THE RED SHOES: 4K Blu-ray (The Archers/Eagle-Lion/Gen. Film Distributors, 1948) Criterion Collection

For many, Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's The Red Shoes (1948) remains the high-water mark in British cinema, certainly, one of the irrefutable pinnacles of the Archers’. Without question, it endures as the film most closely identified with these gifted impresarios, an intimate - yet sprawling – backstage pass into the terrific drama of that cloistered world of ballet. By 1948, the Archers’ production unit had elevated post-war British film-making to a standard on par with the ever-light confections of Hollywood's dream factories, thanks, in part, to a string of high-profile films capped off by Black Narcissus the year before. The distinction here ought to be made clear. That while Hollywood’s Technicolor froth of this vintage dominated at the box office with its concentration on the sunny side of life, the Archers’ tales were situated across a unique chasm in which darkness frequently intruded on these hyper-realities, the uber-gloss and sheen of Technicolor itself, employed to extraordinary effect to exorcise the demons from life as well as to exalt its altruisms. As such, the heroine of The Red Shoes, ballerina, Victoria Page, evolves from an optimistic ingenue, bright-eyed and decidedly determined, into a damned and tattered, lost creature, slavishly devoted to her art. Her Svengali-esque ballet master, Boris Lermontov, is the devil incarnate, commanding the diva to self-destructively thrash and smash her ambitions against his will to dominate her completely. The Red Shoes is, at once a parable about the perils of that blind drive often stirred in youth to succeed at all costs, and the unholy sacrifices that must be paid along the proverbial road paved in good intentions. Indeed, Moira Shearer’s henna-haired heroine does not begin her journey with aspirations to ruin the one good thing she has in her life; a burgeoning romance with Marius Goring’s enterprising composer, Julian Craster. But soon, she discovers desire – boastful and driven – a poor substitute for love, uncompromising and pure.  

Under their distribution deal with J. Arthur Rank, Powell and Pressburger were given unprecedented autonomy to pursue projects that suited their artistic temperaments and tastes. The quest for artistic perfection eventually led directly to The Red Shoes - a project begun in earnest by Alexander Korda back in 1933, said to have been very loosely based on the life of the legendary, Nijinsky. As originally conceived by Korda, his wife/actress, Merle Oberon would have starred, with a double to perform in the ballet sequences. However, even with all his tyrannical clout and enthusiasm, Korda was unsuccessful at generating enough interest to launch this passion project. At the outset of WWII, budgetary restrictions pretty much ended his dreams to pursue it. As such, The Red Shoes would languish interminably until war’s end. By then, Oberon was too old to play the ingenue and Korda, badly ailing financially, was out.  Powell and Pressburger were in. The concept was resurrected and changes were made. The first major difference, Powell jettisoned Korda's biographical approach to the material in favor of crafting an original story based loosely on Hans Christian Anderson's fable of The Red Shoes. The second stroke of genius was in Powell's determination to cast real ballet dancers in the leads who would perform their own dances as well as act. For clout and for press, Powell chose real-life Russian ballet master, Leonide Massine to play the fictional counterpart of the Lermontov company. One would never imagine from the brilliant performance rendered in the film that Massine had never acted in the movies before. In the minor part of prima ballerina, Boronskaja, Powell cast retired grand diva, Ludmilla Tcherina. Finally, as his doomed ingénue, Powell chose Moira Shearer - a promising young ballerina to have nevertheless been receptively cool to the idea of devoting herself to any film – the movies, ‘then’ and still considered the red-headed stepchild to the ‘legitimate’ live arts. Quite content to remain in the theatre…initially, Shearer rejected Powell’s offer outright. It would take more beseeching visits from the producer, and a modicum of groveling too, before she agreed to his demands.

The principals were rounded out by one popular and one curious casting choice: Marius Goring – a beloved of Powell and Pressburger – stepped into Julian Craster’s shoes. But Anton Walbrook as the uber-witty and cultured, yet manipulative ballet impresario, Boris Lermontov, loosely based on Ballets Russes' Sergei Diaghilev and, by Powell's own admission, Alexander Korda, proved a minor revelation. Walbrook's real-life closeted homosexuality probably added much to the sinister undercurrent of his character’s destructive possessiveness toward Victoria Page. Indeed, there is a perverse glint in Walbrook’s eyes, translating into a seething passion to, at first, elevate this virtual unknown from the chorus, but then, as compelled to destroy that which he alone believes he has created from the nothingness of stardust and personal aims. Walbrook’s performance is, undeniably, the most ominous of this movie’s triumvirate – wielding an almost satanic influence, otherwise never to taint this glittering world of precision in art. Powell made another well-timed decision in hiring Jack Cardiff to shoot the picture. Cardiff, an unpretentious artiste, a brilliant cinematographer besides, intuitively understood the secrets of painting in color with light. Oddly, The Red Shoes did not immediately grip his fancy. After sheepishly admitting to Powell, he had never seen a ballet in his life, Cardiff was instructed by Powell, in preparation for the shoot, to gain season tickets and attend every performance. Cardiff reluctantly obliged, but quickly evolved an appreciation. It is Cardiff’s newfound personal affinity for the world of ballet that, in hindsight, is inherent in every last frame of film. Under Cardiff's guidance, The Red Shoes not only lives up to the dramatic intensity of its backstory, but manages, better than any other movie to date, to bottle and capture the artistic integrity of ballet as an irrefutable art form.

The plot begins in earnest with Craster and fellow music students cramming into the free balcony seats to witness the Lermontov company's latest endeavor of the season. Craster is outraged when portions of his own musical compositions that he showed to the company's conductor, turn up unaccredited in the performance. A temperamental artist in his own right, Craster storms out of the music hall. Meanwhile, after refusing to stay and watch an impromptu performance at a party given by Victoria's aunt, Lady Neston (Irene Browne), Lermontov further compounds his personal insult by flirting with Victoria at the buffet set up in the next room, declaring he has been spared "a horror" to which Victoria politely reveals she is, in fact, 'that horror.' As an apology is out of the question (for Lermontov considers himself removed from mere mortals) he instead decides to quietly sneak into one of Victoria's public performances the next afternoon where he is immediately impressed by her raw talents. Signing Victoria to his company, Lermontov sets about crafting his next great artistic achievement; the ballet of The Red Shoes. For the next 20-minutes, the ballet unfolds on the screen, its’ very heart and soul, and a foreshadowing of the terrible realities yet to follow it. In the ballet, Victoria's overwhelming passion to dance leads her to a Shoemaker's shop where a diabolical craftsman (played by Massine) bequeaths her a gift of blood red toe shoes. Once worn, they will not come off until their owner has danced herself to death. The ballet - a colorful dream, fast to evolve into a nightmare, draws on an overwhelming release to compel the sense in gaudy Technicolor, at times, exorcising bizarre and perverse imagery – thoroughly to captivate as a movie within this movie. The result, at tale’s end - Victoria Page has instantly become the ballet's latest star.

Joining the orchestra is Craster whom Lermontov rightfully assesses to be a great artist. Craster and Victoria are introduced by Lermontov prior to the ballet, but regard one another with general contempt. Sparks fly afterward however, and the two enjoy a love affair, interrupted frequently by Craster's impatience and love of composition that directly conflicts with Victoria's passion for dance. Sensing Victoria may abandon her career for the happiness that only marriage to Craster would provide, Lermontov fires Craster, then threatens to excommunicate Victoria from the ballet as he had previously done with prima ballerina Ludmilla Tcherina who chose romance over art as her muse. Craster and Victoria continue to see one another in private as she rehearses for a revival of The Red Shoes ballet. Eventually, Ljubov discovers their romantic treachery and makes it known to Lermontov who brings Craster to task and threatens Victoria with the implosion of her career. Unable to chose, once and for all, between love and art, Victoria commits suicide as her heroine from The Red Shoes had done - moments before she is set to take the stage in the revival. Our story concludes with Ljubov as the mad shoemaker dancing a silent tribute to Victoria while gingerly clutching the red toe shoes in his hands.

To say that initial reaction by J. Arthur Rank and associates to their private screening of The Red Shoes was less than optimistic is an understatement. As the images faded to black, executives stormed out from the projection room, bypassing Powell and Pressburger without a single word of praise. Indeed, so little was their faith in the film that, in England, The Red Shoes theatrical release was not even accompanied by a press and promotion campaign or even poster art. In America, the critical reaction was overwhelmingly positive. It is rumored Gene Kelly and Vincente Minnelli screened The Red Shoes no less than 15 times before embarking on their plans to create the ballet finale for An American in Paris (1951). Better still, audience reception to the picture in the U.S. was wildly enthusiastic, legitimizing its merits, making The Red Shoes Britain's most successful movie import of all time. In retrospect, The Red Shoes was a colossal - if unlikely - success, and although it did not inspire or spawn other like-minded films about the world of ballet, it has remained one of the most intelligently scripted films to investigate the artist’s private realm of personal – and, in fact – the ultimate sacrifice.

In 2009, a ground-up film restoration was undertaken by the BFI and The Film Foundation. By then, the passage of time, not to mention improperly archived elements, had taken their toll on the original camera negative. The Red Shoes was awash in the sort of age-related anomalies to be considered a viable candidate for a major preservation effort. While severe color fading was not an issue, Technicolor mis-registration was, with differential shrinkage to plague and distort nearly the entire element from start to finish, creating disturbing halos. The negative was also plagued by an infestation of mold, eating away at the three-strip emulsion. In resurrecting The Red Shoes for its first major Blu-ray release, the Film Foundation set aside a considerable budget for a massive two-year undertaking, not only to create new separation, fine-grain elements, but also to digitally restore and realign all three records from the original Technicolor dye transfers. The results in 2009 were, in a word, breathtaking. And thus, Criterion’s Blu-ray release from 2009 was nothing short of a miracle and one of the high points of the year’s deep catalog releases. Now, Criterion favors its collector’s class with a native 4K upgrade, derived from these same elements. However, I am not entirely certain the upgrade is worth it.

To be fair, Criterion’s standard Blu-ray was of such perfection, revisiting the movie in native 4K is a bit of overkill. There are distinct improvements to be had. Color saturation is ever-so-slightly deeper when directly comparing to the standard Blu-ray (also included on this re-issue). Black levels are more finely resolved too. The image, however, is overall darker than before, and while this benefits Cardiff’s use of deep focus immensely, it also has managed to blacken the tuxedoes worn by the menfolk here, to the extent the satin lapels are indistinguishable from the otherwise fabric top coats. This, shouldn’t be. Also, Technicolor was a grain-reducing technology – in general. However, sit too close to your screen or view The Red Shoes in projection and you’ll take heed that this image, now, appears rather grain heavy in spots without all that much more refinement in fine details, and, occasionally proving a detriment to the overall appreciation of the image. The pluses outweigh these marginal concerns – close-ups, that are stunningly handsome and revel in minutely textured skin, hair, fabrics, etc. Cardiff’s plush use of Technicolor now, radiates as an exemplar of high-key-lit image mastery in flaming oranges and reds, stark cobalt blues and steely grays, vibrant purples and gleaming yellows. Criterion has retained the 1.0 PCM mono. One can speculate whether a repurposed DTS or Atmos mix would have otherwise benefited Brian Easedale's score. Rest assured, this one sounds as good as it looks.

Extras – as before - are plentiful, including a profile featurette showcasing interviews with Cardiff and Martin Scorsese (a passionate proponent), as well as an informative audio commentary recorded some time before, and, interviews supplied by Moira Shearer and Cardiff. There's also a featurette on Cardiff's exceptional camera work and a brief interview with Thelma Schooner, Michael Powell’s widow, and, a justly celebrated film editor in her own right. The interviewer, nameless, asks some of the most inarticulate questions to which the ever-more-accomplished Schooner graciously offers sound reflections on her late husband's work, her own impressions of it, the film and working with Martin Scorsese. A great lady, indeed! Finally, Jeremy Irons narrates The Red Shoes in an archival reading that was part of Criterion's initial DVD release all the way back in 1998. Bottom line: The Red Shoes is an exceptional movie on so many levels, enduring and timeless. Criterion’s 2009 Blu-ray was a blind purchase recommendation. This 4K re-issue is recommended only if you do not already own that disc. 

FILM RATING (out of 5 - 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

3.5