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SCREENING LOG
- 10/14-10/20, 2002
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The week of my wedding (3 weeks ago) I watched THIS LIFE
OF MINE, WOMAN IN THE DUNES, and FRENCH CANCAN. Last week
I watched THE PASSENGER, BLOODY SUNDAY, THE LAST COMMAND,
PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE, THE DREAMLIFE OF ANGELS, and SLEEPY EYES
OF DEATH 4: SWORD OF SEDUCTION. In order of preference:
This Life of Mine (1950, Shi Hui) (second viewing)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0043139
Still one of the finest films to ever spring from Communist
China, this is a masterfully told chronicle of 5 decades of
Chinese history, from the last Imperial Dynasty to the rise
of Communism, as told by a hapless and nameless beat cop played
by the director himself. The hero, much like that in FORREST
GUMP, allows himself to be swayed by the prevailing forces
of the time, whether it be the decadent Imperialists, the
corrupt Nationalists, the brutal Japanese, or the idealistic
Communists. Unlike FORREST GUMP, he and his loved ones pay
dearly for his own complicity time and time again. Through
him, the character of an entire nation is conveyed with blistering
candor and a humanity tempered by fire and rain.
The Last Command (1928, Josef von Sternberg)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0019071
It's wonderful to discover that at least one von Sternberg
masterpiece came without the estimable aid of Marlene Dietrich
-- instead here is a commanding performance by Emil Jannings
as a Tsarist Russian general who loses everything in the Communist
Revolution, escapes to America and becomes a Hollywood extra
in a film about -- the Communist Revolution! Not only is this
a grand entertainment with scenes of suspense and intrigue,
it offers some sober observations on Hollywood's relationship
to the world, and its power, even at that time, to represent
(and reinterpret) the world's events to a global audience.
von Sternberg's famous work with mise-en-scene has yet to
truly emerge here, but instead we have a handsomely mounted
entertainment that manages to be both self-reflexive and deeply
moving; the last scene, which the title alludes to, is a real
heart-breaker.
Punch-Drunk Love (2002, Paul Thomas Anderson)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0272338
This glorious trainwreck will certainly provide more fodder
for Paul Thomas Anderson's detractors who see him as terminally
self-indulgent and uninspired in his excess. I would agree
insofar as there is little in this film that applies to the
laws of practical credibility: Adam Sandler plays a bipolar
nutjob who somehow runs his own small company (with Luis Guzman
as his lieutenant, no less) and somehow ends up in
the arms of an adoring (and radiant) Emily Watson. But the
laws of conventional filmmaking do not apply if one is trying
to appreciate Anderson's art: he is a cultivator of a cinema
that captures the unique psychic and emotional states that
he, his characters, and certain audiences share. Anderson
throws down a gauntlet of half-baked scenarios at Sandler
(not to mention a brazenly loopy soundtrack and a lot of bleary
camera effects at the viewer) to elicit his rarefied reactions.
Bottom line: the ends justify the means. It's a dizzying 90
minutes of pure sensation, with a mix of tenderness, pathos
and rage that is never commented on, but captured with sympathetic
bravado. Its lack of auto-criticism makes it an imperfect
film (and certainly not recommended for anyone afraid of seeing
the inside of Sandler's head for an hour and a half), but
its achievement is nonetheless irreplaceable.
Bloody Sunday (2002, Paul Greengrass)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0280491
The disastrous events that turned a peaceful demonstration
in Derry, North Ireland on January 30, 1972 into a bloodbath
are re-created with a feeling of horrifying immediacy. Shot
on handheld 16mm and edited to a frenetic, abrupt rhythm,
it brings history to the here-and-now like no other film I've
ever seen; not even THE BATTLE OF ALGIERS, BLACK HAWK DOWN
or SAVING PRIVATE RYAN can claim this level of "authentic"
feeling. Which makes the achievement of this film all the
more disconcerting: if it feels so real, how can't it be inaccurate?
The film had its way with me from the first frame; only in
the end, when the British soldiers are calmly telling themselves
that they massacred a dozen civilians for a good cause did
I feel the chain pulling my neck. Which leads to the more
philosophical question: is it not true if it doesn't feel
true? Propaganda filmmaking is as dangerous as ever, and this
film deserves to be seen if only to witness the arsenal of
rhetorical devices that are now available.
French Cancan (1955, Jean Renoir)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0046998
A late work by Renoir that lovingly details the birth of
the Moulin Rouge in Paris and the dance craze it inspired.
I wonder if Renoir's is a lost art; almost everything is buried
in subtext, not much fuss is made about making the meaning
of the film explicit. People do what they do; they strive,
fail, hurt, achieve, and life continues ever onward. I'd have
to see this film again to say what it's really about, but
for now I'm content to be impressed by the grace of its storytelling
and the gloriousness of its colors.
The Dreamlife of Angels (1998, Erick Zonca)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0120449
Highly impressive first feature about two post-adolescent
French girls stumbling in and out of employment while maintaining
a tenuous friendship. While it as the gritty, no-frills look
of contemporary European realism, the humanistic feeling of
this movie links it to the legacy of Renoir and Carne. The
first half is splendid, in no small part to the electric tandem
of actresses Elodie Bouchez and Natacha Regnier, whose facial
expressions make up half of the film's depth of meaning. Unfortunately,
the meandering joys of the narrative give way to a stumbling
second half, spinning to a repetitive and unilluminating halt
by the end. Still, this is an immensely enjoyable and heartwarming
work.
Sleepy Eyes of Death 4: Sword of Seduction (1964, Kazuo
Ikehiro)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0123188
I really enjoyed this film, which one could classify as
a post-noir/pre-exploitation samurai picture. Beautifully
composed and shot, this film chronicles the exploits of a
special ronin who interrogates random members of a Japanese
Christian sect to reveal the secret of his birth. I was fascinated
by the relgious subject matter, and the high trash treatment
it was given, with oodles of sex and stunningly choreographed
violence. However, the outright mysogyny of the film became
too much to bear by the end, and the film's approach to its
content proves to be ultimately shallow. Nonetheless it makes
for much better entertainment than most Hollywood fare; I'm
surprised that George Lucas hasn't ripped off the innovative
swordfights from this fine picture.
Woman in the Dunes (1964, Hiroshi Teshigahara)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0058625
This is one of those films that I can sincerely recommend
without necessarily enjoying. This overt allegory about an
entymologist who is held prisoner at a widow's home at the
bottom of a sand trap offers a lot of symbols to chew on,
and certainly is appealingly slick enough on a visual level
to warrant attention. Others have made remarkable insights
about the film's significance, but somehow I just couldn't
buy into it as a real world with real inhabitants.
The Passenger (1975, Michelangelo Antonioni)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0073580
This is a film that I didn't particularly enjoy, nor would
I particularly recommend, despite its reputation and pedigree.
Jack Nicholson is a reporter who decides to swap identities
with a dead lookalike but ends up running from both his and
his double's pursuers. Given that the film is about the discomfort
of wearing an identity, my feeling that Jack Nicholson to
be gratingly miscast in the lead role may be subject to question.
Still, I found the film's explorations on the relationship
between the reporter (artist) and the world he is trying to
both capture and influence to be rather facile, at least from
a contemporary perspective. It wasn't until the stunning final
shot that I was genuinely impressed. I haven't had the best
of luck with Antonioni, outside of BLOW-UP and parts of L'AVVENTURA;
he seems to be an artist that I appreciate more in theory
than in practice.
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