Love, The Most Important Thing (1975)

I only recently discovered this masterclass of emotional terrorism and it swiftly became one of my all-time favourites. Granted the odds were stacked pretty favourably that 'Love, The Most Important Thing' would in all probability be an absolute keeper as 1) It was directed by Andrej Zulawski (Possession 1981) 2) It co-starred the delicious, hazel-eyed dreamboat FABIO TESTI! 3) His screen partner being the equally edible Romy Schneider; and if that wasn't enough to give over-zealous europhiles a cinematic aneurysm, Klaus Kinski delivers one of his more nuanced and committed performances here as well. It also must be said that Jacques Du Tronc (an actor I am, sadly, not that familiar with) delivers an utterly spellbinding performance as Schneider's tormented Husband, and he is equally beautiful. To whit there is one particularly potent  sequence with him nonchalantly clumping around his detritus strewn apartment whilst delivering reams of oblique dialogue, dressed solely in a grimy mac and leaden, ill-fitting shoes which is an absolute masterclass of eccentric screen acting, easily rivalling the best of fellow Frenchman Patrick Dawaere. So, as you can see 'Love, The Most Important Thing' (aka) 'L'important C'est D'aimer had the potential to be a most exhilarating experience indeed! One could draw glib parallels to Truffaut (especially the stark early 70's existentialist drama's with Jean-Pierre Leaud), Bunuel or the mighty Rainer Werner Fassbinder; but I feel that Zulawksi is a primal force all to himself; and should really be recognised as one of the all-time great iconoclast film-makers; and I add credence to my bold claim by mentioning the film's utterly devastating and  heart-wrenching opening gambit which concerns an emotional (almost to the point of deathly inertia) actress (Romy Schneider) dressed in a flimsy slip, sitting astride a blood-soaked actor who is feigning some agonizing death throes; while poor, distressed Romy is being repeatedly yelled at by a ruthless female director who barks in great irritation that she must fuck her soon-to-be dead beau with greater conviction; words are impotent here; these are the grim, unsparing visions of a living hell; a disinterested crew glares on in with a collective ennui, as a tear-strewn and profoundly harried Romy reluctantly grinds her hips in a lackluster travesty of lovemaking against the by now inert, crimson corpse; her tatty negligee now be-spoiled with his blood; all the while she intones a dispicable mantra of "I Love you" in a cracked, unpleasant monotone. As she nears a palpable, inexorable breakdown, her harridan director continually screams out a blunt, heartless credo of "more emotion, I don't believe you" "Act! This is why we are paying you!" The irony being, for this viewer at least, I am hard pressed to recollect a sequence so riven with bare, naked potency, and while this grotesque pantomime plays out in the foreground, just off-set we can see a rumpled-looking paparazzi (Fabio Testi) becoming utterly beguiled by the fragile, luminous vision of Romy Schneider; yet he is also visibly repulsed by her plight, since she appears to be mere seconds away from a complete psychological meltdown.  Now I should remind you that this is merely the film's opening gambit, and the density of pathos created is enough to choke a charging Bison!  'Love, The Most Important Thing' is a work of emotional genius and total integrity and I, for one, am all the better for having these beguiling images in my soul.  (If not also a little haunted!)

(I have included a link for those who wish to see this fine film.  Enjoy!)

http://www.foriegnmoviesddl.com/2007/11/limportant-cest-daimer-that-most.html

(A brief glimpse into the tumultuous world of Testi & Schneider)

(Germany's finest!)

(Doomed lovers never looked so beautiful)

(Now one of my favourite sequences, while it is very, very funny it is also loaded with a heady pathos)

(To be honest I don't actually know who I would like to kiss more)

(A wonderfully stark graphic for an equally uncompromising film)

(Hello? Are you aware that I am dashed handsome?) 

(The breath-taking Romy S. #SWOON!#)

(Wonderful still of Romy & Jacques - such power and bitter-sweet sensuality between the both of them both here)

(A still from the film's devastating opening sequence - extraordinary stuff indeed!)

(Testi arrives to photograph an initially playful Romy and ultimately gets far more than he bargained for!)

(The charming rogue Testi enters a maelstrom of marital chaos from which he is unable to leave)

(Romy's world is one of pain)

(Love is the most important thing...Indeed it is!) 

(Beautiful, potent image)

(Sublimely erotic)

Icons of my mind 1# (PECKINPAH)

(I like this picture as he looks quite benign here; not the bravura maverick, just some tired, wizened old boy contemplating the beckoning void)

There have been very few pleasant, let alone reliable constants in my life thus far and one of my most beloved and rewarding obsessions remains a zealous appreciation of the gonzoid cinematic genius of Sam Peckinpah. My love and profound admiration of this iconoclast's work came about at quite a tender age; long before I seriously began to half-understand over-written, convoluted articles on film theory, or rabidly consuming all the myriad Faber & Faber film director biographies; it was, fortuitously, far less labour intensive, all it took was a furtive, late-night viewing of 'The Wild Bunch' and I suddenly had (or I felt I had) some celestial purpose in life. The initial problem was how to see more of his films, no mean feat considering these were the near-barren days before the proliferation, nay, invention of the Betamax recorder or its cumbersome, larger-gauge VHS sibling. In addition this was also a decade before I had ever heard, or let alone understood the ubiquitous auteur moniker; I was simply a tremulous, impressionable boy responding to all the blazing, macho, visceral intensity of Peckinpah's compulsive narrative, coupled with the heady, palpable reek of "Alpha" maleness on display; which a lonely young knave couldn't help but respond to and, naturally, Peckinpah's deranged, giddy tumult of kinetic, sanguinary violence was also duly noted! Well, this was one alienated prepubescent who suddenly and demonstratively felt a intangible connection to something powerful and hypnotic far outside of himself; needless to say this was the very first (And best) of my many cinematic obsessions that began long before my round, cherubic visage succumbed to the harsh rigors of a man's beard.

(Neat-o still of Peckinpah and walkie-talkie, a veritable Boy's own fantasy!)

(Appears to be a flyer for a screening of Straw Dogs. I like the 6th form art student feel of this)

(The Getaway Triumvirate. Gotta love McQueen's macho arm splay, he is quite the peacock here!) 

(A wonderful picture of a pensive-looking Sam, in colour no less!)

(Two wayfarer-clad icons having a welcome respite from the relentless gun-play of 'The Getaway', or it might actually be Junior Bonner, not too sure.)

(The classic Peckinpah auteur dust jacket still)

(Looking at this I can hear Holden's low, Marlboro Man baritone, and it is a most comforting recollection!)

(The mighty Coburn awaits an "action" from friend and mentor Peckinpah)

(Nice Sunday supplement shot of Sam; never once seen without his pre - requisite bandanna!)

(Sans beard here, a hirsute sartorial misstep perhaps!)

(Holden & Peckinpah deep in thought, or deep in smoke; possibly both)

(One of my favorite pictures from this brief collection; Lettieri emphatically owns this still, McQueen's charisma appears considerably distilled here!)

(Splendid shot of the great man at work)

(Looking almost suave here, which is miraculous as he is, again, foolishly, sans beard!)

(Contrived publicity still, but the camera in the foreground looks ace!)

(Nice image from a recent Peckinpah retrospective)

(There is simply too much visual goodness here for one modest B/W photo: Peckinpah replete in groovy, slimline slacks advising the world's greatest male how to blow motherfuckers away!)

(Frankly the genius of this image speaks for itself!)

Wake In Fright (1970)

Active Hotfile links below. No P/W.


http://hotfile.com/dl/16857278/3a8103b/Wake.In.Fright.1971.DVDRip.XviD-aAF.part1.rar.html http://hotfile.com/dl/16857464/609bc89/Wake.In.Fright.1971.DVDRip.XviD-aAF.part2.rar.html http://hotfile.com/dl/16857611/fa0ad0e/Wake.In.Fright.1971.DVDRip.XviD-aAF.part3.rar.html http://hotfile.com/dl/16857746/15d9b1e/Wake.In.Fright.1971.DVDRip.XviD-aAF.part4.rar.html

This has recently become one of my all-time favourite films, and arguably Donald Pleasence's finest hour. (See below images if any proof were needed!) 

(This picture alone is reason enough for me to fall in love with Pleasence all over again!)

I have also included the teaser trailer of this magnificent film!

Adequate reason to be sidetracked!

After watching Ralph Thomas's wonderful 'Deadlier Than The Male' I found myself more than a little preoccupied by one of its stars, the delightful Elke Sommer. I feel the portrait below proves beyond any reasonable doubt that I made a valid decision. Aesthetics and skimpy bikini's aside, Elke proved herself to be a very capable comedy actress, and more than a match for the suave Richard Johnson (Portrait below Elke's).  The world might well prove to be a far calmer place if we all just took a little time and care to regularly look at pictures of Elke Sommer. I surely cannot be alone in suddenly finding myself emphatically at peace with all who share this minuscule orb we call earth. 

(A quite sublime cinematic pairing)

(Opening credit sequence to 'Deadlier Than The Male' (1967) music: The Walker Bros)