Hey, everyone - it's Bob, back for another of Al's requested birthday reviews. This one was rather less painful than some of the others, though make no mistake, I'm still left pretty mystified by this one - just more pleasantly mystified than the usual.
This time, Al's got me looking at The Trial, Orson Welles' 1962 film based on Franz Kafka's Der Process, starring Anthony Perkins, with Welles himself in a major role.
The Trial is the tale of Josef K, a man who stands accused of...something. No one will quite tell him what it is, often just responding with questions or advice about what to do while Josef just wants to know what it is he's even being accused of and marvels at the strange, arcane, and often seemingly corrupt processes of the courts and law. Mystified and offended by the situation in which he finds himself, Josef desperately tries to find a way to free himself from the shadow now hanging over his life as his mental state becomes increasingly erratic and distressed. It is framed by a sort of fairy tale, which opens the film in full and is later recounted in part to Josef near the end, about a man seeking admittance to The Law who is stopped by a guard and lives out his life unsuccessfully trying to gain entry, only for the guard to finally tell him that only the man could ever have entered the door but the guard is now closing it. So, you know, one of those cheery and easily understood fairy tales.
The plot of the film proper is deeply confusing, necessarily so, as Josef's confusion - and therefore the viewer's - is central to the entire experience of the film. The film is quite aggressive about never providing any true, concrete answers to what is going on, and simply bizarre events will happen on a fairly regular basis, whether that's Josef being arrested but allowed to just go about his daily life just fine, or Josef suddenly finding officers that he'd accused of soliciting bribes being flogged in a closet at his workplace, or Josef discovering that a painter's dilapidated shack is actually attached to the court records room, then fleeing from a horde of young girls through an inexplicable tunnel system. Time frequently skips forward a considerable distance with no real announcement of that fact, as well.
Ordinarily, I'd regard these as significant failings of filmmaking, but somehow with The Trial, they are just part of the experience. Similarly, there are other clearly intentional bits of awkwardness, such as people frequently talking over each other, and moments where characters inspect something clearly important to the plot but we aren't shown a bit of it...and again, these are clearly a part of the style of the film, not errors, and I can't really complain about them as they succeed in what they're designed to do, which is create one heck of an unsettling atmosphere.
The Trial is unnerving and disorienting at all times, succeeding in setting its mood by never once letting a scene get comfortable. The moment that you start to feel you understand a scene and are able to fully follow it, the movie immediately throws in a strange event or odd twist. Oh, you're settling in to a bit where Josef is chatting about his case with a nurse working for his lawyer? Well, by the way, there's another client just living in the maid's room. Getting used to the inspector's mannerisms while he's questioning Josef? Well, here's three of Josef's work associates hanging out in his neighbor's bedroom for no adequately explained reason. Okay with Josef talking with his uncle about the possibility of using a computer to figure out his alleged crime, itself kind of a weird concept? Here's an officer being flogged and apologizing to Josef for the noise, then putting tape over his own mouth to quiet down. The words "well, that just happened" will come to your mind a lot in this film.
And it's excellent.
I can't say I truly understood what was going on, but my goodness, this was good. From the setting to the mood to the sound to the acting, it's all great. I have to give particular praise to Anthony Perkins, playing Josef, who just does an absolutely incredible job showing a mix of determination, confusion, righteous indignation, and a gradual descent into confused panic and distress, including multiple scenes where he just entirely breaks down in a panic attack so convincingly I would've been deeply worried for him if I'd been on set. He's terrific, and that's a darn good thing since he's in almost every single shot of the movie - which helps to keep us confused, of course, but also binds us to him in a way that makes us deeply sympathetic of Josef, who is just as confused and disoriented as we are. It's a lot of ask of a single actor, and Perkins is more than equal to the challenge.
As for the others - everyone fulfills their role to the fullest. Welles is great and excellently erratic as Josef's strange and domineering lawyer, who seems to do little for his clients but verbally abuse them but insists that it is better than the alternative. The variety of more minor characters that Josef meets are always played well, with a slightly off-kilter style that leaves the viewer constantly in at least slight discomfort even in the most calm scenes. It always feels like someone is leaving something unsaid, something so deeply important that if you just heard it, it would reveal everything to you and to Josef, but no one will. No surprise, then, that Josef gets increasingly distressed through the film.
What does it all mean? Honestly, I think it'd take more than one viewing for me to adequately theorize about it in any detail (surprisingly, this is one I'd actually be willing to watch again to try to figure it out, though). Perhaps a metaphor for life in general, I think? A study on the strange and often arcane intricacies of human life, and the nature of guilt and innocence? Or perhaps more direct, a critique of just how the law functions, how lost ordinary people can be in a system that protects the powerful - there is, to be certain, a lot in this film about the high magistrates being out of Josef's reach and out of the reach of those who work with him, with the authorities he does meet being referred to as smaller, and Josef, especially towards the end, questions the entire concept of judgment of humans by humans. That is probably the clearest element of the film, an almost sarcastic prodding of the legal system and its treatment of the ordinary people who get caught up in its machinations and corruptions.
Perhaps, as well, it is about how humans can get so wrapped up in their own self-assurance that they avoid that which could help them - frequently, Josef refuses to follow advice he is given - whether to immediately present a paper, or to confess and seek help, or to take an "ostensible acquittal" which will, at least, restart the cycle from the beginning again and again, or to plead lunacy, or more, even casting aside a priest's outreach. He also brushes aside the concerns of family, and seems to value his ambitions at the office - or at least, a fear of being fired - over caring for his cousin in town or visiting with his uncle. He sometimes seems to be right in his actions, sometimes wrong, but Josef always seems to be driven by his thought on what should be happening, his path forward, rarely - though not never - willing to truly take advice from another.
I won't go into the ending - not that I'm sure it would qualify as spoilers when I'm not sure I can describe what happens in a way that ascribes it meaning that will make perfect sense - other than to say that it seems to reflect a theme of Josef's rejection of judgment and refusal to simply obey and follow a system he does not agree with or understand - in this case, a positive, though one that perhaps makes little difference.
My apologies if the above makes little sense - honestly, The Trial is quite a difficult film to describe because it's a difficult film to comprehend. What I can say with clarity, however, is that it is good. It is excellently put together, excellently acted, and difficult because it is intended to be difficult, rather than through some flaw of the filmmaking. It's deeply perplexing and left me more than a little lost quite frequently, but at the same time, it's undoubtedly an achievement of filmmaking and probably the best film Al has had me watch for one of these. Brilliant and artistic, if utterly opaque, it's one I will definitely praise but perhaps find difficult to truly recommend, if that makes any sense.
If it doesn't, well, perhaps I've just put you in the right mindset for The Trial.
Happy Birthday, Al.
