directed by Frank Borzage, 1940
There’s an inherant naivete in all of Borzage’s great movies, but its not the kind of naivete that puts its hands to its ears and asserts itself in protest. It’s a kind of naivete; a kind of morality, that is unmovable by its very essence, that overcomes the very massive size of oppression (not the usual literal form of oppression, but that which is a weight upon the spirit); because it is truly precious and human, because it is wanted and needed more. It could be said that Borzage and his protaganists have stars in their eyes, but in his films there is a sense that real blood and tears will be suffered for them. In The Mortal Storm, this optimism meets what must have seemed like the ultimate opponent: the ideals and encroachment of Nazism.
Unlike, say, his trilogy of Gaynor-Farrell films which all begin in a sort of purgatory for its characters, The Mortal Storm could be said to start in a snowy Eden; in the mountains of Germany in an unnamed town, with the 60th birthday of an imminent scientist, celebrating this day in the comfort of his home (not just his literal home; he’s “at home” at his house and at the university he works at), surrounded by his loving family, and friends. There is happiness and bliss in the life of this family; almost exagerratingly elated, but change comes to the Roth household and to Germany on this very day. Adolf Hitler has come to power, and only a few people are not ecstatic about this news. It’s a scene rife with a sense of the apocalypse; the genuinely elated sentiments of the supporters contrasting sharply with the warmth of the household, and with the obvious sentiments of its opposers (we quickly realize, though the film never makes it explicit, that the Roth family is Jewish).
The terrors of Nazism, at the time this film was made, were not wholly known, but the film addresses the German nationalism, bald racism and inherrant dishonesty very directly. The film observes the infection of Nazism as just that; a malady which quickly and effortlessly takes hold of the little town and the entire world, until the sickness is the body and the decency. The humanity that the Roth family, and James Stewart’s admittedly unconvincing Martin (this is probably the best film that Jimmy Stewart did a poor job in) are intolerable to this regime, which the film makes no attempt to make sense of. And, as is typical for all of the major Borzage films I’ve seen, love is the center of this calamity, though its promise and light has never seemed so pale.
The Mortal Storm is a bleak film; a black film, literally as it is figuratively. A lack of light permeate much of the movie’s physical texture; not so much expressionism as a dulled, oppressive darkness. It is doom as has rarely been portrayed more plainly in American cinema, and in all of Borzage’s films I’ve seen so far, love and happiness seem all too obscure a possibility, as the very notion of human decency fades further with every appearance of a brownshirt. What truly struck me about the film was, despite how much of the film naturally was about the two lovers (Margaret Sullivan in her most beautifully tragic role, and Stewart...well, I said my piece about him before), how it is also about so much else. While the film’s portrayal of a community; a family mostly, may not have the depth of Ford or the breadth of Walsh, it somehow manages to give it an impact almost exclusively because it is about the aftermath of loss.
If Borzage is a director of great grace, he’s also very direct...unlike Sirk or Ray, there’s not much to read between the lines, but there is so much to *feel*. Crucial points in the film are almost entirely devoted to feeling, and though the artifice of MGM is more distracting than the artifice of Fox in his silent films, he’s lost none of his quiet power. The Mortal Storm could be called a cinematic tract against Nazism, but then, it is a great one. Its final shots, while posessing none of the optimism of the Borzage films I’m more comfortable with, is unmistakebly sublime in a way only a master could do, marking this one of those rare films that so blisteringly portrays just how bad the Nazis were. Not only “for all mankind”, which they were more than anything else, but for the people who *were* Nazis, and would one day have to wake up and face their reality. Its one of the saddest and most brilliant sequences ever put to film; a moment and an observation that seems to come out of nowhere. While watching the film this morning, I thought it was somewhat messy, but the more I think about the film, the more haunting it seems as a singleexperience; the more whole it seems. I almost feel guilty about giving it a score. I definitely want to see it again. Sooner, rather than later.
93 / 100
Yet another great film relegated to the Warner Archive. The transfer of this film is rather disappointingly bland, though I don’t think the film is supposed to look radiant.
No comments:
Post a Comment