Boris: "Why do you want to dance? Vicky: Why do you want to live?"
Powell Pressburger's filmation of the gruesome Hans Andersen tale which delightfully, then darkly depicts the eternal struggle all serious artists will face, here, impresario Lermontov (Walbrook), ballet dancer Page (Shearer) & Craster the composer (Goring), that is, the consuming, often selfish impulse to create, versus the need to live.
Like any 70s kid who tried to watch as much television as was parentally permitted, I grew on cartoons, westerns, epics, Disney & low budget crime dramas (noirgesse). But on viewing The-Red-Shoes, a true art noir, my film sense soared and hasn't landed yet. I've not seen a movie more dreamy, and like all nite visions, it is beautiful and inspiring and strange and frightening and though finally tragic and without certainties, leaves artists, lovers and sentimentalists with a lasting joy for having partaken in P&P's Technicolor® tale of the most talented love triangle in cinema history.
Ponder these dilemmas while watching Archers visual (Cardiff Mills Heckroth Lawson), musical (Easdale) & scripted masterpiece (P&P Winter): 1) Is Boris jealous of Julian's place in Vicky's heart or just angered artistically as Craster blows her kisses; 2) Does Vicky breach a moral contract with Lermontov, an act he'd seen before (Irina), by engaging romance with a co-worker that proves incongruent with achieving artistic greatness ("You can't have it both ways!"), or, is her behavior justified by what Ljubov calls "human nature" and its necessities; 3) At THE END as Page is torn by her love for Julian and passion for art that includes Boris (she'll dance no other ballet), the Shoes seem to decide her fate in life as on stage (look of terror), or, is it Vicky who chooses death, making shoes the scapegoat, better that if she cannot work ("Why .. live")?
Appreciate too its charms and variation in voices. The evolution of Livy (Knight), first jealous, fearful and finally supportive of the young genius. Montague: "It's marvelous (Craster's score)! I just wish, oh, go on (pushes him on stage)!" At the Royal Opera House, Miss Page, who plots to mouse trap the impresario, upon hearing he's accepted the party invitation, gives an impressed eyebrow raise that denotes her station and confidence. In the opening scene, life & death of a stairway event poster (Heart of Fire) is metaphorical and drink in the raven haired beauty that is prima ballerina, Ludmilla Tchérina. Her Irina wanted love too, leaving Covent Garden to pursue it, but when Boris beckoned her back, le Parisian returned. Ahhh, the power of Lermontov.
And avoid the blame game. It's come in vogue to bash Lermontov, a "gifted monster" and Craster, the same sort of self-serving artist who coaxed Page into a prison of love on a singular self-sacrifice, both who could've made her return easier on reciprocal apologies, Boris for firing Julian on spite, the latter for dismissing the ballet ("2d rate"). None of the trio began their collaberation seeking romance, quite the contrary. In truth, what reasonable mind could give up Vicky without a fight? Making a lasting love, like great art, is a possessive pursuit. And keep in mind, Page did have choices, her last a matter of debate. No question both men loved Vicky dearly, but as Keaton theorized in My-Life (93), maybe they didn't "like" her enough to be her friend?
What I know about ballet you could fit on a matchbook (Waterloo Bridge: "entrechat 6"), even less of music composition, and yet, as I watch TRS, I feel I belong. THAT's great movie making. Even a fan of Caddyshack can feel wise in writing that P&P's gem may be the greatest film ever made. And such claims are always flawed, but what an enchanting flaw it would be, if true. Ahhh, the power of The-Red-Shoes (4/4).
Powell Pressburger's filmation of the gruesome Hans Andersen tale which delightfully, then darkly depicts the eternal struggle all serious artists will face, here, impresario Lermontov (Walbrook), ballet dancer Page (Shearer) & Craster the composer (Goring), that is, the consuming, often selfish impulse to create, versus the need to live.
Like any 70s kid who tried to watch as much television as was parentally permitted, I grew on cartoons, westerns, epics, Disney & low budget crime dramas (noirgesse). But on viewing The-Red-Shoes, a true art noir, my film sense soared and hasn't landed yet. I've not seen a movie more dreamy, and like all nite visions, it is beautiful and inspiring and strange and frightening and though finally tragic and without certainties, leaves artists, lovers and sentimentalists with a lasting joy for having partaken in P&P's Technicolor® tale of the most talented love triangle in cinema history.
Ponder these dilemmas while watching Archers visual (Cardiff Mills Heckroth Lawson), musical (Easdale) & scripted masterpiece (P&P Winter): 1) Is Boris jealous of Julian's place in Vicky's heart or just angered artistically as Craster blows her kisses; 2) Does Vicky breach a moral contract with Lermontov, an act he'd seen before (Irina), by engaging romance with a co-worker that proves incongruent with achieving artistic greatness ("You can't have it both ways!"), or, is her behavior justified by what Ljubov calls "human nature" and its necessities; 3) At THE END as Page is torn by her love for Julian and passion for art that includes Boris (she'll dance no other ballet), the Shoes seem to decide her fate in life as on stage (look of terror), or, is it Vicky who chooses death, making shoes the scapegoat, better that if she cannot work ("Why .. live")?
Appreciate too its charms and variation in voices. The evolution of Livy (Knight), first jealous, fearful and finally supportive of the young genius. Montague: "It's marvelous (Craster's score)! I just wish, oh, go on (pushes him on stage)!" At the Royal Opera House, Miss Page, who plots to mouse trap the impresario, upon hearing he's accepted the party invitation, gives an impressed eyebrow raise that denotes her station and confidence. In the opening scene, life & death of a stairway event poster (Heart of Fire) is metaphorical and drink in the raven haired beauty that is prima ballerina, Ludmilla Tchérina. Her Irina wanted love too, leaving Covent Garden to pursue it, but when Boris beckoned her back, le Parisian returned. Ahhh, the power of Lermontov.
And avoid the blame game. It's come in vogue to bash Lermontov, a "gifted monster" and Craster, the same sort of self-serving artist who coaxed Page into a prison of love on a singular self-sacrifice, both who could've made her return easier on reciprocal apologies, Boris for firing Julian on spite, the latter for dismissing the ballet ("2d rate"). None of the trio began their collaberation seeking romance, quite the contrary. In truth, what reasonable mind could give up Vicky without a fight? Making a lasting love, like great art, is a possessive pursuit. And keep in mind, Page did have choices, her last a matter of debate. No question both men loved Vicky dearly, but as Keaton theorized in My-Life (93), maybe they didn't "like" her enough to be her friend?
What I know about ballet you could fit on a matchbook (Waterloo Bridge: "entrechat 6"), even less of music composition, and yet, as I watch TRS, I feel I belong. THAT's great movie making. Even a fan of Caddyshack can feel wise in writing that P&P's gem may be the greatest film ever made. And such claims are always flawed, but what an enchanting flaw it would be, if true. Ahhh, the power of The-Red-Shoes (4/4).