Image courtesy of Rialto Pictures			The Fallen Idol
After watching Rialto Pictures’ re-release of The Fallen Idol earlier this week, I found myself afflicted with a case of “good old days” syndrome. Aaahhh, yes…the good old days. Those days of early film when movies consisted of well-written stories, characters deeper than the ocean is blue, and a visual design so masterfully constructed you don’t even miss the lack of CGI effects. Of course, I’m not talking about Hollywood’s “good old days” when everything except film noir was mass produced in a cookie cutter format by the oligopoly known as the studio system. I’m talking about those wonderfully rare early-European films you learn to appreciate over time. Based on the short story, “The Basement Room,” by Graham Greene, The Fallen Idol is the tale of a young boy’s shattered innocence and his induction into an adult world full of secrets, lies, and deception. The film literally becomes a trip back in time to a world visually haunted by the canted angles and symmetric architecture of German Expressionism…a world where children are allowed to be children instead of miniature adults…a world in which the emphasis is on the characters, not the celebrities. Aaahhh, yes…the good old days. After The Fallen Idol’s initial 1948 release in Britain, director Carol Reed ran into a huge roadblock by the name of Joseph Breen (Vice President of the MPPA) before his film finally made its way across the pond and over to the States. Thanks to Breen’s butchering act on behalf of the censorship board, the film’s American release was delayed until November of 1949. Now, Rialto is re-releasing the original, uncut British version of Reed’s masterpiece.
Image courtesy of Rialto Pictures		Phillipe’s (Bobby Henrey) journey into the adult world of cold, harsh reality begins when his father (Gerald Heinz), an ambassador, leaves Phillipe in the care of Baines (Ralph Richardson), the butler, and his cruel wife (Sonia Dresdel), the housekeeper, while he attends to Phillipe’s mother in the hospital.
From his bedroom window, Phillipe sees Baines leave the embassy, and follows his friend to a coffee shop where he finds him with Julie (Michelè Morgan), a typist who works at the embassy. Due to his youthful innocence, Phillipe does not realize Baines and Julie are romantically involved; and, before parting, Baines asks Phillipe keep Julie’s attendance a secret from his wife. Naturally, Mrs. Baines finds out; and, the growing number of secrets Phillipe promises to keep from each spouse leaves him in a state of confusion between right and wrong. The next night, Phillipe screams when Mrs. Baines frightens him in the middle of the night, Baines rushes in to see her violently strike Phillipe across the face, and the two adults begin to physically struggle with one another. When Baines finally pushes her away and leaves to get dressed, his wife makes her way out onto a narrow ledge alongside the staircase, slips, and falls to her death. Phillipe sees her lifeless body at the foot of the stairs, mistakenly assumes Baines murdered her, and flees into the night. Unlike Greene and Reed’s more popular follow-up, The Third Man (1949), Idol is more of a personal thriller. There’s no grandiose scale to its diegetic world, there’s no espionage involved, and there’s no sense of foreboding doom. It’s merely a cynical tale of misperception and loss of innocence. However, the real reason behind the film’s nostalgia factor is how we see these events unfold through the eyes of a child. A child who, because he still acts like a child, makes us confront our own boundaries of right and wrong as well as loyalty and betrayal as he experiences them for the first time.
Yet, by addressing these issues of morality, the question of ethics also comes into play – just not in the way you might think. After watching the original uncut version of The Fallen Idol, I found myself seriously questioning Breen’s judgment. Aaahhh, yes…the good old days of uptight censorship, ridiculous editing, and the MPPA.		Image courtesy of Rialto Pictures
The prudish Mr. Breen insisted upon eliminating anything that might identify Rose (Dora Bryan), the woman Phillipe meets in the police station, as a prostitute. Unfortunately, by cutting out almost half of her dialogue, Breen ended up ruining the funniest scene of the movie. Instead of censoring us from knowing Rose is a prostitute, maybe Breen should have been editing out Mrs. Baines’ physical abuse of Phillipe. Was it really necessary to see her shake him like a British nanny? Oops, I almost forgot…she is a British nanny. Overall, the performances are outstanding, especially that of Richardson and Henrey and the way in which they effectively feed off one another throughout the film. Bryan also manages to steal her one scene as the “tart with a heart of gold.” However, what really makes Idol stand out is the way in which Reed captures the vast emptiness of the embassy. Between the suspense of a paper airplane and that elusive game of hide-and-seek, I was actually sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation. Aaahhh, yes…the good old days of Hitchcockian suspense. Rialto Pictures has indeed tapped into a gold mine of forgotten cinema. In addition to the classic films they have already re-released from historic directors such as Fellini, Renoir, Godard, Duvivier, Buñuel, Bresson, Franju, Schlesinger, and Nichols, more are on the way. Rialto’s next release will be Jean-Pierre Melville’s Army of Shadows later this year. Finally! Someone understands the importance of restoration over remake!
Image courtesy of Rialto Pictures	Aaahhh, yes…the good old days of early European cinema…that rare type of intelligent film missing from today’s crop of mindless spectacles lacking in originality. Carol Reed’s The Fallen Idol is one of those forgotten films that leaves you feeling as if you just dined on steak after eating fast food for the past month. © Kelly Bartley 2006