SCREENING LOG - 10/22-10/28, 2001

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I saw Mulholland Drive, Madame De..., The Exterminating Angel, Mindwalk, Waking Life, Pandora's Box, La Collectionneuse, Fat Girl and Our Daily Bread. In order of preference:

Waking Life (2001, Richard Linklater)

My preferences in movies has shifted this year towards those that challenge conventional expectations of what defines great movies, which I see in my three favorite films of 2001: A.I., MULHOLLAND DRIVE, and this marvelous, incredibly beautiful film whose breakthrough use of digital video and animation manages to be both ultra-realistic and ultra-surreal at once. Linklater, not Tarantino, has proven to be the one who graduated from the Sundance charade to make movies that matter, that really try to say something about the world we live in, and do it in ways that breathe fresh air into the possibilities of cinema. An animated version(s) of Wiley Wiggins wanders from one philosophical encounter to the next, trying to determine if he's "sleepwalking through his waking life or wake-walking in his sleep"; what keeps the theory-heavy dialogue from getting pretentious is how the visual depictions of the speakers, rendered by a team of over 30 animators, bring out a hyper-intense sensation of humanity gushing forth. Though it may inevitably sink from its own density at times, it is an overwhelmingly wonderful experience that may take multiple viewings to take in. If you see it just once, you won't leave the theater in quite the same state.

Mulholland Drive (2001, David Lynch)-- second viewing

As thrilling and haunting the second time as the first, just as a recurring nightmare never loses its potency. I made some connections this time but stuff like that is trite Memento-like gamesmanship that doesn't add significantly to the sheer wonder of this movie. You owe it to yourself to see what a modern master at full command of his art can do.

Pandora's Box (1929, G.W. Pabst)

Forget Dietrich, she's just a mannequin compared to Louise Brooks' kinetic brand of female sexuality. Those eyes, those eyes, up to such naughty thoughts. Those wiry limbs, ready to wrap around the first man she sees and tear him apart. Pabst's lavishly-mounted morality tale about what happens when men associate with loose women is actually pretty loose on the morality, which makes it all the better, both as entertainment and food for thought. Personally, I consider this a landmark in the 20th century battle of the sexes.

The Exterminating Angel (1962, Luis Bunuel)

I watched a bad copy so my ability to be riveted by the unbelievable things going on was compromised, but it's a masterpiece in any right. As the saying goes, fish and house guests go bad after three days. You'll never look at the bourgeois the same way.

Our Daily Bread (1934, King Vidor)

My surprise find of the week was this Depression-era piece of agitprop independently produced by one of Hollywood's reigning directors of the time. An unemployed city dweller inherits a decrepit farm and turns it into a utopian commune for all people to work and live happily. Fascinating viewing, and more thematically complex than one would expect -- though in one disturbing scene it inadvertently holds up fascism over both democracy and socialism. Karen Morley, who I loved as a flapper in SCARFACE, looks just as beautiful out on the farm.

Madame De... (1949, Max Ophuls)

After seeing this and LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN, I can safely say that Ophuls' movies are not for me. This story of how a woman and her earrings wreak havoc on the two men in her life is realized impeccably enough, I can certainly appreciate the craft involved (though Ophuls certainly never met a tracking shot he didn't like), but I just can't find it in myself to sympathize with his female leads; I am less forgiving of their foibles than he is. I consider Ophuls to be a Maupassant compared to Renoir's Chekov or Bresson's Dostoyevsky. But that's just me.

Mindwalk (1990, Bernt Capra)

Sort of a Swedish version of a Richard Linklater movie, with far less deftness in theme and execution. Liv Ullmann plays a Swedish physicist who basically spends two hours telling U.S. Senator Sam Waterson and poet John Heard that they should abandon their modern lifestyles as they know it, stop acting like men and hug more trees. It's always a welcome sight to have intelligent discussions in movies, and the arguments are persuasive enough but they're painfully one-sided.

La Collectionneuse (1965, Eric Rohmer)

Two men share a villa (and their sexual temptations) with a girl who "collects" sexual experiences with men before dumping them. This movie aptly displays everything that people hate about Rohmer; the moralistic navel-picking and somewhat arbitrary justifications for questionable actions, the objectification of women. Fortunately Rohmer's later films made virtues of these same qualities, by sheer force of his honesty and impeccable craft.

Fat Girl/ A Ma Soeur (2001, Catherine Breillat)

I'm sure that feminist filmmaker Breillat is a not fan of Rohmer, though I wonder if she's even a fan of the human race. This highly engrossing and examination of teen date rape is certainly provocative in the questions it raises about adolescent sex, yet at the same time it suffers from a certain contempt for most of its characters. The problem with movies that are meant to challenge and provoke our social conventions (as with the films of Oliver Stone or Todd Solondz) is that they often end up being more judgmental and condescending than the audience. In any case, I'm glad I saw it for the intellectual stimulation, as intellectually stimulating as watching rape can get.

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