A film with a reputation that has seen it constantly hailed as one of the all-time greats for almost eight decades now. It wasn't exactly a huge success when initially released, but thank goodness we can all remember not to judge movies based entirely on their box office.
Moira Shearer plays Victoria Page, a young woman who eventually gets herself noticed by Boris Lermontov (Anton Walbrook), the man in charge of a world-famous ballet company. Initially seeming to be unimpressed by her talent, Boris eventually sees her dancing in a way that suggests to him that she could be one of the very best. It will take dedication though, as well as some sacrifice and pain. Which is why Boris is displeased when Victoria begins a relationship with Julian Craster (Marius Goring), another huge talent.
Taking inspiration from the Hans Christian Andersen tale, it's layered throughout the second half of the movie, particularly when Victoria becomes famous for her lead role in The Red Shoes ballet, this is 135 minutes of wonderful entertainment, glorious visuals, and a real feeling of building hysteria. Page is driven to dance, it's a need that consumes her as she becomes more and more confident in her talents. Lermontov is also driven, mixing honey and vinegar in his interactions with those who are puppeted by his Svengali manipulations. Craster may be the only one who comes closest to contentment, accepting that some things just aren't worth the price to be paid.
Directors Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, both having also worked on forming the screenplay, with some additional work from Keith Winter, seem determined to push at the very boundaries of cinema, crafting a meta tale of artistry, passion, and the lengths that people will go to in order to feel the appreciation of an adoring audience. They don't care about making the main characters particularly warm or pleasant to be around, they don't care about viewers potentially getting impatient when they interrupt the narrative to showcase some highlights from the main ballet show, and they don't care about keeping things neat and tidy while illustrating the world being viewed through a fevered and damaged mindset. They only care about the full experience, and The Red Shoes is a phenomenal work of art that impresses now just as much as it would have impressed anyone back when it was first released in the late 1940s.
Shearer is an absolute wonder in her role, thankfully having more than enough ballet experience to make her convincing as the talented Victoria. Considering this is her feature film debut, however, it's very impressive that she does so well with the actual acting required alongside her flawless dance moves. Goring does fine in his role, but he's really there to facilitate the third act, where a very difficult choice must be made by our leading lady, and Robert Helpmann, Albert Bassermann, and a number of others provide excellent support. Walbrook is the one casting the largest shadow though, delivering someone who somehow manages to be both loathsome and captivating in equal measure. There's a straight line from his character to the one played by J. K. Simmons in Whiplash, and I only wish I knew that when I first watched Damien Chazelle's jazzy masterpiece.
The music matches the visuals, there are wonderful special effects used at just the right times to further blur the lines between reality and fantasy, and it's very hard to think of any other film that comes close to this for the intertwining of artistry and that sensation of developing a high fever. It may well be absolutely perfect.
10/10
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