For It Is Man's Number: marius goring

Showing posts with label marius goring. Show all posts

Thursday, 19 February 2026

The Red Shoes (1948)

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

If you have enjoyed this, or any other, review on the blog then do consider the following ways to show your appreciation. A subscription/follow costs nothing.
It also costs nothing to like/subscribe to the YouTube channel attached to the podcast I am part of - https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCErkxBO0xds5qd_rhjFgDmA
Or you may have a couple of quid to throw at me, in Ko-fi form - https://ko-fi.com/kevinmatthews
Or Amazon is nice at this time of year - https://www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/Y1ZUCB13HLJD?ref_=wl_share

Friday, 2 January 2026

A Matter Of Life And Death (1946)

It's been well-established for a long time that we Brits like to talk about the weather. A Matter Of Life And Death actually goes as far as allowing some weather to save the life (or delay the death anyway) of our main character. That's probably the only thing I can say here that might not have been said already in the multitude of reviews and essays telling you how good this film is. It's been hailed as a classic, one of the best British movies of all time, and rightly so.

Peter Carter (David Niven) is a British wartime airman who jumps out of his damaged plane with a parachute pack that he knows won't work. It's very foggy when he jumps though, which is why he isn't immediately scooped up to the afterlife by Conductor 71 (Marius Goring). That should be rectified soon enough, but there's a wrinkle. Carter has fallen in love with the American woman (June, played by Kim Hunter) who spoke to him over the radio when death was imminent. Arguing that he has other responsibilities and context now, Carter doesn't want dragged into the afterlife. He starts an appeal process, but the odds seem stacked against him.

Co-written and co-directed by the mighty Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, two names known to anyone who is a fan of classic cinema, this was another film I had long been meaning to check off my watchlist, but also one I never seemed to be in the mood for. Silly me. The thing about so many films that are spoken so highly of, and with such fondness, is that they actually tend to work their magic on you any time you get around to them.

Powell and Pressburger are rightly regarded as legends of cinema, and this glorious blend of the fantastical and the grounded, showcased by a very effective choice to have the time in our reality shown in Technicolor while the heavenly sequences are in gorgeously crisp black and white, is easy to consider as one of their very best, if not their absolute masterpiece. Like some other titles from this decade I could mention, the magical premise proves to be a great way to deliver a powerful message about the human experience, and all that it encompasses. Everyone deserves praise for bringing this vision to life (especially those who helped to create a giant escalator showcased in the third act), but I must highlight the contributions from editor Reginald Mills, cinematographer Jack Cardiff, and composer Allan Gray.

Despite being about a decade older than the age of his character, Niven is the perfect, and perfectly charming, lead. He delivers one of the all-time great "keep calm and carry on" British performances in cinema history. Hunter is very good opposite him, believably moved by the circumstances and the man to fall in love so quickly and strongly. Goring is a lot of fun in his role, which could have easily been played in a number of different ways (I did wonder if he was going to turn menacing and dangerous at some point), and both Roger Livesey and Raymond Massey relish their scenes in the finale that have them opposing one another in the case to decide Carter's designated date of death.

I can understand people being put off by the unrelentingly stiff-upper-lipped nature of a few of the main characters, one character passes a message along that is literally just "what ho!" at one point, but I would encourage everyone to just accept the language and mannerisms and let themselves be carried along through a cinematic experience that feels both unabashedly epic and also cosy and personal.

10/10