SCREENING LOG - 6/24--6/30, 2002

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Last week I watched THE SHOP AROUND THE CORNER, DIARY OF A CHAMBERMAID, MILLENNIUM MAMBO and SONG OF THE EXILE. In order of preference:

The Shop Around the Corner (1940, Ernst Lubitsch)

An absolute gem. Jimmy Stewart and Margaret Sullavan play warring co-workers in a leather goods shop in Budapest, neither of whom are aware that they are secret pen pals in love with each other. This rather episodic plot may not have the high-wire intensity of TO BE OR NOT TO BE, but I actually prefer the leisurely pace in which one circumstance leads beautifully to another with delicious ironies blossoming along the way (for instance, Stewart gets fired for quarrelling with Sullavan about leaving work early to meet her pen pal -- him). All of this is handled with Lubitsch's trademark warmth, humor and compassionate understanding that even the most seemingly incompatible people share one thing: a need for genuine human intimacy. Frank Morgan (the Wizard in THE WIZARD OF OZ) is especially endearing as the befuddled store owner.

Song of the Exile (1991, Ann Hui)

Ann Hui, virtually unknown outside of Asia, is one of the pre-eminent directors chronicling the Chinese diaspora in a century of immense cultural and social change. This time the subject is based on Hui's own experiences: in 1972, a Chinese woman (Maggie Cheung, as irrepressible as ever) fresh out of school in England returns to Macau to accompany her Japanese mother back to her homeland. In Japan, the woman's frustrating cross-cultual encounters mirror that of her mother's life in Macau (as told in intermittent flashbacks spanning as early as World War II). As much as the story is Hui's, Cheung (who went to school in England) makes it her own (it is interesting comparing her fish-out-of-water role with a similar turn in IRMA VEP). All the performances are first-rate and result in a moving family saga fraught with cross-cultural and historical undercurrents; Hui's sensitivity to the complexity of trans-nationalism exceeds that of the much lauded Ang Lee, and makes one-sided propaganda like RED SORGHUM seem trite. The screenplay, which casts a vast net over geography and history, was written by the prolific but sorely underserved Wu Nien-Jien (screenwriter for CITY OF SADNESS and THE PUPPETMASTER and star of YI YI). Highly recommended.

Millennium Mambo (2001, Hou Hsiao-Hsien)

Hou's latest film, which was screened as part of Village Voice's Best Undistributed Films of 2001 series, feels like a mixing and modulation of his last three: a young woman's abortive but contemplative contemporary existence (GOOD MEN, GOOD WOMEN), a moment-by-moment addiction to thrill-seeking (GOODBYE SOUTH GOODBYE) and a love affair entombed in drugs (FLOWERS OF SHANGHAI) all figure into Hou's attempt to lyricize the moment we are living in -- NOW. The result is a film that seems immensely fascinated in each moment it is capturing -- luminescent bodies dancing in an underground rave; a man inhaling and exhaling smoke from a makeshift bong; the absolute wonder of one's facial imprint in an immaculately white snowbank -- until those moments lead to other moments of inescapable banality or dread. Hou enhances this addiciton-to-the-moment with a voice-over that takes place in 2010, giving away plot points before they happen on-screen; since narrative convention no longer matters, the result is an even more intense experience of the moment tied in with an odd sensation of retrospection (no one messes around with the concept of history more than Hou). The give-and-take of this kind of project is that not everything will succeed on a dramatic level, but the experience of this film (and I do mean experience) is too exquisite to be denied. There are no less than half a dozen moments in this film, easily the most exquisitely photographed of the year, whose sheer beauty in harmonizing time and image are timeless treasures.

Diary of a Chambermaid (1946, Jean Renoir)

The only Renoir film I've seen from his Hollywood days, and from the results I wager he had himself a good ol' time on the Strip, because this effort feels like he was just punching the clock. His propensity for scathing social insights seem to be present in name only, and the characters are so histrionically performed that one wonders if this is meant to be a parody of Hollywood melodrama rather than an earnest attempt to fulfill the conventions of the genre. Paulette Godard, as the chambermaid who hopes to rise above her position in a mansion teeming with horny men, makes up with vivacity for what she lacks in acting chops.

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