The first Powell and Pressburger film I was aware I was watching was Black Narcissus. The only reason I knew that and recall it was that it was on just after prime time on Channel 9 in Brisbane, introduced by a host whose name I do not recall. While I and my studenty household had a good ol' chortle at some of the histrionics the film began to seduce us break after break until the end when crazy Sister Ruth emerges from the door to the bell platform looking like the most unearthly evil figure we'd ever seen (the still I've used does not do it justice). The shots of that face go right through you and it still sends a shiver if I see it today. After that, if I ever saw the Powell and Pressburger by line on any film it became essential viewing. I learned that I'd already seen The Red Shoes as a child (more scares in one of the dance sequences from that time) and probably one of the war movies which the ABC would play late at night. And then I learned about Peeping Tom, the one that Powell made after the partnership broke up and the one that ended his career. I say learned rather than saw as this film that asked dangerous questions about the nature of cinema was all but impossible to see. Eventually, years later, after the move from Brisbane to Melbourne, a friend lent me a VHS dub from tv and everything I suspected about Powell, alone or with his longtime collaborator came coldly true. From that time, I am still catching up.
Before this, the housebound young Martin Scorsese who would note the director credits of the films he saw on tv knew a lot of the work by the time he was well enough to leave the house and start making his own films. Their profound effect, the blur of reality and magic and the solid colour when seen on a cinema screen, made their way into his own film practice. Scorsese is the host of David Hinton's documentary and we couldn't be better served.
Scorsese weaves his own story in with the one he is telling about the duo as a testament to their influence upon his films and the sheer wonder of them to begin with. This is enriched with a wealth of clips from their career when the account settles into the timeline. A gratifying amount of interview footage with the otherwise elusive Pressburger as well as Powell (some with both) does a lot of work.
Scorsese, in entwining his own story in with theirs (he knew Powell who became a colleague during the '70s and '80s), presents a celebration that allows for the injection of sobering failure into what might have been a cinematic hagiography (like Scorsese's own documentary about George Harrison). What saves it from this is the director's own intense scrutiny of the films and their workings; Scorsese is not just shilling, he's fascinated. Fascinated is how this film left me.
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