Welcome to Stuart Fernie’s Blog
Reflections on a variety of films and topics - Seven Samurai, It's a Wonderful Life, Don Quixote, We're no angels, War for the planet of the apes, Dunkirk, The African Queen, Babette's Feast, Dances with Wolves, The Prisoner (1967), Inherit the wind, humour in drama, nature of regret, the influence of multimedia, memoirs of a teacher of French.
Friday, 5 December 2025
Introduction
Characters and themes in "La Belle et la Bête" (1946)
Reflections on characters and
themes in “La Belle et la Bête” (1946)
Directed and written by Jean
Cocteau
Starring Jean Marais and
Josette Day
Though hardly of the same genre as those films I would normally be attracted to, I am most grateful to have had this most poetically artistic piece drawn to my attention. Fantasy films do not generally appeal to me, far less fairytales, but Cocteau’s vision of the tale of Beauty and the Beast is an engrossing mix of romance, social criticism and philosophy which makes its points within the framework of a fairytale yet contains a toughness which reminds the audience of its application to reality.
The first striking feature is in the titles themselves. Cocteau himself appears as a sort of teacher writing the title and credits on a blackboard. This, then, will be a lesson – perhaps a morality tale from which we, the audience, are to take some allegorical meaning.
In the course of the exposition, it is clear we are dealing with elements of several fairytales, notably Cinderella and Red Riding Hood, and also some elements of Shakespeare – The Merchant of Venice and The Tempest. The characters are all psychologically fairly complex and we are rapidly given insight into their personalities, their flaws, their strengths and their motivations – all told with a mix of light humour and dark implication (as befits a fairytale).
We are presented with Belle’s two “ugly sisters” who are deceptive, wily, insincere, grasping and self-centred, together with a somewhat feckless brother who is quite lacking in moral fibre and backbone. Combine these characters with Avenant, the brother’s handsome but short-tempered, arrogant and violent wastrel friend, and Belle’s father who is kind but overly tolerant, a victim of circumstance, and the scene is set for a drama in which Belle (Josette Day) will become the heroine through her act of self-sacrifice to save her father. This act surely highlights Belle’s sincerity and moral fibre, as well as the devotion expected of a daughter toward her father, characteristics that will be appreciated by the Beast just as much as her natural physical beauty.
The Beast (Jean Marais) can, indeed, behave in a “beastly” way – he kills and is quite threatening at times, yet he is also self-aware and is striving to “better himself” through kindness and compassion to Belle (though he has compelled her to remain in his company under the constant threat to her father). This duality is essential to understanding what is appealing in the Beast, and what is repugnant in Belle’s family and friends – the Beast has reflected upon himself and his nature and wishes to rise above it, but the others simply accept who and what they are without pause for thought or a desire to improve themselves rather than their situation.
Belle is good and kind by nature, and the Beast appears to recognise this in her. Would he have accorded such compassion and affection to one of Belle’s sisters? No, beauty of spirit is at least as important as physical beauty, and it is perhaps this lesson that Belle learns when she leaves the Beast for a week to tend to her father – absence makes the heart grow fonder, but the clarity of vision she has gained by spending time with the tortured but ultimately good-hearted Beast allows her to see the others in her life for what they are, and to appreciate the Beast and his efforts to achieve change all the more.
Is it in the nature of love to see people differently? Does seeing beyond the physical and appreciating the spirit and soul of another lead to love? As stated in the film, love can bring out the beast in men, or it can bring out the best.
In many ways this seems to be a tale of Christianity (in its purest form, with no reference to the Church), with the Beast aspiring to achieve forgiveness and compassion by trying to take control of his nature and passions. In the end, the Beast is transformed by love, though not just his love for Belle, but because he feels loved by another. By extension, this feeling of being loved involves respect, appreciation and compassion toward one’s fellow men.
It is also interesting to note that in this, as well
as in other French films and literature, it appears to be suggested that it is
in feminine nature to help control the “beast” in men. Examples include “Jean
de Florette” (written by Marcel Pagnol, Josette Day’s husband at the time of
production), “Cyrano de Bergerac” and “Les Misérables”.
Thank
you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "The Searchers"
Reflections on characters and
themes in “The Searchers”
Directed by John Ford
Screenplay by Frank S Nugent,
based on the novel by Alan Le
May
Starring John Wayne, Jeffrey
Hunter and Vera Miles
Aaron Edwards and most of his family have been attacked and kidnapped or killed in a Comanche raid. Ethan, Aaron’s brother, accompanied by a young family friend Martin Pawley, set out on what will become an epic search for Ethan’s niece, Debbie.
One of the central themes, and the one which underpins all others, is family. Family provides security and purpose in spite of all hardships as members of the various families seen in the film pull together to survive, support one another (in spite of superficial bickering), and to make something of their difficult lives. Family life is certainly idealised, though within acceptable limits, and here the hard-working, principled and devoted family members are likely to be regarded as “normal”, with recognisable relationships, traits and quirks.
Men are seen as practical and hard-working providers offering home and physical security, while women are clearly the driving force providing comfort and guidance. Men are also seen as somewhat tongue-tied and clumsy in matters of love, while women are clear-headed and show common sense.
Love, in several different forms, is also one of the main driving forces behind the action – be it love in the form of family devotion, friendship or youthful passion, love propels most of the characters and indeed may be seen as the very reason for all of Ethan’s woes as love has brought him into conflict with family values and devotion.
Ethan loves his brother Aaron’s wife and she is in love with him. Nothing is said or explained, but it is clear through a series of gestures, looks and silences that there is a strong bond of affection between them. Similarly, Ethan’s hatred of Comanches is never fully explained, though we may impute considerable and perhaps awful experience, given his detailed knowledge of their ways.
The fact is, however, that the roots of Ethan’s rage and racist hatred may lie not so much in his experience with them, but even more fundamentally in his deeply felt but impossible love for Martha, his brother’s wife. Just as love can lead to happiness and fulfilment, so its deprivation can lead to feelings of discontent, non-fulfilment and then resentment.
Ethan Edwards is a driven man – driven away by an impossible love as a result of which he must choose between hurting himself or others, driven by principle which led him to put others before himself, and finally driven by bitterness and resentment which have eaten away at him as he has lost not just his love and his family, but also the beloved nation he fought to defend.
Having lost his country and his very way of life, with no-one to offer comfort or commitment, Ethan allows himself to be so overwhelmed by anger and bitterness that he questions the very values he (presumably) set out to defend and (it is suggested) he commits criminal acts including robbery and perhaps even murder.
In the intervening period between his departure and his return we may assume, through his knowledge of Comanche ways, that apart from participating in the Civil War, he has been an Indian fighter and a hunter, among various other possible occupations. It has been suggested that his behaviour and entire manner are due to some innate racism, and while it is undoubtedly true that he displays racist attitudes, it should be pointed out that Ethan is equally dismissive of virtually everyone and whatever values they live by – be it Indians, his own brother (with whom he is decidedly tetchy at the start of the film), the Reverend, the army or traders. Ethan is equally disillusioned with them all. It is not so much that he is cynical, more that he has lost the edge of idealism and sees things clearly.
It would be easy to write Ethan off as ruled by hatred and negativity, suspicious and dismissive of everything, but how did he arrive at this point?
I would suggest that the answer to that question lies in the profound dissatisfaction coupled with a sense of loss and pointlessness arising from the situation with Martha. His emptiness and resentment undoubtedly led to a loss of direction and then rebellion – rebellion against life itself. Perhaps by putting himself in harm’s way he hoped to put an end to his emptiness, but his anger was greater than his despair and this fuelled his spirit, leading him ever farther down the path of disillusionment and bitterness.
Now, after his return, the loss of his brother, his brother’s two older children and of course the woman he loved, only serves to compound that anger and bitterness, though now they are crystallised into a single purpose (to retrieve his niece) and a single object of hate or channel for all his feelings (Comanche chief Scar).
Ethan’s sense of loyalty to family (and perhaps the fact that the kidnapped Debbie is the daughter of the woman he loved) fuels his determination to find Debbie and save her from life with the Comanches. This search becomes an obsession and provides his whole purpose for living. He channels all his energy and efforts into finding the girl, aided by the younger and much more idealistic Martin Pawley (Jeffrey Hunter).
Together they strike a good, if somewhat uneasy, balance between experience and idealism. Martin represents hope and faith (in the sense of confidence in their purpose and a positive attitude), while Ethan is the world-weary existential “realist” all too willing to see the worst in people. Neither would be successful in achieving their purpose without the other.
Ethan, however, becomes almost consumed by the search for Debbie, so much so that he appears to lose sight of the very reason for their search, and indeed of himself, as the anger, hatred and effort he uses to fulfil his purpose become more important than his objective. As a result, because Debbie has lived as a Comanche, he no longer regards her as his niece and makes it clear he would prefer to kill her, as he would any other Comanche.
Strongly enigmatic, Ethan is not a pleasant man, yet we want and hope that he will find some happiness. Perhaps because we have some understanding of his situation (even if we don’t approve of his attitudes), and we admire his determination to find Debbie, we feel there is a good man beneath the gruff façade, and we want him to find some way to release that other man.
In the end it is idealism that saves Debbie (in the shape of Martin Pawley), though this would not have been possible without Ethan’s grim determination. Ethan cannot bring himself to kill Debbie – perhaps he sees Martha in her as he comes face to face with her, or perhaps he has found some common humanity. Like many events in the film, this is not explained and this may be one reason for the film’s enduring popularity. It invites people to ponder over Ethan’s motives and reasons. It also suggests, perhaps, that people’s actions cannot be fully and logically explained.
At the end of the film, we are left with what must be one of the most famous shots in cinema history, and one which says far more in a few seconds of wordless movements, gestures and framing than pages of dialogue could put across.
Ethan was and is a loner. An outsider. Searching for Debbie gave him a purpose, and that purpose is now fulfilled. Now he must face the nothingness of his normality, while the others return to their normality. He is an outsider whose dogged determination based on bitterness and hatred meant that he was what was needed in extreme circumstances, but there is no place for him in “normal” life. If Ethan had managed to let go of his rage and bitterness, they would probably not have succeeded in finding Debbie, yet these very qualities mean that he has essentially become a social outcast.
There are striking resemblances between Ethan and Scar, the Comanche chief responsible for Debbie’s kidnap. Both are driven by a desire for revenge after an acute sense of loss and grief (in Scar’s case, the killing of his sons in a massacre perpetrated by white men), and both are prone to sweeping generalisations, holding entire races responsible for the woes that have befallen them. Toward the end, Ethan even scalps Scar’s dead body, showing that each is as bad as the other.
Racist hatred and a blind desire for revenge may provide a powerful driving force, but one which is nothing but destructive. Surely the suggestion here is that as long as this cycle of hatred and revenge continues, social and moral progress is not possible.
Hope is offered in the shape of Martin Pawley who is willing to move on and put the past behind him. Perhaps men like Ethan and Scar were needed at one time, in certain circumstances, but as time and circumstances change, so they must change or withdraw in order to allow progress to take place.
Beautifully photographed and produced, the film remains enigmatic, perhaps, as suggested above, because not everything is fully explained and so we, the audience, are more engaged as a result.
Exciting, emotional, thought-provoking and even
humorous (a phenomenal achievement, to be able to mix what amounts to tragedy
with comic undertones!), the film is a monument to the talents of all those
involved, and the fact that it has endured in the memories and affections of so
many for some seventy years is surely the greatest testament to quality any
film can receive.
Thank
you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "The Mission"
Reflections on characters and themes in “The Mission”
Directed by Roland Joffé
Written by Robert Bolt
Starring Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons
This is a dramatised (and significantly fictionalised) account of the Spanish / Portuguese push to drive the South American tribe of the Guarani from their homeland and Jesuit mission in the 1750s.
Author Robert Bolt uses this historically genuine event as the basis for a discussion of faith, the church, politics, redemption and the place of violence in fighting for what you believe in.
By means of two contrasting characters – Jesuit priest Father Gabriel (Jeremy Irons) and mercenary slave trader Rodrigo Mendoza (Robert De Niro) – Bolt shows the strength of human compassion, dignity and determination, and how they can be held of no consequence in the face of human greed, political expediency and the interests of a large organisation.
Rodrigo Mendoza is a mercenary slave trader who clearly shows no compassion for his victims and is a man used to having his own way. He is a man for whom the lives and thoughts of others mean little. Until the day he kills his own brother while in a jealous rage when he discovers he has lost the woman he loves to him.
Filled with remorse (Bolt seems to specialise in showing the pain of his characters), and perhaps for the first time in his life reaching out for and needing the spiritual rather than the physical, Rodrigo takes sanctuary in the local church. There, Father Gabriel offers him a channel for his remorse in joining him at his mission among the Guarani, the very people he used to ensnare and then enslave.
Rather poetically, Rodrigo drags his armour behind him (representing the heavy weight and burden of his past life) as he accompanies Gabriel up mountains, across rivers and through jungle to the mission of Saint Carlos.
Once arrived, and again rather poetically, a member of the Guarani literally and symbolically cuts him free from the burden of his armour and his past, bestowing freedom and forgiveness on the mercenary, and enabling him to get on with the rest of his life.
Gabriel has helped the Guarani harness their potential and together they have created something of a heaven on earth, developing land, livestock and living accommodation. Rodrigo readily contributes to this new life and willingly becomes a member of the Jesuit order himself.
All is going ominously well, away from political and ecclesiastical interference.
However, pressure is being brought to bear on the catholic church (in charge of the Jesuits) as Spain and Portugal divide South American territories and Portugal wishes to exercise its commercial rights by entering and taking over the Jesuit missions which come under Papal protection.
Cardinal Altamirano (Ray McAnally) is dispatched to investigate as Gabriel and the other Jesuits argue and demonstrate the Guarani are “spiritual” and are therefore entitled to continued development and protection, while the Portuguese and Spanish argue they are “animal” and require the direction (and exploitation) of a trade nation such as their own.
Ultimately, the Guarani and the Jesuits become victims of their own success as well as pawns in an international game of political chess. Commercial gain wins over religious and human success and the Guarani are ordered to leave the missions, leading to military conflict and massacre.
There is so much to admire in Bolt’s literate and intelligent script and Joffé’s engaging and subtle direction, I fear I have done little more than recount the story – surely a testament to the clarity and quality of the script.
Although the two are never entirely united, the spiritual (Father Gabriel) and the physical (Rodrigo) work together to protect and defend what they have achieved with the Guarani, Gabriel exhausting all reasonable means to achieve a peaceful solution before Rodrigo sets out to defend them militarily. Of course, Gabriel cannot endorse Rodrigo’s intentions, but there is the implication (with the gift of his cross to Rodrigo) that Gabriel understands Rodrigo’s actions, given the desperate circumstances and the fact the church appears to have turned its back on its own to side with its moral adversaries, for reasons of its own …….
Bolt appears to be suggesting that while the spiritual is essential and offers guidance, the physical is also necessary if reasoned argument fails, and especially if your opponent is willing to use similar tactics against you.
Just as Victor Hugo was an advocate of the spiritual but was opposed to organised religion in the shape of the church, so it appears that Bolt suggests that much can be achieved through the love and compassion advocated in the Bible, but this can be lost in the mire of interests of the vast organisation the church has become.
As far as performance is concerned, both Robert De
Niro and Jeremy Irons acquit themselves with great honour and make you feel the
pain, peace, remorse and anger they portray. However, special mention must go
to Ray McAnally (Cardinal Altamirano) who manages to convey weariness, joy,
steely determination and profound regret, as his character sums up the
situation and expresses deep-felt guilt and remorse, and as he comes to his
inevitable decision and must live with the consequences.
Thank
you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)
Characters and themes in "High Plains Drifter"
Reflections on characters and themes in "High Plains Drifter" (1973)
Directed by Clint Eastwood
Written by Ernest Tidyman
Starring Clint Eastwood, Verna Bloom, Mariana Hill et
al.
A tall
bearded stranger rides into the mining town of
The
inhabitants of Lago, however, will pay dearly for the privilege of the
stranger’s protection.
Fairly
familiar western fodder for Eastwood fans you might think, but anyone expecting
the usual heroics of an Eastwood spaghetti western is in for a rude shock, for
this is an Eastwood-directed spaghetti-style western of considerable depth.
When
the stranger arrives in town he is mocked and threatened by three gunmen, but
proves he is more than capable of looking after himself by coldly shooting them
dead within seconds of a fight erupting. He leaves the scene and is almost
immediately accosted by an attractive young lady whose sole aim in bumping into
the stranger (as he is quick to point out to her) is to become better
acquainted with him. Faced with and offended by this truth, she insults the
stranger who promptly drags her off into a nearby barn and teaches her a
somewhat harsh lesson in manners by raping her (an experience, it should be
pointed out, she does not find altogether unpleasant).
Rough
justice indeed, but then justice is what this film is largely about. In the
opening sequence the stranger is subjected to the gunmen’s own brand of
morality and justice. We (the audience) see very little of them, but we see
enough to be able to form our own opinion of their bullying and threatening
ways, and are sympathetic towards the stranger. So, when he shoots them we
accept that he has simply turned their own standard of morality on them,
carrying it to its logical conclusion. Nevertheless, we are somewhat shocked at
how easily and coldly he resorts to his extreme retaliation.
In the
same way, when he is accosted by the girl and he treats her so savagely, we are
stunned by his extreme form of retaliation.
Having
just witnessed two crimes committed by this stranger with whom we at first
sympathised, we are no longer sure of just where our sympathy should lie. To
add to our confusion, or perhaps to resolve it, we next witness, in the course
of a dream, the brutal whipping to death of a young Marshal in the streets of
Lago while the townspeople look on and do nothing to help. The Marshal bears a
remarkable resemblance to the stranger, a fact that leads us to treat with
suspicion the motives and actions of both the stranger and the people of Lago.
Eastwood
the director has cleverly woven a tale of morality, or rather amorality and
justice, and asks the audience to act as the jury. The film is constructed in
much the way that a jury might hear arguments in a court case, with one party
appearing guilty at first but gradually, as more facts emerge, we come to
understand and even endorse the actions of the defendant.
We
discover that the girl the stranger raped is in the habit of sleeping with
whoever will help her achieve her immediate aims. The gunmen he shot were hired
to kill anyone who posed a threat to the Lago mining company, and everyone in
Lago played a part (albeit indirectly) in the death of Marshal Duncan.
Marshal
Duncan represented an "outside" force of law, an independent,
disinterested party interested only in equality and justice. The town of
As the
stranger,
In
order to protect themselves, the townspeople hire a small group of gunfighters
to perform their "immoral" acts. The problems arise when the people
decide to rid themselves of the by now arrogant and bullying gunmen by,
naturally enough, amoral means. They are framed for theft and are sent to
prison, but are due to be released and avenge themselves on Lago.
With
their "new" gunfighters gone, the people ask the stranger to help
them. He reluctantly agrees, but only in return for a free rein.
At
this, the stranger proceeds to make everyone pay for their protection –
everyone must pay something for their freedom and the stranger makes them pay
in kind, through loss of public office, esteem or wealth. In short, they must
pay with that which they gained through the death of Marshal Duncan.
The
stranger humiliates the inhabitants of Lago and makes them suffer – all in the
name of protection, protection he would have provided, at a much lower cost, as
Marshal Duncan. However, because they abandoned principle and chose instead the
path of amorality where worth and value are measured solely in financial terms,
the people of Lago must now face the practical consequences of their amorality.
The
stranger does very little to help them, except show them how to defend
themselves, and with great irony rides off at the last moment to let them face
their gunmen alone. He never actually agreed to any "deal", and
besides, any such deal would require a sense of morality to be valid, morality
the people of Lago have long since rejected.
He only
returns to Lago once much harm and suffering have been done – to avenge himself
on those who killed him.
Eastwood
here plays one of his most interesting roles, the spirit of justice. Each
member of the community is made to face himself, and is faced with the kind of
treatment he has meted out to others in the past. The stranger provides them
with a practical lesson in morality, turning their own amorality on them so
they will FEEL the reasons for respecting the principles of justice.
The
film is extremely well directed, combining the gritty action we have come to
expect from Eastwood, and a content of considerable depth. By swinging our
sympathies from one side to the other, Eastwood makes us doubt everything and
causes us to suspend our judgement until the final thought-provoking scene when
we are in possession of all the facts and evidence.
Altogether
it is a stimulating film well worth watching and represents one of the artistic
peaks in Eastwood’s career.
Thank
you for taking the time to read this article. I hope you found it of some
value.
Stuart Fernie (stuartfernie@yahoo.co.uk)

















