SCREENING LOG - 4/29--5/05, 2002

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I watched ONCE UPON A TIME IN CHINA, TO BE OR NOT TO BE, CHANGING LANES, Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN, OPEN CITY, RED SORGHUM, SPIDERMAN and LEOLO. In order or preference:

Open City (1945, Roberto Rossellini)

The film that John Sayles always wanted to make, this account of a Italian village's resistance efforts under German occupation has the same novelistic approach to its story as Sayles' films, but glides so effortlessly from one character to another that it may be hard to fully appreciate this extraordinary accomplishment in cinematic storytelling. This film, with Anna Magnani's famous death scene, blew the doors open for the Neorealist movement's reception in America, and it remains a monumental achievement in film history.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch)

If one wants to gripe about OPEN CITY's impulses towards caricature, one could certainly do the same with this other wartime masterpiece -- but what would be the point? We risk underappreciating the ingenious work on display in this wartime comedy about a troupe of Polish actors conspiring to undermine their German occupiers. This film boasts the perfect synergy of script, direction and ensemble acting, all done with such selfless understatement that it mirrors the same selflessness that ultimately drives the characters. With everyone underplaying the multiple conflicts, personal and political, that run throughout the length of the film, the nuances seem to float like soap bubbles one can barely catch with their hand. Some claim that this film outdoes the very things that make CASABLANCA such an institutionalized masterpiece, and I am tempted to agree.

Once Upon a Time in China (1990, Tsui Hark)

To date, this is the piece de resistance to the career of Tsui Hark, the Spielberg of Hong Kong. This is surely his SCHINDLER'S LIST, a searing political tract using 19th century Hong Kong to depict the contemporary crisis of Tsui's homeland: ruled by corrupt Imperials (read: the Communist Chinese), invaded by greedy, exploitive Westerners eager to milk the land of its resources, natives eager to leave for the false promises of America. Rarely has political commentary made such a combustible union with popular entertainment: the manic instability of pre-takeover Hong Kong finds its ultimate visual metaphor in the brilliantly frenetic action sequences, where objects fly every which way. Nowhere is the "everything turned upside down" state exemplified better than in the famous climactic ladder fight sequence, which has a rightful claim to being one of the greatest moments of cinematic choreography ever filmed.

Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001, Alfonse Cuaron)

It's gotten to the point that foreign movies can even do teen sex comedies with more vitality than Hollywood. Two horny macho Mexican students take their cousin's wife on the road in search of a non-existent beach, with revelations large and small lying in wait for them. The French New Wave of JULES AND JIM and early Godard seems to inform this film's design: a romantic threesome whose exploits are repeatedly interrupted by an abrupt but thoughtful voiceover narrator. The film's level-headed observations of the many Mexicos, rich and poor, secular and sublime, compete for the eye's attention; it may take more than one viewing to realize how much is going on, and at how many levels, and just how well it is crafted. The sense of freewheeling discovery, mixed with lust and hints of despair, catapults this film over the overwrought social relevance of AMORES PERROS; Y TU MAMA TAMBIEN doesn't take itself too seriously, allowing all the beautiful details and moments to register in their own way.

Red Sorghum (1987, Zhang Yimou)

The film that made Zhang into an international sensation, this allegorical treatment of Chinese social customs and the Japanese invasion sure looks pretty, as one has come to expect of Zhang and his Fifth Generation counterparts. There is a fair amount of smalltown charm to be enjoyed among the characters, but the Chinese customs depicted are both largely fabricated and exoticized, a fact that has become a sore point for those all too aware that Zhang's films are a chief representative of "quality" Chinese cinema to the rest of the world. The cliches that litter Zhang's films are all here in full force; throughout his career he has not transcended them so much as repackaged them to the evolving demands of his audience. Gong Li, in her breakthrough performance, is the embodiment of Zhang's cinema: slick, enigmatic and beautiful.

Leolo (1992, Jean-Claude Lauzon)

Something like 400 BLOWS as directed by Jeunet and Caro (evoking the indulgent self-pity of the former and the indulgent goonfaced slickness of the latter), this French Canadian feature recounts the unhappy memories of a daydreaming child in a family whose five members are all weird and quirky in one way or another. I found the storyline to be overly episodic, but certain scenes achieve a painfully poignant truth about the experience of boyhood. A film like this epitomizes my ambivalent feelings over what I call "goon cinema", whose consitutents include Lauzon, Jeunet and Caro, The Coen Brothers and Terry Gilliam: filmmakers who combine slickly polished technique with crude mise-en-scene, which result in thematic treatments that seem deeper than they are. (and Zhang Yimou could be a politicized Chinese adherent to this.) More on this later, if I have time...

Changing Lanes (2002, Roger Michell)

I had a free pass to the cineplex that was about to expire, and the only Hollywood film that seemed remotely interesting was this tale of contemporary urban one-upsmanship between a slick corporate lawyer (Ben Affleck) and a recovering alcoholic (Sam L. Jackson) whose lives are changed after their cars crash into each other. I was surprised to find myself liking the film, mostly because I identified with its portraits of men too caught up in their hectic daily lives to step outside and look at the big picture. The film charts a hyperbolic and implausible path of mutual epiphany for these troubled souls, but sells it with such a tight-knit narrative that one doesn't realize the flaws until the movie is well over. Affleck gives the best performance of his career with a thinly-written character; Jackson, always a fine actor, is remarkably nuanced.

Spiderman (2002, Sam Raimi)

Competent and effective summer blockbuster, though it doesn't have any claim to the greatness of Raimi's far cheaper earlier efforts, DARKMAN and ARMY OF DARKNESS. While I enjoyed the eclectic, multi-period look of New York City and the overall sunniness of the film, what bothered me most was that Peter Parker/Spiderman's central conflict, as an awkward teenager trying to get a handle on adulthood, wasn't embodied more in his Spiderman persona -- although the film makes a clever connection between Parker's maturation and his ability to "control his wad" of sticky web fluid [shocked]. However, once he puts on the mask, the CGI effects throw the teen angst conflict by the wayside, transforming him into an unbelievably slick-moving cartoon figure. The action scenes, however diverting, play fast and loose with the laws of physics and therefore have no gravity to them, so to speak. Nonetheless, Tobey Maguire gives a far more refreshingly charismatic performance than I expected from a fellow who was getting more hackneyed with each Earnest Young Man role he played. Willem Dafoe gives a mildly amusing impersonation of Charlton Heston impersonating Jack Nicholson's Joker.

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