Martin Scorsese’s new documentary about the films of Powell and Pressburger premieres in Berlin
Emeric Pressburger, the Hungarian-Jewish director and screenwriter who built a career in Berlin, fled the Nazi regime in the 1930s, but unlike many of his European Jewish contemporaries who went to Hollywood, Pressburger immigrated to Britain.
There, he teamed up with another up-and-coming filmmaker, Michael Powell, and the two collaborated on a series of wildly popular films that became classics and influenced a generation of young American directors, among them Martin Scorsese, who produced and narrates a new documentary about their work, Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger, which premiered at the Berlinale, the Berlin International Film Festival.
In this documentary, Scorsese, who will receive an Honorary Golden Bear Award for his career this year, and who is famous for talking fast, can’t say enough about how these films, which he first saw on television as a sickly child in New York, blew his mind and shaped his sensibility as a filmmaker.
Their movies, as this documentary shows in beautiful detail, were visually imaginative and exciting in a way that could appeal to a young boy, but also featured deeply romantic and philosophical themes about choosing a spiritually rewarding life over materialism. They sometimes showcased music and dance, using visual richness to highlight the music, and often their films were very funny in a quintessentially British way.
The movies they made together include The Red Shoes, the fantastic and larger-than-life story of a ballerina (played by real-life ballet dancer Moira Shearer) who must choose between love and dancing, which became the favorite film of a generation of dance-loving little girls.
Their opera adaptation, Tales of Hoffmann, features evocative cinematography that makes the drama of the opera music come to life in a way that influenced Scorsese to become a director, as he explains in the film.
They had a few years making British propaganda films to help morale during World War II, including The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, a gentle comedy-romance that celebrated British sweetness and eccentricity. In addition, they made the quirky romance I Know Where I’m Going! set in an island off the Scottish coast, and many other movies of British life that were unlike anything made by any other filmmakers.
The documentary, directed by David Hinton, deals with their working relationship, in which Pressburger, who didn’t speak English till he was in his 30s, outlined the intricate screenplays and created the characters, while
Powell wrote the dialogue and handled most on-the-set directing chores.
Scorsese seems more interested in Powell and his revolutionary visual flourishes, and paints Pressburger as the more “practical” of the partners, who saw the value in compromising with studios who tried to rein in their vision.
The movie doesn’t examine Pressburger’s life as a Jewish refugee and his loss of family members, nor does it consider how these experiences might have led him to a more practical approach to his filmmaking career. But it does detail how their partnership was as deep and emotionally charged as any marriage.
The movie portrays their breakup as sad, but their love and respect for each other stayed strong, and, after a period when they were virtually forgotten, they later enjoyed recognition for their achievements, spearheaded by a younger generation of filmmakers such as Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola.
THOSE WHO are interested in a more detailed look at Pressburger’s life would be advised to track down the 1995 documentary The Making of an Englishman, which was directed by his grandson Kevin Macdonald (The Last King of Scotland) and produced by another grandson, Andrew Macdonald (the producer of
Trainspotting).
While they knew their grandfather, he was a distant if admired figure in their lives, but obviously his love of and talent for filmmaking were passed down.
The Making of an Englishman
spends quite a bit of time on his early life, showing how, after leaving Hungary for Germany, he had to sleep in the park while trying to break into the German film industry, one of the most developed in the world at the time. It also shows the difficult moment when he realized he had to flee the Nazi regime and his decision to, as the title suggests, make himself into an English director who had a sensibility as British as any native-born Englishman.
His grandsons present him as an enigmatic but fascinating figure.