The Snows of the Human Heart

If you ever have to arrest someone far out in the wilderness of Canada in the dead of winter, you'd better hope it's as nice a guy as Jules Vincent. 1952's The Wild North follows this affable character, played with maximum charm and absurd French accent by Stewart Granger, in an arduous journey with a Mountie played by Wendell Corey. The friendship between the two men that develops is terrific and the film's engrossing because of it.

Jules is introduced as just the nicest guy, so nice it's slightly absurd. As he saunters into town, he rescues a kitten from a dog before carrying it into a tavern where he starts to chat up a sad luck dame played by Cyd Charisse.

She has a melancholy musical number and ends up being an important character, Jules' love interest, but somehow she's only credited as "Indian Girl". She's Chippewa, according to the dialogue, and Jules agrees to escort her back to her tribe miles to the north. But before they can go, a big drunkard picks a fight with Jules.

One thing leads to another and the big man ends up accompanying them. Jules is forced to shoot him in order to protect Charisse but, since the two men were seen fighting in a tavern, Jules looks guilty. After a visit among Charisse's people, he goes on the lam, alone. Constable Pedley (Corey) tracks him down to a little cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Immediately the two men seem to respect each other. After Pedley formerly arrests Jules, they sit down to a friendly game of checkers. The bulk of the film is spent on their long journey back to town and there's constant tension over whether Vincent is going to have to flee and whether the two can maintain their odd friendship through it all. It's an oddly cosy movie and Granger and Corey have great chemistry.

The Wild North is available on The Criterion Channel.

Give Us the Old Village

Wandering an old forest or heath, the sense of timelessness in the environment may inspire fantasies of travelling back in time. I'd sure like to wander into a happy, 18th century Scottish village like the two modern hunters in 1954's Brigadoon. A musical starring Gene Kelly and directed by Vincente Minnelli, it lacks the fast paced wit that distinguishes most of the best musicals, instead aiming for a sleepier, dreamier vibe. The few jokes in the simplistic dialogue land like lead and the lyrics to the songs are often anaemic, fundamentally unsatisfying in their attempts at wit. But how gorgeous this movie is. Filmed entirely on sound stages, Minnelli, his art directer, and his cinematographer create a wonder in lighting, backdrops, and flora arrangements.

I love the precise use of patches of false sunlight contrasted with muted tones of heather behind mist. Sometimes the footage looks like Caspar David Friedrich paintings.

Although the stage musical comes from the late 1940s, I suspect the influence of The Quiet Man was behind the motivation to make this film. But while the slightly kitschy idealism of rural Ireland in The Quiet Man exists alongside genuinely well drawn characters and layers of motive, the quaint and garishly garbed inhabitants of Brigadoon seem to pose and make faces without genuine human feeling. Like when an old man affects anger when he leaves a family bible outside the window for his daughter's fiance to sign with a frozen, stupid smile.

There's no sense of authentic feeling behind the scene at all.

Kelly's chemistry with Cyd Charisse isn't much better. The former's natural warmth is always engaging and Charisse is a terrific dancer but the dialogue continually fails them both. Nevertheless, a scene featuring the two in dreamily choreographed, balletic dance on a hill is astounding, the gorgeous backdrops filling up sweeping Cinemascope shots and blending seamlessly with the artfully arranged prop plants.

This movie is worth watching just for these incredible images. Brigadoon is available on The Criterion Channel.