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SCREENING LOG
- 11/25-12/01, 2002
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I watched 8 WOMEN (well, half of it), CONTEMPT, EVE'S BAYOU,
SHAME, SOLARIS, THE PHANTOM OF LIBERTY, MA VIE EN ROSE, TALK
TO HER, ANDREI RUBLEV, I AM CUBA, THE NAVIGATOR and LAST YEAR
IN MARIENBAD. In order of preference:
Last Year in Marienbad (1961, Alain Resnais) third viewing
http://www.imdb.com/Title?0054632
My recent encounters with the breathtaking enigma known as
Delphine Seyrig in JEANNE DIELMAN and INDIA SONG led me to
take another shot at this earlier work, in which a man, through
a twisting labyrinth of visual and vocal recollections, tries
to convince a woman (Seyrig) that they had an affair in the
same resort a year earlier. The elusive, non-linear narrative
had left me cold and baffled both times I'd seen it, despite
the simple pleasure of Seyrig's immense beauty. This time
around I was more attentive to the way the film was constructing
itself, and at some point it became all too apparent that
there's no film quite like this. PERSONA and MULHOLLAND DR.
may reinvent their realities every two or three scenes, but
this film reinvents its reality with every two or three frames,
with just as much haunted-house fascination. The way this
film cinematically bobs and weaves through the subjective
nature of reality makes RASHOMON's step-by-step metaphysical
insights seem Newsweek magazine-quality in comparison. It's
no wonder that Pauline Kael hated this film, since she professed
never to have seen a film more than once. This is a film that
demands to be visited and re-visited; no two experiences the
same, and for that reason it's an example of cinema at its
best.
Andrei Rublev (1969, Andrei Tarkovsky) second viewing
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0060107
The biggest thing I learned from rewatching Tarkovsky's
three and a half hour epic about Russia's most famous icon
painter and the tragic times he lived in is how indebted Tarkovsky
was to other filmmakers at this point in his career. The deepest
debt is to Kurosawa, what with the elaborate and pulpy choreography
of chaos that revels in violence even as it condemns it, unrelenting
rainstorms for dramatic effect, a social redemption finale
borrowed from IKIRU and a Russian jester version of Toshiro
Mifune hamming it up plenty in his underwear. Lesser influences
include Mizoguchian snail-paced tracking shots to eerie folk
music evoking a vague state of metaphysical longing, Bressonian
grubby-faced peasants and Bergmanesque soul-groping talkfests,
and so you have 90% of ANDREI RUBLEV -- the remaining 10%
being those lovely shots of water to which Tarko was second
to none. The episodic nature of the plot doesn't necessarily
impress me; some would argue that the fragmented narrative
allows for more focus on the moments to be experienced as
"pure cinema", but Mizoguchi was already doing this with a
lot more narrative discipline and less self-conscious glorification
of his own camera movements. Thus I'm inclined to appreciate
SOLARIS all the more, in that there Tarkovsky seemed to be
unloading everything he'd borrowed from others and starting
from scratch; and after getting his rocks off in the utterly
self-indulgent MIRROR, maybe STALKER truly is his most singular
masterpiece. As far as this film goes, it's an uneasy blend
of queasy spectacle and solemn meditation; it doesn't so much
examine the nature of what it means to be an artist as it
merely argues for artists to bestow their gifts to an absurd
society (a painfully patronizing speech made to Andrei towards
the end makes this all too clear). And yet, there's no denying
the power of many of the sequences, and the last half hour
(speech notwithstanding) is so perfect it's devastating. Indeed,
despite its derivative elements it's an astounding experience,
though I fear that subsequent viewings will further lessen
my esteem.
Ali-112 JLG film of the week
Contempt (1963, Jean-Luc Godard)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0057345
The film that has risen the most upon reflection this week
is this, what was to be Godard's one and only "studio" picture,
about a hack writer who falls out with his wife while scripting
a Hollywood version of The Odyssey directed by Fritz Lang.
At first I was ambivalent to the macho posturings of yet another
self-tragedizing Godard hero, the rather obvious parody of
a Hollywood producer and the overall flatness of the enterprise.
The next day I realized that somewhere in that mess I had
witnessed one of the most remarkable break-up scenes in movie
history, a 30-minute conversation between man and wife that
doesn't lead much of anywhere, except nowhere, the end. Scorsese
would do a condensed version of this in RAGING BULL but it's
not as effortless, as natural in its sense of a relationship
rotting from the inside, as what happens between Piccoli and
Bardot in this movie. And once I had this as my entryway,
I felt more comfortable with the rest of the film, the way
the Greek themes can possibly resonate on multiple levels,
from the three-act structure of the story to a modern-day
Ulysses failing to reconcile with his Penelope, exposing the
[i]real[/i] tragedy of our time, and the melancholy observation
of how antiquated artforms fail to apply to a far more complicated
present, and how an overly persistent imposition of a tragic
worldview (realized not only in Picooli's moodiness but also
in Georges Delerue's relentless score), becomes a self-fulfilling
prophecy. I'm ever so tentative with lavishing praise before
I'm convinced that it's earned, but the unexpected beauty
of some of the images in this film is enough of an impetus
for further investigation.
Eav and DFC-2 childhood film recommendation of the week
Eve's Bayou (1997, Kasi Lemmons)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0119080
A young black girl comes of age as she bears witness to her
father's philandering and its effect on her mother and sister.
So great was my love for the world of this movie, conveyed
so knowingly by the script and the excellent ensemble, that
I didn't mind the occasional shoddiness of its shooting and
especially the editing. My praise goes to Sam L. Jackson for
believing in this young filmmaker so much as to produce as
well as act in this picture. This is definitely one of the
recent highlights in American independent filmmaking.
Brunt silent classic of the week
The Navigator (1924, Donald Crisp and Buster Keaton)
http://www.imdb.com/Title?0015163
This series of gags featuring Keaton and love interest lost-at-sea
is the nuttiest Keaton comedy IÕve yet encountered, showcasing
a wide variety of visual jokes ranging from quick hitters
to elaborate set-ups. KeatonÕs inventiveness is all the more
impressive given that his setting is the most restrictive
of his films IÕve seen: almost all of the action takes place
on the ocean liner upon which he is stranded.. It may not
be as artfully cohesive as THE GENERAL, SHERLOCK JR. or OUR
HOSPITALITY but it is just as entertaining and imaginative.
Marie D and zetes Late to the Oscar Fixing party recommendation
of the week
I Am Cuba (1964, Mikhail Kalatozov)
KalatozovÕs panegyric to the Cuban spirit in the wake of
its revolution, with enough style and hyperactive camera movement
to spill over and influence Coppola and Scorsese (who produced
its restoration),even Paul Thomas Anderson (who lifted an
underwater shot for a pool party scene in BOOGIE NIGHTS).
ItÕs a handsome achievement, essential viewing for all cinematographers;
however, this film could just as easily be called ŅI Am Not
CubaÓ. While Kalotozov shows off his formalist chops by making
Cuba into a beautifully warped expressionist visual playground
upon which to enact his Marxist melodramas, thereÕs a patronizing
Russian Imperialist gaze behind it all that does as much exploiting
of the poor peasant life as the capitalist American villains
onscreen. At least the propaganda is never so outrageous as
to be patently offensive, and thereÕs plenty of eye candy
to opiate the masses.
Solaris (2002, Stevei Sodertovsky)
http://www.imdb.com/Title?0307479
A remake of Stanslav LemÕs sci-fi novel with heavy borrowings
of Andrei TarkovskyÕs filmed version, save for a bizarre Hollywood
ending that completely redefines the meaning of the source
material. I haven't been a big Soderbergh fan since a re-screening
of OUT OF SIGHT made me realize how utterly empty it was,
and his subsequent films have done little to convince me that
his films are little more than stylistic exercises in slick
commercial packaging of market-tested themes. But here I had
to admire the way in which Soderbergh applied those journeyman
skills towards elucidating a difficult work for a mainstream
audience. Any way you cut it, Soderbergh and producer James
Cameron took great risks in trying to make this movie in Hollywood,
and there is no doubt in my mind that this film is going to
tank in the box office because it will be way over most people's
heads. It's the riskiest thing Soderbergh has done since SCHIZOPOLIS,
even though what he has done is adapt Tarkovsky's film and
convert it into a Hollywood idiom - the ending makes this
all too clear. Where TarkovskyÕs film was critical of manÕs
tragic tendency to make everything in his own narrow image,
Soderbergh finds this as cause for celebration. The moral
of the story, that itÕs just as good to embrace a simplified
knock-off version of the original, is one of the most disturbingly
honest observations of the Hollywood ethos IÕve seen, and
doubles as his justification for making this movie. ItÕs perhaps
the closest to a personal statement that Soderbergh has made
in years.
Talk to Her (2002, Pedro Almadovar)
http://www.imdb.com/Title?0287467
Two men form a touching friendship while attending their
respective comatose lovers in the hospital. Gorgeously shot,
lushly scored and warmly performed, AlmodovarÕs recent movies
are like a smoky bohemian bar filled with intriguing personalities
emanating their own peculiar glow of humanity. The subject
matter is another thing altogether, featuring an unspeakable
act that may or may not be endorsed as a virtue by the filmÕs
end. While the two male characters are among the most endearing
Almodovar has concocted, our sympathies are gained through
the most objectionable treatment of women to yet occur in
his films. While one has to allow that melodrama has always
been a genre centered on perverse actions, and that Almodovar
is a master at melodrama, I was left troubled by how easily
all of this is meant to go down the esophagus. There's no
question Almodovar creates a world that is entirely his own,
with its own joys and wonders -- but the question is does
that world, however wonderful it is -- lose sight of reality
a little too much sometimes?
Lee-109 Oscar Fixer of the week
The Phantom of Liberty (1974, Luis Bunuel)
[url]http://www.imdb.com/Title?0071487[/url] While I certainly
laughed out loud several times during this collection of assorted
scenarios (or sketches, rather) which cleverly invert the
ideas of freedom and order in our daily lives, I have to wonder
just how much of an artistic accomplishment this amounts to
being. It doesnÕt strike me as being much greater than a Monty
Python movie, and if anything is more smug with its sense
of know-it-all satirism. Perhaps Bunuel was taking his subversive
cinematic strategies demonstrated in THE DISCREET CHARM OF
THE BOURGEOISIE to an even greater deconstructive extreme,
but the fragmented results have less of an overall impact.
Chris-435 and Lucia Harper childhood/alt gener film recommendation
of the week
Ma Vie en Rose (1997, Alain Berliner)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0119590
Adorable film about a 7 year old boy whose inexplicable desire
to be a girl causes an uproar among his family and their neighbors.
Gorgeously shot in pastels that seem more Miami than France,
the film has a breezy, fantastical feel up until the last
stretch, where it hits a wall by taking itself too seriously
and plummeting into TV movie melodramatics. Perhaps itÕs mere
coincidence, but this is the second 1990s French film IÕve
seen in a month (PONETTE was the other) that uses a childÕs
innocence to challenge the values and standards of adult society.
Georges du Fresne is a standout as the gender-bending prepubescent,
though it helps that heÕs the only character written three-dimensionally.
Antonious Block, bkamberger and Johnny Guitar (nee mikereadmore)
better luck next time recommendation of the week
Shame (1968, Ingmar Bergman)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0063611
There's nothing more tiresome than hearing the same person
drudge out the same complaints about the same thing. Here
IÕm speaking as much about myself as I am about Ingmar Bergman,
though this, his attempt at making a "political" film, is
a true testament to his terminally domestic sensibilities.
In this film, war is reduced to being the mother of all marriage-wrecking
plot devices (imagine a movie on 9/11 that had nothing to
say about its causes or circumstances, but only focused on
how it led two people to realize their marriage was a sham,
and you get a sense of this film's audacity, for better or
worse). Since canonical reputations ensure that Bergman will
never go away, the best I can do is to try to see virtues
in his vision. Well, given that PERSONA was Bergman letting
the world know that he had become aware of the fictional qualities
of cinematic reality, I can see this later film taking that
conceit and running with it. That's how I can justify the
utter implausibility of the events depicted by the film without
getting critical. It's Bergman's world, you either have to
accept his terms (man + woman + war = suffering) or be frustrated
by the antiseptic nature of its invention. What does one gain
from seeing things Bergman's way? The world abstracted and
reflected in the internalized suffering of individuals, most
notably Bergman's. Sometimes for me this leads to moments
that truly harness the limitless reserves of cinema and the
subconscious, like the last ten minutes of the film, especially
the image of a lifeboat floating through a sea of floating
corpses. When Bergman's focus is on shooting memorable images,
I am impressed if not amazed (and having said this I'm due
to give THE SEVENTH SEAL a third chance). It's when he opens
his mouth (through those of his characters, of course) and
reminds us of the seriousness of what he's doing that I start
to bristle.
8 Women (2002, Francois Ozon)
http://us.imdb.com/Title?0283832
I suppose I just wasnÕt in the mood to see eight otherwise
highly talented French actresses (including Catherine Deneuve,
Isabelle Huppert and the rising star Virginie Ledoyen) reduced
to a flock of yammering peacocks, and I suppose IÕm not enough
of an Agatha Christie aficionado to appreciate the finer qualities
of this otherwise perfunctory whodunit-cum-bitchfest, but
in any event one hour was enough. The Sirk references seemed
pointless, as did everything else in this gingerbread house
of a movie layered with so much marzipan it gave my eyes a
toothache. Giving each of the actresses their own musical
moment was an inspired idea; too bad none of them could carry
a tune Š after LedoyenÕs tremulous number I had my fill of
disappointment.
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