SCREENING LOG - 8/6-8/12, 2001

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Last week I saw Sansho the Bailiff, Nazarin, Sunrise, Requiem for a Dream, Almost Famous, American Pie 2, 2 or 3 Things I Know about Her, and Ghost World (And Boy are my eyes sore). In order of preference:

- Two or Three Things I Know About Her (Jean Luc Godard, 1966)

Simply put, this movie kicked my ass. It may very well be Godard's supreme achievement (I haven't seen Contempt yet), a roving study of dozens of themes, starting with the universe and what we're doing in it. There are more accessible themes as well such as the meaning of woman (actually that's more or less reiterating the first theme, isn't it?), capitalist society and what it's doing to the human race and the planet we live in, and the nature of language, both textual and visual. Godard shifts between narrative and non-narrative modes to explore these themes, and the result is bewildering, and often amazing (it has the best Milky Way in a coffee cup shot I've seen to date). To say anything after one viewing - positive or otherwise - is to stumble through platitudes, so I'll shut up now and plan my next viewing.

- Sunrise (FW Murnau, 1928)

I don't think any Hollywood movie has deployed its state of the art technology in the service of a singular artistic vision any better than it did with this movie, Murnau's first Hollywood production in a career that was cut much too short by his tragic death in the 30s. The use of superimpositions (laying images from two, three or even more frames onto one) has never been surpassed, and they do more than invoke wonder -- they stir emotions as well. Many Hollywood blockbusters have aspired to its razzle dazzle series of events -- of them, Titanic resembles this movie the most, both films featuring the boy and girl running through and playing in a strange world, and a climactic ocean rescue at night. But few films have matched the amazing succession of distinct emotions each scene creates. This used to be in my all-time top ten, and seeing it in a big screen last week, it staked every claim to remain on my list, but I have some reservations about it that I will bring up in the Classics board. Nonetheless, this is a must-see. Released one week before the first sound film, it is both an elegy to the lost art of silent cinema, and a blueprint for future masterpieces to follow.

- Nazarin (Luis Bunuel, 1958)

Bunuel's thinly veiled re-telling of the Christ passion in contemporary rural Mexico effectively shows the folly of Christianity taken to its purest extreme. A priest tries to follow the teachings of Jesus to the letter, and ends up being convicted as a criminal. What saves the film from being a mere joke at Christianity's expense is the sincerity of the performances and Bunuel's sympathetic treatment of his characters. He also spreads the blame around, criticizing society for not living up to the moral principles it supposedly upholds. I wished he had used more of his trademark surrealism, though -- it would have been interesting in the context of the story. In any case, I'm willing to reconsider Los Olvidados after seeing this masterpiece.

- Sansho the Bailiff (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1954)

A compact family saga that is masterfully told and deeply moving, though I consider it a notch below Mizoguchi's Ugetsu Monogatari. I guess my reasons are that this film feels slightly flatter (but keep in mind that I'm nitpicking) and the ending is a little too tidy for my taste. But reflecting on it afterwards, the meaning of the film grows and grows -- especially in how wonderfully it conveys how family ideals are passed on, and how the ideals in turn determine the fate of a family.

- Ghost World (Terry Zwigoff, 2001)

It's very misleading to have this film listed as fifth, because it could very well be the best film of the year, at least from America, so far. In many ways it's akin to Nazarin, and would probably equal Bunuel's film if not for a clunky (but beautiful-looking) ending. Up to that point you basically have a dead-on take of both what it feels like and what it means to live in America today. The social criticism cuts much deeper than American Beauty (Thora Birch's other star turn -- and in this movie she really shines; it's as if the film is directed by her character). I think the criticism works better because it feels less mean-spirited and more natural. The scenes in the movie theater, coffeeshop and especially the art appreciation class play frighteningly close to real life. Unlike American Beauty, whatever faults it finds in contemporary suburbia seem incidental rather than purposeful, and offers as much sympathy to its characters as spite. And the film is beautiful to look at throughout - matching the vivacity and graceful composition of the graphic novel it's based on. I nominate this film as IMDB Message Board movie of the year, because it typifies the spirit of the Message Boards better than any film I've seen in a while. As for real awareds, instant Oscar noms for Birch and Steve Buscemi, whose presence in the movie is nothing short of inspiring, and here's why. Playing a middle-aged man for the first time, he's hit a watershed moment after the countless hipster roles for Tarantino and the Coen Brothers. In this way, I think (I hope) it's also a watershed for indie filmmaking, finally emerging from its hipster wasteland, coming of age and coming to terms with itself. Or maybe it's just director Terry Zwigoff showing everybody how it's done. I just hope this isn't the end of it.

- American Pie 2 (J. B. Rogers, 2001)

Much funnier than I'd thought it'd be, mostly because of the spirit of the filmmaking and the actors involved. At times there's a real charge among the cast, you can tell they're having a party making the film. This time the gags are even more unspeakable and potentially offensive, but everyone is having too much fun to care -- in that sense it really does resemble college. The characters seem obsessed with making the most out of life while they can, if only to be able to recycle those moments forever and ever in one's memory for the rest of one's life. That's what the characters do in the movie, as they go through all sorts of humiliations and ten minutes later start reminiscing about them. And this is sort of what the movie does too, taking the structure of the first movie almost by the letter and retouching all the old jokes with slight variations. And EVERYONE from the old movie (including the monkey) makes at least a brief appearance in this one -- it seems almost ritualistic, and eerily true to life. You come back home one year into college, and everyone is basically the same. Could American Pie be the narrative equivalent to Michael Apted's "Up" Documentaries?

- Almost Famous (Cameron Crowe, 2000)

Better than the first time I saw it. The first time I was disappointed at how Crowe entombed his memories of a highly vibrant era in the gauze of nostalgia and sitcom dialogue. But this time I could see the beautiful performances for what they were, and gave some credit to the argument Crowe lays for how rock n' roll met its slow death. It is in many ways a fun movie to watch, but still far more disappointing for what it could have been.

and much much muthaf*cking lower on the totem pole:

- Requiem for a Dream (Darren Aronofsky, 2000)

I'm not going to waste too many words on this piece of SH*T. It's a repulsive, misanthropic work of hate slickly disguised as an artsy message movie. "Traffic" is harmless compared to this disgusting and sadistically cruel "thing" created by a self-righteously sick mind.

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