March 2008
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March 31, 2008
EAT, FOR THIS IS MY BODY
Ah, the art film. It takes a confrontational, yet charming, attitude to pull it off. Fortunately, Eat, For This Is My Body's director, Michelange Quay, has these qualities in spades. The opening sequence of this stunning film from Haiti will leave no doubt that this is what what he was meant to do.
The film starts off as a post-Koyaanisqatsi-slash-Michel-Gondry-Joga-music-video mélange as it sweeps into Haitian shores, over seemingly endless shantytowns, and finally through mountainous terrain; all while morphing-ethno-ballad-free-pop-jazz collides with the images. Calling this sequence a show-stopper does it injustice, as does all the descriptions I have used to explain it; for the real film has yet to even start.
Once we get the hang of things, we slowly become aware that we are being brought closer and closer to the people and culture of the country. After that incredible ride into the heart of Haiti, Quay progresses the film through a free-association style montage of moving water that constantly reminds the us of the effects of human culture and the incomparable power of nature. Ethnographic documentary footage of voodoo chanting and dancing follows. From this emerges another spellbinding image (a redundancy in this film): an older man in a trance-like state, dancing with a log lit on one end. He then proceeds to eat from the burning embers while he dances with an unforgettable piercing expression in his eyes.
This is a good time to point out that, no, the film really hasn't started yet.
Day breaks and we loosely follow a group of boys through beautiful Haitian terrain, into a colonial mansion, and finally into a room straight out of 2001: A Space Odyssey --yes, that room. And just like that, we are brought into another world --or rather, Quay's head. The real film begins here, some 30 minutes into it, and what we are presented is a mixture of the works of Matthew Barney and David Lynch.
If you are still reading this, then I guess neither name gets to you. Chances are there are more Lynch fans than Barney fans (including myself), and to me, this is the saving grace of the film. What follows are elaborate scenes that are reminiscent of those in Barney's Cremaster Cycle: completely elaborate conceptual scenes (read pretentious to some) that are loosely related and seem to allude to colonialization and race relations in Haiti. I am vague about this because Quay will never allow you to read anything definitive from this film (read pretentious to some) other than that the it deals with differences in the balance of power --his words. Scenes include those with an elderly woman confined to bed who recites a poem about her role as nature and the destruction caused by the hungry yearning for food. "...Eat, for this is my body," then, serves as a significant theme. Others include the group of boys and their white female headmaster. Again, themes of hunger and power are constantly reinforced. She is played by the gorgeous Sylvie Testud, who is on track to setting a remarkable career for herself. American audiences can recognize her in a supporting role in the automatically more straightforward La Vie en Rose.
Again, the Lynch-ian aspects of these scenes, direct focus on foreboding qualities objects and sound, save them and make them better than Barney's work (read pretentious to some). The most Barney-esque sequence of the film, one of grannies dj-ing while non-diagetic ethnic music that has been modernized with beats plays, fails miserably because, frankly, it is a lousy and pretentious idea. First of all, the point of the scene is too obvious; and second, even though it plays as good as it possibly can, an idea like that is nothing short of terrible. This is the kind of work done with good intentions, but with bad taste: the make or break of outsider art.
You should, however, ignore the fact that the film can be merely pretentious at times. I only pointed out that instance to be fair. This is, after all, Michelange Quay's first feature film, and the many overwhelmingly brilliant images that you will see completely warrant viewing and, more importantly, make you think; for you have no choice when narrative is this vague. Once Quay matures and has more control of his ego, he will surely do significant work in the cinematic arts. Remember his name.
Posted by Fran at 8:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
LOVE SONGS
From the city that wrote the book on love comes a musical about sex, love, and, um, sex.
It is best that I get this out of the way quickly, (trust me it won't hurt too much) so here goes: This film is completely flimsy and flaky. However, it knows this and does not care; and will spend every second of its running time trying to seduce you. If it were anything but French, it's persistence would seem awkward; but the film's joie de vivre can be contagious.
Love Songs is proud to show off how French it is. You can't blame it, Paris is like no other city in the world. This works exceedingly well in the cinematography: without even attempting to show-off any of the city's well known sights, Christophe Honoré keeps his scenes strictly in the neighborhood streets. When was the last time you saw a Parisian love story without seeing the Eiffel Tower? The end result is still more beautiful than the unlikely miracle Woody Allen was able to do with Manhattan; which in all fairness is a dump.
Just how French is this film? Well, every character is essentially a Ph.D. in literature and proud to show-off what they are reading. Having visited centers of culture such as the Musee D'Orsay and the Centre Pompidou, I have no problems forcing myself to believe it. As far as I am concerned, there are Parisians and then there are the uncultured. Unfortunately, this is where things start to go awry. Love Songs treats love the same way it treats its depicted literature: you only see the cover.
Granted, Love Songs is a musical, so we can't expect something with the depth of Kundera. However, there is such a thing as Umbrellas of Cherbourg. The filmmakers should know that the musical genre really has to tighten its focus on its characters in order to depict a realistic portrait of love. I can't imagine anybody really buying it in Love Songs despite the fact that the characters constantly sing about it. There are just too many people in the film and many get marginalized. Is Alice, who according to the trailer is a main character, really needed for any other reason than to pout her lips (ahem, her gorgeous lips), put her hands on her hips, and give approving "oh, you guys!" throughout the film? This treatment of characters (and believe me it gets absurd early on) is what makes the film seem shallow.
In addition, the seemingly main theme of bisexuality gets marginalized, as well, by the film's overzealous treatment of the characters and love. Maybe it is because I am heterosexual, but I believe that the film would be stronger if it had a clearer stance and meaning. If, perhaps, it is worried about coming off as too taboo, (which would explain the trailer's focus on the "hot threesome action" --but then that could be the Americanization of it) it shouldn't worry about it: if you are watching a French musical about love, I am going to take a wager that you are comfortable with your sexuality.
In all, I guess Love Songs follows its characters' mantra: breadth is more important than depth. Still, despite all of this, it is hard to hate gay Paris.
Posted by Fran at 7:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
March 15, 2008
FUNNY GAMES
As expected, the reactions to Micheal Haneke's remake of his own Funny Games have been as entertaining and frustrating as they have been revealing. Wasn't that part of the deal, seeing that this was always a film to polarize and be discussed?
For a film that has had its acting and technical craft work applauded it sure is hated. Does anyone remember so many prominent film critics getting so angry at a film in recent memory? Not even Norbit got reviews so scathing and full of hate. It is pretty funny actually, and I am hoping Haneke is laughing at the critics as much as they think he is laughing at American film goers. Just read Rex Reed's review. Pathetic. It reveals just how out of touch reviewers are. The existence of this remake is justified in this alone.
To sum up, the reviews have pretty stated, "How dare he judge the great people of this great country?" and "Doesn't he realize how much has changed since 9/11? "
Critics seem to be taking Funny Games as a personal affront since the film stares back at viewer more than the first time around. How can it not? I am going to go out on a limb and say that the self-consciousness that was around a decade ago is indeed still self-consciously self-conscious seeing that this is a fucking REMAKE.
Was it truly necessary to make this film to begin with? Well no. (what American isolationism?) And, perhaps, yes. Why can't Americans understand that there are people in other countries who may hold some sort of resentment towards the United States. I believe that the Bush reelection might have soured some people, but that's just me. It is amusing watching American liberals clench their assholes once someone makes any kind of judgment about something that relates to them in some way. How dare they! Only American liberals can judge.
Truth be told, I share a lot of the anger that Haneke might have. I say might have because he made it pretty clear that it was never his idea to remake this movie and that the only reason he did it was to work with the great actors he has so much respect for. (Naomi Watts is the best thing to happen to Hollywood in a decade.) Isabelle Huppert's mesmerizing performance in the Piano Teacher offers enough proof to say that, despite appearances, Haneke is not a mere masochist and that he loves his actors and just wants to lead them through difficult, yet extraordinary, and important, journeys. Why can't it be said that he does this to his viewers as well. Code Unknown is one of my favorite films because of the amount of respect it gives me.
So is this one respectful? The question is interesting since my answer relates more to my viewing of the original film. It was a rough experience and it felt like a slap in the face. But since when is that a bad thing? I don't think that anyone can argue that the film was spot on the first time around. I just think that the cowboy administration that we elected to represent us is enough reason for us to have to just shut the fuck up and take any criticism we currently get. We ARE violent (Abu Ghraib, Guantanamo, withdrawal from the Geneva Conventions, and legalized torture anyone?) and we indeed fucked up, so let's own up to it. Getting back to the point: in the introduction to Code Unknown in the R2 dvd, Haneke, in discussing themes in his films, talks briefly about informing the viewer of any sort of manipulation within his films. He feels that this is important because of his general overriding theme of the search for reality. Though we are clearly manipulated in Funny Games, the acknowledgment of the viewer in it is some way a sort of respect (this is, after all, one of the ways this movie can be separated from the Saw films). You can compare this to something by Lars Von Trier--say Dancer in the Dark--in which the viewer is emotionally put through the wringer for the sake of just that.
I don't buy the smugness attacks, or rather, smugness in film has never bothered me, and I would never take it as an insult. Frankly, I think we need more of it. Art is about observation after all, and one cannot necessarily control what one sees, and therefore, one's reactions to it. I am proud to say that I prefer art house cinema to entertainment cinema, and yes, I do judge those who don't somewhat. Always have; always will.
This perhaps sums up the attitudes toward Funny Games. You were either already with it or you aren't. The critics really don't know what to say because It is beyond a film and is more of a theoretical social experiment. What the hell is wrong with that? I sure in hell have more trust in Michael Haneke than I do in Michael Moore. Chris Coen, the producer, is a man will balls and I sure as hell hope there are more out there like him. If not, we are doomed.
No matter the massive repercussions this film will surely bring, Haneke remains one of my favorite directors. He has done what he set out to do: light a fire under people's asses. Again. Now that's entertainment!
Posted by Fran at 10:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
March 14, 2008
LEAVE IT TO THE PROS
So 2008 has been a slow year musically for me. That is until last Sunday when I got blindsided back to back to back with fantastic records from old reliables.
THOMAS BRINKMANN - When Horses Die
Thomas Brinkmann returns after two missteps with a slow-burning stunner. Last year, I mistakenly declared techno dead, and one of the greats immediately proves me dead wrong. This time around, Brinkmann channels his inner Michael Gira and offers a dark, sinister, and more musical, album. The title alone screams 1980s industrial music. The album starts with brooding, atmospheric, yet traditional, piano songs. It is gloomy yet solid stuff. Soon enough, the best techno music in years envelops the listener. Everything is there: the syncopated shuffle beats; glitch; solid breakbeats; only all with singing. This is the kind of music electronic album Matthew Dear should have done last year. By this I mean a song based record that does not take commercial aspirations more serious than craft. Asa Breed was too dumbed down for the masses and it ultimately bored them. This record is just as "musically simple," however, the obvious musical inspirations are taken into consideration quite seriously and will only delight the listener instead of putting them to sleep.
Kelley Polar - I Need You To Hold On While The Sky Is Falling
The king of disco finally returns to follow up his wonderful and straight out of nowhere classic, Love Songs of the Hanging Gardens, which, as we remember, was the album that immediately let us know that Environ was the official dance label of NYC, not DFA. Kelley Polar and the venerable Morgan Geist return with a popier affair. The vocals are a bit more masculine this time around and he seems to have listened to Max Tundra's Mastered By Guy at Exchange--one of the greatest and most neglected albums in history. Though not as solid as the last one (some moments feel forced), when this album soars, it fucking soars. Last year's wonderful Chrysanthemum (featured in my year end comp), is included in this album, though it stands out from the rest of the album, which is much more dense and full of overlapping vocal harmonies and Max Tundra analogue "bloops and bleeps" (technical term). I want to remind you to remember that the last time disco was important was when another classically trained violin player was creating his own unique sound.
PORTISHEAD - Third
I guess I am not as with it as I used to be since I had no idea this was coming out. The last time a Portishead record came out was when I was in high school. This sounds exactly as it should: a) fucking great; b) like they have been listening to the same records we have since then (a lot of German and Italian psychedelic and progressive rock music from the 70s, the Silver Apples, etc.); and c) fucking great. They seem to be having fun: the songs emote the love of their influences in a crate digging sort of way and there is even a little Velvet Underground inspired ditty thrown in. No doubt the coolest band of the 90s (do you still listen to that U.N.K.L.E. record?) is still the coolest band today.Remember that Yo La Tengo video which asked the important question: "do you like trip-hop?" The answer was yes. Oh, and I will give a buck to anyone who can tell me where I have heard the riff on The Rip . It's killing me. Mogwai?
Other noteworthy albums:
Various - An England Story - From Dancehall to Grime: 25 Years of the MC in the UK
Various - Wayfaring Strangers: Guitar Soli
Autechre - Quaristice
Chris Corsano - The Young Cricketeer (now available in vinyl instead of cdr!)
Posted by Fran at 8:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)