SCREENING LOG - 4/08--4/14, 2002

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I watched City on Fire, I Was Born But..., Stranger than Paradise, The Last Waltz, Black Rain, The Last of England, and New Year's Sacrifice. In order of preference:

I Was Born But... (1932, Yasujiro Ozu)

Put in simple terms, this is one of the greatest silent movies ever made. Though the film was intended to be screened with live voice-over by a benshi narrator, this masterpiece works stunningly well without sound, because Ozu's unparalleled sense of visual rhythm, choreographed movement, and humor keep one's eyes dancing in delight. The story concerns two boys who fight their way to gain status and respect among the local bullies, only to realize that their father is a bottom-feeder among the adults. As such it's loaded with acute observations of Japanese society, and not without Ozu's penchant for subtle but potent criticism. For people who are used to the "slow" Ozu of the 50s, this film will be a revelation, inspiring speculation as to how and why he changed a style that already was exceptional.

Black Rain (1989, Shohei Imamura)

I can't say it was pleasant to watch, but it sure was powerful. Imamura's matter-of-fact account of the fates of radiation victims in the wake of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. Brilliantly, the film balances the histroric tragedy with the necessities of Japanese life, with a young woman's search for a husband in the foreground. The extent of her exposure to the radiation becomes a point of contention with her various suitors, and for the film becomes a condemnation of the brutal standards hidden behind Japanese social customs. A major work by one of Japan's most accomplished filmmakers.

The Last Waltz (1978, Martin Scorsese)

While going to the movies has always been a ritual of transcendence for me, I have friends who insist that the rock concert is the closest thing on earth to a spiritual experience. In all the concerts I've been to, I have never shared in that sentiment, but maybe it's because I've been going to the wrong concerts. Or maybe I need a great movie through which I can experience a great concert. It doesn't even seem that Scorsese does that much except exploit an evocative lighting setup to capture some truly intimate close-ups of The Band in their farewell concert, as well as guest performers Eric Clapton, Joni Mitchell, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond, Muddy Waters and of course, Bob Dylan. Around one third of the way I could feel my spirits soar, and I think it's because The Band has such a sense of intimacy with their music; I'd be hard-pressed to say that about any musicians today (except for maybe The Roots and The White Stripes). I have no idea why they decided to rerelease this film theatrically, but I'm glad they did.

City on Fire (1987, Ringo Lam)

Watching this film, one can't help but imagine a young Quentin Tarantino watching it from behind the video counter, scheming about how he can rip off the best parts for RESERVOIR DOGS. That aside, this classic of Hong Kong action holds up very well in the wake of its countless Asian and American knock-offs; the shocking intensity and brutality of the action only reinforces the sense of listlessness and anxiety that pervades the film's quieter moments. And boy, was it a welcome joy to see a wild-eyed Chow Yun-fat working hard for that paycheck, instead of hiding behind his current celebrity smirk.

New Year's Sacrifice [Zhu fu] (1956, Sang Hu)

In China's feudal era, after a woman loses her husband, her family plans to sell her to another man. She runs away only to meet more misfortunes perpetuated by Chinese feudal society. This Marxist melodrama ,voted one of China's 100 greatest films by Asia Weekly, typifies the somewhat sterile but nonetheless gripping style of Chinese cinema in the early Maoist regime. Confucianism, capitalism and religion all get their comeuppance as they victimize a helpless but symathetic woman, and it's a wonder that her dignity is preserved through the degradation: played wonderfully by Bai Yang, one of China's greatest actresses. Here, she's the chinese Joan of Arc or Bess MacNeil. The story was taken from Lu Xun, China's most important writer of the 20th century, though here his complex ideas are somewhat reduced to didacticism.

Stranger than Paradise (1984, Jim Jarmusch)

A couple of guys befriend a Hungarian immigrant cousin -- she goes off to Cleveland and one year later they go find her and take her to Miami. A film that prophesized the advent of the New York independent movement, in all its goodness (alternative narrative structure and relaxed attitude towards story and character) and badness (overall cheesiness with a hint of arch self-importance). The mood he establishes, a mix of ennui, menace and poignancy, is unique, though I warily noticed Jarmusch's tendency towards hipster cuteness, something Jarmusch has been addressing with better results. A film worth watching if only to evaluate how far the American independent cinema has come from its nascent stages.

The Last of England (1987, Derek Jarman)

Sort of a state of disunion address, this apocalyptic series of images, by England's premier avant-gardist of the last few decades, haunts and assaults the senses. Hard to say much about it, since I don't feel I know enough about the society and era Jarman is examining, but I was alternately enraptured and bludgeoned by the experience.

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