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The Tobacconist: Stogie story
His job is to sell pleasure and desire, cigars “hand-rolled tenderly by beautiful women on their thighs.”
Freud and the Tobacconist: What would a film about old Dr. Unconscious be without a few dream sequences?
Other than an innate ability to turn heads with each passing performance, what do Montgomery Clift, Alan Arkin, Alec Guinness, Bud Cort, and Viggo Mortensen share in common? At a given moment in each man’s career, he was handed a cigar and hired to put Sigmund Freud on the couch. Adding another credit to the good doctor’s celluloid resume is Bruno Ganz, who, in one of his last performances, works hard to make this visit to The Tobacconist a healthy choice.
What would a film about Freud be without dream sequences and symbolism? Set in Vienna during the days leading up to World War II, both sorts of imagery occupy prime real estate in Nikolaus Leytner’s (Lemming’s First Case) strikingly appointed coming-of-age drama. At the bottom of Austria’s Lake Atter, enwombed by a sea of green, sits Franz (Simon Morzé). A clap of thunder draws the 17-year-old out of the water and into a torrential downpour that leaves him slipping and sliding his way back home and under the covers. The same electrical storm that Franz fled claims the life of his mother’s (Regina Fritsch) current lover. With money tight and the prospects of securing a new meal-ticket uncertain, mom has no choice but to ship her only son from Attersee to Vienna, where he’ll live with, and apprentice under, a former lover.
Otto (Johannes Krisch) is more than just a cancer salesman; he’s a one-man (and -legged, thanks to WWI) authority on smoking culture. “A tobacconist’s capital is his memory,” tops the first day’s lesson plan. It is essential that Franz take stock of his clients’ tastes and habits the moment they walk through the door. His job is to sell pleasure and desire, cigars “hand-rolled tenderly by beautiful women on their thighs.” As if that cigar-box promise of lust were not enough, there’s a stack of girlie magazines, sold on the side and kept hidden from view. (The only merchandise Otto refuses to stock are national socialist publications.) For his part, Franz finds his way into a relationship with Anezka (Emma Drogunova), a mercurial Bohemian fan dancer at the Black Cat cabaret. Their lovemaking spills out of the embryonic smoke shop and into an exquisitely designed and lit studio mockup of the snow-covered storefront. Their nude, albeit condensation-free romp is an exhilarating moment of freedom; take sides against the Nazis, and it could be your last.
Franz’s first impression of Freud comes from the town postman. When asked what the doc specializes in, he replies, “He treats nutcases.” It’s his relationship with Anezka that causes Franz to wonder if maybe he’s one of them, and to seek the advice of the shop’s most famous stogie sucker. (Oddly enough, it’s Freud who first expresses an interest in the young man’s sexcapades.) As played by Ganz, Freud’s downfall is a good cigar. If Franz’s offer to exchange imported Havanas for the doctor’s advice feels like a stretch — how can he afford them on an apprentice’s salary? — it’s nothing compared to Freud cutting short a plump and pampered patient, whining on the costly clock, to answer the call of Franz, motioning outside his window.
The mechanics of hate are steadily set into motion: the prominent doctor arrives at his favorite coffee shop, only to find himself relocated to a newly-established “Jewish Only” section. Antisemitic diatribes supplant topical stand-up comedy. The degree of down-to-earth rapport reached by Morzé and Ganz would normally be recommendation enough, but the story is at its most compelling when the stars are asked to share billing with the rise of Naziism. Without the balance of equal attention, it would be a simple tale of hero-worship, a variation on My Favorite Year with psychoanalysis and Nazis substituting for Errol Flynn and NBC. ★★★
Video on Demand New Release Roundup
The Beach House — In the spirit of 1950s sci-fi comes Jeffrey A. Brown’s gripping debut feature. Recent college dropout Randall (Noah Le Gros) is content at the thought of spending an eternity bumming around his father’s spacious waterfront property. Emily (masterfully played by Liana Liberato), his semi-estranged girlfriend, is a brilliant college student eager to attend grad school. (Liberato is one of the few young actresses around capable of convincingly pulling off the role of organic chemistry major.) What is meant to be a weekend devoted to romantic reconciliation gets disrupted, first when an oddball pair of dad’s old friends, already granted use of the space, show up, followed by strange atmospheric phenomena materializing on land and sea. Because I don’t want to keep audiences away, I am loath to peg this as a cautionary fable about climate change. The point is there, but never hammered. And the film offers no explanations; the horror lies just out of sight, somewhere below the horizon line. 2019 —S.M. ★★★★
Four Kids and It — Dad (Matthew Goode) might have used his surprise holiday as an excuse to reconcile with Mom. Instead, his son Ross (Teddie Malleson-Allen) is greeted at the lake house by her replacement parent (Paula Patton) and his surrogate siblings Maudie (Ellie-Mae Siame) and the smashingly appointed Smash (Ashley Aufderheide). Forced to coexist, the kids initially bond, not out of friendship, but rather out of fear of what’s furrowing underground. The tunnelling effect that introduced the magical sand creature called Psammead looked promising — and any character voiced by Michael Caine, even this threadbare imitation of a Lorax, is worth a listen — as did his strict miracle-per-day limit to granting wishes. But clueless parenting and a badly miscast bad guy (Russell Brand) contribute to the film’s ultimate downfall. Still, Caine and the kids have their fun — as when the Psammead is first introduced to the concept of carpeting. Andy De Emmony directs this adaptation of E. Nesbit’s 1902 children’s novel, farts and all. 2019. —S.M. ★★
Shanghai Traid — We open on a tight shot of Tang Shuisheng’s (Xiaoxiao Wang) face, the world swarming around him. And for the next 7 days, we view life exclusively through the 14-year-old boy’s eyes. It’s the provincial lad’s first visit to the big city. (Recreating Shanghai in the 1930s was a task for which production designer Juiping Cao was clearly ready.) Call it guilt by association: Shuisheng is drafted by his crime boss uncle Tang (Li Baotian) to tend to his mistress Xiao Jinbao’s (Gong Li) every wish. The decision was based not on the boy’s desire to be a gangster, but on the luck of the draw: the untrustworthy Tang will hire only from within the family. Zhang Yimou directs as if assigned a pre-code Warner Bros. contract picture, and befitting its period, there is no nudity, and only the aftermath of violence is seen. The sparkling new digital restoration is currently available for download via Film Movement’s Virtual Cinema. 1995. —S.M. ★★★★
Here's something you might be interested in.
The Tobacconist: Stogie story
His job is to sell pleasure and desire, cigars “hand-rolled tenderly by beautiful women on their thighs.”
The Tobacconist: Stogie story
His job is to sell pleasure and desire, cigars “hand-rolled tenderly by beautiful women on their thighs.”
Freud and the Tobacconist: What would a film about old Dr. Unconscious be without a few dream sequences?
Other than an innate ability to turn heads with each passing performance, what do Montgomery Clift, Alan Arkin, Alec Guinness, Bud Cort, and Viggo Mortensen share in common? At a given moment in each man’s career, he was handed a cigar and hired to put Sigmund Freud on the couch. Adding another credit to the good doctor’s celluloid resume is Bruno Ganz, who, in one of his last performances, works hard to make this visit to The Tobacconist a healthy choice.
What would a film about Freud be without dream sequences and symbolism? Set in Vienna during the days leading up to World War II, both sorts of imagery occupy prime real estate in Nikolaus Leytner’s (Lemming’s First Case) strikingly appointed coming-of-age drama. At the bottom of Austria’s Lake Atter, enwombed by a sea of green, sits Franz (Simon Morzé). A clap of thunder draws the 17-year-old out of the water and into a torrential downpour that leaves him slipping and sliding his way back home and under the covers. The same electrical storm that Franz fled claims the life of his mother’s (Regina Fritsch) current lover. With money tight and the prospects of securing a new meal-ticket uncertain, mom has no choice but to ship her only son from Attersee to Vienna, where he’ll live with, and apprentice under, a former lover.
Otto (Johannes Krisch) is more than just a cancer salesman; he’s a one-man (and -legged, thanks to WWI) authority on smoking culture. “A tobacconist’s capital is his memory,” tops the first day’s lesson plan. It is essential that Franz take stock of his clients’ tastes and habits the moment they walk through the door. His job is to sell pleasure and desire, cigars “hand-rolled tenderly by beautiful women on their thighs.” As if that cigar-box promise of lust were not enough, there’s a stack of girlie magazines, sold on the side and kept hidden from view. (The only merchandise Otto refuses to stock are national socialist publications.) For his part, Franz finds his way into a relationship with Anezka (Emma Drogunova), a mercurial Bohemian fan dancer at the Black Cat cabaret. Their lovemaking spills out of the embryonic smoke shop and into an exquisitely designed and lit studio mockup of the snow-covered storefront. Their nude, albeit condensation-free romp is an exhilarating moment of freedom; take sides against the Nazis, and it could be your last.
Franz’s first impression of Freud comes from the town postman. When asked what the doc specializes in, he replies, “He treats nutcases.” It’s his relationship with Anezka that causes Franz to wonder if maybe he’s one of them, and to seek the advice of the shop’s most famous stogie sucker. (Oddly enough, it’s Freud who first expresses an interest in the young man’s sexcapades.) As played by Ganz, Freud’s downfall is a good cigar. If Franz’s offer to exchange imported Havanas for the doctor’s advice feels like a stretch — how can he afford them on an apprentice’s salary? — it’s nothing compared to Freud cutting short a plump and pampered patient, whining on the costly clock, to answer the call of Franz, motioning outside his window.
The mechanics of hate are steadily set into motion: the prominent doctor arrives at his favorite coffee shop, only to find himself relocated to a newly-established “Jewish Only” section. Antisemitic diatribes supplant topical stand-up comedy. The degree of down-to-earth rapport reached by Morzé and Ganz would normally be recommendation enough, but the story is at its most compelling when the stars are asked to share billing with the rise of Naziism. Without the balance of equal attention, it would be a simple tale of hero-worship, a variation on My Favorite Year with psychoanalysis and Nazis substituting for Errol Flynn and NBC. ★★★
Video on Demand New Release Roundup
The Beach House — In the spirit of 1950s sci-fi comes Jeffrey A. Brown’s gripping debut feature. Recent college dropout Randall (Noah Le Gros) is content at the thought of spending an eternity bumming around his father’s spacious waterfront property. Emily (masterfully played by Liana Liberato), his semi-estranged girlfriend, is a brilliant college student eager to attend grad school. (Liberato is one of the few young actresses around capable of convincingly pulling off the role of organic chemistry major.) What is meant to be a weekend devoted to romantic reconciliation gets disrupted, first when an oddball pair of dad’s old friends, already granted use of the space, show up, followed by strange atmospheric phenomena materializing on land and sea. Because I don’t want to keep audiences away, I am loath to peg this as a cautionary fable about climate change. The point is there, but never hammered. And the film offers no explanations; the horror lies just out of sight, somewhere below the horizon line. 2019 —S.M. ★★★★
Four Kids and It — Dad (Matthew Goode) might have used his surprise holiday as an excuse to reconcile with Mom. Instead, his son Ross (Teddie Malleson-Allen) is greeted at the lake house by her replacement parent (Paula Patton) and his surrogate siblings Maudie (Ellie-Mae Siame) and the smashingly appointed Smash (Ashley Aufderheide). Forced to coexist, the kids initially bond, not out of friendship, but rather out of fear of what’s furrowing underground. The tunnelling effect that introduced the magical sand creature called Psammead looked promising — and any character voiced by Michael Caine, even this threadbare imitation of a Lorax, is worth a listen — as did his strict miracle-per-day limit to granting wishes. But clueless parenting and a badly miscast bad guy (Russell Brand) contribute to the film’s ultimate downfall. Still, Caine and the kids have their fun — as when the Psammead is first introduced to the concept of carpeting. Andy De Emmony directs this adaptation of E. Nesbit’s 1902 children’s novel, farts and all. 2019. —S.M. ★★
Shanghai Traid — We open on a tight shot of Tang Shuisheng’s (Xiaoxiao Wang) face, the world swarming around him. And for the next 7 days, we view life exclusively through the 14-year-old boy’s eyes. It’s the provincial lad’s first visit to the big city. (Recreating Shanghai in the 1930s was a task for which production designer Juiping Cao was clearly ready.) Call it guilt by association: Shuisheng is drafted by his crime boss uncle Tang (Li Baotian) to tend to his mistress Xiao Jinbao’s (Gong Li) every wish. The decision was based not on the boy’s desire to be a gangster, but on the luck of the draw: the untrustworthy Tang will hire only from within the family. Zhang Yimou directs as if assigned a pre-code Warner Bros. contract picture, and befitting its period, there is no nudity, and only the aftermath of violence is seen. The sparkling new digital restoration is currently available for download via Film Movement’s Virtual Cinema. 1995. —S.M. ★★★★
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