The Bullfighter and the Lady [dir. Budd Boetticher]

I first came to experience the work of Budd Boetticher through the wonderful Ranown Westerns set Indicator put out some years ago. With that series of movies, Boetticher did for Westerns what Val Lewton did for horror - use the genre to tell thoughtful stories with layered characterization, and avoid being just cliched B-budget matinee fodder. So of course, when I heard that Boetticher was a fan of bullfighting as a sport and that he regarded The Bullfighter and the Lady as one of his most personal pictures, I was naturally eager to see it. My viewing was with the reconstructed 124 min Director's Cut (DC).

While American Johnny Regan (Robert Stack) is visiting Mexico with friends, he is taken up with the local bullfighting scene and meets with champion matador Manolo Estrada (Gilbert Roland aka Luis Antonio Damaso). He also locks eyes with the alluring Anita (Joy Page), engaged to one of the assistant bullfighters in Manolo's team. Possibly as a way to continue meeting with Anita, Johnny asks Manolo to teach him the art of bullfighting.

Thus begins a lengthy process of training and trials, during which Johnny develops his skill and also a meaningful friendship with Manolo and his wife Chelo (the queenly Katy Jurado, who has a showstopper scene when she tells off a drunk spectator that jeers Manolo into competing with an injured hand). The film's biggest strength is its commitment to showcasing the various aspects of the sport and not make it just a heroism gimmick. You don't see Johnny become a showboat expert after two lessons - he makes a mistake, learns, stumbles over something else, learns again. It is not dull repetition, but the thoughtful depiction of a sportsman's growth...and I mean sportsman in the best sense of the term. For it is not just technical skill that Johnny acquires, he also absorbs the patience, understanding and camaraderie that separates the great sportsman from the petty competitor. In parallel we follow his pursuit of Anita, including a misunderstanding that makes her reject him, and how they eventually reconcile. This is all one organic narrative, and the film is essentially one of deep human feeling.

Of course, this does not address the elephant in the room, or in this case the bull. In its loving documentation of the sport, the film talks about the selection of bulls for their 'bravery', and the admiration the matadors have for the beasts. All the same it does depict a form of bullfighting in which the animal is pierced with lances (that cause it pain and increase its aggression) and eventually killed by a sword. You could argue against the 'gentlemanliness' of a sport that involves such actions, but the film focuses on the art and skill involved in the sport and confers upon it a nobility of spirit.

The 87-min Theatrical cut I understand radically alters the film, chopping off many scenes of bullfighting and of Johnny's friendship with Manolo, making it a simple romantic tale of his pursuit of Anita. These cuts were apparently made to make the film more palatable for audiences by John Ford after he was invited by the film's producer, his buddy John Wayne. It will make for an interesting curiosity when I get to it.

A few words about the Powerhouse/Indicator blu-ray:

Video quality on the DC is variable. Most sequences appear solid enough, with a veneer of grain, but several shots have a softer look with blown out whites, density fluctuations and even a bit of wobble. These shots may be exclusive to what was used for the reconstruction of the DC, I'm not sure. The quality of the film itself is good enough to justify any deficiencies in the source. The (mostly) English mono audio is fine. The Spanish characters speak to each other in Spanish and these lines are not translated (but they are transcribed in full when you turn on the subs).

Extras-wise, I have not gone through them as yet but Indicator seems to have done another sterling job of compiling lengthy featurettes on Boetticher's life and movies, and the special place this film has in his career, and my copy includes the chunky booklet which I assume is packed with interesting content (the LE is still available for a very reasonable sum, and even without this booklet this can be regarded as a packed release and highly recommended).

Bramayugam aka Age of Madness [dir. Rahul Sadasivan]

The trailer I saw of Bramayugam gave me a different impression of what it would be - the remote setting, distancing grayscale imagery, atonal score elements, oblique dialog, staccato editing rhythm, these suggested an existential nightmare, something in the vein of Robert Eggers' The Lighthouse or that amazing Marathi horror film Kaul - The Calling.

The actual film is a different beast. In most part it is basically Dracula...specifically the first act of Dracula, in which Jonathan Harker is invited into and later imprisoned within the titular vampire's decrepit castle. This is one of the best remembered segments of Bram Stoker's seminal novel, and with good reason. Telling the story from Harker's perspective Stoker builds an incredible foundation of awe and dread, making Dracula such a looming presence he shadows even those significant stretches he is absent from the narrative. While Bramayugam is not a direct adaptation, owing more to local folklore, Rahul Sadasivan as writer-director brilliantly recreates that same essence.

The 17th century Malabar (Kerala) period and moody black and white framing place us from the outset in a vastly different world; we become ready to believe anything the story has to offer us. This story's Harker is Thevan (Arjun Ashokan) who is first seen running through the forest with a companion. They are escaping a fate of slavery and oppression. But the forest is no safe haven either. In a move that early on announces the film's supernatural leanings, Thevan's friend is consumed by a Yakshi (tree spirit), and he must continue his flight alone into the wilderness. This aspect is highlighted in the shot where Thevan appears dwarfed alongside a vast raging waterfall. His journey is analogous to the rugged trail Harker follows in the Carpathian mountains.

Finally, Thevan reaches a crumbling old manse. Following an interaction with a surly cook-butler (Sidharth Bharathan) that catches him stealing coconuts, Thevan is brought into the presence of the house's aged master. Mammootty's measured introduction though voice, footsteps low-angled close-ups and rear profile is of course a reflection of his star status, but it also serves to impress the rank and prestige of his character Kodumon Potti. Of course, a large part of that grandeur is now faded - Potti lives alone, attended only by the cook who is not above pooh-poohing his master's courtly affectations. When Thevan, a court singer by training, pleases him with his musical ability Potti expresses regret that in lieu of gifts of gold, he can only offer him meals and shelter. Mammootty plays Potti with a masterful blend of magnanimity and autocracy - he welcomes the lower-caste Thevan as a guest, but snarls at the slightest hesitation towards his commands. When he challenges Thevan to a game of dice to decide whether he must remain or can go, the latter has no choice in the matter (which is why I don't agree with the comparisons made to Faust, the protagonist has no agency in this wager). At least within this closed universe Potti is omniscient, exerting even supernatural authority in a manner that echoes Dracula's summoning of his wolves to keep Harker from leaving.

The bulk of Bramayugam is a seething claustrophobic drama generated by the interplay between these three characters. The script underlines Thevan's subjugation to the master's will - he loses track of time and his past gets erased from memory. I won't delve much into the details of the plot thereon, which brings in demons, body-swapping, shape-shifting and sorcery as Thevan struggles for a way to be liberated from his prison. Towards the end, there is a sequence in which Thevan comes up against an implacable force of darkness in his quest to escape. With its throat-gripping mastery of visuals and storytelling, this scene alone is a feat of world-class horror film-making.

Other film critics have talked about Bramayugam's social exploitation metaphors, and that's hardly surprising. Dracula himself has been analyzed as a symbol of feudal exploitation, literally sucking the blood of the peasantry. The high-ranking Potti demands complete control over the lives (and souls) of his dependents. Between Thevan and the cook is a different game of social one-upmanship, which opens up additional layers after certain plot revelations are made. The control obtained through sorcery and talismans is analogous to the power of rank and status, and evil persists in the world because no individual is immune to the temptation of wielding that power. 

But if you're worried about having to read between the lines, rest assured, Bramayugam is perfectly enjoyable even at surface level. One connection the film has to Robert Eggers' work is its commitment to examine in detail the life and rituals of another time. Using, I suppose, a mixture of real locations and constructed sets (production designer Jotish Shankar), the film provides a seamless other world, primitive and isolated. Small details like the scum of rice over the jar of fermenting liquor are rendered in a matter-of-fact way that gives the proceedings a ring of authenticity. You can smell the decay in the air, feel the tension heat up the hermetic space. The decision to shoot in black and white was an inspired one, and DoP Shehnad Jalal provides memorably stark shadow-wreathed images.

Given the rarity of the species in India, it's wonderful when you get a horror film for which you do not need to make allowances when measuring it up against examples of eerie cinema from across the world. Like Kaul and Tumbbad in recent times, Bramayugam is a fantastic example of evolved serious-minded horror cinema we should celebrate.