Tuesday, 5 May 2020

Moonrise (1948 Frank Borzage)

Moonrise has a remarkable opening. In stark yet impressionistic chiaroscuro, a man in shadows is hanged, then an effigy is hanging over a crying baby's head - the son - who then is schoolboy aged and being bullied for having a father that was hanged. All shadowy impressionism. Then those steps to the gallows again.. and we're a few years later on, the boy being bullied again, the cycle repeating, dark, shadowy scenes. This all takes place in about ninety seconds. Then the adult, and he's fighting again, the same assailant...



Thus we understand the motivations driving our grown up protagonist, played by Dane Clark, but boldly, he's depicted as being extremely hostile to just about everyone, not at all sympathetically, almost killing his deaf and dumb friend (Harry Morgan) at one point; and thus when schoolteacher Gail Russell falls for him, we wonder why...

It has its shocking moments, but not in a blunt Sam Fuller way, well, sort of - but with camera moves that are more sophisticated, like Ophuls. This is particularly evident in a beautifully staged sequence on a carousel, and in the way the camera on a crane tracks the lovers in their ballroom dance. Borzage is often called 'lyrical'. I think I know what that means, as in 'expressing emotions in an imaginative and beautiful way', there's definitely something striking about him. Also, I wonder whether Laughton saw this before making his own, studio set, river-bound, lyrical masterpiece Night of the Hunter, which even shares Ethyl Barrymore in the cast. Certainly, Lionel Banks' art direction here on Republic sets is most accomplished, evoking not only the swamps but the run down look of the town and the dilapidated Southern mansion, William Lava's score is thunderous and pounding, John Russell's photography starkly effective and moody (Psycho was his most notable later achievement).

Rex Ingram is the noble recluse, the conscience, who starts singing a spiritual with words all about Clark's situation, like he's a Greek chorus (or indeed like Sir Lancelot in I Walked With a Zombie). Dogs are significant, particularly in a night raccoon hunt (why hunt raccoons? They look cute. To eat them?) Allan Joslyn is a sympathetic cop.

I was surprised it ended as happily as it did.

Borzage is not a well known name these days, but he definitely left his mark in dozens of silents, notably including 7th Heaven and Street Angel, then into sound with the original Farewell to Arms, Man's Castle, Little Man, What Now?, Three Comrades and The Shining Hour. There's a cracking good 1997 article about him and his work here at Filmcomment.com, by Kent Jones.

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