SCREENING LOG - 3/18--3/24, 2002

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I watched Bottle Rocket, Rouge, episode 4 of The Decalogue, An Actor's Revenge, Yaaba, films by Joris Ivens, The Mystery of Kaspar Hauser, The Ballad of Narayama, Training Day and Pierrot le Fou. In order of preference:

The Ballad of Narayama (1982, Shohei Imamura)

Life, sex and death in a Japanese mountainside village. This stunning film is filled with life in all its bawdiness, horror and tranquility. Not much else to say without going to great length. Simply put, it's a must-see.

Pierrot le Fou (1965, Jean-luc Godard) - second viewing

Jean-Paul Belmondo ditches both his wife's designer brand-loving coterie and shacks up with Anna Karina on the Riviera, making up their own movie as they go along. Godard's glee at blowing up consumerist values and cinematic convention is infectious -- the second half of the film is less exhilarating, but if one takes the downbeat final movements as analagous to Godard's failed marriage with Karina, the film yields a cascade of insights as to how both movies and romantic relationships are nurtured (or destroyed) by the same human impulses and desires. The film's immense knowingness about its medium and headlong abandon towards oblivion make it the cinematic equivalent of another masterpiece made on the Riviera, the Rolling Stones' EXILE ON MAIN. ST, with the same weary wisdom reached by the final frame.

An Actor's Revenge (1963, Kon Ichikawa)

This remake of a 1935 story of a female impersonator who exacts revenge on his parents' murderer is weird beyond words, somewhere between Akira Kurosawa and Douglas Sirk. A word like "camp" cannot apply when a film takes its wacky story so seriously AND is so visually ravishing. Some elements, such as the treacly lounge soundtrack, left me nonplussed, but it is amazing to see how Ichikawa blends the cinematic and the theatrical so brilliantly that distinguishing between the two is pointless. Kazuo Hasegawa stars in a performance so bizarre that it makes Hedwig look tame by comparison.

Decalogue, Episode 4 (1988, Krzystof Kieslowski)

Having seen Episodes 3-8, this is probably my favorite so far. An acting student uncovers a secret that completely redefines her feelings towards her father. It is a sordidly beautiful story truly worthy of the Old Testament sourcebook for Kieslowski's project, as good a case as any for Kieslowski's formidable writing talents, and acted to perfection.

A Tale of the Wind (1988, Joris Ivens)

I wanted very much to love this film, and there were moments where I was deeply moved and delighted by legendary documentarian Ivens account of trying to "capture the wind" while touring China at the age of 90. Part travelogue, part fantasy (with a delightful homage to Georges Melies in the middle), the film is best seen as a dying man's last passionate attempt to make love with the world with the camera as his phallus. In that regard it's easier to forgive the film's tendency to exoticize its subject matter, especially in its depiction of Chinese culture. As a celebration of male ego and romantic worldliness, it ranks up there with Abel Gance's NAPOLEON.

The Mystery of Kaspar Hauser (1974, Werner Herzog)

A mysterious young man, untrained in the ways of society, is taken in by a rich benefactor as a pet project, with disastrous results. Though I feel like I've seen this kind of story before, it is done to remarkable effect here, not least because of the astoundingly low-key performance of the real-life schizophrenic Bruno S. in the lead role (and which compares favorably to Russell Crowe's affected turn in A BEAUTIFUL MIND). Though I am generally wary of Herzog's wailingly neo-romantic style, in this film it is kept low-key, and so this may be my favorite Herzog among those I've seen (AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD; NOSFERATU; LESSONS OF DARKNESS).

Yaaba (1989, Idrissa Ouedraogo)

Two children befriend an elderly woman cast out as a witch by their village. A simple morality tale is given some simple African adornments, with genuinely moving results, not least because a lot of incidental information about village life in Burkina Faso is conveyed over the length of this leisurely-paced and pleasurable film.

Bottle Rocket (1997, Wes Anderson) - second viewing

An uneven but at times brilliant chronicle of a gang of hopelessly naive losers trying to make a big score, with robberies of a bookstore and one of their own homes as warm-up. Dignan (Owen Wilson) is easily the most unique character to emerge from American cinema in the past decade, and the beautifully off-hand moments, gestures and bits of dialogue Wes Anderson was able to capture from his creation attested to a talent of immense promise, a promise he would break this past year with the relentlessly annoying ROYAL TENENBAUMS.

Rouge (1987, Stanley Kwan)

The ghost story genre that ruled late-80s Hong Kong cinema is given a contemporary twist in this story of a dead 1930s prostitute seeking to be reunited with her lover in the present day. The film's aspirations to relate Hong Kong's past and present is genuine but not as sweepingly cinematic as Chen Kaige's later FAREWELL MY CONCUBINE, nor as insightful as Kwan's later ACTRESS/RUAN LING YU. Still, for those who are interested in Chinese culture for more than its exotic appeal, this film raises some worthwhile provocations that other filmmakers fail to acknowledge.

short films by Joris Ivens

This Spanish Earth (1937)

The 400 Million (1938)

These propagandistic travelogues may seem naive, if not offensively simple, but for what they are they're done remarkably well and include valuable footage of major historical events. The first concerns the Spanish civil war from a pro-Loyalist perspective; narration is provided by Ernest Hemingway, and his compact, swaggering voice greatly informs the character of his writing. The second follows the Nationalist Chinese government at pains to defend its land from Japanese invasion, with voice-over by Frederic March.

Training Day (2001, Antoine Fuqua)

Ludicrous but entertaining yarn of stupid but moral Whitey vs. cunning but bestial Blacky, and as such does the same service as most hip-hop music: reinforcing negative stereotypes of minorities while glamorizing them for mass-consumption. A hapless but game Ethan Hawke deserved an Oscar for setting up Denzel Washington's thuggish muggishness, much more so than Jennifer Connelly did for supporting Russell Crowe. As for Denzel, he doesn't deserve Best Actor any more or less than Russell Crowe, but at least he's more conscious of his excesses and allows the viewer to indulge in them rather than expect to be accepted at face value.

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