_ One by one, we're all becoming shades. Better to pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. How long you locked away in your heart the image of your lover's eyes when he told you that he did not wish to live. I've never felt that way myself towards any woman, but I know that such a feeling must be love.
I've always thought The Dead was unfilmable and when I first saw Huston's movie I was reassured of that. But the more I've looked back at it, the more I've analyzed and the more times I've talked about it with others, the more I realized how amazing this adaptation truly is. The story probably is unfilmable, but Huston gave it remarkably good shot.
Such an elegant final film for Huston but the majority of the film has a certain undercurrent of uneasiness. Throughout the dinner party you meet these living, breathing characters that are disappointed in one small way or another. We anticipate Gabriel's speech, who speaks eloquently but whose communication w/ his wife is almost nonexistent. The final soliloquy is a knockout of emotion, realization, and sadness.
Doesn't quite match up to the original story when it comes to expressing the unexpressible, but it's a well-made, honorably filmed attempt, and it certainly captures something in the progression from a deceptively naturalistic opening to its final melancholic shots.
A perfect gem that is currently flying to low under the radar given the Huston prestige and its status as his swan song. And what a song it is, delicately scaled just as the source material was before it. The film's many pleasures are encapsulated by an image featuring Anjelica Huston framed beautifully on a staircase. Huston was many things throughout his career, but for those few moments he is a true painter.
A curious attempt to adapt Joyce to the big screen and to recreate the life of Irish aristocracy in 1904, this movie fails at several levels, though it has some fine "poetic" moments that give life to all the characters involved. But Joyce is the most literary of all writers and some things are just impossible to adapt. In the end, we have the pilot episode of a well-made BBC series with medium production values.
A wintry film directed by a dying John Huston. Only the intoxicated guest and the lost coachman bring some colour and some life to this uptight gathering. Now if you're not a James Joyce fan, a John Huston completist nor a curious movie lover, I wonder how you landed here. A DVD zone Prozacland. Curtain !