MADE IN ENGLAND: THE FILMS OF POWELL AND PRESSBURGER

Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger, Cohen Media Group

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Review by Mark Dujsik | July 25, 2024

As a duo, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, a British pair of filmmakers, made 24 movies together. They had their creative and financial ups and downs, as all artists do, but the highs were of such artistry that it's little wonder it took several decades for their accomplishments to be fully recognized. One of the leaders of that re-evaluation was Martin Scorsese, one of the quintessential American filmmakers, who presents Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger with such knowledge and passion that, if he ever does decide to retire from making movies, he should spend the rest of life talking about them on whatever platform he deems fit.

Scorsese isn't just a filmmaker, of course. He's a vocal advocate for film preservation who puts his money and efforts where his mouth is, and the restorations of multiple films by Powell and Pressburger—the versions most readily available as of right now—are thanks in no small part to Scorsese. Near the start of this documentary, the director states that watching Powell's The Thief of Bagdad in black-and-white on a 16-inch television set as a child started his obsession with cinema, so his appreciation for the British filmmakers is basically a lifelong affair.

Every movie lover knows there are some films that one keeps going back to for whatever reason. For Scorsese, it's the films of Powell and Pressburger. He has watched some of them too many times to count, such as The Tales of Hoffman, which he recalls being part of block of TV broadcasts that would show the same movie several times a week and, sometimes, multiple times a day. As a kid with asthma who couldn't go outside to play with other children, Scorsese would watch all of those broadcasts, and sitting in the audience of an illuminated auditorium in director David Hinton's documentary, Scorsese recalls scenes from it as if he's watching them play out right in front of him.

In a way, this film is almost as much about the American master as it is the British ones, meaning we should be doubly grateful to Hinton for this film. Scorsese is no stranger to being public about his thoughts about specific films and state of movies in general, but this project feels different than any regular, old interview or some segment recorded for publicity efforts. At times, Scorsese tells his own story and dissects his own filmmaking by way of the Powell-Pressburger films, so from the very start, he and Hinton make it clear this isn't just some academic enterprise. It's personal—and not only because Scorsese became friends with Powell later in his life.

It is, though, also academic, yes, and professional, because Scorsese knows his stuff—to put it mildly on a ridiculous level. He may talk about himself and his own work, but that's only when it's absolutely necessary—as a way of explaining why the Powell-Pressburger films have stuck with him for almost eight decades at this point and how certain elements of style or ideas have directly influenced those in his own films. He has earned that and more at this point in his career, and honestly, the overwhelming majority of Scorsese's words, interrupted only by clips and interviews with Powell and/or Pressburger, are aimed at praising, dissecting, and, occasionally, criticizing the subjects at hand.

Most of the criticism comes for the later portion of Powell and Pressburger's joint career, when even the former, after re-watching and writing about the pair's final official collaboration Ill Met by Moonlight, admits the effort was, in that classic way of British speak, "poor." Scorsese's continuous narration takes us through the duo's career from their pre-collaboration beginnings, through the most obvious highlights, to their unfortunate decline, and a bit beyond.

Yes, the structure here is chronological and, in a way, biographical, but the specific details matter more than the broad strokes. Scorsese's analysis, taking us through the basic plot and highlighting the elements that strike him as the most important (a performance, a single shot or transition, a particular theme, or some vital trivia about the behind-the-scenes politics of the process, for example), is so illuminating at times that we almost wish he and Hinton had narrowed the field of selected films even more. It's either that or, perhaps, the possibility of a longer cut of the documentary.

Obviously, the point isn't simply analysis. It's also to bring attention to the Powell-Pressburger films, which are held in esteem by many film enthusiasts but, even in those circles, aren't nearly as popular as other films dubbed essential—or those made by more well-known British directors, for that matter. Scorsese makes a passionate case for the pair's big ones, especially The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, which he finds more and more resonant with the passage of his own life.

Scorsese also, though, makes a compelling case for the wartime fantasy of A Canterbury Tale, the style of which would escalate and elevate with the more-popular A Matter of Life and Death, leading the director to focus almost exclusively on that film's transcendent art direction. One of the benefits of the documentary's structure is seeing how the duo's career trajectory was established by the propaganda efforts of World War II and was allowed more freedom of creativity with the war's end. That second chapter gave us the bold experimentation of the climax of Black Narcissus and the extended ballet sequence of The Red Shoes, although it would, sadly, also lead to conflict with producers and within the collaboration.

For those who know some number of the Powell-Pressburger films, Made in England: The Films of Powell and Pressburger is filled with Scorsese's intelligent and personal analysis, entirely worthy of hearing. For those who don't know them, the film is a convincing argument that you should.

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