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Salient. Official Newspaper of Victoria University of Wellington Students Association. Vol 40 No. 10. May 16 1977

The Sentinel

page 13

The Sentinel

Among film directors involved in the movie business nowadays, few would cut as curious a figure or be as prolific as English-born filmmaker Michael Winner. A Cambridge graduate, he has, in the course of a busy sixteen years, been responsible for directing close to 20 feature films; his consistent output once prompted Derek Malcolm of the "Guardian" to refer to him as ' the one man British film industry." In recent years however, Winner has shifted his filmmaking base to across the Atlantic, a move which has gained for him a greater commercial acceptance, evident in such films as "Death Wish" and "Won Ton Ton, the Dog Who Saved Hollywood," both of which were popular and at the same time very "American."

What makes this refined speaking Englishman all the more interesting has been his ability to engage so-called difficult actors to work in his films. (I say "ability" here — it would be truer to call it a characteristic.) The list of actors is long but includes movie heavyweights Marlon Brando, Burt Lancaster. Orson Welles and, of course, Charles Bronson. It is this quality of acquiring whomsoever he chooses for a picture coupled with a reputation for never accepting no" for an answer that has made him something of a force to be reckoned with in the commercial movie trade.

The reasons for both the productive and popular nature of Michael Winner can be discovered from a quick examination of his filmmaking technique. His method, while common among filmmakers with limited finance, is rarely employed by one so successful. It is a method whereby the director, throughout production, is going through a continual process of mental editing, which is to say that he is cutting in his head or "cutting with the camera" from beginning to end, a technique which entails filming only the lines required for each single shot. It means that rather than bother with assembling numerous cameras in differing positions — one in long show for example, one close up, another at profile etc — and then, afterwards, from the footage obtained from that one take, editing all the bits into coherency the director must instead envisage instinctively the definite form the film will take.

The advantages of this approach are twofold: firstly it wastes neither time nor money. Time consumed in the setting up of cameras and lights and in the working out of actors' movements is thereby greatly reduced, and allows for a better flow and continuity during filming. Secondly, it shifts the burden of concentration away from the actors and on to the shoulders of the director. Winner makes this clear himself: "You don't pay stars half a million dollars or more to inconvenience them, keep them hanging around unecessarily. You take care of them." And he adds". . . I used to rehearse a lot, until I found some of the best performances were in the rehearsals... Now I shoot first time. If it isn't right, I go on. At least I've got it all on film."

The Sentinel: wait till you see what the others look like.

The Sentinel: wait till you see what the others look like.

The speed and simplicity of this technique hold their own particular perils however. Since it anticipates editing sooner than conventional shooting styles, its success relies heavily upon a screenplay which must necessarily be more defined in action and more concise than most other scenarios would allow. If the one prevents the proper expression of the other then the effect which is created will easily seem to end up as merely a procession of related scenes which embody neither succinctness nor fluency. It is the imbalance of the technique over the form which, unfortunately, characterises Winner's latest film, "The Sentinel." The problem doesn't lie solely with the technique; the technique itself falls victim to faults in the film's construction.

To begin with, I can't see that there is any overall theme in the film. That is not to say there is a lack of possible ideas which could prove interesting if developed further. They exist — the religious aspects would be the most obvious — but find their place only in the service of the genre. The film is content to work the horror genre for that sake alone and in so doing makes the genre carry the entire burden for the film's success. A film like "Carrie" for instance, to which this observation can also be made, had a certain single mindedness which saw one idea introduced and pursued without deviation to its horrifying climax and in this respect the film was a success. "The Sentinel" is altogether too loose and too full of extraneous detail for it to be as satisfying We are told, for example, that Chris Sarandon has had a wife die of suspicious circumstances and also that, as a lawyer, certain of his business deals have been a trifle shady. What of it? Do Martin Balsam and Jose Ferrer really need to be in this film? Is the appearance of the police all that important? Is there complicity between the priest and the land agent? In one sense these details distract and are unnecessary but I am inclined to suggest that perhaps such misleading devices ensure the film's buoyancy and that the film survives because of them; they kindle our interest and prevent us from becoming bored.

Still, the intention is first and foremost to horrify and to scare, so once you buy your ticket and find a seat expect to be gasping some of the time. I wouldn't recommend it to the light-hearted or to anyone with a weak stomach yet suffice to say that the people responsible for make-up effects have excelled themselves in the best grisly fashion.

One feature of a Michael Winner film, is as mentioned before, its generally good cast and "The Sentinel" is no exception. Competence prevails throughout and a cameo from Burgess Meredith in particular stands out. Christina Raines and Chris Sarandon, who have the two main parts, both make a good job of it but they are upstaged by the true star of this film, who incidentally, speaks no lines at all. This is the house in which the girl rents her flat and where most of the main scenes take place. It is well suited to its task of creating the ominous and threatening atmosphere which the camera and lighting exploit to the full. Torches have never failed to work in a better place!

To conclude, it can be said that a film such as "The Sentinel" requires of the viewer no more than he/she sit back in comfort and allow the various scenes to pass by and lead in an orderly way to the conclusion without the suggestion that perhaps, as in this genre, there may be something more sinister lurking beneath the surface. Subtlety is the real casualty in this film and it is doubtful whether John Milton, from whose poem "Paradise Lost" the film takes its inspiration, would approve.

— David Beresford.