No Talking

Quest for Fire

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg

Bonjour, dear readers! It’s a new month, a new year, and after the unique chaos of 2022, I’d like to take a little time to be quiet. As an anxious, overthinking, OCD and ADD-addled individual with a love for maximalism, I can sometimes struggle to sit still through a slow-moving, quiet film. But after viewing some silent films that blew my mind, and the masterpiece that is the Shaun the Sheep Cinematic Universe, I learned that I actually love films with little to no speaking. It may seem like a limited mode of storytelling—to remove verbal communication—but in silent cinema, filmmakers and performers are able to accomplish tremendous feats of physicality, tonality, and emotional connection without a single word. Tonight’s two films were not silent, but they did not use traditional means of communicating. Their scripts were not filled with lines of dialogue, instead they relied upon the powerfully emotive tools that the human body possesses. Body language is, for the most part, universal, and expansive. So much can be said in a glance, with a hand, with an expressive face, or with one stifling its emotion. Both of tonight’s films found unique ways to tell their stories, they both accessed a stunning range of emotions and circumstances, all without any talking. I began with Jean-Jacques Annaud’s fascinating prehistoric adventure film from 1981: Quest for Fire. The story takes place 80,000 years ago in Paleolithic Europe, and is centered upon a tribe of cavemen who, after being ambushed by a neighboring, less evolved tribe of ape-like cavemen, must somehow bring fire back to their home. Fire is not just a source of warmth and light, it is a symbol of power and dominance. When the fire is snuffed out, what’s left of the tribe huddle together in their anguish. With no words spoken or coherent language uttered, you can feel their pain and the intensity of their fear. You can sense their confusion, their anxiety, and their sense of hopelessness. Three of the remaining cavemen (played by Everett McGill, Nameer Al-Kadi, and Ron Perlman in his first major role) take it upon themselves to search for a new source of fire—scaling mountains, racing through rivers, and traversing treacherous valleys that harbor dangerous beasts. They encounter wolves, sabertooth tigers (which were just lions wearing long, fanged dentures), woolly mammoths (which were just circus elephants dressed as mammoths), and other tribes of humans, all at different stages of evolution. They eventually come across a tribe of more primitive, cannibalistic cavemen, who are about to eat Ika (Rae Dawn Chong), a young girl of a much more evolved tribe: the Ivaka. After saving Ika, she joins the cavemen in their pursuit for fire, teaching them many things along the way. She teaches them laughter, she teaches them missionary sex (as opposed to their default, less dignified doggy-style), and most importantly, Ika teaches them how to make a fire. Much more occurs in Quest for Fire, but to reveal it all to you here would be a waste. Quest for Fire is a film, not for the faint of attention spans, that must be viewed to be understood and appreciated. The action begins instantly, and never ceases, even in moments of intense silence. The battles were bloody, the failures were frightening, and the triumphs felt truly victorious. There is an incredible, believably unbelievable, harrowing, yet entertaining story being told here—one that is expressed through bold, booming, captivating music, and through dedicated performances. You wanna talk about commitment, Daniel Day Lewis? You wanna talk about method acting, Joaquin Phoenix? These actors did their own stunts and grunts, they contracted frostbite from the terrain they filmed in, they delivered so much raw emotion without ever uttering a word, all while their asses were out. These actors were so committed, they should probably be committed if you know what I mean. I won’t tell you every wild fun fact that pertains to this film (because there are too many to list) but I must mention the fact that the production designer of this movie caught anthrax from handling untreated animal hides, and the fact that the fictional language sometimes spoken by the neanderthals here was written by Anthony Burgess: the author of A Clockwork Orange—because… what the fuck? This is not a film that I expected to like, but I was completely riveted by Quest for Fire and its ambition. It may not have been the most scientifically or historically precise, but for anyone feeling frustrated or unaccomplished as they begin this new year, this film will remind you that the only goal or objective humanity has ever had is survival. So if you’re surviving at all, you’ve accomplished a great deal already. One thing I failed to accomplish while watching Jacques Demy’s 1964 classic The Umbrellas of Cherbourg was not crying, but as we know, I’m an easy target. The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is a French film that stars two of the most beautiful people to ever exist—Catherine Deneuve and Nino Castelnuovo—as Geneviève and Guy: two young people in love. It is a film where much is said, but nothing is spoken. The film instead tells its tale entirely through song, though it is far from your traditional musical or opera. Every line of dialogue, spoken by a main character or a peripheral one, is sung (as recitative). To describe this film as one, hour and a half long song does not at all make it sound appealing, but The Umbrellas of Cherbourg was a song that I never wanted to end. It tells the story of a young couple who fall madly in love with one another, but are torn apart by unfortunate circumstances. Guy receives his draft letter and must fight in the Algerian war, while Geneviève stays home in Cherbourg to help her mother with their umbrella store. Once again, there is much more to the story here, but I shan’t reveal it. This is film, for anyone but especially cinephiles, that must be seen, heard, and felt for yourself. Perhaps it was the main character’s youthfulness, or the French setting, or the nostalgia for I time that I never existed in, but The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is one of the most romantic films I’ve ever seen. I’ve always been a sucker for fleeting romances, but this film provided one so incredibly visceral, it really seemed delighted to twist the knife through its star-crossed lovers. Its romanticism, of course, comes from the chemistry between Catherine Deneuve and Nino Castelnuovo (who, by the way, wasn’t just hot, he was like nowadays hot), but it was also provided by the divine, candy-colored aesthetic that this film maintained throughout. Every costume, every umbrella, every piece of furniture, every wallpaper in this film, was colorfully, stunningly, gorgeous. I didn’t quite know how to feel while watching it, because while so many aspects filled me with dread and despair, every single frame of this film was appallingly beautiful to look at. It was so perfectly costumed, so effortlessly performed, my eyes marveled at every detail, even as they filled with tears. The Umbrellas of Cherbourg may not be fully appreciated by audiences who tend to avoid musicals, but nearly every word sung here was poetic and pure and worthy of ringing through your ears. Between the evocative music, the poignant story, and the dedicated manner in which it was all performed, I was an absolute wreck after watching this—but all the better for it. If a film is good enough, I can handle some sadness. And thank goodness The Umbrellas of Cherbourg was good, because it was also, thoroughly sad. This film is so important within film and pop culture history, not only did Michel Legrand’s music for this film play on the radio, but several directors (like Damien Chazelle) note its influence on their work to this day. I was so impressed by both of tonight’s films: how they were able to convey so much emotion, how they were able to move their stories along, and how they kept my short attention focused without ever speaking. It can feel like a real effort to watch films outside of our normal viewing preferences, but doing so may just broaden your horizons, and introduce you to your new favorite films. I’ll have more double features for you all year long but for now, I'll shut up!