Heaven Can Wait

Heaven Can Wait, 1943
Dir: Ernst Lubitsch

Hey, color! Woo! Well, anyway...this is the first Lubitsch film I have ever seen, and while not being completely up my alley, this is about as good as a Hollywood comedy (especially from the 40s) can get. The way the film plays out is very elliptical, not only with music queues and the progress of the narrative (from a death to a death), but also the way Lubitsch uses windows and doors over and over again to show and not show. It's really interesting stuff, considering the amount of thought that goes into Hollywood film nowadays, at least in how a film in constructed.


The story concerns Henry Van Cleve (Don Ameche), a man who has just arrived in Hell after figuring that he had been too bad in life to be allowed into Heaven, so he didn't even try. Satan has to review his file first, and they go over the course of his life. Henry is a scoundrel, from his earliest days where he gets drunk with his family's French maid (Signe Hasso), and then to when he elopes with his cousin's finacee (Gene Tierney) at their engagement party after winning her heart. Through all of it, you understand that Henry, who comes from money, has developed into an idle man, a loafer who lives off of his family's money and who is indulged by them. He is not a real hero in any sense of the word, which is probably why this film didn't do so well during the height of WWII.


The presence of time is always present as well, and as Henry recounts his life, it slips by rather quickly and sadly, and his "misdemeanors" add up to a life of petty pleasures without much regard for others. This is why he goes "down." The sadness that builds up towards the end while maintaining the humor walks a thin line the most films can't pull off, but is reminiscent of Ozu in some fashions (he was a big fan of Lubitsch). Henry's womanizing ways also continue well past his marriage, even to the point in his 50s where he propositions a showgirl who happens to be seeing his son without his knowing. It's not like you're rooting for him in anyway to do anything in particular, but waiting for his next indiscretion to take place is oddly satisfying in a I'm- watching-something-naughty way.


This also kind of reminded me of Hawks' Only Angels Have Wings (1939) in the ensemble comedy/deeper level going on department, and the two films have a light structure that makes it all work. They are similar directors as well; Lubitsch’s tight cutting means he never allows his characters to think or ponder on a situation, to reflect on moral positions (most of which are very gray), or to assess their surroundings. Hawks’ characters are too busy doing something for the luxury of self-reflection, while Lubitsch’s characters are too busy doing nothing. Some of the characters here are a little to one dimensional (like all of the parents) but my favorite supporting cast member has to be Grandpa (Charles Coburn) who is the Van Cleve who made all of the family's money and tends to act as a voice of reason throughout, and is Henry's biggest ally. Henry is a layabout, but you can sense in Grandpa that that is the life he had always wanted to live, and he even says later that Henry is the "only Van Cleve that I ever cared about." When they go to get back Henry's wife after she leaves (because of one his indiscretions) Grandpa comes along and is hilarious. While he's bouncing around the house that they've invaded, he tells one of the house servant giddily, "I've always wanted to runaway with a girl!" I can't see anyone not having a smile on their face. I just convinced myself while writing this that it is better than I first thought. Now I'm certain more Lubitsch will occur.

Christmas in July

Christmas in July, 1940
Dir: Preston Sturges

Not all comedies are satires, but all satires are comedies. Right? Sturges is practically Hollywood royalty with cinephiles, and let's face it: he made good films. Sullivan's Travels (1941) impressed me even before I started to think seriously about film, but unconsciously I think once you have taken in a certain amount of films, you have already begun to build an aesthetic of what you like and dislike, and not in a pretentious way. Once you become conscious of it, staying true to it is the only way to be unpretentious. Christmas in July is not dense, nor really funny, and maybe not even witty, but it stands as testament to the Depression that many films in the 30s couldn't even get right because filmmakers were too busy letting people escape reality instead of making people actually think about it.


I think "South Park" is funny, because I love potty humor. But its biting satire is the only reason why it remains relevant. Would people watch if it wasn't "funny?" I mean, shit, dudes: Alexander Pope wrote satires, and ain't he a barrel of laughs?! I am a product of my own time when it comes to comedy (though it's not truly that simple), and I'm guessing if Trey Parker and Matt Stone emphasized brain work over laughs (though "South Park" is clearly much smarter than your average TV show) it would have gone off the air ages ago. Christmas in July never really made me laugh. It has some "smiley" moments, but they are kind of entrenched in Screwball, a form of film comedy that just doesn't make any sense to me. Maybe it is not supposed to make sense, cause it's so ZANNNNNY! But thankfully, I wouldn't say this is a Screwball comedy (though in some reviews I have read have labeled it as such).


Any sort of connection to Screwball surely comes from the events in the film once Jimmy MacDonald (Dick Powell) wins a radio contest that results in him getting $25,000, and he goes out on the town with his girlfriend Betty (Ellen Drew) to buy all kinds of stuff! Unbeknownst to him, it was actually the handy work of some of his co-workers that he got a telegraph stating he had won, and once the truth comes out, it comes as a pretty hard blow.


His new "wealth" had gotten him a promotion, a sense of pride and a new direction in life, and once it's stripped away, he is not really prepared for the consequences, especially to be labeled a thief and a "swindler." This is the best part of the film. When Betty pleads with Jimmy's boss to let him keep his promotion, it's most definitely wrapped in some sort of ideal American ingenuity that still pervades most Hollywood films today, but it seems like it was placed at the right moment. Of course, he's given a "chance" to prove he can do it. The satire in the film has a great deal to do with the desperate fantasies of opulence developed during the Depression, and scenes of the dreaming couple on the roof at the beginning, and then the proto-Il Posto (1961) drone work of Jimmy's job only hammer this yearning home. The prevailing sadness in this film definitely makes it interesting as a "comedy," even if I wouldn't say it was really funny.

The Story of the Late Crysanthemums

残菊物語 (The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums), 1939
Dir: Kenji Mizoguchi

People usually point to this as Mizoguchi's finest pre-War effort, but considering that this is only the second of his films that I've seen, I can't really say for sure. This is a slow-burner though, being one of the films that saw Mizoguchi's long-take aesthetic come to fruition, and in the end it's probably too long. At the end, there is a good amount of the Kabuki sequences that he could have cut down. Other than that though it is undeniably very good.


The beginning of the film was really strange and seemed stale with the strict style that Mizoguchi employs. I was sort of blown away by how the decent set up, of how a spoiled, adopted son of a famous actor finally realizes that he himself is no good and must make a name for himself on his own, wasn't interesting me at all. Once the initial confrontation happens, where Kikunosuke (Shôtarô Hanayagi) tells his father that he can't live in his shadow forever and is going to marry the family's nurse (Kakuko Mori), I started to get into it though. Once you've watched enough early Japanese (and Asian) cinema (I guess I've watched "just enough" but not nearly as much as I wish I have), you start to notice the gigantic culture clashes being shown on screen as the main crux of conflict; of how modernity is clashing with the strict cultures of proud people; "our" generation vs. old dudez. Kiku's decision to disrespect his father and his father's reputation is unforgivable and he is thrown out right away. Despite some pleas from other people to stay, it is too late. He must go out on his own.


Kiku finds himself sinking lower and lower in the acting world until he ends up part of a traveling troupe (this device is used a lot in cinema, huh?), where even there he still finds himself with a "bad actor" reputation. All he has is his wife, Otaku, who is a constant crutch, especially when Kiku starts to doubt if he can ever prove that he was right to leave and occaisionally tries to indulge himself with "nights out." Small hints of pride bubble up when Otaku goes to an old friend to ask for help and let Kiku preform in his new play, something Kiku was too ashamed to do. The sacrifice that Otaku partakes in here is reflected later as well, when after Kiku proves to everyone that he is a great actor, can only be reconciled with his father and the higher arts of Tokyo if he takes back the famous name, which cannot be connected to a house maid/nurse. So she leaves him for the sake of his "art," much to his agony.


The ending is melodramatic soup, but not strictly bad. Otaku is succumbing to tuberculosis during the moment of Kiku's artistic triumph, and only then is he given permission by his father to go and "be with his wife" on her death bed. It seems like a bit of a cop out concerning the whole generational clash (he seriously still needs "permission?" But I guess by accepting Otaku's decision to leave for his sake, he had already fallen back into his old way of life without her, which might be even more heartbreaking if you think about it), but in its presentation completely effective in how demoralizing her death will be to Kiku (and thus, you as a viewer). The film's bittersweet ending is reminiscent of the ending of Ugetsu (1953) though I wasn't at all conflicted there. Mizoguchi's style and mis-en-scene are already to the point here that allows for beautiful images and actions to be captured, and that alone, for me, makes his entire body of work, including this, work seeking out.

Make Way For Tomorrow

Make Way For Tomorrow, 1937
Dir: Leo McCarey

This film is a brick of sadness to the face. Unavoidable in its relentless degradation of the way we treat old people, even in its slight Old Hollywood, hokey trappings, by the end you are in a downright state. And maybe even more so now because it's sure to be a million times worse in the hustle and bustle of modern life. There are so many squeamish and unbearable moments in this film that are incredibly hard to watch, and even when the brick is starting to feel like a hammer in the obviousness of it all, the overwhelming feeling you are left with just locks your eyes to the screen. Don't let the presentation fool you though. This is anything but your normal Hollywood feature. McCarey got creamed (by audiences and his studio, but not by critics) for making a bummer during the Depression, but sometimes you need that. To be reminded what life really is like. The characters stare past one another rather than really interact. I wouldn't be surprised if Ozu saw this at some point in his life (Did you know that Ozu skipped out on being conscripted in the Imperial Army (for a second time) during WWII and fled to Singapore where he spent his days watching endless amounts of old Hollywood films? What a badass cinephile...) and realized that Japanese people in the 50s needed a similar reminder to "honor your mother and father" as well. While Ozu's Tokyo Story (1955) is a polite, Japanese push out the door, Make Way For Tomorrow is, like I said, an American brick to the face. And it really hurts. I might prefer Ozu's more subtle method, but it is impossible to not be affected by this film. Wet eyes will occur.

Sylvia Scarlett

Sylvia Scarlett, 1935
Dir: George Cukor

There were certain parts of this that sort of reminded me of Only Angels Have Wings (1939), and it's mostly where the cast works great as an ensemble. Cary Grant being awesome here again probably had something to do with it too. But at the end of the day, this is a Katherine Hepburn vehicle, and you kind of have to like the way she drives it. As for me, it definitely has great moments, but at the end it can't really be called a great film.


Playing up Hepburn's latent androgyny and her inclination to wear men's clothing in public, Sylvia Scarlett is about a father (Edmund Gwenn) and his daughter (Hepburn) who have to leave France for England after he is caught embezzling. So right away there are some character issues with the supporting cast, which continues with slick "gentleman adventurer", aka con-man, Jimmy Monkley (Grant) and a lusty, simple housemaid (Dennie Moore). The cops are looking for man and a girl so Sylvia cuts her hair and becomes Sylvester. Once in England they play some con games but have no luck (in part because Hepburn is so righteous) so they decide to start a traveling performance act and put on pantomime shows. The caravan shots are sort of like The Seventh Seal (1957), but not really. I was reaching for some connection, and this hit the target if only marginally. Sylvia falls for a tall painter (Brian Aherne) but he already has a "lady friend" which causes a lot of hormonal confusion and changes in clothing for young Sylvia.


Hepburn acts her face off in this, but I'm not so sure if that helps a whole. Especially when she's trying to be feminine. She's much more at ease in scenes where there's just "guy" talk going on and she and Grant are bickering. Grant is just a sleazeball here, and at the end, though there's a sort of a wry smile about it, his decision, while not out of character, threw me for a loop. I'd say he gets pretty close to being as great as Geoff Carter in Wings as a role you just don't expect him to have (morally conflicted/ambiguous). The best parts are sort of strange Hawks-esque controlled chaos, like at the mansion where Sylvia gets drunk and Jimmy tries to filch the jewelry, and then the party at the painter's house where everyone is pretty much wasted again and dancing around.


There's just too much Hepburn time though, annoying monologues, crying close-ups and such. I think that stuff was thrown in there as a draw, because all the cross-dressing (and not to mention that scandalous "girl-on-girl" kiss -- wowza!) did not make this a popular film in the 30s and it was a bomb. I think that is why this is on a few cinephile lists; the belief that they found this film that was trashed and now, in retrospect, they can point at how ballsy this was and say, "A half century before Hilary Swank was the obvious choice for boot-cut denims, Hepburn was gallivanting around in suits." Sorry, don't really care. For a romantic comedy, the romance or comedy was not very interesting.

Project A

A 計劃 (Project A), 1983
Dir: Jackie Chan

Jackie wears his old Hollywood influences on his sleeve in Project A more than any other film of his that I've seen. This isn't a bad thing per se, considering that those influences are Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, but I think something gets a bit lost in the overall enjoyment because of it, plot wise. But you can't really deny the how insane some of the stunts are. The clock tower scene is bonkers and the outtakes of it at the end are some of the craziest shit I've seen Jackie do.


Like all "Three Brothers" films, Sammo Hung definitely has the best comedic chops in my opinion. His timing and delivery just can't be beaten, and add to that his physical skills he's a dynamic asset to any film. Just watching him walk around with a stove-pipe hat on, gesticulating everywhere is pretty hilarious. Biao Yuen is not a weak link (considering how awesome he is in Wheels on Meals (1984) you'd know) but his role here doesn't really let him flex his best muscles if you as me. Jackie here is pretty great in everything he does, as usual, so no problems there.


The Old Hong Kong and pirates thing I thought would act as a catalyst for something awesome, but by the end you kind of realize how irrelevant it all is compared to all the awesome stunts and fights. I'm only saying this because there are good Jackie movies where they blend pretty well. I suppose I'm being picky, and its pretty much the only gripe I have about this (besides the "comedic" supporting cast not being very funny). All of the other stuff in this is Jackie at his very best.

Hallelujah, I'm a Bum!

Hallelujah, I'm a Bum!, 1933
Dir: Lewis Milestone

Ugh, another musical? Are you serious? Yeah, yeah. I know. But I have to push on. So another sleeper sensation that only a few cinephile critics know about? Uh, well, this is an Al Jolson vehicle, sans blackface, that is, I'm sorry to say, not very funny. Jolson as an entertainer was not a comedian, and that might be where I can't see eye to eye with this. You can romanticize hobos all you want, but if you're just singing about how sweet it is to be homeless in Central Park, I might not give a shit.


Jolson plays a popular hobo named Bumper, who happens to be good buddies with the Mayor of New York (Frank Morgan), which of course makes no sense. The two plots of Bumper being a jolly good bum and the Mayor's relationship problems meet when Bumper saves a woman (Madge Evans) from killing herself and then falls in love with her. She has some sudden traumatic amnesia from throwing herself off a bridge and can't remember that she got dumped by the Mayor because he thought she was fooling around. I smell conflict!!


There are a bunch of really heavy-handed leftist remarks in this that are pretty pointless, which makes me wonder why they are in there at all. I mean, when Bumper decides to work all the other hobos get pissed and put him on "trial." You can't be a working hobo, duh. Labor blows! Another thing that will pop out at the modern audience is the character of Acorn, who pals around with Bumper, played by Edgar Connor. He is kind of a real life blackface character, always smiling, always doing the "shitty" work. I'm not sure what statement is being made, good or bad, but Jolson was known for his black rights activism. It just seems like the wrong kind of ambiguity if you ask me. This does not have the cool stuff that Love Me Tonight (1933) had, and instead of being funny, it's just corny as hell. The ending is actually pretty interesting, but I'm (usually) just no song-and-dance man.

Love Me Tonight

Love Me Tonight, 1933
Dir: Rouben Mamoulian

I guess anybody who reads this blog can tell I'm following some "strict code" to the movies that I watch, but when Love Me Tonight came up I felt a little depressed. This is because it's a musical and I thought that I was going to be wasting my time, 'cause most musicals are made for one reason only and that is to make girls go watch movies who normally wouldn't. That in itself is not a bad thing, but the results usually piss me off. Everyone just starts singing and dancing for no reason and any flow the film had just disappears into lame people mugging for camera time. Or maybe an elaborate dance number that makes you forget what the fuck the film was about in the first place. I was sort of expecting something like this, the 30s musicals that I've seen not really changing my mind about musicals in general (true story: first film in the first film studies class that I took at BU: Gold Diggers of 1933. Didn't quite understand the big deal about Busby Berkely's dreams. Pig Latin. For real?). Hear this though: Love Me Tonight is never annoying (well only occasionally, but that's a huge compliment coming from me) constantly funny and as cool as the underside of a pillow on a hot summer night.


OK, so this is a chick flick, and the basic plot premise involves the pauper and rich girl-princess dynamic where true love prevails. But right from the beginning you can tell that it's different. The songs are all talk-singy ditties that roll right along with the plot, so you're never tapping your foot with frustration for it to start moving along again. So when fashionable Parisian tailor Maurice (Maurice Chevalier) gets gypped by a debtor Count (Charles Ruggles), he decides to go out to the country estate where the skirter resides with his aristocratic family to collect his due. After his ride breaks down on the way, he bumps into a beautiful girl who is out riding and he manically professes his love, not knowing that this is the Princess Jeanette (Jeanette MacDonald), who lives in the same estate as her sleazy, if very funny Count cousin. I bet it's really awkward when this commoner tailor shows up!!


There are many really cool things about this film, but I suppose the first thing that you have to talk about is Maurice Chevalier and the unstoppable dynamo that he is in this. His first sort of "going to work" walking-song is laugh-out loud funny, eg. he confronts a woman on the street with another man and says in mock outrage, "Oh what, some other boyfriend?" and the man's real outraged response of "This is my wife!" is prefect, especially when added to Chevalier's "my mistake" face as he saunters away. His devil-may-care attitude throughout the film just adds to the overall enjoyment of the viewing. Like I said earlier, Ruggles is the quick-wit fuck up and slides along in the role quite nicely.


The ladies are pretty decent, but I'm going to talk about a strange thing that I've noticed about some of these old films. Maybe it's just my modern sensibilities, but there is something about a lot of these supporting female roles (usually pre-code stuff) that are way more appealing to me than all of these haughty-bitchy good-girls who finally come to their senses when they realize they might miss out on love or some shitz. The man-crazy, personality disorder floozies that plays the "bad" half of the 30s woman dichotomy, is just, well, hotter. I mean, Jeanette MacDonald has the leading lady looks, but she is also flattered by all those soft light close-ups. But Myrna Loy, who plays the bad-girl cousin, is a smoke-show and all of her lines are about how she wants to get railed (in a polite, clever 1930s way, of course). Maurice man, make the right (wrong) choice!


As far as Mamoulian goes, he just seems like a really cool cat that decided if he wanted to have his films watched he was probably going to have to make musical comedies. The entire film is a smooth ride, and tremendously cinematic, lots of nice fade to interiors after sweeping shots of buildings (many miniatures), and all the editing top-notch, a rarity for a musical. It just oozes style. I'm still kind of shocked at my reaction to this, but yeah, it's really good. Oh yeah, great date movie.

I Was Born, But...

大人の見る絵本　生れてはみたけれど (I Was Born, But...), 1932
Dir: Yasujiro Ozu

Looking up the phrase "I was born, but..." in Japanese, it seems to be some one of their comical whimsies wrapped in existential melancholy, which makes it all the more poignant for this film. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if Ozu made the film after thinking about the phrase and its place in Japanese society. Or maybe it was just perfect for the film that he made, but then we're just getting into a whole chicken/egg thing.


I say "its place in Japanese society" because at its heart, this film is a satire of the culture of respect that has always dominated Japan. Being mostly about two boys who have moved to a new town, they have to deal with all the stuff that goes with that: new school, bullies and school work. They decide to play hooky after a while but are caught, and only start to make their way with the local kids after standing up to them finally with the help of an older boy (who sells liquor).


The boys' relationship with their father is really the crux of the film though. After getting to one of their new friend's families get-togethers, they find their father there but are soon extremely embarrassed by his behavior in front of the boss. Back at home they get sulky and even confront their father about it -- "You tell us to be somebody. But you are nobody!" A gigantic power-play and cultural taboo. They get spanked and scolded, but the direction that the film goes from there is what makes it absolutely brilliant. The father doesn't get a raise. He doesn't get a better job. Even at this early point in his career, Ozu's mantra of "Isn't life disappointing?" is already in place and this is something the kids have to accept.


Needless to say, the performances here are all pretty great. Tatsuo Saito, a figure in prewar Japanese cinema, plays the father of the film’s prepubescent protagonists. Tomio Aoki plays one of the boys, and it sounds a little weird, but there is definitely something bizarre and fascinating about his face. Even one of his schoolmates observes this – "he looks like a bug." I'm not quite sure why it was the first thing to come to mind, but it’s easy to think that Harmony Korine probably watched this movie a dozen times before making Gummo (1997) and picked Nick Sutton and Jacob Reynolds to be "two brothers" milling about a town based on their strange looks.


There’s plenty of other things worth mentioning, such as a nearly perfect example of Ozu’s later aesthetic with only a few brilliantly placed tracking shots here and there. In fact, these tracking shots seem to perfectly compliment the whole “kinetic” feeling that is the polar opposite of Tokyo Story (1955). Obviously, both approaches work for me, but it was still interesting to see that when Ozu was younger he at least attempted something slightly different than usual. There’s other things too, like the fact that the film is seriously one of the funniest things ever. It’s a comedy/satire, but in the exact opposite way that a silent film should be a comedy and I say that in the best possible way. There’s some Keaton-inspired gags too, but they are beautifully masked in Ozu’s universe. It all melts into an incredible masterpiece.

Night at the Crossroads

La Nuit du Carrefour (Night at the Crossroads), 1932
Dir: Jean Renoir

Say what you will about the sons of great fathers never really being able to match their sires (sorry Jacob Dylan), but Jean Renoir certainly busts that up big time. It's hard to tell if Jean was at all influenced by his father's, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, paintings, but there is sort of an impressionist messiness to all of his films. In Night at the Crossroads, that messiness along with the atmospheric French country-side and mysterious path that Renoir sends you down to get to the end make this a detective film worth seeking out.


I will give this film props simply for besting me. I usually pride myself in being able to figure things out in a film, but maybe that's because most people watching movies are idiots and most films aren't hard to pick. By the end of this though, you know you've been thinking about the wrong thing, 'cause "whodunnit?" ain't what it's about. A Parisian detective (Pierre Renoir, Jean's older brother) is sent to the suburbs to investigate the death of a jewel thief. Cars have ended up in different garages and the main suspect ends up being a Danish transplant (Georges Koudria) who lives with his very strange sister (Winna Winifried). Words can’t really do justice to Winna’s strangeness in this: her accent (a lot of people think it’s more English than Danish), the baby-talk delivery (abruptly dropped when her secret comes out), the languid lounging with the impossibly long and voluptuous body (and the great outfits). Her performance really does throw you off track, if maybe hinting at a few things.


I really don't want to talk too much about the narrative in case you ever watch it, so let's talk about production value. At first glance it may seem pretty amateurish, but that would not take into consideration what Renoir was trying to do with the look of his film, "I tried to give you the feeling of mud sticking to your feet, and of fog obscuring your sight." Mystery. Uncertainty. The wall between us and what we can't know. A garage worker walking through a field with a shotgun, fog billowing everywhere. Is he just hunting? Where was that gun-shot from (oh yeah, Renoir gets sound, especailly off-screen)? How close to the chest are all of these guys playing their cards? It can't be that simple? Can it (It isn't)?

City Lights

City Lights, 1931
Dir: Charlie Chaplin

If there's a Chaplin silent to show people, it's probably this. I don't think I can really add anything to the heaps of praise that have been thrown on this by innumerable acclaimed directors and critics except that this is the only Chaplin film that really moved me in anyway beyond his normal sentimentality. It is rightly called a masterpiece.


The part of this film that you could toss are all the repetitive physical gags, but people ate that stuff up (and I'm guessing they still do). The funniest bit is actually right at the very beginning where some politicians are giving speeches and Chaplin gives them the "wha-wah-wah" treatment. Seriously though, he is no Keaton when it comes to awesome, hilarious stunts. The Tramp as a character is a pantomime relic and kind of has to be taken with a grain of salt, but here I think Chaplin's emotional genius really overpowers the hokey comedy bits. While being trampish in a city, he meets a blind flower girl whom he immediately falls in love with but has no way of consummating the relationship. He then saves an eccentric millionaire from commiting suicide and "becomes" his best friend, but soon realizes that the friendship is only relevant when the millionaire is drunk. Some of the best stuff is when they are drunk together out on the town, not from a comedy standpoint but just a cinematic one. Using some of the millionaire's wasted patronage, The Tramp is able to ingratiate himself with the girl, which is just the sort of affection she has always wanted. But when the possibility of eye surgery comes up so she can "see," how will he keep up the ruse?


Scenes where The Tramp interacts with the girl, especially the last one, really show what everyone is talking about when they say he is the most "humane" director. There is a certain emotional weight that you just can't avoid. It gets to you, and at a certain point you realize that that is one of the main reasons why you keep watching film after film. To see those captured moments that say something to you personally, and then realize that it's saying something to everyone as well.

Inception

Inception, 2010
Dir: Christopher Nolan

Despite all of the overblown dialogue and comparisons surrounding this film, it is an absolute blast. But let's get this straight, "people who actually get paid to write about movies": it bears only the most superficial resemblance to something from a Philip K. Dick novel (who created layered realities so he could play with imaginatively bleeding the layers between them, not so characters in one layer could have gravity free fistfights because a van jumps off a bridge in another) or a Stanley Kubrick film (who was a consummate visual thinker when he was making anything worthwhile, whereas Nolan blares what few enticing images he has with trumpets; Kubrick also would never have an irrelevant psychology motivating his characters in his films and would never have characters give dopey speeches explaining said psychology just in case he’s afraid the audience is too dumb to get it). This thing owes more reverence to the Wachowski brothers than anything.

I will say though, in fairness, it’s really, really nice to see a Hollywood film that avoids sentimentality, if not melodrama (seriously, who gives a shit about the dead wife), and that knows how to organize its magic gun-pointing for some minimal intellectual interest, even if the magic gun-pointing is what it’s about. I'm not sure if it's the films fault for all the hoopla going on about what it is, but enough is enough. Gravity free fist fights are rad, and nothing else.

Lonesome

Lonesome, 1929
Dir: Paul Fejos

I'm not quite sure if this is a masterpiece, but I dug it so much that I'm just going to say that it is. Think of the make-up "day date" in Sunrise (1927) and you pretty much get the picture of what this is. Short and sweet, full of endearing moments that are able to sink in and breathe, with relatively few inter-titles.


The version that I saw has no talking scenes (a few were added during production just as "talkies" were becoming popular for the original relase) but I think this works because it's a silent. The only strange thing was that it was uploaded by an Argentinian guy who does not have a firm grasp of english, so the inter-titles were a little strange, but like I said, there are relatively few, and most of the time you don't even need them. He also added some modern ambient-electronic music as the soundtrack, which is weird. As it is though, it still blew me away.


The expressionism employed here feels wholly original, not based solely on a hard lighting scheme but more on what is actually being captured in the frame and the frequent images that are super-imposed and faded over one another. Its rejection of mindless, dull work in favor of finding love is nothing new in storytelling and yet Fejos made it work like nothing I've ever seen. Coney Island came alive and the roller coaster ride made me want to drive to Six Flags or something, or maybe someplace where they actually still have those crazy old wooden coasters. Still, it feels like a film that has to hit close to home to really be appreciated, but there are certainly enough lonely people out there that would get a smile because of this. This film alone must make Fejos the most forgotten director ever.

Arsenal

Арсенал (Arsenal), 1928
Dir: Alexander Dovzhenko

OK. So right away I knew that this was probably something that I wasn't going to like, but I toughed it out (it's only like 70 minutes).There's nothing really to shit on, it's just that extreme avant-montage pieces just aren't for me. This is what the Russians were all about in the 20s. That, and Bolshevism. Eisenstein, for all his talent and cinematic thought, made some pretty one-dimensional propaganda films. This at least has layers of depth, but the problem with that is that it leaves you wondering where the hell you are. There are a lot of things about this that fall into my "like" zone, especially its non-narrative flow, it's just that all the connectors must be in Russian or something. You have to have some level of interest in this subject too (glorifying labor, the common man, revolution). It's a complex film masquerading as a propaganda piece that most definitely is not for the uninitiated.

Paranormal Activity

Paranormal Activity, 2009(7)
Dir: Oren Peli

I will say this for Paranormal Activity: in dragging out the tension to almost unbearable lengths, it at least seems like it's trying to search for some mode of fear that most modern horror films are too impatient to reach for. The cliches that fall out of the script are pretty obvious, and the acting (or non-acting, which is hard to differentiate in this sometimes, because, as a "record" of said events, it should feel real, but most of the time it's all very wooden) is something, but those things are kind of expected in these low-budget films. What is interesting are the small ways that were chosen to illicit fear, shadows in particular. Nothing else really made me jump or make me want to keep watching. Demons and ghosts are not scary in themselves, especially if you watch a lot of horror films, but what you can't comprehend is. At least to me. So don't show it. It didn't get it totally right (the end), but for a film that cost $15,000 to make, it seems it had the right idea, which The Blair Witch Project (1997) did as well. Viral marketing can make anything a hit.

Spies

Spione (Spies), 1928
Dir: Fritz Lang

Easily my favorite film that I've seen by Lang, it also might be the first movie he made that began to move away from his "roots." That's not to say (do I use this expression a lot?) that this is void of the expressionist touches that are his claim to fame, but the tone of the film is actually pretty light, which makes some of the acting seem more appropriate. I was a little wary going into it, as it's almost 2 1/2 hours long (which is a chore no matter type of film it is), but you needn't worry that much. It only drags occasionally.


I guess you could watch this and groan at all the espionage and suspense cliches that pop-up, but I'm guessing that this actually invented a bunch of them. Of course, there is the diabolical, crippled criminal master-mind Haghi (Rudolph Klein-Rogge) who is hell-bent on world chaos. No reason is ever really given, and not even money is his goal, as he is the director of a bank (said bank being a "headquarters" for villains). The socio-political ramifications of the main villain being a banker are really poignant considering this was made in Germany in the 20s, but I don't really want to get too analytical. A handsome government agent, No. 326 (Willy Fritsch) is assigned to figure out the mess happening. Unbeknownst to the government, Haghi has his own agent Sonja (Gerda Maurus) sent in to cut him off with her feminine charms. Of course, she actually falls for him and things begin to get dicey for both agents.


The main thrust of the film is that Haghi wants to intercept a peace treaty being signed between Germany and Japan, which will of course create enmity between them. There are also Japanese agents running around in the film, of which particular importance is Dr. Masimoto (Lupu Pick), who gets the "oriental treatment" in the soundtrack every time he enters a room, which is hilarious. I think the most interesting scene in the whole film involves this Masimoto, who forgets his own rules about being duped by women, and has the treaty stolen from him. In his horror and shame, he has a vivid hallucination of the three underlings whom he sent out as decoys and were ultimately killed. They have dead eyes and hold out the fake documents in a sign of solidarity. The Japanese flag is even superimposed on the wall. A very elaborate sequence follows where the doctor commits seppuku, and while being over the top, is very interesting nonetheless. It's interesting because it's all a little more thought provoking than the typical surface level stuff.


The end of the film really turns on the velocity as no. 326 closes in on Haghi and things begin to get physical. Car chases, train crashes, bank raids. Lang always has a keen eye for compositions, but here he gets in real close with odd angles and multiple quick cuts, which only heightens the suspense. The very end is pretty clownish, but it it doesn't detract from a really fun experience. It's commercial cinema (for its time) plus pop art that doesn't take itself that seriously. I think that's all you can ask for.

The Docks of New York

The Docks of New York, 1928
Dir: Josef von Sternberg

I don't think that you can be a fan of cinema and not like this film. I'm not saying this is exactly what I'm looking for, but its compact nature and skillful composition, in all facets of the production, make this more than just interesting but also enjoyable. Sternberg was notorious for his meticulous preparation and his unique aesthetic, which he exemplified in one of his more famous quotes (which no doubt would not have gotten him any jobs in Hollywood nowadays), "I care nothing about the story, only how it is photographed and presented."


In a nutshell, that is the job of a director (unless he wrote the screenplay as well), but Sternberg was much more influenced by his European counterparts, in a similar but not wholly comparable way to Ford. The Docks of New York is all about the expressionist and moody touches that Sternberg places on the 1 day furlough of sailor, well, a shoveler on a boat really (George Bancroft) who saves the life of a woman (Betty Compson) who attempts to commit suicide on the depressed waterfront of New York City. A great premise, if I do say so myself. After some drinking and talking in a seedy bar, they decide to get married, despite the fact that Bill, the sailor, has found out that Mae, depressed woman, is a prostitute. The next morning, Bill seems to have dismissed the marriage as something silly, as he will be heading out on the next boat. Can love survive?


What really makes this film great are the said expressionist touches and moody lighting, all done by Sternberg, who was also a certified union cinematographer. He is known as being the king of soft-light, particularity in some of his more famous non-silents, and here you can see what is meant by that with the flattering close-ups of females, which he was sort of an innovator of. The mis-en-scene and camera work is reminiscent of people like Max Ophuls and Kenji Mizoguchi, who were clearly influenced by works like this. So why isn't this a masterpiece? Well, for some people, I'm sure it is, and I wouldn't begrudge them their decision. But it is almost too simple stroy wise, and there is just not a whole lot that I'm left feeling at the end. I know that I've raged against the "narrative-focused" films, which this is obviously not, but it's not about that. There is something, some underlying emotion or purpose, that just seems to be missing. If you ever get the chance to see this though, it will probably be worth it, because sometimes the simplest stories can be the best, especially in the hands of someone who thinks outside the box.