What is the difference between a movie that is "okay" and a movie that stays with you long after you have seen it?
It boils down to the ability of the film-maker to make the elements he has at his disposal work together to tell a story. Does he turn the camera on and point it at the actors, or does he compose his shot to give the audience information about the characters and the story? Does the mood created by the words on the page of the script work with the visual elements to create a world within the film that we believe in? Have the actors been brought into the process in such a way that their performances make us interested in that world?
In the case of "Cast in Gray," the answer to all of the questions above is a definitive "yes." We are taken to a world that, though not specifically unrealistic, somehow exists in that part of the mind where the rules may have been suspended. That, or the character called "The Man" is in such a strange state of mind that it is he who has gone to that part of the mind. In the role of "The Man with the Dog," (a different person than "The Man") Stephen Angus creates an utterly mysterious character with an effortlessness that is in such contrast to the tempest he creates in his scene partner, (the besieged Tim Burke,) that it is impossible to look away from his face. The considerable power of this performance lies in the absolute calm with which it is executed. Is he a puppeteer, a madman, a messenger or something else altogether?
Don't blink, viewer, if you want to make your own case for what is going on.
Intelligent film-making in search of an intelligent audience. Thanks, "Cast in Gray."
It boils down to the ability of the film-maker to make the elements he has at his disposal work together to tell a story. Does he turn the camera on and point it at the actors, or does he compose his shot to give the audience information about the characters and the story? Does the mood created by the words on the page of the script work with the visual elements to create a world within the film that we believe in? Have the actors been brought into the process in such a way that their performances make us interested in that world?
In the case of "Cast in Gray," the answer to all of the questions above is a definitive "yes." We are taken to a world that, though not specifically unrealistic, somehow exists in that part of the mind where the rules may have been suspended. That, or the character called "The Man" is in such a strange state of mind that it is he who has gone to that part of the mind. In the role of "The Man with the Dog," (a different person than "The Man") Stephen Angus creates an utterly mysterious character with an effortlessness that is in such contrast to the tempest he creates in his scene partner, (the besieged Tim Burke,) that it is impossible to look away from his face. The considerable power of this performance lies in the absolute calm with which it is executed. Is he a puppeteer, a madman, a messenger or something else altogether?
Don't blink, viewer, if you want to make your own case for what is going on.
Intelligent film-making in search of an intelligent audience. Thanks, "Cast in Gray."