow that Perrin would employ her as a nurse based on their brief encounter at the dancehall. Of course, much of this could be forgiven by the limitations of early cinema, but one must remember that Feuillade also helmed several cinematic classics, including cult crime serial Les Vampires.
Breakfast is an important meal. It sets you up for the day and gives you the required nutrients, no more, no less - it's a square meal. And this, in a way, is what this film review blog is meant to do. No matter what sort of film it is, every review gets exactly 250 words - just enough to get your RDA of plot, background info and critique.
I try my best to watch and review films from all over the place, in the same way I might have French toast one morning, and Coco Pops the next. Anyway, I'll leave you to get stuck in. Feel free to give me feedback, ask me where to find films, tell me off for unfair comments... I'm all ears. Bon appétit!
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