Why Does Herr R. Run Amok?

Warum läuft Herr R. Amok? (Why Does Herr R. Run Amok?), 1970

Dir: Michael Fengler and Rainer Werner Fassbinder

This was supposed to be the first Fassbinder I had ever seen, but after looking at some articles I guess he is only responsible for the idea and producing, kind of like Truffaut's input for À bout de souffle (1960). Fengler was his assistant most of the time (but here seems to have been at the helm of direction), and the co-director credit was used to boost the film's viability around Germany, where Fassbinder was a budding star of Neuer Deutscher Film (New German Cinema). I have no idea if this is exactly what Fassbinder is like, but let's just say I'm glad I can give him another chance. Herr R. falls in between Antonioni and Pasolini's atrocious Teorema in terms of annoying films about European bourgeois living. It's just so dull. Don't you all know you're wasting your lives?!? Doesn't it make you just want to do something crazy!?! I'm glad Herr finally "ran amok" (something was bound to happen given the title...), because I was about to lose it if another awkward conversation about the "mood at work" took place. Coupled with the pseudo-documentary style, even the 88 minute time was pushing it. I think that my feelings sort of make the film a success in a strange way, that being pissed about how these people live their lives is the whole point, but I guess I want something more than a a dull string of "natural domestic scenes" followed by a crazy, twist ending. I mean, shit, M. Night Shyamalan can do that and be "provocative." So, here's to second chances Rainer, whenever that may come.

Young Mr. Lincoln

Young Mr. Lincoln, 1939
Dir: John Ford

In a banner year for Hollywood (in which Ford also directed Stagecoach), it would be a tough decision to pick out any film and say it was the best. Now, I can't claim to have seen all of the films that are championed as "masterpieces" from 1939, but having seen this and Howard Hawks' Only Angels Have Wings, I can certainly say that it was one of the best years ever in all of cinema. Ford combined a highly fictionalized account of young lawyer Abraham Lincoln around a courtroom dramedy (that is always a terrible sounding portmanteau, but apt here because there are some serious gut-busters during the trial). Henry Fonda is again a perfect Ford lead (this was their first collaboration), prone to long pauses and seeming introspection in a type of film that usually would shun such cerebral behavior.


The "Honest Abe" myth is in full swing, and that hokey-ness might be too much for some people, but it really worked for me. It's hard to explain, but I think that because the film felt dated actually made it seem all the more brilliant. Ford really gets into Abe, and despite the fact that he always wins at whatever he does (like a log-splitting contest), there are some truly incredible moments, like Abe being unable to pick which pie is best as a judge in the "Best Pie" contest because they are both "too good", or his book reading postures in general, in which he tangles himself up, sometimes to the point where he reading upside down.


I think if you really want to think about Ford's as a visual artist, one just has to notice where he places his characters: they are just in very beautiful (albeit sometimes artificial) locations. Abe's early love interest in Anne Rutlege is beautifully shot as they walk along a river. Abe has to deal with many rivals (including Stephen Douglas) once he meets Mary Todd in Springfield, but even then Fonda plays Abe as a man with a penchant for being reluctant. It's clear that his take on Lincoln is that he was a weird guy with a moral streak, and these odd touches make it all the better. The best of these "weird poetry" scenes is when Mary asks Abe to talk outside after a dance, and then Abe proceeds to stand on the balcony, leaning against the railing as Mary sits down. Then he just stares into the darkness for almost a minute as Mary watches him before the scene fades out. Being that you read my reviews, you know that I tend to get hyperbolic when I have strong feelings either way on a film, but God damn: John Ford was a genius.


There are many great things in this, but the one thing that really pushed me over the edge was the way Fonda played Lincoln in court, which contrasted well with the prosecution, who were presented as dandy law-men. Not only does his "every-man" logic and wit win over the jury, judge and crowd, but his eccentric movements and postures (slouching really) are just plain out there, to at one point where he just sits down on the floor. His slouch comes into play during one of the prosecution lawyer's bombastic ravings, where Lincoln is staring off into space in the same position as the Lincoln Memorial (maybe a bit more slouched), but I think I seriously went "Oh, wow" to the empty room. It's so obvious, but right then I thought it was the most brilliant thing ever.


While most of the plot is downright mythological, it proceeds in a very natural way under Ford’s elegant direction. Perhaps one of his single greatest strengths is his ability to avoid the cinematic principles that trapped so many Hollywood productions from this time period. There is some slightly too expressive musical pieces, but for the most part they seem present to underscore the very poetic intentions as opposed to manipulating one’s feelings. The initial poetic poignancy displayed in the opening sequences is ditched once the courtroom scenario starts, and while this shift in tone is somewhat disappointing, it doesn’t really ruin the film at all (as stated above). The end is definitely over-the-top, where after Abe wraps up his trial and sees the family safely off, he walks off into a storm (which would have been beyond genius), but then it fades into a painting of the Lincoln Memorial with the pomp of the Battle Hymn of the Republic blaring. In the context of the film, it still kind of works, but it seems like the sort of thing that Ford might not have had full control over. Either way, this is a bona fied masterpiece, with all of the great things about Ford in full effect.

The Taking of Power by Louis XIV

La prise de pouvoir par Louis XIV (The Taking of Power by Louis XIV), 1966
Dir: Roberto Rossellini

In 1962, Rossellini declared that "cinema was dead", and decided to move into television, which he considered, if used correctly, to be a great educator and a tool against "ignorance and barbarism" (I wonder what he'd think of today's tube...). That is basically what this is. It took me quite a long time to adjust to one of the most extreme forms of deliberately slow pacing I’ve ever seen in any film. This is slow in a way completely different from “minimalism”. As uninteresting as it sounds, and this is indeed an “educational” film (like a documentary you'd watch in a classroom), I can’t help but find it interesting just because Rossellini is trying to accomplish something that I haven’t seen attempted before. In essence, the film is about the power vacum that occurs once Cardinal Mazarin dies in 1661, and as Louis decides to govern as well as rule, his machinations to make sure that it happens. Rossellini's neo-realism has completely done a 180 from his post-WWII days, as all melodrama has been eschewed for non-actors who were only given their lines about 15 minutes before shooting commenced (Watch the "actor" playing Louis read his lines off a blackboard here). However, Rossellini's camera is still intent on capturing small details, and I think that alone makes this worth watching. I mean, watching Louis eat his dinner while he makes all of his nobles watch is boring, but this is how Louis did things, and kept the aristocrats in check. Louis was a genius at making the trite seem important, and so is Rossellini.

Gertrud

Gertrud, 1964
Dir: Carl Theodor Dreyer

So I've now seen all of the features that Dreyer did after he made The Passion of Jean of Arc (1928), and this probably affected me the most besides that one. Vampyr (1932) is sort of in it's own little world, a moody, atmospheric slice of horror that you couldn't really really group with other Dreyer except maybe in a visual way. Day of Wrath (1943) and Ordet (1955) are both chiefly invested in Dreyer's humanistic interests, but are too hung up in their religious trappings (witch hunts in the former, conflict of faith and "miracles" in the latter) to really get all the way through to me. Dreyer let's all that stuff fall away and deals with the most complex of human emotions: love. While the film doesn't fall victim to easy pleasures of sentimentality, it can wear on you in its earnestness. There are certainly worse things that a film can be though.


The love life of Gertrud (Nina Pens Rode) is basically all we have to deal with in the film, but that can be asking a lot at points. She is married to a politician, Gustav Kanning (Bendt Rothe) but is no longer in love with him (and she even hints that she may never have been in love with him). She has instead fallen for the charms of famous young musician Erland Jansson (Baard Owe), who feigns love but is actually, in terms of relationships, just a typical young man. The wild card is Gabriel (Ebbe Rode), a past love of Gertrud's who's comes back to Denmark to receive an award for his poetry, but it is most definitely more about seeing Gertrud again (and getting her to see the pain of his lonely life).


There is no real big deviation in Dreyer's style from previous films, and in keeping with it, he basically does nothing to hide the fact that the film is based on a play. In the case of this film, that's not necessarily a bad thing unless you have no attention span. The monumentally epic takes, a trademark in his sound films, adds to austere atmosphere. You would think that this would be a detriment to a film about love, but you may have already guessed that no one is going to go away happy. And of course, the lighting, as always, is amazing.



The films overall thesis is moving, and many of its most poignant moments are discomforting in their elongation. Watching a wretchedly depressed man break down in rejection is practically unbearable, and that the rejection itself is far from malicious makes it that much more difficult. It's a bit over the top, but if anyone can get away with it, it's Dreyer. But in the end, at least for me, things need to be pushed at a more that glacial pace and I got tired of the endless chat that the lovers subjected themselves to. It's a nice character-driven film, and as a swan-song, it might even be Dreyer's most "Dreyer-like" film, if that even makes any sense, but not enough for the personal canon. Certainly not for casual viewers, that's for sure, but remarkable in its own way.

Last Year in Marienbad

L'année dernière à Marienbad (Last Year in Marienbad), 1961
Dir: Alain Resnais

After watching this all the way through while trying take it seriously, I must admit that I failed miserably. It's not that this film made me angry (though it pushed my limits a lot), it's just that nothing in this film captivated me in any way. For a movie that is only about two people being in love, you can't really care can you? The only interaction between them is just "remembering" and frankly it's either way over my head or its main points are driving at things I could care less about.


So there's this guy (Giorgio Albertazzi), and he's 100% positive that he met and fell in love with a woman (Delphine Seyrig) at some chateau the year before (possibly not the one they meet at again in the film, or is that a memory as well?). The woman is 100% sure that the dude is a creep and a stalker who has never met her, until she isn't (or is that even her?) Her (possible) husband (Sacha Pitoëff) is semi-interested in her well-being, but mostly likes to house people in Nim (which is probably some grand gesture about memory and dreams).


In Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959) we actually get interaction and, at the very least, we begin to understand the characters and their motivations. Here, we don't and because of this there is absolutely no room to care. If you want to say that anything is truly frustrating about this, it's that Resnais nails the mood and look of a film that should be interesting, but breaks it apart so that it isn't. Maybe I just get really turned off by metafiction (which granted works a lot better in film than literature, but still...). I wouldn't be surprised if some interpretations led to some grand realization about life. It is a puzzle I guess, and Resnais deliberately only gives us some of the pieces. The film has all of the answers or it has none of them (look at the photo below: the people have shadows but the trees don't), but either way, it's just not a film for me.

A Brighter Summer Day

牯嶺街少年殺人事件 (A Brighter Summer Day), 1991
Dir: Edward Yang

You can watch film after film after film, and even at points become fed up with how mundane everything you watch is, but then you watch something that makes you want create something just as great and poignant, that hints at something deeper than just the story you are presenting. A Brighter Summer Day is one of those films. A film about community, family and a failure to connect on many levels, it resonates clearly in every aspect of its production. That the film has fallen into obscurity is ridiculous, and makes the experience of watching the film all the more powerful.


At its core, the film is about Xao S'ir, a teenage kid who is trying to get along in Taipei, Taiwan in 1960. But in building the sense of community that dominates the film, the overall feeling of uncertainty that permeates with every character belies the sense of unease that was Taiwan after the departure of the Kuomintang and the Republic of China to the island, especially under the iron fist of Chang Kai-shek. Parents try to teach their kids values for posterity when they themselves have no idea what the future holds, and the same kids fall in to street gangs to try to build a sense of security for themselves. That's what the first half of this film is about: the world that Xao S'ir is growing up in. Xao S'ir seems to be a fringe member of the Little Park Boys, and only at times feels like he is interested in being part of the mayhem. They are always bumping heads with other gangs over turf and girls, and the leadership is being tested because their leader, Honey, is on the lam after killing another street tough. Two lieutenants, Deuce and Sly, begin to jockey for the top. To make things worse for Xao S'ir, he gets on Sly's bad side (over a girl), who then begins a run of passive aggressive bullying. Honey's fate is crucial to that of Xao S'ir's, who becomes friendly with his girlfriend Ming, and their relationship starts to weigh on him. Xao S'ir's inability to communicate his dilemma begins to show in his overall attitude, and he eventually gets expelled from school, and decides to take actions into his own hands.


Tawain in 1960 is like bizarro China meets the USA. All the kids are into rock'n'roll and gangs, and the parents are worried about the culture change, but everything is totally exaggerated because although they love American culture, no one really gets its and barely any of the kids speak English. There is a romantic, melancholy tone that Yang build up through the film attached to all of this, and it is one of its biggest strengths. Given that the director's cut is almost 4 hours long, you definitely need those things, but once you are in to the film, you really forget about everything else, which is the greatest compliment I can give it.


Yang is sort of like a modern day Ozu, who clearly influenced his style. Lots of long, master shots that don't cut in close; lingering portraits also in long shot that make you study a character fully; deliberate tracking shots, and no camera shake. The gang chases and beatings are some of the most frightening things I've ever seen because he doesn't cut away and because of the lighting, which is as elaborate as it is simple (kind of like Yang's overall style). He also uses ellipsis to great effect. His still, long takes allow for masterful mis-en-scene, which is impossible to miss. In the end though, it's a film that's about everything because it has everything. While telling its story, it lingers in the details, and sometimes that's where you find answers. The answers of this film aren't necessarily obvious, if there are any. Maybe it's just the truth you get from listening to a song, and really feeling it.

The Fighter

The Fighter, 2010
Dir: David O. Russell

I know there is a certain amount of predictability to the fight genre that makes it so appealing to so many. Maybe I'm being unreasonable to want something different, but I think David O. Russell presented this as something different but still made a regular Hollywood movie. Or was it a David O. Russell film that he "eased" up a bit on, that he compromised with Whalberg to make a commercially viable film? Personally I really didn't care for Russell run amok in I (Heart) Huckabees (2004), and thought this felt more like Three Kings (1999), which is a good thing. I'm guessing it might have had something to do with him having nothing to do with the script.

I might not be giving Russell enough credit though because I thought there was some really funny incidental comedy bits in this, those moments that weren't deliberately meant to be funny. There were plenty of those in this film that got the crowd guffawing but that was typical stuff. I mean, I don't even think I can remember what they are. That's how seemingly unimportant the moments were. It may have to do with the idiosyncratic Method (particularly Christian Bale) acting taking place throughout, but it also says something that Russell was able to capture them.

The dedication to 90s visual graphics and the strange video grain notorious to that time actually made me think about Tim and Eric in a strange way. All of this was involved with the HBO broadcasts of the fight and the "Crack House" documentary, which certainly gave the film a different vibe from other "Bahston" films that have come out in recent times. The boxing wasn't too gratuitous, and there weren't any lame motivational speeches either. Whalberg had his "It's my life/It's now or never" Bon Jovi moment, but it could have been way worse. The Micky Ward story has the Arturo Gotti trilogy (where Ward lost the last two fights), but it wasn't told here. I think that could have given the ending a bittersweet taste, but who cares about that, right? Cue WE ARE THE MUTHAFUNKIN CHAMPIONS.

True Grit

True Grit, 2010
Dir: Coen Bros.

I think the Coen Brothers natural proclivity for quirky characters and dialogue really hurts them in a Western because it basically reveals the whole thing to be paper thin at best. All the characters do their thing and that's it. Considering how they bucked the trend in A Serious Man (2009), I had some higher hopes for this. The set-up is pretty Western standard, which is fine, and there are some fun scenes, but only one character reveals himself to be more than meets the eye (possibly?). As I've said about Westerns before, plot and story are pretty irrelevant, and good, complex characters are everything.

There is some debate over whether this is grim or actually pretty light, and honestly, I don't even think the Coens know. Maybe that's the whole point. How funny everything is can get lost in the language, but I think I laughed a few times. In terms of "villains", was Josh Brolin supposed to be laughed at 'cause he actually turned out to be pretty stupid? For a character supposedly known for his deviousness, he turned out to be something a lot less than that. In a different situation it might have been a good thing, but here it's decidedly underwhelming. Everyone else in Barry Pepper's gang has no chance to stand out, and the one guy that did made fucking animal noises.

The three main characters we have to follow offer some good acting, if not a whole lot of character depth (Bridges' ramblings about his ex-wives seems to be the epitome of irrelevant. Is that why you drink, or what? Does it reveal anymore than kicking Indians? Or is that just a funny "that's just how things were" moment). I was actually kind of impressed by Hailee Stanfield as Mattie Ross, but it's hard for a kid to externalize all the emotion a great character has. She only reveals herself to be a kid a few times ("Do we really need him, Marshall?") but it's never really enough to make her something more than just her dialogue suggests. On the other hand, I thought Matt Damon's La Boeuf was great probably because I didn't know what the hell his deal was. He's quick to to defend the honor of himself and the Texas Rangers but it belied a sensitive, uncertain side, and he might have been a closet pedo. I mean, the "sneaking a kiss" line at the beginning could have been a throw away, but then the unnecessary, over-the-top spanking and then some of the looks he gives Mattie sort of sealed it for me. Of course, it's all very ambiguous, but that's why I thought he was a good character.

Roger Deakins is a pretty good cinematographer but I don't know why everyone is flipping out over this. I thought the only really nice canvasy, Western shots were done in traveling montage rendering them pretty pointless. And the whole whole scary snakes ending. What was that? And the epilogue made it out like the whole movie was about how time passes us by, which is not the impression I got at all.

There are better Westerns. Just check earlier in this blog.

Tron: Legacy

Tron: Legacy

Dir: Joseph Kosinski

Woah. Watching this on the gigundo IMAX screen in 3D was a trip, and one hell of an experience. And if it were all about insane, state-of-the-art visuals and electronica scores by Daft Punk, it would be perfect. But as a movie, it's pretty unoriginal in it's execution, and down right predictable. It's The Matrix (1999) by Disney, so a lite version. In fact, the similarities are staggering, not even to mention the same puedo-religious bullshit that's pretty much both their philosophies ("The One"= "The Son of the Maker" in the same messianic vein). This badassery accounts for a lot of dues-ex-machina "wtf" moments, particularly the fact that Sam just comes into "The Grid" and can kick ass, sans training montages, which at least Neo had to do. Even better, during the climax, there is an ultimate "need-to-wrap-this-up" moment, involving none other than TRON ("I fight for the Users!" Oh right. Glad that happened in half a second...), which could take the cake for many an illogical plot device in all the best/worst movies you've ever seen. Also, if you are interested in characters and/or character development, this has very little of it, except that maybe Jeff Bridges' Kevin Flynn is not only a tech genius but also a hippy-zen master, which was funny for maybe a line or so ("You're really killing my zen thing, man!"). But I'm guessing the target audience of this really doesn't give a shit about any of that. So in conclusion, as an experience this is first rate; as a movie, not so much. But you may have guessed as much just from the trailer.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 2010
Dir: Michael Apted

You really have to have some strong children actors to pull off a movie that revolves around them, and unfortunately, that actors that play Edmund and Lucy are lacking (s0 no real progression from Caspian), even if they try hard enough. The big surprise for me had to be Will Poulter, who plays Eustace as a great British brat, and the writers even give him some witty one-liners which could zing straight out of the BBC. Definitely the bright spot of the film. Dawn Treader's main failing as a story has to be its silly religious undertones (like all Narnia books) and the references in this movie were the most heavy handed in franchise yet. So, I guess I can look forward to The Silver Chair in two years time and give you another half-hearted review, and that will be followed up by The Horse and his Boy, which is probably the best book in the series for its lack of religious nonsense (or so I remember). I like The Magician's Nephew too, obviously not because it's a Genesis metaphor, but because it's the most supremely weird book in the series. The Last Battle kind of blows (though Susan not getting into Heaven always made me laugh). So there's my thought on the film and possible future releases. Personally, I think the BBC with their dwarfs in mouse suits did a better job at capturing the spirit of the book, but that's probably besides the point.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1
Dir: David Yates

A lot of noise about how this is "the best one yet," but it's really pretty similar to HP6. Which is absolutely fine. I had a good time. There are some interesting added moments I suppose, but the comedy bits are hit or miss, and these really could have been used more. Considering that they broke up the book, I was expecting a bit more of these interesting "movie-only" scenes. The acting hierarchy is pretty much the same as well. Of course, there's also the whole "Three Brothers" sequence, which I'm glad they added, but I'm not sure if that particular style of animation was the right choice. Oh well, enough nitpicking for now. If you've already seen the trailer, you've got a pretty good idea of what you're getting into.

Black Girl

La noire de...(Black Girl), 1966
Dir: Ousmane Sembene

I saw this like two weeks ago, and as you've might have guessed, the holiday and laziness have sort pushed off writing reviews of anything. But I was also put off by some Harvard dill-holes stroking each others dicks as I was leaving the theater. Seriously: shut-up. Just 'cause you're talking loud enough for everyone to hear your pompous opinion doesn't make it valid. It makes you a fucking loudmouth, and probably one of the very people that this film is trying to make the viewer aware of. Anyway, it has given me time to think about about this, as it is the only film of recent viewing which is actually worth thinking about. In hindsight, it may seem like an obvious statement for a black African director to make a film about race relations, but the racism that is explored is specifically about obviousness, and the lack of awareness that some people have with it in this (relatively) modern age.


The French New Wave comparisons are probably a little over blown, but you can tell where people are coming from (language being the most glaring one). The structure of the film is broken up into three parts (present-past-present) and in doing so tries to elaborate on the difficulty that Diouana (Mbissine Thérèse Diop) has once she leaves Sengal with the French family that she works for the south of France. She has an idea about what her job is (which is to be a nanny for the children), but once back in France, the family (particularly "Madame") sees fit to stick her with a bunch of other remedial task, and makes a show of using her in front of guests. She becomes bitter and apathetic very quickly in her voice-over monologues (another New Wave device that might have been handled a little better).


When it shifts back to Dakar, before the the move, it centers on Diouana's search for work and a relationship that will be cut short when she decides to leave with her newly found employers. The scene in the bedroom with the frustrated guy is very Breathless (1959), just to throw out another comparison (though I'm sure I'm not the first to do so). It really is the most interesting part of the film, very restless and almost optimistic, as compared to the bracketed sequences in the Riviera, which are apathetic and, to a point, angry. That is the whole point of the film as I see it though. This family thinks that they are helping Diouana, giving her a chance. But in France they cage her, and "put her in her place," seemingly without even realizing it. It is a racism that is barely talked about but is probably the kind that is still most prevalent today: the ennui, the complete intellectual stalemate of being a society boring enough to be racist.


The ending is the most demonstrative thing that I could have expected, and the film loses any of the nice subtlety that it had. Diouana's apathy and anger turn into depression pretty quickly and then everything snowballs in her mind. Luckily, the very end has a redeeming scene where the "Monsieur" is forced to walk through the slums of Dakar looking for Diouana's family, and is followed, to his unease, by a little boy with a native wooden mask on. It hits the spot pretty good. The overall tragedy of Diouana is really about the African, where colonialism put him and how, even in "setting" them free, they are still seen as lesser souls in the eyes of modernity.

Shadows

Shadows, 1959
Dir: John Cassavetes

This is really good except for the production value. I mean, some thesis films are made better than this. But, I guess that is sort of the DIY tone Cassavetes was going for, and considering this is the birth of American independent cinema, you have it give it that. That most of the film works is because of the "restless 50s" New York atmosphere. I guess you could call it "Beat" or whatever, but at least there's no poetry readings. One of the characters even scoffs at the Beat scene, and even Jazz, though he pretty much is a Beat, not to mention a proto-hipster, and the entire soundtrack is a jazz sax solo.


The film follows three siblings. Hugh (Hugh Hurd), the oldest, is having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that his singing career might be dying, and he is embarrassed to be a show host, such as introducing "girly lines." Ben (Ben Carruthers) is the misfit, wanders around the city with his buddies hitting on girls and what-not, basically being directionless. Lelia (Lelia Goldoni), the youngest, is only 20 and is keen to be seen as seen sharp and educated, but also passionate and spontaneous. Hugh is full black, while his two younger siblings are mulatto, with Lelia being especially light-skinned, and can pretty much get away with "passing."


The film never really harps on about the race thing, though of course the main dilemma involves Lelia's ability to naively pass and then be found out, and then the two brothers reactions (or lack there of) to help her cope. Cassavetes isn't just interested in one thing though; we see this in three different parties in the film: a crazy "beat" party where Ben is looking bored, a "literary" party where Lelia "comes of age," and then the party at their apartment where there are mostly black people talkin' about black people problems, Hugh at the forefront. The way it bounces around and never really settles on anyone makes it way ahead of its time, and good.


If the acting has a problem, its that the improvisational style (which Cassavetes insisted on) seems a bit stunted at times; like all these kids and amateur actors know darn well that they are being filmed and that they had better throw some slang and jargon in. This experimental acting style is supposed to flow with the structure of the the film (like jazz I guess). Ben, of course, is the most interesting character to me. At the end he hasn't progressed one bit, though after having some drinks and getting into a fight with his buddies, he vows never to do it again. One of them (the buddies) sort sums up one Ben's arc (or "straight line" maybe) as they nurse their wounds, "We went out on the town and had a ball. If you get beat up, you get beat up. We still had a ball." That's sort of what the film is: mostly a mess but still effective. Defintely a sign of things to come for Cassavetes.

Kuroneko

藪の中の黒猫 (Kuroneko), 1968
Dir: Kaneto Shindo

I'll describe the strange way (actually not so strange, but whatever) in which I came to see this, because if I knew exactly what it was before going to see it, I might not have gone (that being said, I'm still kind of glad I did). Again, there wasn't much going on at the theaters (normal or artsy-fartsy) that I was really interested in going to see (or at least that I thought I wanted to see. I can psyche myself out of going to see anything). However, the last listing for Kendall was this, and I noticed it was from 1968, so obviously I was like, "Japanese classic. That's worth it." What I didn't know when I sat down in the theater is that it was directed by Shindo, who also directed Onibaba (1964), and that it is basically the same type of film, except this time instead of hanging out in reed beds, Shindo heads to a bamboo forest.

Not only does he change location, but he moves on from a woman just pretending to be a demon to actual fucking demons. This is the big leagues. And not just any demons, but evil cat demons who have sworn an oath to the God of Evil to drink the blood of all samurai in revenge for what happened to them (Revenge fantasy?!? Calling Tarantino...). Don’t get me wrong, ghost cats seem like they could be interesting (I guess?) but the mythology and folklore elements are all sort of lost on me due to the silly (if not simplistic) morality complex and just the fact that Shindo just seems to tell the same story over and over again. It would be reductive to call this a rehash of Onibaba but the similarities are staggering.

I’ll give Shindo some credit because he really does manage to make all his movies look really good. It’s kind of fitting then, I guess, that this film is at its best when Shindo decides to focus less on exposition or any dialogue for that matter, and tries to make the film one extended montage. For at least 15 minutes or so, he manages to collide a series of images which repeat the routine of the daughter-in-law, played by Kiwako Taichi. We see her confront samurais, lead them through a forest, and then seduce them once they arrive at the demons secluded place before ripping out their throats in demon mode. It’s a bit repetitive and probably exhausting for the viewer looking for some “J-horror” but represents Shindo at his sharpest. He manages to repeat this exercise but still produce new images. Sure, from a pure narrative standpoint, it’s easy to “get,” but it is one of the few times he is not chiefly concerned with progressing the story. It’s the film’s most self-consciously artistic sequence, and also one of its best.

I’m not saying that the content here is completely boring, in fact, towards the end it actually becomes a little poignant. The encounters the hero has with the ghost version of his wife is heartbreaking despite the fact that it shouldn’t be. It’s weird, I get the impression that Shindo wanted to tell a story about losing loved ones and, based on sequences like the one I mentioned, he would have nailed it. Unfortunately, there’s an excess of the folklore stuff, which really just reinforces the silliest and most negative stereotypes of the genre. The whole bit at the end with the giant cat arm is redonkulous (though I'm sure those looking for standard, exaggerated horror stuff might like it. They might also be into the aerial ghoul dances and the smaurai/ghost duels). It’s really a shame too since it comes off the heels of by far the most emotionally resonant stretch in the entire movie. Oh well, some good stuff here. I think cinema fans and just plain old horror fans could both enjoy this.

Hiroshima Mon Amour

Hiroshima Mon Amour, 1959
Dir: Alain Resnais

There are some big ups and big downs in this film. The fact that it was initially supposed to be a documentary about Hiroshima is pretty apparent. The beginning is kind of unbearable; my mind couldn't latch on to anything, even with all the images of mutilated Hiroshima residents. Then the "story" starts, of a French actress (Emmanuelle Riva) in town who has a one night stand with a Japanese man (Eiji Okada), and then they talk a whole bunch. She says "no" a lot, and he says "I want you to stay in Hiroshima." Oh yeah, like more than 3 times.


I will admit that this film has plenty of power, with beautiful and incredibly profound scenes but it's overshadowed by the fact that the whole thing is one big monologue. Both characters feel such compassion and their feelings are so complex and confusing, and yet they know exactly how to explain it. It's like they're both poets but the novelty wears thin after the first few minutes. I actually think this reminds me a lot of something Wong Kar-Wai would do. With the exception of the tedious and overlong dialogue, it's very much done in a similar tone of pacing. I really enjoyed the visuals though. Some of it is rather stagey, but it actually works. And the slow tracking shots in and out of subjects with the voice-over actually kind of reminded me of Terrence Malick (so maybe he was a Resnais fan).


The performances, in my opinion, really aren't that fantastic. There's a lot of over-acting, and Riva's flashback freak-outs are really annoying. All that being said, this is probably something that I will want to go back to eventually, 'cause like I said there are some great moments in it and it seems like a film that I might change my mind about at some point.

Inside Job

Inside Job, 2010
Dir: Charles Ferguson

The best part about this doc is definitely the interviews with financial industry advocates, whether they start to stumble over their own hypocrisies, or they just get arrogantly indignant. It has a hard time staying objective ("You can't be serious..."), but I suppose it's kind of hard to with this subject. It goes after the entire financial industry culture of amorlism, prostitutes and drugs (stuff everyone already knows about), to the moralistic posers in Washington that support them using garbled language, and then even college business professors who teach reckless economics (which is really interesting). Learning exactly how the financial industry ballooned over the last 30 years was pretty enlightening too. They have nothing to sell you but the hope that you might profit from their "expertise," but they only deepen their own pockets at your expense.

A Film Unfnished

A Film Unfinished, 2010
Dir: Yael Hersonski

I've been going to documentaries lately 'cause I'm kind of avoiding going to see some of the fiction films coming out (so maybe I should see The Social Network (2010) asap; true story I hear). They just all look kind of awful. I only read a blurb about this film (not a review) and decided it seemed kind of interesting. And in the end, it is kind of interesting, but pretty annoying as well. The footage being looked at in the doc of the unfinished film, "Das Ghetto," was a film made by the SS in 1942 to portray life in the Jewish ghetto of Warsaw. A lot of the film has to do with the differences of rich Jews (those who cooperate) and poor, starving Jews (those who don't obviously). And for many years these film were taken as fact, for some strange reason. Anyone one who knew anything about the Nazi propaganda machine knows that they were obsessed with cinema (Geobbels doing) and the way they could use it (the flight of Fritz Lang and many other frightened Weimar directors; or even the accumulation of star writer Thea von Harbou and star actor Emil Jennings to use for their own ends). That the Nazi's could use propaganda scenes for their own insidious version of the future doesn't seem that enlightening, or "eye-opening." I suppose the reasons that I found the film most frustrating is how the film was constructed. Hersonski has her own voice-over going a lot of the time, and I'm just not into it. Also, they have voice actors come in and read diaries and what not of people in the the ghetto or involved with it (like SS officers) over the footage. And lastly, they show people who survived the ghetto watching the clips and giving their own quips about what happened. This sentimental slant kind of ruins the power of the images that are being seen. I know what they are, and I know they are awful. Let the images speak for themselves. So in the end, I kind of just wish I could be given the footage of the unfinished film and watch that, because a lot of it is pretty powerful stuff.

Last Train Home

归途列车 (Last Train Home), 2009
Dir: Lixin Fan

It is pretty remarkable how themes can reassert themselves in a particular people, especially negative ones that are known, have been talked about openly, and then still nothing is done to change it. The cinema of a region seems to be no different. There are so many people in Asia that individuality can be a complex thing, particularity in a place like China. Last Train Home, at first, doesn't seem to be about this struggle. It seems to be more a documentary only concerned with the grand sweep of the huge movement of people that takes place every Chinese New Year, when the nation's 130 million migrant workers go home for the only time that year. The first shot (if I remember correctly) is just of this giant moving mass of people in a train station, fighting, pushing, trying to get on to trains that really don't have enough room for all of them. Fan must have thought however that a more personal level was needed to connect with all audiences, and the introduction of one migrant working couple, on their way home to their rural home to celebrate, comes pretty early. Not everything is so cozy at home though because their two kids, especially the older daughter, has more of a bond with the grandmother who is with them all year long than the parents who only come home once a year. The parents at first seemed pretty boring, if not also tragically stuck in their economic plight. They only have one thing to say to their kids which is "Study hard. Stay in school." Although this is basically the only thing they say, it is overbearing for the daughter who feels trapped in school and is dying to go off to work like the rest of her friends, which is her parents' worst fear. So, of course, she does it. The family dynamic is blown apart at a second gathering, as the daughter, trying to assert her independence, claims that the parents never really cared for them and even says "fuck," after which the usually placid father erupts, smacking her in the face and throwing her to the ground screaming "We've tolerated you!" It gets pretty intense. After this the daughter moves to a bigger city and get a job waiting at night club, and the last we see of her is dancing away on her night off, getting lost in the strobe lights. The parents continue to work until the mother finally decides that she has to go home; the grandmother won't live forever and they can't let what happened to their daughter happen to their son. And that is kind of how the film ends, with the mother on her way back home, separated for the first time in her life from her husband. Like I said before, this is the film within the film, which shows "the largest human migration on earth." Fan capture's everything beautifully, and the results are sad, haunting, and yet pretty inevitable if you have watched even a small amount of Asian cinema. Life is still disappointing for many people in East Asia.

The Town

The Town, 2010
Dir: Ben Affleck

So it was beyond me to completely ignore this Beantown flick once the "great" reviews started coming out, and I couldn't just call my brother on the phone and yell, "I'm puttin' this whole town in my rear-view!" So you watch the film, and it's completely understandable why people are so impressed (though the great camerawork raves seem a bit bloated; it does get caught in that floaty, shaky, I-can't-see-what-the-fuck-is-happening nonsense that modern action films like to equate with a visceral experience). Affleck is putting a stamp on Hollywood with his own films that will let him continue to work as a director. The closest thing that I could think of while watching it was Michael Mann. Like Mann, Affleck likes to reveal character through action, but he also can't help but throw in some "actor's moments," and I wasn't that surprised that he wrote the most for himself. And in that respect, he's sort of like a less sentimental (or vomit-inducing) Clint Eastwood, which I'm sure the studios will try to mold him into. All of the action is cool, you know, and learning the mechanization of Boston bank robbing (even in movie terms) was interesting, but that's just trimming. The characters are poorly written, and there's nothing Rebecca Hall can do about the fact that her's is unidimensional. There's some good acting in it (Jeremy Renner, Blake Lively in a Marisa Tomei sort of role, Jon Hamm braking free from Don Draper), but this happens in spite of the script. Ben Affleck seems to know his way around with a camera now (the look of the film is pretty intentional), but given the Oscar, we'd expect he'd know his way around with a pen as well.

Trouble in Paradise

Trouble in Paradise, 1932
Dir: Ernst Lubitsch

If you think about all the ridiculously terrible rom-coms that come out of Hollywood now, you often wonder how the genre came to such prominence, and if it wasn't always filled with fluff. Well, films like The Killers (2010) and every other "criminal couple" movie owe a debt to Trouble in Paradise, though they'd never be able to hold a candle to it. Elliptical in structure and tied to witty romance with suggestive pre-code banter, this film could demolish anything today and definitely stands above all of the screwball comedies that it helped to inspire later in the decade.


Romancing both Miriam Hopkins and Kay Francis, Herbert Marshall is the epitome of handsome rakishness, playing a master jewel thief who schemes with his lover (Hopkins) to swindle perfume heiress Francis, falling in love with the sexually aggressive proprietress instead.


Lubitsch’s revered style is surprisingly fluid for a film of the early 30’s, and his collaboration with playwright Samson Raphaelson, his most frequent partner, is filled with the kind of innuendo that would be virtually impossible to get away within the coming code era. Luckily for us, that makes a lot of the comedy very fresh and almost seemingly modern. But most of all it's just funny, and never wacky. Lubitsch was far too sophisticated for that.