Bad dubbing
Finally watched Rashomon a few days ago. Realized some weeks back my familiarity with such 'classic' filmmakers as Kurosawa, Hitchcock, and Orson Welles is pretty lean (though in my defense, I probably know such contemporary directors as Jodorowsky and Yimou better than many).
Trouble was, the Rashomon I saw had absolutely agonizing dubbed dialogue. Wasn't paying enough attention when I picked up the tape, sadly. And it pretty much wrecked it for me.
Honestly. Voice actors. What the hell? Guy reading the bandit sounded like he shoulda been on Rocky and Bullwinkle or something.
Trying to picture the film past this obstacle, I'm unable to decide what my impression would have been otherwise. Often find myself a bit mystified by works for which others have enormous respect. Sometimes wonder if I'm on my own little planet taste-wise, after such experiences. I can say I really liked The Seventh Seal. But even there, at the end, I had this odd sorta 'is that it?' feeling left.
Perhaps I expect too much from such legends. Then again, perhaps entirely too many critics are given to hyperbole. No question, The Seventh Seal is absorbing, thoughtful, frequently beautiful filmmaking. I loved the protagonist's soliloquy protesting his god's elusiveness, and Death's answer. But frequently I wonder if the real reason Bergman gets such marvellous reviews is merely that his competition, in the day, was rather limp. He was first. In an era in which so much of filmmaking concerned rubbery monsters filmed in poor light and projected on drive-in screens, Bergman was willing to make motion pictures that had the balls to say something interesting about humanity.
Last film that really left me thinking 'Wow' was Deepa Mehta's 1947 Earth. It may just be that I went into it with so few preconceptions as to what it would be. But that, in my mind, is a film. Bloody, sexy, passionate, yet still reflective. There's a brutal honesty in the story, and vital truths that leap out of the chaos on screen--reflections particularly vital to the world we wake up to each morning.
This is a film about what human beings are--fragile, easily confused creatures, in which so much can take root and grow, for good and for ill. The human nervous system can play host to so much love, so much hatred; passions are so easily twisted by alienation, by nationalism; pride, though it has its place, so readily gives way to narrow hatred and jealousy. Though the work does have respected fans, I also read a few nasty, narrow little critics who critiqued it as a 'mawkish romance', and honestly wondered if they'd been watching the same film.
Anyway. Maybe I'll get back to you when I score a subtitled copy of Rashomon.
Trouble was, the Rashomon I saw had absolutely agonizing dubbed dialogue. Wasn't paying enough attention when I picked up the tape, sadly. And it pretty much wrecked it for me.
Honestly. Voice actors. What the hell? Guy reading the bandit sounded like he shoulda been on Rocky and Bullwinkle or something.
Trying to picture the film past this obstacle, I'm unable to decide what my impression would have been otherwise. Often find myself a bit mystified by works for which others have enormous respect. Sometimes wonder if I'm on my own little planet taste-wise, after such experiences. I can say I really liked The Seventh Seal. But even there, at the end, I had this odd sorta 'is that it?' feeling left.
Perhaps I expect too much from such legends. Then again, perhaps entirely too many critics are given to hyperbole. No question, The Seventh Seal is absorbing, thoughtful, frequently beautiful filmmaking. I loved the protagonist's soliloquy protesting his god's elusiveness, and Death's answer. But frequently I wonder if the real reason Bergman gets such marvellous reviews is merely that his competition, in the day, was rather limp. He was first. In an era in which so much of filmmaking concerned rubbery monsters filmed in poor light and projected on drive-in screens, Bergman was willing to make motion pictures that had the balls to say something interesting about humanity.
Last film that really left me thinking 'Wow' was Deepa Mehta's 1947 Earth. It may just be that I went into it with so few preconceptions as to what it would be. But that, in my mind, is a film. Bloody, sexy, passionate, yet still reflective. There's a brutal honesty in the story, and vital truths that leap out of the chaos on screen--reflections particularly vital to the world we wake up to each morning.
This is a film about what human beings are--fragile, easily confused creatures, in which so much can take root and grow, for good and for ill. The human nervous system can play host to so much love, so much hatred; passions are so easily twisted by alienation, by nationalism; pride, though it has its place, so readily gives way to narrow hatred and jealousy. Though the work does have respected fans, I also read a few nasty, narrow little critics who critiqued it as a 'mawkish romance', and honestly wondered if they'd been watching the same film.
Anyway. Maybe I'll get back to you when I score a subtitled copy of Rashomon.
posted by AJM at 1:29 p.m. (Permanent Link)
