L’Affaire Maurizius (Duvivier, 1954)

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I’m posting this on the 119th anniversary of the birth of Adolf Wohlbrück, which took place in Vienna on 19 November 1896. Although born in the capital of the Austro-Hungarian empire, it is accurate to describe him as a German actor, given that his father was German and he lived for over thirty years in Germany before his emigration in 1936.  Despite obtaining British nationality in 1947, the focus of Walbrook’s postwar career shifted increasingly towards Europe: much of his work in the 1950s and 1960s lay with studios and theatres in France and Germany. Today I’m going to write about an often-overlooked film, L’Affaire Maurizius (1954), which provided him with one of his darkest and most unusual roles. Although the film is based on a 1924 novel by German-Jewish author Jakob Wassermann (1873-1934), its themes resonated powerfully with the situation in post-war Europe when many people wanted to leave the past behind.
Told partly in flashback, the film opens with young Etzel (Jacques Chabassol), the sixteen- year old son of prosecutor Wolf Andergast (the great Charles Vanel), stumbling across an episode from his father’s past that would maybe best have been left buried. Andergast has no interest in revisiting the past, for he built his career upon the successful conviction of Léonard Maurizius (Daniel Gélin) for the murder of his wife Elisabeth (above.)
After talking to Léonard’s elderly father, however, Etzel learns that the guilty verdict was secured on the strength of the witness testimony of Grégoire Waremme (AW.) Pierre Paul Maurizius tells Etzel that his son had been a close friend of Grégoire’s since 1934, and this betrayal of friendship made no sense. Many people suspected there was a cover-up, but neither Andergast nor the court were interested in the truth. All they wanted was a successful conviction. It seems that Andergast’s career was built on a lie, and an innocent man has been condemned to life imprisonment.

AW and Daniel Gélin during the filming of ‘L’Affaire Maurizius.’ The two men had worked together a few years earlier
in ‘La Ronde’ (Ophuls, 1950)
We are shown fragments of the past, learning about the complex three-way relationship between Maurizius and Elizabeth, a widow some years older than he, and her younger sister Anna (Eleonora Rossi Drago.) Events on the night of the murder are confused, but during the trial Waremme makes an impressive appearance in court. AW is, of course, a superb orator, as his monologues in Blimp and 49th Parallel demonstrate. Here he gives Waremme the voice of authority, speaking before the court with dignity,  his face impassive. Waremme tells the court that he is an art critic, living in Bern but born in Vitebsk on 8 October 1900. This was of course just a few weeks before AW’s notional birthday – since the 1930s his year of birth was consistently given as 1900, suggesting that he was four years younger than he actually was.

My German poster for the movie
Meanwhile the idealistic young Etzel borrows money and sets out to discover the truth about the ‘the Maurizius affair.’ Waremme is now a professor of languages in Zurich, living in a boarding house – the Pension Bobike, 14 Augustinerstrasse. He has turned his back on the past, adopting the pseudonym of Professor Warshauer, and hiding his face beneath a beard and dark glasses. Etzel also adopts a new persona, finding an excuse to approach the professor by claiming to be a clerk named Edgar Mohl who needs English lessons before travelling to America. He wins the trust of Waremme, and discovers him to be a kind and gentle old man – further confusing the idea that he had given false witness out of some sinister motive.

Waremme is no fool, however, and his suspicions about Etzel’s identity are aroused when the young lad starts telling him about his desire to be a cowboy in America.  Back in Bern, Wolf Andergast is shocked to hear that his son has set off in search of Waremme, and decides the time has come to make an unofficial prison visit to see Maurizius. Sooner or later, the truth must come out – but at what cost….?

It’s a bleak and pessimistic movie in many ways, and very different in tone from the film in which Duvivier had directed AW over two decades earlier, Die fünf verfluchten Gentlemen [the German language version of Les cinq gentlemen maudits] which was filmed in North Africa in the early summer of 1931. (See the photos with Camilla Horn here.) Apart from a few exterior shots in Bern, L’affaire Maurizius was filmed in a studios in Boulogne during the autumn and winter of 1953 –  hence AW’s thick coats! As part of AW’s filmography it is often overlooked and underrated, undeservedly so in my opinion.  Why not celebrate his birthday by wandering off the well-worn paths to explore Anton’s range and versatility as an actor?

carte de visite of the week #11 robert graham and the love letter

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This week’s cdv is a rather charming portrait of a young lady reading a letter. Her natural pose and slight smile make a pleasant change to the forced artifices found in many portraits, where the sitters appear uncomfortable, are grimacing rigidly, or else are engaged in some pretence such as rowing a boat inside the studio. All portraiture, of course, involves an element of performance, and this was even more the case during the early years of photography. However, a cdv portrait like this could almost be imagined as a candid shot in the corner of someone’s living room. Was this letter a studio prop, or did the girl bring it along with her? Does it have personal significance – a letter from a distant relative, friend or lover? Perhaps the carte-de-visite was made for the person who wrote the letter, and would be posted back to them as an affectionate sign that his/her correspondence was both received and valued.

The reverse of the card identifies the photographer as Robert L. Graham, operating from his studio at the Top end of the Parade (No.6), Leamington, Warwickshire. It probably dates to the 1890s: Graham opened his studio at 7a Upper Parade in 1873, later moving to York Terrace and then to No. 6 Parade, expanding into the next door premises (No.8) as his business flourished.

Graham appears to have been a prolific photographer, making many thousands of images during this period. After his business closed in the 1920s, the store of negatives ended up – no one knows how – in the cellar of a house at 16 Augusta Place, a couple of blocks away from The Parade.  They were forgotten about and the cellar was bricked up, sealing the negatives away for decades. They were only discovered by chance in April 1987 when workmen happened to break through the cellar wall, and found stacks of glass negatives, piled up to five foot high. The total number was estimated at between 40-50,000, but most of them were damaged beyond repair. Thankfully, around 5000 of Robert Graham’s negatives were rescued safely and are now held by the Warwickshire County Record Office. You can read more about this remarkable story here.

The British Monarchy on Screen

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AW as Prince Albert and Anna Neagle as Queen Victoria in ‘Victoria the Great’

Today I had my first glimpse of the cover of The British Monarchy on Screen, the forthcoming collection of conference papers that will include my own contribution, ‘Walbrook’s Royal Waltzes: Anton Walbrook as Prince Albert in Victoria the Great (1937) and Sixty Glorious Years (1938.)’

This was presented as a paper at The British Monarchy on Screen conference which took place at Senate House, University of London on 23 November 2012, and was accompanied by clips from the two films mentioned above, as well as from Walzerkrieg (1933) – in which AW stars as Johann Strauss – showing a waltz scene at the court of Queen Victoria. Below are some of the other images used to illustrate my paper:

The ISBN has been confirmed as 978-0-7190-9956-4 but it looks like the book won’t be published until February 2016. In addition to my paper, there are some fantastic contributions covering a range of topics, including Dr Steven Fielding on ‘The heart of a heartless political world: screening Victoria’  (which also discusses the two AW films), Professor Ian Christie on  ‘A Very Wonderful Process’: Queen Victoria, photography and film at the fin de siècle’, Victoria Duckett on ‘Her Majesty moves: Sarah Bernhardt, Queen Elizabeth, and the development of motion pictures’ plus studies of more recent screen portrayals of monarchy such as The Queen (Frears, 2006), the Showtime cable TV series The Tudors (2007-2010) and The King’s Speech (Hooper, 2010.)

Most critics agreed that Neagle’s performance was eclipsed by that of her on-screen husband – an impression supported by much of the publicity material, including this post-war German programme.

An issue that arose several times during the conference was the way that the monarchy and film-makers use each other’s power for their own gain: royalty looks to prestige films to enhance public image, while cinema promotional materials (such as this advert) display lavish regalia suggesting the seal of royal approval.

A wedding scene from ‘Sixty Glorious Years’

Exeter in 1912 – Watercolours by E W Haslehurst

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Recently I came across these beautiful watercolours by Ernest William Haslehust (1866 -1949), which provide the illustrations for Sidney Heath’s book Exeter (London: Blackie & Sons, 1912.) Unlike many watercolours, these are full of deep shadow, strong contrast and vibrant colour. His paintings present a vivid sense of how these landmarks appeared just over a hundred years ago.
This 16th century building was originally used by the cathedral clergy but after the Reformation it was the Customs House, a haberdashery shop, a coffee house (1726-1829), and art gallery. From 1878 to 1958 it was known as Worth’s Gallery, being the premises of Thomas Burnett Worth and his son, who used the picturesque building for printing and selling guidebooks, postcards and other ephemera for tourists. Worth ensured that  ‘Mol’s Coffee House’ became a tourist attraction itself, concocting various legends about its links with Queen Elizabeth and the Spanish Armada. It is currently an upmarket gift shop.
This is the view from inside the courtyard of Rougemont Castle, with the old gatehouse and entrance to Rougemont Gardens on the right: another scene that has changed little since Haslehurst painted it.
Here’s St Mary Steps Church, with West Street rising up in the background and the entrance to Stepcote Hill tucked away to the right. The famous ‘Matthew the Miller’ clock is clearly visible on the front of the church tower. The area to the left and behind the viewpoint was swept away for the construction of the Western Way bypass in the 1960s.
A lovely view of the cathedral, showing the bishop’s palace to the right. As I explained in an earlier post, Bishop Phillpotts disliked the idea of living here and had his own residence built near Torquay.  At the time of Haslehurst’s painting the palace was the home of the scholarly Bishop Archibald Robertson. The painting below looks like a courtyard behind one of the buildings in Cathedral Close.
Another pre-reformation building, this lodge also stood in Cathedral Close and was once the property of the Benedictine abbots of Buckfast. After the dissolution of the monasteries it passed to the Crown and then through the hands of lawyers and clergymen before becoming the home of the Choristers’ School headmaster. Both the lodge and the school were completely destroyed by a German bomb in May 1942.

I walked along this very stretch of water just two days ago and can confirm that little has changed: Topsham remains one of the most attractive spots on the Exe, with tangible evidence of its sea-faring importance all around. After the river became inaccessible to shipping higher upstream, Topsham became a prosperous port and the hub of the area’s maritime trade.

The closure of the River Exe to shipping was due to the construction of a weir in the 12th century. According to the story, this was at the behest of  Isabella, Countess of Devon, which provides the derivation for the name ‘Countess Wear’ which is given to the area painted by Haslehurst below – although, like many such stories, the evidence and dates aren’t quite consistent.  Behind the housing in Countess Wear the Exe meanders slowly, in long wide arcs, through flat grassy meadows that still provide grazing for cattle today, as well as being a popular route for cyclists and walkers.

‘Fever’ (Raphaël Neal, 2014)

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This years’s Chichester International Film Festival – the 24th – runs from 13th to 30th August and is a prestigious affair, with over 120 films being screened and special guests including Carl Davis, John Lithgow and Ian Christie. Several of these films are being shown in this country for the first time, and today I wanted to post a review of Fever (Raphaël Neal, 2014), which received its UK premiere at Chichester on Wednesday 26 August.
The plot of Fever is simple to summarise. Two intelligent and privileged philosophy students, Damien (Martin Loizillon) and Pierre (Pierre Moure) carry out what they believe to be the ‘perfect crime’ – the random, motiveless murder of a woman they have only seen once before. The murder itself occurs offscreen in the opening frames  – the first hint the audience has that the crime itself is not the real focus of the film. To describe Fever as a meditation on the ‘banality of evil’ might suggest it’s a dry, intellectual exercise – but it is anything but. Filmed with panache and visual flair, Fever’s stylish appearance is enlivened by superb performances from its young actors, bringing just the right amount of poignant vulnerability to the layers of literary and historical texts.

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Deadly duo: the confident and charismatic Damien (Martin Loizillon, left) and sensitive Pierre (Pierre Moure, right)

Texts form an important part of the film. As part of their philosophy class Damien and Pierre are studying Hannah Arendt’s Eichmann in Jerusalem: a report on the banality of evil (1963); the Nazi’s defence that he was only ‘obeying orders’ is seen by them as a reflection of their own principle that in order for murder to be a crime, there must be a personal motive. Similar themes had of course already been considered in Dostoevsky’s 1866 novel Crime and Punishment.

The events depicted here are no philosophical fantasy however, but are rooted in historical fact. Adapted from Leslie Kaplan’s 2005 novel Fever, the story is inspired by the 1924 murder in Chicago of 14 year old Bobby Franks, which was carried out by two wealthy students, Nathaniel Leopold and Richard Loeb, in order to demonstrate their intellectual superiority. This crime provided the inspiration for the Rope (1929), by Patrick Hamilton (who also wrote Gaslight) – the play was adapted for the screen in 1948 by Alfred Hitchcock. Further layers of historical parallels are woven into the story as the boys grow increasingly anxious and paranoid in the wake of the crime, turning to their grandparents for reassurance while trying to exculpate themselves by reading up on France’s Vichy past. Narratives of personal and national guilt become intertwined with the students’ erratic behaviour. No-one is portrayed in isolation, and by exploring matters such as family dynamics and ancestral roots, the characters are fleshed out in a depth rarely found in contemporary crime thrillers.

Unsurprisingly, the police are baffled by the motiveless crime, but one person seems likely to discover their guilt: young optician Zoé who saw the boys leave the murder scene and picked up a black glove dropped by Pierre.  Her suspicions are heightened by Pierre’s nervous reaction when she sees him again, and she begins following the duo, doing her own investigations, even posing as a potential tenant to gain entrance to the apartment in which the murder took place. In contrast to this dark and dangerous world, Zoé lives with her boyfriend Sacha in an idyll of perfect contentment and stability – but one that is devoid of passion. Gradually it becomes clear that her fascination with the murder provides an illicit thrill that is entirely absent from her dull homelife. In counterpoint to the ‘banality of evil’, Zoé’s attraction towards the killers is driven by the monotony of the familiar. Her job as an optician underscores the significance of vision, the temptations of scopophilia – there are echoes here of Rear Window and Blue Velvet. 

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Dangerous fascination: Zoé (an exquisite performance from Julie-Marie Parmentier)

The nature of Zoé’s desire is not the only erotic element in the film. The relationships between the main characters are complex and ever-shifting, signified not only by the actors’ sensitive performances but also by a rich backdrop of visual and musical motifs. As I mentioned in a recent post on the noir film While the City Sleeps, unhealthy relationships with one’s mother often feature in movie portrayals of murderers, and there are strong hints here that Damien and his mother are rather more intimate than is appropriate. While there is also a definite homoerotic element in the relationship between Damien and Pierre, we see several shifts in their attitude to the women around them – such as their philosophy tutor Rosine, fellow students and Zoé herself. The alternation between desire, fear, misogynistic contempt and nervous embarrassment represents realistically the confused world of the adolescent. Many of these scenes take place with Peggy Lee’s 1958 hit ‘Fever’ playing in the background, various renditions of the song being performed by fictitious chanteuse ‘Alice Snow’ (actually the singer Camille) – including a striking concert sequence attended by Zoé and an equally memorable dance routine involving Damien and his mother.

Given Raphaël Neal’s background as a professional art photographer,  the careful attention given to matters of lighting, pictorial composition and visual iconography is no surprise. As well as allusions to other films – the close-ups of feet descending a spiral staircase recalls Moira Shearer’s frenetic descent in The Red Shoes – there are nods to the work of Irina Ionesco, Peter Weir and Catherine Breillat, amongst others. This is a film that will reveal further riches with repeated viewing. The effective use of outside locations around Montparnasse, including the vast cemetery, provide a lively sense of edgy authenticity. Since making his screen debut as an actor in 2001 Neal has worked with the likes of Claire Denis, Claude Chabrol, Alexander Sokurov and Sofia Coppola, and opportunities to observe these great directors at work have clearly not been wasted. His debut as a director suggests he may have an equally distinguished career ahead.