Film

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)

February 24, 2008

Good Oscar Quote

From the producer of No Country for Old Men: "With the opportunity of making a movie comes the responsibility of making it good."

Despite the usual omission of more deserving nominations, it was an all in all good night for the Oscars as far as winners: there was nothing too unreasonable compared to the last few years. Though you could tell that the writer's strike hurt Jon Stewart's stint as host. I am glad I didn't skip it.

Posted by Fran at 11:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Good Call

I just wanted to chime in about the surprisingly good call of having Once win for best song. Even having the worst song on the film be nominated against 3 (!) songs from a major production said nothing about how much of a surprise this is.

It's a terrific film. And believe me, hearing sappy singer songwriter ballads for an hour and a half did not sound like a good time to me, but I was completely won over after about a minute.

Posted by Fran at 10:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

February 22, 2008

L'AVVENTURA TO L'ECLISSE

This is a short argument I wrote for one of my classes which I ultimately abandoned. I decided not to throw it away and post it here; perhaps there is something interesting in it.

Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Eclisse is as much a continuation of L’Avventura as it is an evolution of it. I will argue that it is its sequel, of sorts, much in the same way that Wong Kar-wai’s 2046 is to his In the Mood for Love; meaning that though the film’s narratives have no straightforward connections, the sequels are the progression of the first film’s main character’s archetype in a tangent journey.

The most obvious connection between the two films is Monica Vitti, arguably the protagonist of both. She plays women suffering from a malaise brought upon by the inability to connect to their modern social class and country. She does not play as prominent a role in La Notte as in the films that bookend it, so it is safe to ignore it in this context; though one interesting point is that her hair in it is different, in style and color, from the one she shares in the other two. Vitti is made up as the same person in them; Antonioni makes no effort to create a visually different person. Her use of expressions, which move from sullen blankness and distance to quick, occasional outbursts of joy, are also the same.

The films play like a continuing story. L’Avventura ends with Claudia coming to terms with who she and Sandro are. It is implied that she will be leaving him with her gesture of pity. L’Eclisse begins with the actual breakup of Vittoria and her boyfriend, Riccardo. Causes for this are not explicit, but we can make out that he shares a quality of neediness with Sandro. In the first scene they are placed in the same configuration Claudia and Sandro are in at the end of L’Avventura: she standing and he sitting. The balance of power remains intact as the scenes flow in a logical progression.

Vitti’s characters spend their time with similar men. In addition to similar personality traits, Riccardo looks suspiciously like Sandro. Even Piero is the equivalent of what Sandro must have been like in his youth: a rich, confident, playboy in an elite field of work in which his heart is not fully immersed. Piero is connected to the upper class through birthright and his work, but his clients are housewives that gamble with their extra income, not important financial giants. Like Sandro, he is not great at what he does and never will be. It is no surprise that Vittoria hesitates to, and ultimately does not, connect with him.

The spirit of Sandro permeates physically through L’Eclisse. The location of the Esposizione Universale Roma (EUR) is exactly the modern Italy men like him built. Throughout L’Avventura, Sandro is overwhelmed by rich and complex ancient architecture. The simple and uninspired EUR is the opposite of that older tradition and it reflects the type of architecture he is capable of creating. This has an adverse affect on the setting. “The whole layout of a city can thwart communication and connectivity…It is not only a place where a representative couple fail to meet but a culprit for that failure.” (Chatman, 108) The EUR is a psychodynamic space that is an important element through which Antonioni, with his form of subtle, realistic expressionism, conveys the emotion, or lack thereof, that haunts Vittoria. Since she, in essence, is a continuation of Claudia, who previously gave up on that world, it makes sense that no explanations are explicitly given within L’Eclisse as to why she wanders through EUR unable to relate to it.

Through the use of architecture, Antonioni marks a progression from the natural to the man-made. The final shot in L’Avventura sets this theme up for us by splitting the frame between Claudia’ emotive and natural half and Sandro’s barren and man-made half; visually portrayed through Mt. Etna and a wall, respectively. Because of an increasing absence of nature in urbanizing Italy, it becomes a refuge. Vittoria is most emotive when she is in the presence of it: whether it is materialized by wind that moves flag poles or clouds she flies by. Vittoria does not find solace in the man-made objects which begin to take over the roles of the natural; items which, in addition to the buildings being constructed throughout the EUR, include fans and street lights.

In addition to portraying Claudia and Vittoria rejecting a relationship, both films’ endings project the same relationship between them and their malaise. Since the films have progressed away from the natural toward the man-made, the metaphor made by the volcano in L’Avventura is made with nuclear weapons in L’Eclisse. This is the only man-made object that has the equivalent power of a volcano. The film moves between the worlds of Vittoria and Piero: hers open and desolate and his compact and manic. Therefore, it can be assumed that the ending and reference, which take place in the EUR, project feelings that belong to Vittoria. Both objects reference the respective women’s malaise because they are objects which, once erupted, are beyond the control of them. Not only that, the power represented by them is dormant. The objects are also at a distance from the women. Mt. Etna is much further away from Claudia than the wall is from Sandro, despite the flatness created by the camera lens, and the nuclear weapons are presented theoretically through a newspaper. These characteristics clearly describe Vitti’s characters’ malaise. The progression from the natural to man-made can also be explained through the relationship of the women to it. Claudia is a victim and thus her problems are external, and conversely, Vittoria is conscious of her problems from the beginning, and therefore, they are internal.

Posted by Fran at 12:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

FILM QUICKIES

There Will Be Blood
The Death of Mr. Lazarascu

So I finally saw There Will Be Blood and learned the origins of the infamous "I drink your milkshake!" line --which I am happy wasn't ruined for me. It was a highly enjoyable film but, unfortunately, one that was a bit too hyped. Could the film have been better? I am not so sure. It most certainly needed to be tightened up, but I think that nothing could saved it based upon the thinking behind the disappointing ending.

Unfortunately P.T. Anderson provided the biggest argument against the film when he let everyone know that it was influenced by The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. There Will Be Blood simply does not compare, especially in the important moments. First of all, there really is no payoff in Blood like there is in Treasure. I left the theater thinking about the characters instead of thinking about humanity, as I did after Treasure. What you get is a rather cold and awkward last minute Stanley Kubrick moment. I simply do not understand this Clockwork Orange vibe given the 2.5 hours that came before it. Even more awkward was the scene before it, where the film threatens to turn into a sappy Howard Hughes story. I do not believe that there was enough incentive provided to us to reflect on anything that happened. Also, the son and brother "exchange" was not firmly established. I know I sound way too much like Robert McKee, but was there something more to this than just an archetype replacement? It really wasn't one anyway. In the end, Treasure is more humane, the appropriate characters in it are more sympathetic, yet it is just as vicious. Together, and only together, this makes it a more powerful film.

Since I am playing devil's advocate, I have to admit to having some problems with the music as well. The soundtrack was terrific at points but at others it was just simple man's avant guard, something which the worst of Radiohead suffers from as well. In the film, these moments stuck out like a sore thumb --the syncopated drum scene in particular. The only reason I feel as though I can comment on this is because it doesn't make sense to use avant music when you take into consideration that Anderson went as far as using vintage camera lenses--that from what I can tell narrow shot's focus (to the detriment of the film)--in order to give the film a vintage look.

For those who have seen it, perhaps you can help me out. I didn't understand Daniel Plainview's progression in the film. Did he just explode, like the burning oil derrick he stares at; or was he always like that? If its the former, it felt a bit to mythical and far removed for me --especially compared to Bogart's progression; if its the latter, then a) the Kubrick-ish ending makes a bit more sense, and b) eww.

On the plus side, the performances were terrific. Daniel Day-Lewis surprised me with his unexpectedly (and relatively) restrained performance. I must admit that I was expecting another outlandish Gangs of New York performance that would typecast him in an Al Pacino way, but he continues to dazzle. The baptism scene made the 12 bucks worth it.

Though I should be writing my film class papers instead of this, I have to say that I saw The Death of Mr. Lazarescu last night. It was spellbinding. It's similar to 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, so you can take what I said about that film and apply it to Lazarescu. I am excited to know that we are only at #2 in Cristi Puiu's 6 film series about modern life in Romania. I expect them all to be pretty much the same, but if Eric Rohmer can get me to watch 9 of his films (and counting), then I have no problem with this. Cannes obviously pulled an Academy Awards and gave Puiu the Palm D'Or last year for this film, which came out 2 years earlier. I have no problem with that. Unlike Blood, this is a film we will be discussing in 10 years.

Needless to say, I hope you put The Treasure of the Sierra Madre and The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, an eternal classic and new one, on your netflix queue.

Posted by Fran at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

February 9, 2008

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days

PRO-LIFE? PRO-CHOICE?

Much to Cristian Mungiu's credit, the question does not matter so much as the situation which raises it in 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, a film about unlawful abortion set in the end of socialist Romania. The only choice that is certain is the judges' at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival: the film was the recipient of the Palm D'Or, the highest accolade in cinema, beating out the more life-affirming The Diving Bell and Butterfly. If you pardon the awful pun, it can be said that this makes sense seeing that the film is a lovechild of the Dardennes Brothers and Michelangelo Antonioni, directors traditionally beloved by Cannes.

Mungiu uses extremely intimate and minimal aesthetic (Dardennes) to stylistically capture the transferred plight and individual incidents (Antonioni) of Otilia, who goes beyond the call of duty to help her university roommate, Gabita, set up an abortion. On a technical level, the film is a showcase in cinematic professionalism; Dardennes and Antonioni are not names to be thrown out lightly. Little flourishes of suspense throughout further demonstrate just how much in control Mungiu is of his world. The acting is also up to par; Anamaria Marinca presents a devastatingly complex character that on the surface truly is a regular, modern, student and woman.

The film manages to do something remarkable with its narrative: it presents abortion in a way that makes most pro-life and pro-choice advocates seem childish. There is no doubt that both sides will see strong arguments for their case. The government and persons involved are deeply flawed, however, what is important in the film is the complexity of the situation that extends beyond anything we can specifically point a finger to, or vote on. True morality and the social and cultural components that help shape it are what is questioned. These abstract ideas --ignore any governmental propaganda, Democratic or Communist, calling them anything else-- are brought together in the hopes of, perhaps one day, finding a tangible way for us to deal with the consequences of being human. In the mean time, we have to survive until we can.

Posted by Fran at 2:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

January 7, 2008

The Cycle of Innocence Lost

Or: New Cinema Retelling An Old Lesson

Pan’s Labyrinth
The Host
Lust, Caution
No Country for Old Men

Warning: Major spoilers are involved so I would recommend renting these films and having an intense, despair-ridden weekend at home with your loved ones, before reading.

It felt like a mere coincidence that the young, brave, and beautiful protagonists of Pan’s Labyrinth and The Host (Mexico/Spain and Korea) were butchered at the end of their respective films last year. Now, after watching Lust, Caution and No Country for Old Men, (U.S.) I can see that this is no longer a coincidence but a reaction to the zeitgeist of current times as well as to the history of it.

In these films, we watch male filmmakers committing the ultimate patriot act: sacrificing their most beloved characters in both protest to, and warning of, the direction we headed into the last decade. It is not surprising that films from all over the world, not just the U.S., portray a similar response to a global failure of democracy and a war already longer than Vietnam. All four films have connections to war—or at least major governmental offensive attacks—and portray worlds of human darkness. We are presented various representations of these ranging from the fantastical (Pan’s Labyrinth) to the desolate (No Country for Old Men). Within them lie powerful men/monsters who are responsible for the depicted atrocities. However, it is in the portrayal of the seemingly weak and powerless young women, who get lost in a world not their own, that any source of humanity exists. That they are so lovingly filmed, yet ultimately crushed, might seem nihilistic, but we must realize that this is martyrdom. The directors believe this jolt is necessary; after all, these are the topics they have chosen present us. This is bad tasting medicine.

War has yielded similar responses time and time again during the relatively short history of film. It can be argued that it is the single biggest influence on motion pictures in historical, production, and artistic contexts. Film stock embargoes, censorship, and governmental intervention have all had significant influences on the development of filmmaking. Adding to this, WWII had an enormous role in the development of the modernist movement because it forced people to question everything that they took in. The effects of propaganda and montage became obvious, and this, in conjunction with the failure of modernity (the first phase of it) to bring the best out of humanity, led to a reevaluation of everything, including the "real". Soviet and German cinema swiftly became too effective for their own good and lost favor. Elsewhere, European cinema found itself distancing away from conventional narrative storytelling (Classical Hollywood filmmaking) because fluid editing in films came into question. Ambiguity found itself welcome because it afforded people the ability to come up with their own conclusions and think for themselves. These departures led to numerous artistic movements like Italian Neorealism. Even this went on to evolve to modernist European art which includes the French New Wave as well as Italian and Eastern European modernist cinema. The Cold War made it seem as though no lesson was learned from WWII, so a third wave of modernist restructuring followed. Other art forms, including literature, followed; with an example being Roman Neuveau writing, which in turn was cinematically personified by Alain Resnais.

The current Iraqi War has produced films in many styles and genres: the documentary (Fahrenheit 911), traditional modern Hollywood, (In the Valley of Elijah), and the absurd, (The Kingdom). The films I am discussing represent another method, one that gives a visible nod to its post WWII origins and uses both realist and modernist elements. Its hybrid qualities could fall under the postmodernist umbrella. They are modernist through their distinct settings and rules, and realist with their characters; especially the ones viewers most empathize with that meet a gruesome, heartbreaking, and logical end.

Due in part to mainstream Hollywood cinema, most of us are not prepared watch films end as bleakly as these do. Both audiences I sat with during No Country for Old Men were appalled and vocal about it, at the end, when it casually faded into black. The prevailing mood was one of being left cold and insulted; which is interesting to me because I thought that it was a film of great sadness and heart. It bothers me that people expect and demand happily resolved endings. Fairness is not guaranteed in real life; so why should it be in film? This was the dogma of the neo-realists and it is interesting to see the same reactions 60 years later. Only those suffering deserve to ask for a happy ending, not those on the privileged side of the tracks. There is a wonderful scene in No Country for Old Men that depicts the collision of the two worlds beautifully. Sherriff Tom Bell is outside the motel room door where he suspects Chigurh is hiding. He hesitates to go in, knowing full-well that his chances of coming back alive are not in his favor. The Coens hold this moment: both Bell and Chigurh stare at the same key hole contemplating what actions they are supposed to take. This reminds me of what a young John Barth once wrote in second-person narrative in his American modernist The Floating Opera,

“Come along with me, reader, and don’t fear for your weak heart; I’ve one myself, and know the value of inserting first a toe, then a foot, next a leg, very slowly your hips and stomach, and finally your whole self into my story, and taking a good long time to do it. This is, after all, a pleasure dip I’m inviting you to, not a baptism.”

Well, this is no pleasure dip. Bell represents the viewer at the edge the world overlooking the abyss of its darkest core. He knows early on that he cannot handle what has been presented to him; he is barely able to eat breakfast after merely discussing the horrific events that have transpired. Bell once executed a psychopathic young man and the fact that he had no remorse haunted him enough to mention it in voice over, another form of audience acknowledgment. This situation is far more serious. However, Bell has the sense of duty brought upon him from his badge and he goes in only to find Chigurh gone; we do not have the benefit of duty and watch because it is the new Coen Brothers movie. We have heard that it is a dark film but we have to see it for ourselves; it is escapism to us. Bell knows and we have to learn, which is why more is in store for us. The baptism will soon follow, and that is the point of the film.

“Ain’t anything new here –can’t stop what is coming” is the advice Bell’s mentor tells him near the film’s end. It is sage advice followed by Western lawmen for many generations, yet this way of thinking allows monsters such as Chigurh to co-exist with them. I am not saying that it is the cause of such problems since Chigurh is a psychopath and there is nothing, not even homeland security, that can prevent it from happening again. Humans are susceptible to damage, after all. Despite this, there is something poetic in what many of the victims, including Carla, say at the end of their lives, “It doesn’t have to be this way.” Carla refuses to give in and dies while Bell limps away knowing that the progressively civilized and illuminated terrain—that was beautifully shot this way at the beginning of the film—will continue to bring forth more monsters from its shadows. A theme of re-occurrence emerges.

Fear can also have the same consequences as the actions of the villains, and in turn, make them merely a proxy. It is not clear as to what exactly kills Hyun-seo in The Host. The question looms as to whether it was agent yellow exposure or trauma from the other man made monster that was responsible. It is ironic that agent yellow, created to combat a virus that does not exist, has no effect on the monster clearly visible to all. This, along with the formaldehyde bottles, creates a theme of perverted prevention and preemptive strikes. The color yellow is of significance because of its relation to contamination. Antonioni's Red Desert, a film in which color is of paramount importance, uses yellow in the same context. A yellow flag is used to warn others to stay away from a quarantined ship, and also, yellow smoke, explained to be toxic, rises out of the steam vents of factories plaguing Monica Vitti, who is dressed in green. It is a film in which a traumatized woman wanders through an industrial wasteland, the end result of human modernity, unable to connect to, or understand, that world or those of it. The Host undoubtedly works with these themes.

In the more traditional Lust, Caution, we bear witness to a woman completely destroyed by her country and fellow man. She is stripped to and forced to defend herself with the bare essence of her femininity, which ultimately proves stronger than the masculinity surrounding it. In all four films, the women make the final decision regarding their fate; this is the gift that the filmmakers give to them. This theme is amplified through the girl's youth in body and spirit. All are young in the film’s beginnings and grow up fast. Two are children, Wang is an adolescent, and Carla Jean Moss is most certainly child like. “You keep on talking and I am going to take you out back and screw you” cloyingly threatens her husband, yet nothing happens as if she is a sexual joke. Only Wang Jiazhi is portrayed as a sexually developed female, but only after half the film spends a considerable amount of time explaining what a true loss of innocence she goes through. Not a single one of these females belong to the world they are thrown into. Ultimately they all choose in one form or another to leave their pathetic world under their own volition. They each prove stronger and more alive than everyone who has accepted the world dictated by the dark nature of humanity. A cowardly existence like Bells (or ours) is no option. Their pathetically broken counterparts manage to control everyone in their lives except them.

The elements that create this mini movement can be seen in both modernist and realist cinema but let’s go one step further and acknowledge the film that all four films are indebted to. The collective messages of these films are seen in Victor Erice’s 1973 masterpiece, The Spirit of the Beehive, an intoxicatingly subtle film about the loss of innocence of two girls at the end of the Spanish Civil War. Pan’s Labyrinth can be seen as a loose reworking of this film: both bookend the same war and have young girl protagonists who learn lessons about man’s brutality from mythic monsters. It is one of the greatest of film experiences and should be considered the cinematic standard of these themes I write about. I in no way mean to take anything from these fine films, after all, a good lesson should be the foundation of a curriculum. This is after all, the purpose of history; and some of us didn’t learn anything from recent wars. Yet there is hope, the underlying sentiment behind all of these films is, “it [still] doesn’t have to be this way.”

Posted by Fran at 2:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

October 4, 2007

My Favorite Films

The following are my personal favorite films. I am attempting to get into film school and wanted to make a list so that one day I will be able to see what I loved at the tender age of 27. Though not necessarily reflective of what I think are technically the best films, most are here. I can see vague themes that run through these choices. It will be interesting to see how this changes. Hopefully I will be able to offer a bit of information on why I love these films so much and perhaps provide an image or two.

50) THE LADY VANISHES, Alfred Hitchcock, 1938
49) THE SEVEN BEAUTIES, Lina Wertmuller, 1976
48) ANNIE HALL, Woody Allen, 1977
47) THE GENERAL, Buster Keaton, 1927
46) DAYS OF BEING WILD, Wong Kar-wai, 1991
45) CODE UNKNOWN, Michael Haneke, 2000
44) A MAN ESCAPED, Robert Bresson, 1956
43) THE SEVEN SAMURAI, Akira Kurosawa 1954
42) PLAY TIME, Jaques Tati, 1967
41) AKIRA, Katsuhiro Ôtomo, 1988
40) 3 WOMEN, Robert Altman, 1977
39) MYSTERY TRAIN, Jim Jarmusch, 1989
38) SHORT CUTS, Robert Altman, 1993
37) BASQUIAT, Julian Schnabel, 1996
36) CLAIR'S KNEE, Eric Rohmer, 1970
35) WAGES OF FEAR, Henri-Georges Clouzot, 1953
34) THE FIVE OBSTRUCTIONS, Jørgen Leth & Lars Von Trier, 2003
33) BAD TIMING, Nicolas Roeg, 1980
32) BLUE, Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993
31) AGUIRRE: WRATH OF GOD, Werner Herzog, 1972
30) THE LONG GOODBYE, Robert Altman, 1973
29) NIGHTS OF CABIRIA, Federico Fellini, 1957
28) THAT OBSCURE OBJECT OF DESIRE, Luis Buñuel, 1977
27) THE CRANES ARE FLYING, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1957
26) THE THIN RED LINE, Terrence Malick, 1998
25) THE SWORD OF DOOM, Kihachi Okamoto, 1966
24) SHERMAN'S MARCH, Ross McElwee, 1986
23) CHUNGKING EXPRESS, Wong Kar-wai, 1994
22) CONTEMPT, Jean-Luc Godard, 1963
21) RIFIFI, Jules Dassin, 1955
20) WITHNAIL & I, Bruce Robinson, 1987
19) SOLARIS, Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972
18) THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI, David Lean, 1957
17) BREATHLESS, Jean-Luc Godard, 1960
16) SANS SOLEIL, Chris Marker, 1983
15) THE RULES OF THE GAME, Jean Renoir, 1939
14) THE SPIRIT OF THE BEEHIVE, Víctor Erice, 1973
13) PERSONA, Ingmar Bergman, 1966
12) LA DOLCE VITA, Federico Fellini, 1960
11) ROCCO AND HIS BROTHERS, Luchino Visconti, 1960
10) THE PASSENGER, Michelangelo Antonioni, 1975
09) STOP MAKING SENSE, Jonathan Demme, 1984
08) L'AVVENTURA, Michelangelo Antonioni, 1960
07) THE LADY EVE, Preston Sturges, 1941
06) THE CONFORMIST, Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970
05) IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE, Wong Kar-wai, 2000
04) THE GRAND ILLUSION, Jean Renoir, 1937
03) ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, Sergio Leone, 1968
02) CHILDREN OF PARADISE, Marcel Carné, 1945
01) 8 1/2, Federico Fellini, 1963

Posted by Fran at 2:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 24, 2007

LUST, CAUTION

I was fortunate enough to attend a private screening of Ang Lee's upcoming Lust, Caution; his epic tale of espionage and seduction set in Japan-occupied China during WWII. Unfortunately, the film is better known for its controversial NC-17 rating than for the contents within. It is unquestionably an adult film that is candidly erotic at times; but it does not warrant the stigma that is associated with its rating.

The film opens spectacularly with a well shot and edited sequence of home-kept wives playing Mahjong. Lee captures the irony of them moving and building up set pieces as they make minor business deals with black market items, without any regard to the fact that their very lives are merely a game to them as well. They have an entitled sense of power over everything that is going on in their war-torn city while trapped within the confines of domesticity. From the onset we sense the chemistry between the out of place Mrs. Mak and Mr. Yee, the man whose household we are in. Both have reasons to leave the house and we follow Mrs. Mak to a coffee house where she is seemingly either meeting up with Mr. Yee or ordering in a hit on him. We then cut back 4 years to a surprisingly younger Mrs. Mak and quickly learn that her real name is Wong Chia Chi. Her back story unravels as Wong and her school/ theater mates are swept into the world of espionage. They are seduced by the feeling that in order to do something to support their country and cause in the ever intensifying war, they must do something that is more real than acting. The timing and pace of this film is expertly crafted. The film is almost 3 hours long but this all works to its benefit. First of all, we do not watch the well reported sex scenes until at least an hour and a half into the picture. This firmly establishes that the sex is not the important element; though at the point in time it commences, it plays a necessary and vital role. We get further exposition on Wong and her friends, a tight-knit group; and the major, and seemingly minor, reasons why she plays into the dangerous world of seduction are well justified. The exploration of these reasons is the central premise of the film and ultimately gives it a sad and powerful sentimentality of endearment and respect towards Wong. The film would not work without it. Adding to all of this, Lee somehow manages to magically grab suspense out of thin air, especially during the first half of the film.

Tang Wei is extraordinary as Wong. Rarely has a character given so much of herself to the narrative of a film literally and figuratively. She strikes a difficult balance of playing someone who juggles between having and lacking control while maintaining grace. Wong and her world are an enigma; she is an actress after all. The always wonderful Joan Chen, who plays Mr. Yee's wife, provides a wonderful contrast as a person that lives by the motto that life is just about "shopping and mahjong."

As for the infamous sex scenes, yes they are quite steamy. For the vast majority of the time, they work exceedingly well within the context of the characters and their situations. Though quite rough to watch at times, they work as sequences with deeper meanings. We cannot help but to stare at their private affair. Mr. Yee's overpowering urges directed toward Wong are understandable as they are the result of the inner turmoils of his personal life as much as they are the result of built up lust. We can believe Wong's depicted progression of losing more and more of her innocence as she lets herself go into the abyss of the carnal. The only trouble I had with this was with some of the montage elements used as they seemed a bit too much. The nimble actors are seen in almost every sexual position imaginable. It just does not work well when contrasted with strong scenes that say so much about their situation and manage to add to and move the plot along. Ultimately, there is a big difference between this and a film like In the Realm of Senses. I buy the argument that Lust, Caution is a film for adults but I do not agree with the implications a NC17 rating brings to it.

There are elements of Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious in the film that Lee is proud to spotlight, especially with posters of its stars. There is also an important theme of acting and theater that is the basis for Wong's strong espionage abilities. She has a passion for film and frequents the local theater; she seems more alive there than outside of it, in her new stage. By the end, lines are crossed and motivations are blurred.

So this is a magnificent film, but why is it not the masterpiece that it yearns to be?

There are several things that I can think of. First of all, Ang Lee is a superb director who is technically proficient and is not afraid to tackle any interesting project that comes his way, but there in lies the problem. Supporters of Lee are quick to point out that calling him a genre director is an easy excuse; if it means anything at all. However, I agree with that argument; he obviously a very knowledgeable film historian, but to me, he does not have his own language of filmmaking with its own set of rules. His films can come out clinical at times. Brokeback Mountain was terrific but I cannot fully buy it; it is not a part of Lee's soul. Despite this, I would be the first to say that this is partly an unfair attitude towards Lee. Perhaps unfortunately, he is the kind of artist that receives real and accurate critique for the level of intelligence of his filmmaking demands it. He is the student that always gets the hard earned B+ while lesser, more pompous ones sneak in an A- or A every now and then. In spite of this it is important to realize that years later it will be seen as accurate accolade since in reality masterpieces in cinema are few and far between. Fortunately for him, Lee will never be one of the ones we will be embarrassed for having overestimated so quickly. He is not Wong Kar-wai but we should take into consideration that he does not want to be him. I am sure he can sleep at night knowing that Kar-wai's ghost will probably haunt him for the rest of his career.

One of the few scenes I believe does not work is the well orchestrated one involving knife play. It comes off as too by-the-book and academic to me. I understand the implication of the participants learning something the hard way, but I feel as if the film would have benefited more from the characters never learning that lesson and remaining the bystanders they were originally depicted to be. Then of course, I am someone who cringes at the way Hollywood is ga-ga over Robert McGee's Story screenwriting book.

Another problem with the film for me is Tony Leung. This is personal, but I, like so many, have a special connection with him. Leung is one of the greatest actors working today and perhaps his previous roles have resonated too deeply to allow me to let him go into this new character. His role is more physical in this and I buy it. (I don't mean that as a pun.) Lee is smart to show his newly aging face often at the beginning of the film. By doing this, he shows us a new side of Tony that attempts to force us to abandon the image we already have of the emotional, lovestruck young man that we sympathize with. Perhaps the problem arises because he says relatively so little; his character is elusive, though intentionally so. Perhaps it is because he is despicable or perhaps because he is so empty. Perhaps it is just me. Nonetheless, it is one hell of a brave performance.

All said and done, this is arguably Ang Lee's best film and absolutely well-worth watching. It is one of the best films that will come out this year.

Posted by Fran at 11:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 18, 2007

AN INTRODUCTION TO CONTEMPORARY ASIAN CINEMA

Work in progress...

Asia has been providing some of the richest and most culturally reflective films of the last 20 years. The U.S. is catching on to this and has been importing and "borrowing" a lot of the pivotal elements that comprise this cinematic culture recently. This reaction is similar to 40 years ago when French New Wave hit our shores, resulting in the "New Hollywood." I am not sure whether this is a good thing or a warning of the dire need of support of creativity in this country; it is probably both. Needless to say, as far as large-scale filmmaking goes, the U.S. has not been at the forefront for quite some time.

It is difficult to say the word "Asian Cinema"; given the diversity of the cultures and countries that comprise Asia and the fact that cinema is self-reflective, its true meaning as wide and varied as its topic itself. Because of this, the cinema is as dynamic as any in the short history of the art form. Not only does culture demands this, but the nature of artistic expression does as well; art never stands still. It is important to venture into a concept like Asian Cinema carefully, taking into consideration its limitations. With this in mind, I present a brief survey which is based more on what we are able to learn about the specific regions described through the individual films. Once separated by country or region, we can start making more general observations and recognize patterns and the effects of the various circumstances impacting these countries. Some have tight censorship laws that prevent them creating as many works of art as you would expect them to: this makes the socially and ethically aware films that are able to be made much more important and impressive. Others are confined by poverty that the direct entertainment of the lower class and the young is pivotal for its own existence: this brings us the gangster/martial arts films; the pop romance films; the high school drama/suspense films; the glossy horror films; and the martial arts fantasy films such as Shaolin Soccer, Battlefield Baseball, ect.. Finally, in other, more self aware countries, we can observe focus on culture and religion which permeate through the film's frames. Tradition and setting become important characters themselves in these films. Despite this, there are always exceptions.

Getting back to the point, there are some great elements in these films whether narrative, technical, or political, that brings one into their worlds; this is a characteristic of important cinema. Though it does not compare to actually visiting these countries, it allows those of us without the means of travelling to get to know a large portion of the otherside of the world. This is vital for "independent" countries such as the U.S.

CHINA

Da Hong Deng Long Gao Gao Gua
Raise The Red Lantern - 1992
Drop-dead gorgeous Gong Li stars in what is esteemed as one of the great modern films. This is a story of the concubines of a wealthy lord and the undercurrent of issues and emotions that exist within their own world in China during the early 1900s. Raise the Red Lantern is about people with generations of real historical counterparts. Director Yimou Zhang employs a stunning use of color and set design that acts as both a feast for the eyes and as a metaphor for the beating hearts of women that are more alive than their culture will ever accept. As we watch the 4 wives compete for the company of their husband each night, we become the spectator of world within a world that has its own class structure and power struggles. Some of the women do terrible things to the others but Zhang ultimately has a deep sense of compassion, admiration, and pity for each. Though slightly over dramatic for westernized tastes at the end (this is a Chinese film after all) the points this film makes on gender, society, and most importantly, the fact that it makes those points, will resonate forever. Needless to say, this was originally banned from being shown in theaters. A masterpiece.




HONG KONG

Chung Hing Sam Lam
Chungking Express - 1994
Post new wave from master director Wong Kar-wai. His In the Mood For Love may be one of my all-time favorite films, but I would have to recommend Chungking Express as a primer for Asian cinema. This quirky and extremely likable film revolves around the lives of 4 lonely people. Two are cops that are dealing with the heartbreak of being dumped. They both end up meeting one of two vibrant (yet also lonely) women and get caught up in the whirlwind of their energy. Their stories are completely different but are interlocked by the emotions of love, thoughts on fate, fascination with America, and also by subtle actual crossings of all of their paths. It is impressive to think that Christopher Doyle, with whom Kar-wai frequently collaborates, goes on to become one of the most important directors of photography in cinema today. He virtually represents Asian cinema photography with his work ranging from In the Mood For Love, Infernal Affairs, to Hero. An Australian adopted by Asia, and a drunkard, he is utterly magnificent.




Hak Se Wui Yi Wo Wai Kwai
Triad Election - 2006
I want to be a little more modern here since the action films of the 90s, and now the Infernal Affairs series, are so well known. Johnnie To is the perfect segway to the re-animated Hong Kong gangster (triad) film style. Run by tradition that establishes a new godfather to the family every four years, problems arise when there is competition for the title from within the group, foreign soil, and from the current reining godfather. To clearly has American cinema in mind as he blends Coppola storylines, Scorsese grit, and Mann visuals to create this new contemporary gangster series. His now signature style of extreme darks with sharp spot lighting creates a slick cosmopolitan look to his work. The violence and subtle humor feels especially sinister as it always lies partly hidden in the dark. There are some surprisingly some good jabs at China and America's use of power. There is even a ninja attack. I've always wanted to type that.

I would also recommend Johnnie To's Exiled as a quick study of the western/gangster genre. He is clearly having fun and brings his whole gang out in this quick outing before returning to his more serious work. The western/gangster genre was one that I was personally trying to explore and I am happy others think it is worthwhile.




JAPAN

Wandâfuru Raifu
After Life - 1998
The premise of Hirokazu Koreeda's After Life is simple yet novel and deeply poignant: when someone dies, they find themselves in a waystation where a film crew from heaven will re-enact one's selected favorite memory so that they can take it, and only it, to the after life. Throughout the film, we watch 20 people from different cross-sections of life tackling the processes of selecting their memory and finding some significance in it and in their past lives. Koreeda interviewed roughly 500 actors for his film and the stories that made it into the film are the actual ones the actors told him as their favorite memories. He makes a brilliant decision in letting these real people simply talk about their lives since poets can ultimately only make so many generalities. Why not hear the voices of humanity instead of putting words into their mouths? It all almost comes across as a documentary. After Life presents a very personal account of modern Japanese life since it actually does dig into the culture with such a probing question. A country whose primary religion was a mixture of Shintoism and Buddhism right up until WWII surely still has a connection between the living and the dead. We also cannot ignore how much that war also compounded the notion of death onto the country's own identity. Modern writers like Murikami show us how deeply embedded this notion is. In all, this is just as much a personal story of the director himself as it is of his country. Koreeda had a difficult time dealing with his grandfather's Alzheimer's disease. He also probes his own life as a filmmaker and uses film making itself a way to immortalize memory within the film and in real life.




Hana-bi
Fireworks - 1997
It may surprise many that comedian "Beat" Takeshi Kitano is one of Japan's best directors. Many of you know him from the great Most Extreme Elimination Challenge television show. Hana-Bi translates into fireworks in English but it also has the literal and omniscient meaning of “flower fire”. This is a work of great humanity yet brutal violence. Hana-Bi is the story of a former cop whose life is crumbling apart at the seams and must confront the Yakuza in violent bursts in order to ensure his wife and himself moments of solace. He is paralleled by his former partner whose life is also devastated by tragedy. However, the partner contrasts the protagonist by taking up painting in order to remove himself from the his turmoil. Hana-bi is beyond a vigilante or revenge film. Any specific narrative description cheapens the authentic humanity portrayed in this film so I will leave it at that. I don't know of any director who can, or has tried to, juggle empathy, slapstick, and carnage in the manner that Kitano does. The violence is necessary in the context of the situations Nishi finds himself in. He is a broken man that must act. Kitano does not hide the cathartic implications of Nishi's actions, though it is clearly not a motivating factor. The film’s narrative is shattered at times to highlight and counterpoint the emotions. This is a deeply personal film conceived while Kitano was recovering from an accident in real life. The credits show that he wrote, directed, starred, and edited this film. While recuperating from both great depression and physical trauma, Takeshi took up painting. Many of the works he created during this time are tastefully used throughout the film.




Mononoke-hime
Princess Mononoke - 1997
Princess Mononoke is a staggeringly rich animated film with themes of the environment, gender rights, love, war, and justice pervading throughout it. It is the story of the journey the dying Ashitaka takes in order to rid himself of a curse put onto him by an angry and vengeful boar god. He meets a myriad of people and creatures that are all dealing with their own dilemmas, yet by the end of the film, are all tied together. The animation in this is second to none and is 95% hand drawn. I personally consider this to be Hayao Miyazaki's best film, though most, if not all, of them are well worth watching. I only regard the great Akira as a better anime film. It seems to me that Miyazaki always places an homage shot to it in his films. In this one, it is a shot of San being enveloped into the boar god. Even the English dubbing of this film was done extremely well, Billy Crudup, Gillian Anderson, Billy Bob Thornton, and Claire Danes doing a fantastic job. Essential viewing.




KOREA

Yeogo Goedam II
Memento Mori - 1999
Part coming of age story, part supernatural thriller, and part lesbian romance, Memento Mori can be a confusing ride. Set in a Korean secondary school, the narrative follows Min-Ah as she discovers and ruminates through the diary of two classmates. Suspiciously, one of them end up committing suicide. In turn, the increasingly complex relationship between the two girls pulls Min-Ah further into their haunted, secret world. Tae-Yong Kim and
Kyu-Dong Min's insights into these young girls' lives are extremely sharp and distant at the same time. Perhaps this is because I am a western male. The concept of a young girl's profoundly adorned notebook is spellbinding to me and I feel captivated by watching the intimate lives of people completely different from me in so many levels including culture, gender, sexuality, and nowadays, age. The overall aesthetics and presentation captures the challenges of adolescence as well as the literal meaning of the title of remembering someone close yet so far away.




Oldboy - 2003
The centerpiece of Chan-wook Park's revenge trilogy is something I will never forget. This film is bluntly visceral and it truly explores the subject of revenge to levels we do not necessarily want to know about. Ho Dae-su is kidnapped and imprisoned for 15 years for no apparent reason and finds himself inexplicably released one day. He proceeds to find out why this all happened and to seek revenge. Park is a maverick filmmaker and the technical wonders of this film are worth the price of admission. The camera work is inspired, with choreographed long tracking shots and beautiful set pieces. I have to admit that I am not a fan of the extreme cinema that has been coming out of Asia the last 15 years but there is a certain sense of journey that is conveyed in this film that separates this from that film style. I find this very appealing. Park is clearly trying to explore the concept of revenge and is not just aiming at presenting it on a silver, blood-stained platter. Old Boy is orchestrated to be more mentally sadistic than outright violent. This is not for everyone.




Gwoemul
The Host - 2006
It has been a while since I have seen a big budget action/horror movie with a solid mix of suspense, heart, and extremely sharp social criticism. In the world of Michael Bay, it wouldn't sell. Korea finds itself under attack by a mutated monster that was created by man by accident under lazy and pathetic circumstances. As the creature manifests itself in small river community, eating people as it runs amok, it kidnaps the youngest member of the out of luck Park family to munch on at a later time. The dysfunctional family realizes that it must somehow come together in order to save the young girl. Sure the group here bands together but camaraderie alone does not automatically resolve the crisis. Here, the problems lie not just with the creature but within ourselves --independently and together as a society. The monster is just a metaphor for the metaphor. The cinematography and the cast in this are spectacular. Hie-bong Byeon is a wonderful character actor who plays a clumsy yet lovable patriarch and Hae-il Park steals every scene she is in as the young heroine. I watched this and Pan's Labyrinth the same week and am glad to see the strength of the often overlooked young girl. A treat.

(I am sure an inferior remake will be made in America soon enough.)




TAIWAN

Ni Neibian Jidian
What Time Is It There? - 2001
A lot of people in America have a hard time with Ming-liag Tsai films. This has been pretty well understood from the onset. However, it is usually not from the sometimes outrageous escapades the characters get into (one in particular involves a watermelon), but because of the pacing and feeling of his films. Tsai is originally from Malaysia and many Americans do not understand the type of environment the natives of this country and neighboring ones live in. These countries have some of the most hot and humid cities on the face of the earth. Tsai has mastered the ability to capturing the thick, sticky feeling that swelters over his characters. It is completely natural for them to just want to lie in bed and let the time pass by. If it is a good day, they get to fuck as well. That said, Tsai couples this with loneliness, boredom, and tradition that creates an environment that is not to distant from the work of Robert Bresson.




THAILAND

Fah Talai Jone
Tears Of The Black Tiger - 2000
Wisit Sasanatieng brings us this extravagantly stylized western. Here, poor gunslinging bandit Dum and a wealthy young lady Rumpoey find themselves in love and have a plan to run away together. However, Dum gets caught up in his lifestyle and is held up from getting to Rumpoey on time of their arrangement. As this happens, her father sets her up to get married to someone from her own class. Dum has to break out of his gang's grip in order to get to Rumpoey in time to finally be together but we all know that it won't be easy. All the cliches are covered and they run with it. The acting, situations, locations, and action are all exaggerated. Sure, it is a bit fruity, but then anything that is part soap opera melodrama and part Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat has to be. However, the sheer fun the set designers and cinematographers are having cannot be ignored. Anyone else want to believe that behind the black and white photography of German expressionistic films lies saturation like this? Once again it goes to show that in order to be heard in the tough business of film, one has to be loud.




VIETNAM

Mua He Chieu Thang Dung
The Vertical Ray Of The Sun - 2000
Anh Hung Tran has a talent for capturing the environments most families on earth live in. Tight-nit and lacking of privacy. When large families so close together for most of their lives, issues certainly arise. Tran has a very compassionate view of the home Americans are used to going to for peace and quiet. He has a sublime way of capturing the lush environments of Vietnam and incorporating them into his shots in order to further convey mood and emotion.

Posted by Fran at 8:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

August 20, 2007

MAJOR STAR WARS

So I completed my first real editing work. As I told Wayne Rogers, it is pretty much the nerdiest thing imaginable. I chopped up Star Wars IV and synced it with an operatic rock jam from the Major Stars. It is the track Song for Turner off their album 4. For some reason mixing scorching guitar solos and light saber dueling makes sense in my head.

I wanted to embed it from Youtube but they and Google Video were quick to take it off. So you can download it here if you are interested in watching it. The file is 96.15 MB which should not be too much trouble this day in age. The quality is good.

I hope you like it.

Posted by Fran at 9:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 31, 2007

AND ANOTHER

Wow. Yesterday saw the death of two of the absolute greatest film directors. Is there anyone else other than Resnais and Godard left that can be considered in their class? (Won't that be a hell of an ending the day Godard goes?) I don't even know where to begin with this one. Antonioni was the person that made me fall in love with film. And I mean real love. L'Avventura was the culprit. Never before had a film aggravated me so much. I distinctly recall the anger I felt forty minutes into it. It all seemed pointless. The characters were awful people. The scenes were slow and meandering. But still, it was those people! I had no sympathy for them and could not understand why Antonioni would force me to experience their search for their lost "friend". Fuck her and fuck them. The boos during its screening at Cannes validates my feelings. But it was film class and I had to finish it. Yet a week after I finished watching it, I could not stop thinking about it. I still can't. The search itself was the point of that scene. The feelings I had were likely shared by the characters. Antonioni takes into consideration the fact that we are viewing the actions from afar but manages to work with many levels of phenomenology at the same time. Antonioni takes into consideration the story, the characters, and the spectator. This sheer depth is one of the many miracles of an Antonioni film. This might seem like a fluff piece but then ask anyone else who has seen this. And ask those people that jeered. Cinema was forever changed and they were the people who reported it.

I have previously made a post of my favorite images from motion pictures. I will recall the final shot from L'Avventura. It still packs a whallup. It is a perfect depiction of self made despair and a visual metaphor for the emotions residing within the characters. The ever extending wall shows us how Sandro will never reach his dreams of becoming an architect, developing emotion, or connecting to another person. Mount Etna offers a glimmer of hope (perhaps) of Claudia potentially having something still inside, waiting to come out.

It is kind of funny that I wrote about the end of my trilogy dealing with the motifs of Ingmar Bergman. The first story I started is based on Antonioni's work of love, social isolationism, and the modern malaise. It is an autobiographical story of the last time I loved someone. A long, long time ago. She was my Monica Vitti.

What was so special about the films these auteurs made was that they were so deep and personal that they offered something much more than entertainment. I learned a lot about life through them. I still find myself in the artistic school of thought that believes that art has to be created with monumental importance in mind. True art has to pursue truth. The eternal ambiguity of it just happens to make it fun. This is now a thing of the past and it is sad to see so much garbage thrown at us daily.

I found a great quote from a collection of short stories and film ideas Antonioni wrote:
"All men who look at death are the same man. But it's an identity that lasts only for that look, the first gesture annuls it."

What a fucking gesture.

The English version of the book is entitled, That Bowling Alley on the Tiber.

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EVEN WILD STRAWBERRIES WITHER

Needless to say we lost a towering figure today. Not just of cinema, but of art and life. Bergman's repertoire is unbelievably vast and dense. It is truly remarkable how many important films he made in the various stages of his career. My personal favorites are the early (relatively speaking) films he made when he was obsessed with death and before he found religion.

These are the notes from a deliberately unfinished screenplay I have been writing for the last 7 years that is to be completed at my old, old age. In my dreams, it is to be the grand finale of a personal human conflict trilogy. Man vs. Man (love); Man vs. Society (work, class, and country); and Man. vs. God (death and existence). Bergman was always my inspiration for this and I while I am waiting to see if I still believe in the message he gave out in his early works (even he himself abandoned this), something inside me tells me that was as close as anyone is going to get.

"And with his last bit of strength, he finally let out a smile. It was never so bad, even at its worst. But he could never let up the continuous struggle. He always knew much much he needlessly fought for just another second, how difficult he made it for himself; yet he felt that he owed at least that. It didn't matter who or what collected. Or didn't.

Only the very last second was for giving in and accepting things as they are. Only then could he finally relax. And why not? That second is the last he would know and that last second was eternal."

Marginal? Yes; but Inspired. Rest in peace you wise, old man.

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July 28, 2007

HOME MOVIES

As I further descend into the film world, I have begun an attempt at learning the fine craft of editing. I just completed my first project and it's quirky enough to share. I have synced up the video for a short experimental film by Peter Tscherkassky titled Dream Work to some improvised free jazz by Anthony Braxton and the late Derek Bailey.

It works really well together and has a different vibe than the original version and its Aphex Twin like harsh glitch soundtrack.

Editing is pretty intense and video/audio syncing is the most economical way to begin. Having the music behave so well with something so finely crafted may defeat the purpose of the exercise but what are you going to do? Tscherkassky and artists like Brakhage have pushed the boundaries of editing in a way that I will can't imagine pursuing --making it, and celluloid itself, pure art instead of using it as a tool to create narrative. I have a sweet project ahead of me but I don't want to give away the details. Lets just say that it will be "epic" in scope. Hopefully it will work out and be posted in a few weeks.

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November 21, 2006

DEATH OF A LADIES MAN

RIP, Mr. Robert Altman.

One of the absolute all time greats. So many great fucking films -- MASH, Short Cuts, Nashville, The Player, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, 3 Women, Gosford Park. Popeye. Among many, many others. All essential viewing -- well maybe not Popeye though I sure as hell loved it as a kid. Even attempting to write a little bit about him seems trivial. It is like yet someone else writing about the Beatles.

Who else could get Julianne Moore to do that vagina monologue? Who else would give Jack Lemon a great send-off with the best piece of dialogue in what was already his astounding career? Who else could make sure Lily Tomlin will be remembered as the great actress that she really is? Or Tom Waits? Or Lyle Lovett? In the same masterpiece? Or Whoopie Goldberg? Natch, scratch that one as well. Or give movie roles to the all-encompassing awesomeness that is Richard E. Grant?

We lost the greatest actor's director in cinema today. We also lost arguably the best American director of the last 50 years.

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September 17, 2006

IMAGERY

to me, one of the most important shots in film history. behind eisenstein's peacock and orsen well's upward angle shots in citizen kane. these rewrote the language of film.





well first you have to watch all the major fellini films in chronological order. then when this hits, you have joined fellini in his dance. there is no better moment for anyone who has ever dreamed of making a film. this is it. you can get existential with bergman, but that defeats the purpose of having film itself.





sometimes i forget that my heart still beats.





a woman is a woman and i am happy that is so.





fuck them up.





this made me want to move to new york. too bad that new york died 20 years ago. but i am here.





one of the finest orchestrated moments captured in film. a lot of work went into this.




my hero.





my hero.

Posted by Fran at 8:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

December 26, 2004

movies updated

So I just finished watching the Life Aquatic. It was a complete mess. I am beginning to have some bad realizations about Wes Anderson. I rewatched The Royal Tenenbaums last night and realized that that was a mess as well. But it somehow worked. I don't think The Life Aquatic even had a chance of being a good film because of some horrible script decisions. (the pirate scenes, last helicopter scene) It hit me really hard how dark and sadistic Wes Anderson has become. Wes simply cannot do violence. At best, he comes off incredibly pretentious. The naivitee I loved in Rushmore is nowhere to be seen anymore. Max Fischer could never write a scene where Buckley the dog gets run over by a junkie. Granted, Wes will always be a joy to watch because of his meticulous production sets and superb music selection. I just don't think I believe in the guy anymore. Also, hearing Sigur Ros in a Wes Anderson film is just plain weird/wrong.

In a better note, I also finally watched Sideways. It was everything everyone has said about it. Very understated and touching. It is quite possible my favorite film of 2004 despite the fact that it "steals" the last shot of the first movie I am writing. (Though mine is better, HA) It may not be the most original or creative film to ever grace the screen, but it was perfectly acted and perfectly directed and should be rewarded for that.

I hate to say that Bad Education also dissapointed as well. It might just be that we are used to the creative whirlwind of madness that is an Almodovar!. But in all honesty, there really wasn't much of the inspiring storytelling in this one. Perhaps it is asking too much of him. The last few scenes did finally manage to play like really great film noir though.

Posted by Fran at 6:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

December 14, 2004

fran goes to the movies

So umm, yeah...

The end of the year requires bloggers to dish out some lists. That and the fact that I mention on top that I am supposed to write about film. Unfortunately, I can't say much as far as best films of 2004 go but I'll give it a try nonetheless. I have yet to watch the films that I have been even remotely interested in seeing. Worse still, the films that I really want to watch haven't even been released yet. Cinema, at least in America is in a very sorry state right now. East Asia has become the dominant force in film. However, the biggest problem in America begins with distribution:

Films that I should have been allowed to see.
(The one night screenings don't count)

01: 2046. Wong Kar Wai is currently my favorite modern director. He has official ownership of my soul after In the Mood for Love. Wong Kar Wai is quite possibly the most romantic person alive. And it takes a lot to make me cry because of that subject matter nowadays.
02: Bad Education. Almodovar. 'Nuff said. Why on earth can I not see this and 2046. Even more proof that Americans have absolutely no taste. How can this film not be screened everywhere after how amazing (and well received for that matter) his last two (err, eight) films were.
03: Undertow. After George Washington & All the Real Girls, how can David Gordon Green go wrong. I mean he knew enough to stop making Confederacy of Dunces instead of making some half-assed version. In the artistic world of the make them and take them down mentality, this man is too smart even for my petty cynicism.
04: Twillight Samurai. At least I have it on my upcoming Netflix cue. Even though it will take a while.
05: Goodbye Dragon Inn. Tsai is further proof of Asia's resurgence of dominance of film these past few years. Though once again I must point out that I fucking hate Japanese Yakuza/gore-action cinema. For crying out loud, this man made a musical about the impending end of the world!!

Films that I should have seen:

01: Sideways. Why haven't I seen this yet? (Election) Oh yeah. (About Schmidt)
02: Finding Neverland. Nobody wanted to see it with me.
03: After Sunset. I guess my heart is too bitter to see this yet.
04: Million Dollar Baby. I have the utmost respect for Mr. Eastwood. I mean, he's fuckin' UNFORGIVEN man!

Finally the Films that I did see:

01: Zatoichi: The Blind Swordsman. So beautiful. Takeshi is a marvelous actor/director. How can such a man with such a violent streak love people so much? Though the end segment left my friends confused, I was smiling the whole way. This man loves.
02: Shaun of the Dead. So VERY funny. Notice how even British losers are smarter than American losers. British Zombies too.
03: The Incredibles. More action, better characters, and less CGI than Spiderman 2!
04: Eternal Sunshine. Not bad at all. For yet another Kaufman flick. It was definitely a very good movie but many elements in Kaufman's scripts keep on getting recycled. It would be better for us all if he would take a break. I'm sure you no longer need money that bad. Maybe learn from David Gordon Green. Oh and Gondry you sly dog, Kirsten Dunst wouldn't let you film her topless but you managed to make her one of the most visually pleasing women ever caught on film. (Not that it took much work, just a tank top) Suggestion will always be better than the real thing and he knows this. Now thats a real dirty Frenchman!

Notes:
• I know I know better, (I won't even acknowledge Garden State) but why for the sake of everything that is good did I watch Napoleon Dynamite?
• I HATE Quentin Terrantino. The Kill Bill movies were pretty dissapointing in general. However, Terrantino himself is the problem. Talk about believing your own hype. He is my nominee for biggest jackass in Hollywood. (He does get points for Jackie Brown though)
• I hope Alex Proyas made bank with I, Robot and that he will make the movie of his dreams. That movie is the definition of "taking one for the team". I shudder to think if he doesn't. If you are into film noir and sci-fi, check out Dark City. (Thought I was gonna say Bladerunner right?) Ebert's commentary track is the best on dvd.

So I should mention that I saw Brumont's L'Humanite last night. The reason I haven't seen too many films in the theater is because I am usually at home watching contemporary French cinema by him and Haneke instead. Vive la France!

Posted by Fran at 6:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 23, 2004

Talking Heads : Stop Making Sense

So that top 5 thing was a clue to what I was going to rant about next. I completely mean it though. This is absolutely one of the most wonderful things I have ever experienced in my life. And astonishingly enough, I get to re-experience it without ever tiring of it. This is something that is a theme in my list. All the things I hold dear are not just singular events but reaccuring characters in my life that I see fairly frequently. The notion of love is based upon ideas outside of reality. Without getting too philosophical, love is a notion that can be a part of the concept of perfection. These concepts do not exist other than in the mind. However these things are very real to us and are constantly impacting our lives. Now I will tell you why I love this movie and why I think it is perfect.

Stop Making Sense is my definition of music. And though it may sound cliche, I love the fact that it is white people playing harmoniously with black people. It is everybody getting together to make music. And dance. It is music in its bare essense. Not just that, but they are playing music that is heavily influenced by black culture. And I don't mean African American culture. The polyrhythms are straightup African. There is a groove and funk that can be seen with the works of Fela Kuti and with his other Afro Beat contemporaries. Now some might see that these great black musicians seem too happy be be there playing for the Talking Heads and be saddened. I see the same thing. But it makes me happy. Fuck if Steve Scales doesn't have the greatest smile ever. These musicians are doing what they were born to do and lets not forget that they are playing some amazing music. If what they were playing was not musically intellectual, then I might see the arguement. This is no Average White Band. (excuse the pun) Again, some might say why play white man funk? However its fucking Parliament's Bernie Worrell who is playing the funk. And if it is Bernie Worrell playing the funk then the funk is good, son. It is not like they are being pretentous. The one thing about the Talking Heads that makes them one of my favorite bands is that they were so sincere. As would be seen time and time again, especially with Luaka Bop, David Byrne was fiercely into World Music and incorporating both its true structure and essence. The Talking Heads were always awkward but they were were playing their music. What set it apart was that it was good and it had soul. You can not take the musicians away from the music. The Tom Tom Club's Genius of Love is about the dorkiest thing ever (seriously) but its beautiful for that.

Another reason why I love this film so much is because it is a perfect film. It is not just about the music which to its own right makes one of the finest live recordings that I know of. Jonathan Demme did a fantastic job with this film. I consider the image above one of the best in cinematic history. The shot is no trick. It is an amazing technical shot that was planned from the beginning. It feels like the movie was made to create that shot. And it would be worth it if it was. The set pieces are also fantastic. Each song has its own distinct visual flair to it. These range from video art in the background to the simple yet striking dramatic lighting. Even The structure of the film is fantastic --pardon me if I am running out of adjectives. You get to see the skeleton of the film itself as the set is built as the show progresses. I really can't say enough about how great an idea it was to build up one musician at at time. From David playing Psycho Killer "by himself" to the explosion of the full band playing Burning Down The House. David Byrne said it best --he wanted to tell a story. He did --metaphorically and literally.

How many jaw dropping events take place in this film? I only have to say single words. Boombox. Lamp. Suit. Once you have seen this, you will never forget these images. They are part of american music pop culture. Or atleast a part of me.

I have to admit that I have had teary eyes everytime I have seen this film. That makes it in the 30s. I am not kidding. This film captures joy so well that it makes me want to cry. This may sound over the top but I was very serious when I said it was one of my favorite things ever. Even at work at Newbury Comics when I put it on. The first time I played it a man and his 4 year old daughter watched the film for 20 minutes. She was on his shoulders staring in awe. She was only 4 but she understood that they were watching something special. I almost couldn't take it.

Now I fully am aware that what I said before is a charade. David Byrne was a madman at this point and everyone was completely miserable. To this day their relationship is still so bad that the band members had to record the commentary separate from Byrne. Not to mention the obvious drug use that to some can tarnish the accomplishment. I find it very amusing myself. As much as I consider this film pure joy, in reality it was not. But what cannot be taken away is that the end result is magic. It is an example of an extraordinary work of art. David Byrne is a genius and I cannot blame him for protecting his vision. He put his soul into this. I could never imagine a singer putting more effort on stage than what he does here --and lets not forget the whole tour. What he did was create a work of art. Sometime, well many times, it has to be separated from the artist. What is important is that the intention is real. Like with my family, lovers, and self; there are many problems and mixed emotions stirring inside that is the cause of the pain I suffer from. Many times I can't stand it. But when I look back at it I will always see through those things and smile. This is love.

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