SCREENING LOG - 9/03-9/09, 2001

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After a week with no movies I return to the fray with Les Vampires, As Good as It Gets, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, The World of Apu, The Passion of Joan of Arc and Viridiana. In order of preference:

Les Vampires (1914, Louis Feuillade)

I watched parts 1-4 of this 16 part, 8 hour silent serial and am now desperate to get my hands on the rest. Could this be the genesis of the film noir? It certainly is the birth of the modern crime movie, which may be more important -- I think you can find its stamp, whether intentionally laid or not, in every crime film from M to Traffic. I think this one stands above all of them, for its multiple perspectives and omnipresent narrative scope, its sense of mystery and pervasive evil mixed with moments of unexpected levity and downright fun. More to come as I watch the rest of the serial.

The World of Apu (Satyajit Ray, 1959)

I finally finished the Apu Trilogy, on video sadly but none the worse for it. The final chapter of the trilogy once again shows off Ray's amazing emotional range and lust for life in all of its senusal wonder. Apu lives a near-beggarly existence (eerily resembling the attitude of his father in the first movie) until a amazingly rapid series of events leaves him with a lovely young bride. In wives begin responsibilities, but just as Apu gets the hang of it, calamity strikes. The last half hour takes no emotional prisoners, but Apu's final act, something of a miracle, reinforces Ray's triumphant humanist vision, tempered with a meditation on human maturity and responsibility. I can now safely say that The Apu Trilogy is one of the greatest human achievements of the 20th century.

As Good as It Gets (James L. Brooks, 1997)

After seeing it for the 6th time or so, I have a higher opinion than ever of this oxymoron of a movie, a test-marketed masterpiece. You can say whatever you want about its implausibility, esp. the much-maligned ending, but even that can't stop what I consider precious about the film -- its irrepressible, manic-depressive heart, its sincere realness of feeling throughout its crazily contrived plot (which itself, I believe, is a sincere attempt to reconcile old-school happy romantic comedies with the post-Woody Allen melancholy neurotic variety). It's a film I cherish dearly and hold as one of the best of the 90s, with characters who speak to me like no other film has in years. It is certainly destined for classic status.

The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Dreyer, 1928)

Honestly, right now I have highter regard for As Good as It Gets than this landmark of cinema, which I had the chance to see with Danish subtitles and no music last weekend. The circumstances forced me to pay more attention than ever on the visual aspects of the film, but on the whole it left me exhausted. On a large screen I expected to fully relish the extreme close-ups of Falconeti's amazing face as Joan. Instead, Dreyer's revolutionary cuts and frames left me feeling beaten up. Which is the point, I guess, and it severely altered my perception of this film, but in the end I was too weary to make much sense of it. I felt much like an Inquisitor myself, baffled after my filmgoing interrogation of Joan. In any case, my favorite Dreyer film is now Day of Wrath which I found to be more sophisticated emotionally, thematically, and cinematically.

Note: Though I still recall the unpleasantness and disappointment of finally getting to see this film on the big screen, there is still something ineffable about this film that makes it essential viewing. I generally remember more about it than DAY OF WRATH after a year, though all of DreyerÕs films command multiple viewings to fully appreciate. (Currently my favorite is ORDET.)

Viridiana (Luis Bunuel, 1961)

Although I continue to enjoy Bunuel's films, it seems with each film my regard for him lessens a little. He's a great filmmaker, but in terms of what he has to say about the world I find him overrated. As for this tale of a sheltered nun who makes a disastrous foray into the real world, I concede all of the arguments Bunuel makes about the fallacies of religious morals in real life practice, but I was disappointed to find little more than that. Note: I have a lot of difficult deciphering Bunuel Ð and through the benefit of hindsight I can unpack more about this movie than I even wanted to take when I first watched it. This film is far more formidable than I gave it credit for (though in this one extraordinary week of film watching I donÕt know if it would climb above the other masterpieces listed above) Ð the ÒBeggarÕs BanquetÓ sequence is one of the greatest moments in BunuelÕs storied career.

The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (Luis Bunuel, 1972)

I was even more disappointed by my second viewing of this film, which I formerly loved and still have much admiration for. I'm just not sure whether Bunuel's unwieldy narrative, which opens a Chinese box of bourgeois desires and hypocricies, is masterful or lazy.

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