Happy Human Rights Day

Sixty years ago today, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was ratified by the United Nations; let's all celebrate our freedoms and our rights and think about those who should – but do not – share these fundamental truths of human existence. For a cool view of the text, go to this youtube post... or this one. Here is the link to the official text.

For some "fun", check out this video presentation of The Clash's Know Your Rights... still as strong today as in 1983 when they last performed it together. And here's the immortal Bob Marley performing Get Up Stand Up [stand up for your rights].

Enjoy your rights... today and every day.

Review #14 – The Duchess

An appreciative audience enjoyed the lovely end to the Cinema CNC season on Saturday, our screening of The Duchess. Having said this, I must admit to not being quite as prone to wonderment, as some folks are, at the general spectacle of period-pieces; however, this work won me over, primarily for two reasons: the quality of the acting and the complexity of the plot.

Most historical dramas are judged, primarily, on two elements: how they are filmed, and how they look. The cinematography is The Duchess is handled splendidly by Gyula Pados, a Hungarian whiz, whose name sounded familiar... with the help of IMDB, I found credits for the beautifully haunting Fateless, Lajos Koltai's coming-of-age in Buchenwald story, which I saw at the Toronto Film Festival a couple of years ago, and for Kontroll, a delightfully dark account of ticket inspectors on the Budapest subway [and particularly problematic cinematographically, as most of the action takes place under fluorescent lighting in the myriad tunnels and stations of the subway system].

As far as how this film looks, praise must be lavished on costumer Michael O'Connor, set decorator Rebecca Alleway, and art director Karen Wakefield... their attention to detail and enthusiasm expressed in getting all elements as close to correct as possible is testament to their professionalism.

The story in The Duchess is a simple one: a 16 year-old woman is married-off for position and to provide an heir to the Duke of Devonshire, one of the most powerful men in England. She has been naïve, he is a brute. She breaches her contract by not producing a male child, and he takes on a number of lovers, including her best friend who conveniently lives with them. The story becomes complicated because the Duchess, Georgiana, as played by Keira Knightley, has a brain and has opinions and has desires. That she is the great-great[add more greats as necessary] aunt of Diana, Princess of Wales, might have aided in the marketing of this film [the tagline, "there were three people in her marriage" is an anachronistic reference to a comment of Diana's], but one can't help draw some interesting parallels, in-as-much-as one wants to be sympathetic to those considered social betters living their lives as if in a fishbowl.

Georgiana appears to have a keen political sense; the Duke, played by Ralph Fiennes, is the principal benefactor of the Whig party, but he seems as oddly detached from the quotidian aspects of politics as he is from everything else in his life [including his wife and children], except his dogs. She, on the other hand, takes an interest to the point of being a great friend to Charles Fox, a thorn in the side of the monarchy, and lover of Charles Grey, the Earl Grey of tea fame and future Prime Minister [with whom she had a daughter, also making her a direct ancestor of Sarah, Duchess of York... this wasn't played up... I wonder why?].

That the Duke is a cad is a historical truth and a necessary plot device; however, his depiction by Ralph Fiennes is much more complex... Fiennes seems to be having a lot of fun playing this character, even while glowering darkly at the end of the table whose two other occupants are his wife and his in-house lover. Fiennes plays him not for sympathy but for understanding; that this depiction falls short in the attempt is in no way a failure of Fiennes' craft... the life of such a man is just too far off the radar of this middle-class North American [me] for him to be rendered understandable. The power of the performance is in the understatement, in the Duke's seeming lack of understanding of the simplest of human emotions [did he have some form of autism?], and Fiennes carries the movie, when it isn't being carried by Keira Knightley.

The Duchess was noted in her day for her flamboyance and for her style; she was the "It girl" of 18th century London society. Her hair was higher, her hats were bigger, and her dresses were more elaborate than anybody else's. As well, she had an infectiously charming personality, energetically portrayed by the lovely Keira Knightley... to paraphrase one wag in the movie, " the Duke is the only man in England who doesn't love his wife." Knightley probably deserves an Oscar nomination for her work in this film, and not only for risking snapping her lovely slender neck under the weight of the enormous wigs and un-aerodynamic millinery required for the role. She plays Georgiana with charm and intelligence; the Duchess is not just a poor-little-rich-girl, but a fully-formed – and thus effectively stiffled – woman of her epoch.

The plot of The Duchess mixes the personal with the public, the old ideas with the new [of the time] and the dream with the reality, all while giving the audience members credit for being able to come to their own conclusions. This film can be read as a slice-of-life depiction, as a deeply personal story of a difficult marriage, and/or as a deeply charged political statement. Any way you want to look at this film, read it you must... it doesn't do it for you, and this, finally, is the true strength of Saul Dibb's effort.

Review #13 – Frozen River

An appropriate choice for a snowy, windy night, Frozen River played to a smallish – but appreciative – audience on Saturday. This film represents the qualities that American independent productions could, but often don't, offer; so much of US filmmaking is focussed on box-office splash that the simple act of telling a small story well gets lost... not here in Courtney Hunt's debut feature, though. That this film has been nominated for and has won a number of prestigious prizes, including the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, is probably sufficient recommendation... you could stop reading now and will have received the message I am trying to deliver.

I must confess to really, really liking Melissa Leo, who plays the central figure, Ray Eddy, in this piece. Ever since her turn as Detective Sergeant Kay Howard in Homicide: Life on the Streets, I've wondered why she of the leonine mane of hair and whiskey and cigarettes voice doesn't get more work... Frozen River merely reinforces the strength of this question. That, as of this post, she is in 10 productions either finished or currently in production, means others have asked this question and we will, thankfully, be seeing a lot more of her soon. The other principal in Frozen River, Misty Upham, as Lila Littlejohn [a Robin Hood reference, perhaps?], does not seem to have been noticed in the same light, but she should be... it would be sad if this talented actor is relegated to roles calling for a First-Nations woman, rather than to roles requiring a strong woman... of any race or creed. Why, when no race is indicated, is white the norm? This is most apparent when this notion is breached, as in Sandra Oh's portrayal of Carol French in Wilby Wonderful [a dandy Canadian production], a part that I am sure wasn't specifically written for a Korean woman in Daniel McIvor's script... but I digress [as always]. This being said, Misty Upham's portrayal did bring to mind another, Elaine Miles as Marilyn Whirlwind in Northern Exposure... blending similar enigmatic qualities and inner strength [albeit to less comedic end in the production under discussion].

To the movie... the characters in Frozen River lead, in Thoreau's terms, "lives of quiet desperation", perched as they are on the margins of society. That Ray's biggest dream is to live in a new double-wide mobile home, sounding like some sort of classist punchline, and that her good-for-nothing and gambling addicted husband has fled for parts unknown with the downpayment [unwisely hidden in the glovebox of her car] serves to underline just how close to the wire her life is functioning. She is, seemingly, always a couple of thousand away from a notion of success, and one minor disaster away from despair... this is reinforced by her son's unfortunate use of a blowtorch to thaw a frozen pipe... but I don't want to give anything away. Ray works part-time at the Yankee One Dollar store, and doesn't seem to be getting ahead in any way. She meets Lila, and they form an uneasy detente, smuggling illegal aliens across the nearby US-Canadian border, through the Mohawk reservation.

Both of these women live on the boundaries: Ray has qualities that give her advantages, especially being white, but she lives a hand-to-mouth existence; Lila has connection to community that Ray doesn't have, but she lives in an unserviced travel trailer in the woods. The space they inhabit is characterized by a moral ambiguity which underlines that hard-and-fast ethics are the purview of the comfortable. Even though Lila gives Ray the comfort of saying that the smuggling is legal because it takes place on the reserve, and that the Mohawk don't recognize the border between the nations, both women know that what they are doing is fundamentally wrong, but also oddly necessary. And also very dangerous... the folks they are dealing with are not pleasant, and the manner of the border crossing, on the frozen St. Lawrence River in an ill-equipped car whose main attraction is that it has a remote-release trunk, does not bode well of their long-term survival.

This film maintains the drama without falling for the temptation of cliché; the viewer cares what happens, while being astounded at what happens. There is good acting here, in the principals, and in the secondary characters, particularly Charlie McDermott and James Reilly as Ray's children. Some of the other players are amateurish, but this lends a degree of verisimilitude to the production... and is easily forgiven in the over-all strength of the effort.

A number of reviewers laud Frozen River's style as something missing from the American independent production scene; this is too bad for our neighbours to the South, as, for a Canadian audience, this film seems very familiar. So, if you watch this film and like what you see, check out some Canadian films, which, by virtue of small budgets, tend toward strong characters and plot at the expense of flash. Sometimes this seems small-time, but it is mainly oddly refreshing.

Review #12 – My Brother is an Only Child

Cinema CNC showed My Brother is an Only Child on Saturday to an appreciative audience... director Daniele Luchetti's work isn't seen too often on this side of the Atlantic, which is too bad... as a matter of fact, there haven't been too many Italian films in general release for the past few years; as North America rediscovers French film and starts to appreciate Spanish productions, Italian film seems to have been overlooked.

Well, let's just say that this film goes a long way both to suggest that film is not currently dead in Italy and to make strong reference to great Italian films of the past. I found myself thinking of Fellini, De Sica, Rossellini, and Pasolini at different moments during the film, not because of lack of engagement, but because of the comfortingly familiar way that Luchetti constructs his movie. My friend David mentioned a French/Spanish connection too; in one scene the entire family walks down the road, bickering, which brought to his mind Luis Buñuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

On with the story... two brothers, Accio and Manrico, compete over everything: physical dominance, politics, family affection, women. Accio is at a disadvantage; he is younger and has a somewhat-unpleasant demeanor. Manrico, beside having natural personal charm, is blessed with matinee-idol looks [which will serve Riccardo Scamarcio, the actor portraying him, well]. There is a sister as well, Violetta who is a whiz on the cello, but she doesn't have enough screen time to seem fully realized as a character. This brings me to a small criticism of the film... it drags a bit at times, primarily, I think, because the director tried a little too hard to stay true to the source, a novel [Il Fasciocomunista, by Antonio Pennacchi], and we all know the vagaries of this pursuit as demonstrated so often elsewhere. That being said, that this movie was born of a literary source is generally a strength. The family dynamics can be seen as a microcosm of Italian society in the mid-to-late 60s. The Benassi family is leftist; Manrico is adored by his parents for leading a revolt at the factory where he works. To rebel, Accio studies to be a priest... his lack of success seems to be predicated on the fact that he finds God to be too forgiving, which leads him, seemingly naturally, to his next rebellion: joining the fascist party, under the tutelage of his friend, Mario, a tablecloth salesman who adores Mussolini.

Accio [mis]spends his time looking for a place to fit in, and Manrico always seems to fit in; however, the simplicity of this equation becomes more complicated both literally and figuratively. Viewers' sympathies are toyed with here; we like Manrico, but the film is, ultimately, told from Accio's point-of-view. Figuratively, these young men represent the somewhat-scrambled nature of Italian society in this period, presented both sympathetically and somewhat parodically, as in the revolutionary rendition of Ode to Joy performed during a student occupation in an academy in Rome, with lyrics altered to praise Mao, Lenin, and all things communist.

Accio and Manrico compete for the affections of Francesca [played by Diane Fleri] of the luminous smile. This battle plays out in a non-stereotypic fashion which gives greater interest to the characters involved and leads to disasterous result within the film [I'll say no more, for fear of giving something away].

Another sub-story that would be all-too-familiar to anyone living in Italy in the 60s is that the Benassi family, and everyone else they know, is in a state of suspended social animation, waiting for promised social housing that never seems to be available. Their frustration boils over in a suprising and satisfying manner, bringing the symbolic and the real social situations of Italian life together.

My Brother is an Only Child entertains and enlightens; despite a couple of spots where the story drags a little, we get to see a slice of life worth observing... one of the movie-goers I know quite well said, "they sure did yell a lot, didn't they?" to which I said, "have you been to Italy?" And you have, if you've seen this film.

Obama Wins

What more can I say?

Let's hope it really means something.

Good going, America.

Review #11 – Before the Rains

Saturday, Cinema CNC showed Before the Rains to an appreciative audience; both the filmmaking and the subject matter is impressive here. Santosh Sivan sets this film in his native Kerala, in south India, highlighting the intense beauty of the landscape in a manner befitting the Merchant Ivory label on this work.

Sivan is an accomplished director, most notably of 1999's The Terrorist, as well as a seasoned cinematographer, with 38 film credits, including Bride and Prejudice and the Mistress of Spices. His camerawork chops are showcased in Before the Rains; this is a beautiful film, with the expected sweeping landscape shots, but Sivan also has a subtle touch: the interior shots are nicely composed and his camera helps tell the story... sometimes a little heavyhandedly, as in a lingering close-up of a gun near the beginning of the film [you just know that someone's going to get it... you are merely waiting to find out who], but usually with subtlety, as in a look through a bloodstained window, as a character recognizes the importance of this stain [after the gun comes back into play... not a spoiler; just a fact].

Thematically, this film packs a punch... we are introduced to Henry [Linus Roache] and Sajani [Nandita Das] at a moment of playful flirtation. It becomes increasingly apparent that they are lovers and that their love is forbidden, both by the cultural and social divide [he's English and an imperialist landowner... she's Indian and his maid] and by the fact that they are both married: he to Laura [Jennifer Ehle], to whom he seems to feel socially inferior; she to Rajat [Lal Paul], who despite being a brute apparently loves her. The man caught up between the two cultures depicted [and quite literally in the middle of the mess created] is T.K. Neelan [Rahul Bose] the one completely sympathetic, but ultimately doomed, character in this drama. Henry is a cad; we start out cheering for him, but his true colours come to the surface soon enough. Sajani is tragically foolish. Laura is too cool as a character and too associated with the benefits of imperialism to elicit much sympathy. T.K. has been to the English school and sees that the way to get ahead is to put his lot in with the overlords; his timing couldn't be worse, considering the emerging nationalist movement in India, and we all know how that works out... don't we? [if not, see Ben Kingsley's depiction in Gandhi].

A central conflict in the movie is the completion of the road which will enable Henry to expand his tea empire into spices; this gives the title to the movie, as it must be finished before the monsoon season, or it will be washed away. The potential folly of this effort mirrors the whole British adventure in India, microcosmically represented in the relationships depicted in Before the Rains. This film transcends the overworked conventions of an anti-colonialism morality tale with a plot twist that shifts the focus to an ethical question that might just serve to destroy everyone involved. I really want to tell you what it is, but etiquette dictates that I exercise reserve.

This film was adapted from an earlier, Israeli effort by Dan Verete, called Asphalt Zahov [Yellow Asphalt]. I am not sure exactly how this transfiguration happened or how it works, but after reading the description for Verete's film, I am quite intrigued. I will try to see it and report back to you. If anybody has seen Asphalt Zahov, leave me a note, please.

A final note to suggest to you that you see Before the Rains; it is worth a look.

Review #10 – Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Woody Allen's latest, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, screened to popular acclaim at Cinema CNC on Saturday; this is much too big a film for our series, but the local megaplex would never screen it, so there we were!

Before getting to the movie, I feel compelled to discuss the director, because Woody Allen inspires all kinds of comment. While talking up the movie during the week, I had more than one person say something like "a Woody Allen movie? Why? Yuck...." [eyes rolling]... I am somewhat mystified by this response... while much has been made of aspects of his personal life, his choices and all, and some of his movies haven't quite measured up now and then, why do people feel such a strong aversion to him? Woody Allen first awed me when I saw a screening of Manhattan at Cinecenta, the University of Victoria's cinema. Manhattan is spectacular... a clever melange of story, technique, and character, mixed to create a love-document to that great municipality. I have since seen pretty much all of the 40ish films he's made. I had a crush on Barbara Hershey after watching Hannah and Her Sisters, I almost wet myself watching Sleeper, I was fascinated by the technique of Zelig, not to mention the numerous other big and beautiful films he has made. And as for his personal life, most of the prejudice is predicated on his relationship with Soon-Yi Previn, his ex-wife's [Mia Farrow's] adopted daughter... I don't know exactly what went on there, but they have been together for 15 years, ten of them as husband and wife, which is a long time by show-biz standards. All this being said, I hope that when I am 72 years old, I don't opt for a comfortable retirement, but rather make a film as fine as Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

The film opens with an introduction of our three main characters: Vicky [Rebecca Hall] and Cristina [Scarlet Johansson] and Barcelona [Barcelona]. The two women are riding in a taxi and are shown on split screen, with a voice-over [provided by Christopher Evan Welch] explaining why they are there and what their life-views, especially to do with love, consist of. Vicky wants stability and security and appears to have found this... she is engaged to Doug [Chris Messina], a wealthy and seemingly nice young man. Cristina doesn't know what she wants, but does know what she doesn't want... which is Vicky's dream. Cristina has recently made a short film about LOVE, but is unsatisfied and wants to forget it. The third character, Barcelona, provides the romantic context for the challenges of these contrasting world-views. Allen treats the city with some of the same affection he gives New York in Manhattan... however, it is not affection born of years of familiarity and regard as in the earlier film, but rather the thrill of infatuation... the freshness of a new love.

Woody Allen films, even when thin on other elements, always have fascinating characters, often testaments to the actors creating them. He seems to have a knack for bringing out fine performances in his players. Javier Bardem, as Juan Antonio, shows his chops, especially when one contrasts this with his depiction of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men. His haircut is better here, as is his personality... while this film, on description, might come across as some kind of male fantasy piece, with Juan Antonio juggling women [not just Vicky and Christina, but Maria Elena, too... more on her in a sec.], but it becomes much more, largely through the sympathetic depiction created by Bardem. His character, while undeniably benefitting from these women's affections, serves as a passive base on which the female characters act. He is seemingly without guile, but full of passion... he opens contact with Vicky and Cristina by offering to take them on a nice holiday to a remote location where they can see the sights and eat the food and make love, eliciting both shocked and intrigued responses from V and C. He seems genuinely surprised, precisely because he isn't trying any tricks... he is being straightforward.

Maria Elena is Juan Antonio's ex-wife, and, by all accounts, they have had a tempestuous relationship... she is played with great energy by Penélope Cruz as the human embodiment of a tempest... even when she is sitting still and smiling, one still has the impression that tumult in not too far below the surface. Her character does not appear until almost half-way through the movie, but it is hard to forget her impact. Cruz's depiction shows both her talent for character and Woody Allen's talent for eliciting performances from actors.

As in previous films, Allen is quick to pay homage to things he likes in other artists... film and otherwise. We see references to Almodóvar, especially in the outdoor scenes with Spanish guitar... no surprise since his cinematographer is Javier Aguirresarobe, Pedro Almodóvar's cinematographer for Talk to Her. Javier Bardem's dialogue is often pure Ingemar Bergman; when he talks about the reasons for his forwardness, one is reminded of Jøns' line "But feel, to the very end, the triumph of being alive!" from The Seventh Seal, a much darker take on this same discussion about what it means to truly live. The picnic scene in this film reminds me of a scene in a Marilyn Monroe film, with Scarlett Johanssen's wardrobe providing the trigger [I can't remember which film, but the shorts and gingham are definitely reminiscent]. The film Vicky and her friend go to is Shadow of a Doubt, an Alfred Hitchcock film from 1943.

Music plays a prominent role here, as it does in other Allen films, with "Barcelona", by Giulia y los Tellarini, "Entre Dos Aguas", by Paco de Lucía, "Granada", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Emilio de Benito], and "Asturias", by Isaac Albéniz [played by Juan Quesada] featured prominently, providing mood and emotional context. Spanish guitar becomes an internal symbol for the conflict between romantic and pragmatic views of the world.

I don't want to describe too much of the action of this movie, because to do so would be to spoil the delight of discovery; I do, however, want to extoll its virtues and suggest to you that you'd like to see it. Let me know what you think.

Review #9 – The Cup

Somehow I managed not to see this film until now; I've owned a copy for a while [procurred from the same cheap bin as The Spanish Prisoner!... see below], but have left it on my shelf. The Cup [Phorpa], as you might already know, is the first film from Bhutan... although it is set in India, with predominantly Tibetan characters, and with funding from Australia.

I showed the second film made in Bhutan at Cinema CNC about 4 years ago: Travellers and Magicians... it was very popular with our audience, for many of the same reasons that The Cup works... it doesn't try too hard, it shows a good story, and it involves the audience. The Cup's [and Travellers and Magicians', for that matter!] director, Khyentse Norbu, is a Buddhist monk, so has an insider's vision... he also has some screen cred, having worked as a consultant on Bernardo Bertolucci's Little Buddha. He filmed in 16mm and then blew it up to 35mm, because of budgetary constraints. Many of the players are real-life monks or trainee monks, giving the film a priceless realistic look that one defies any Hollywood budget to replicate. The film stock, the players, and the gorgeously beautiful setting lend a sense of documentary to The Cup, and this is precisely the element that makes this, and films like it, particularly appealing. We watch films from distant places precisely because we want to be taken there, at least vicariously, for an hour-and-a-half.

The Cup reveals both the sacred and the quotidian of these men's lives, all overshadowed by the context of the Tibetans' exile in India. This monumental issue is not ignored; it is merely treated as just another part of the reality of the monks' existence. Two young men are expected at the monastery, having been smuggled out of Tibet, through Nepal to India; the Abbot worries that they will not make it. Meanwhile, two of the current crop of apprentices are revealed to be soccer-mad [the Cup of The Cup is the World Cup, particularly the 1998 version]. Much effort is expended to see the various games. One character, Orgyen [Jamyang Lodro] is obsessed; he wears a homemade Ronaldo [the Brazillian great] jersey under his monk's robes. It becomes necessary, to Orgyen and others, that they get the services of a satelite dish and television for the final, between Brazil and France. Orgyen is cheering for France [a surprise, considering his outfit], because "France has supported the cause of Tibet." Getting a dish is doubly-complicated, because they need money and they need permission, neither of which seems to be forthcoming.

This quest pushes the narrative forward, but much of the movie deals with the day-to-day lives of the characters: we see them at prayers, at meals, at work, at play. While one might have unrealistically romantic notions of the divinity of these individuals from a distance, they are delightfully human up close, falling asleep while chanting, passing notes back and forth, playing tricks, and really, really liking soccer. The integration of the new boys with the old tells a lot about this community; there are tests and pitfalls, but there is a refreshing lack of testosterone-laden challenges here. It is altogether pleasant to watch 93 minutes of almost exclusively male action that doesn't include punching anyone in the face. The younger monks biggest fear is the Abbot's enforcer, Geko, [Orgyen Tobgyal], who turns out to be a bit of a marshmallow underneath his stern countenance.

While this movie is a little slow [the director said at Sundance that it was okay if people fell asleep], The Cup is a compelling narrative slice-of-life, a life that is completely unfamiliar, but worthy of examination.

Review #8 – Oldboy

Woo-wee!... I just turned off the DVD player, closing down the amusement park ride that is Oldboy, Chan-wook Park's profoundly disturbing and violent film. And like being shaken-up by an amusement ride, one is both relieved and disappointed when the end comes... let's take this baby up again! or perhaps not.

I stood next to Chan-wook Park at a reception given by the Japanese embassy at the Venice Film Festival; he was there showing [and being rewarded for] Lady Vengeance [Chinjeolhan geumjassi], the third in the trilogy of vengeance films of which Oldboy is the second – the first is Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance [Boksuneun naui geot]. The reception included some very lovely snacks and beverages and many, many speeches in both Japanese and Italian, neither language familiar to either of us [so it seemed]... and it is apparently impolite to eat or drink while the speeches are taking place, so the crowd stood attentively listening, some comprehending, some not so much. We made sympathetic eyebrow gestures at one another, and I looked forward to trying to chat with him, but he was whisked away after about 45 minutes. After about an hour, I took a discreet sip from my glass of wine... I am pretty sure that I got away with it, but I haven't been invited back. I am not sure why I am telling this story, except to suggest that there is a normal human consciousness behind the mayhem that we are confronted with in Oldboy... if I were just trying to puff up my own importance by talking about this event, I would have pointed out that Hayao Miyazaki was at the reception, too, but that would be just dropping names, so I won't.

Oldboy opens with Dae-su Oh on a bench in a police station; it is a rainy night, and he is drunk and beligerent. After his friend, No Joo-hwan, bails him out, he goes outside, phones home from a phone booth, and disappears. We next see him in what looks like a slightly-scruffy motel room, which turns out to be a prison where he is kept for 15 years. When he is let out, the audience has as little insight into the nature of his imprisonment as he does. Without giving too much away, it turns out that he had 5 days to find out who has done this to him and why.

Dae-su Oh has spent his 15 years getting into phenomenal shape, learning stuff from television, and developing an almost-insatiable thirst for vengeance [we could see that coming, couldn't we?]. He is pleasing as a character, because we see his development from a buffoon into a sharply-defined and cunning agent of violent retribution.

This narrative transcends the dully clichéd genre of "one man's revenge" [look to pulp westerns, spy dramas, and many Hollywood star vehicles for examples] because the person responsible for his captivity is a worthy adversary, cunning too, and one step ahead to boot.

This film is extremely violent, with many creative uses of force and common household tools, but the plot dictates the violence, not the other way around... there is nothing unnecessary, and there is nothing particularly easy to watch, or listen to. I have seen all three of the films in this triumverate of retribution and must say that Chan-wook Park is a master of squirm; just when one must look away, the sound of the event predominates... in fact, the camera seems to shy away from the most extreme moments, leaving us with a soundscape that personalizes the violence... if you have to imagine it, then you are complicit in the manufacture of the brutality.

That there is a love story in this film helps viewers to sympathize with Dae-su Oh, even while he is expressing his fury. While the relationship might seem unlikely, we aren't given any reason to question it, and it is this relationship that provides the most chilling twist in this already-labyrinthine story. As more is revealed, both the viewer and Dae-su Oh are kept off-balance... shouldn't more information start providing certainty? Not here, at least for a while.

Oldboy is unlike anything one is likely to see in North America [including a sushi scene that would make the SPCA go on alert], mainly because the filmmaker has the confidence both to let his story reveal itself and to give his audience credit for the intelligence to follow it. Part of the attraction is that one is compelled to try to figure out a puzzle that is impossible to figure out. What a ride.

Review #7 – The Spanish Prisoner

I love the cheap-bin at our local video store; while there is plenty of crap, the opportunity to find a gem or six makes the bin worth looking through. I particularly like it when it is obvious that the store has pulled all the poor-renting film; regardless of virtue they will be dumped if enough folks don't rent them. My tastes are, by most people's standards, eclectic; therefore, I stand a pretty good chance of finding good stuff, even in a fairly picked-over bin.

On a recent foray, I grabbed The Spanish Prisoner, David Mamet's acclaimed 1997 production. I must express a prejudice: I love David Mamet's work, especially the writing... he's penned such diverse works as The Verdict, Wag the Dog, The Untouchables, Ronin, Hoffa, Glengarry Glen Ross, State and Main, and House of Games...

As with other Mamet works, the strength of The Spanish Prisoner is the dialogue. Mamet spends about as much time thinking about realism as Alfred Hitchcock ever did; that is to say, not much... this type of cinematic formalism is an acquired taste, I suppose, but I like a filmmaker who give me credit for knowing that I am watching a film and that someone is leading me along... if reality is a virtue, I'll go outside and take a look...

Mamet's craft best expresses itself in what his characters say: one interchange, for example... Joe Ross: "Funny old world." Susan Ricci: "Funny old world? Dog my cats!" Joe Ross: "Dog my cats indeed." What does this mean? I don't know, but it's fun. He has other characters spout such worthies as "Worry is like interest paid in advance on a debt that never comes due" [George Lang]; "We must never forget that we are human, and as humans we dream, and when we dream we dream of money" [Lang, again]; "Beware of all enterprises which require new clothes" [and again]; "Always do business as if the person you're doing business with is trying to screw you, because he probably is. And if he's not, you can be pleasantly surprised" [Jimmy Dell].

The title of this piece comes from a long-con... "oldest con in the world", as one of the detectives says... I doubt this; I am sure there are cons pre-dating the existence of Spain, but I quibble needlessly. [If you don't know what is meant by con, click the link] I am sure of pre-existing cons because they seems elemental to human nature; we recognize that Joe, the nice-guy central character played by Cambell Scott, is in a heap-o-trouble right from the outset, precisely because he IS a nice-guy. Joe has developed a mysteriously labelled "Process" that will allow the company he works for to "control the world market". We are pretty sure that things aren't what they seem, but in what way? Can Joe trust anyone? Probably not... but he does.

The movie opens on a junket to a mysterious Carribean location; Joe is with his boss, Mr. Klein, his friend, George, and his secretary, Susan, none of whom seem completely trustworthy. While on the island, he meets Jimmy, who definitely is not what he seems. There are mysterious packages, mysterious relatives, mysterious other guests, mysterious passers-by... after a while, everyone seems worthy of our suspicions. Poor Joe... it takes quite a bit to shake him; in fact, viewers might want to give him a shake, because he's so significantly naive. Scott plays his convincingly, though, as a man so lost in his formulae and figures that the reality of his existence escapes him... it isn't until actual menace slaps him in the face that he reacts, and, once awakened, he uses his analytic ability to work out the problem.

Without giving away too much of the plot I will say that the story resolves itself, somewhat, but one can't help hearing a faint chuckle from the filmmaker, especially when there appear to be significant holes in the ending; perhaps he's laughing at our need for any sort of resolution. And any discussion of story-arc conventions will just ruin the joy of this film, which is just watching and hearing smart words coming from characters we want to hear from... how refreshing. This film's relatively obvious low budget is part of the charm; one gets the impression that these talented people made this movie because they wanted to, and their dedication comes through.

Review #6 – Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist

There is good stuff and not-so-good stuff in Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. A lame opening for a review, I guess, but reflective of how I am feeling an hour and a half after leaving the theatre... it is so much easier to review a film that can be raved about [have you seen Lives of Others?]... or one that cannot be raved about [don't get me started about Nacho Libre... how can you make an unexciting, unfunny film about Lucha Libre?]... but I digress, often.

NaNIP has, at its core, a good story; it is adapted from a novel by Rachel Cohn, and I think that some of the difficulties come from the filmmakers' trying to keep true to the text. For future reference, note that film scripts run at about a page a minute. Cohn's novel is 192 minutes long. NaNIP: the movie is 90 minutes long. Something has to give.

There are any number of good side issues in this movie: the gay friends; the bandmates (same thing); the lost-drunk-friend-who-needs-to-be-found-before-the-story-can-be-resolved (wow, a lot of hyphens!... I do love me some punctuation); the mysteriously (dis)appearing band; life in the 'burbs vs. the CITY; the bitchy ex-girl friend; the loser ex-boyfriend; the influential father; et cetera... you get the picture... any number of good side issues, but too many of this good thing; choose one or two and get on with the show.

That being said there is much to like in NaNIP [I like this acronym and will keep using it]; the characters are sympathetic and interesting, including the myriad of friends. The music is tremendous; in fact, there could be more focus on the music... many movies cavalierly jam songs in at every opportunity so that the soundtrack can be amazing, but this movie is rife with motivation for putting in another song.

What is this movie about, you ask? Whoops, I've made it a fair way into this review without saying much about the plot. Nick (Michael Cera) has been dumped by his girl, Tris (Alexis Dziena). He doesn't want to leave the house. His bandmates (Aaron Yoo, Rafi Gavron) make him, because they have a gig. He meets Norah (Kat Dennings) at the gig. She has had a crush-from-a-distance on him for a while, because of the spiffy mixed-tapes [actually CDs] that he made for his undeserving ex-girlfriend. They run around New York, looking for the elusive band, Where's Fluffy, and Caroline (Ari Graynor), Norah's drunk and lost friend. Any more description would constitute a spoiler, and, while I have serious reservations about this movie, I don't want to spoil it for you. It is entertaining and worth a look, but I know that I am in trouble when I start re-editing a movie in my head while I am watching it.

One other note: I would like to nominate NaNIP for a best-use-of-a-Yugo in a full-length feature film award. Nothing says fun like a ratty car from a country that no longer exists! [I used to own a Lada].

Review #5 – American Teen

Last night the second installment of Cinema CNC's Fall Season 2008 took place. On display was American Teen, Nanette Burstein's latest effort. It was well-received by our audience, which was decently-sized, considering that it is the Thanksgiving weekend.

The film is an entertaining depiction of life for a very specific set of teens: white, middle-class, middle-American youngsters with few enough external anxieties to stimulate them that they can concentrate on themselves [as opposed to kids with urban or geographic disadvantages... the inner-city or extreme remoteness, for instance]. You can probably hear some elements of my reluctance to fully endorse this effort; while an interesting film, these folks can hardly be held up as representative of all American teens... this is no Up Series [Michael Apted's brilliant growing-up-British document]. There is one black face in this film, and no Hispanic, Asian, or anybody "other" to give a nod to balance, other than the fact that some of the kids live in big houses [upper middle-class] and some kids live in small houses [lower middle-class], whooee.

Having voiced this concern, I will now reveal that I found the film oddly effective; I experienced being transported almost 30 years in time, remembering what is was like to be in high school: I felt the picked-on kids' pain; I felt indignant at the actions of some and gloried in the bravery of others; I developed a crush on Hannah; I looked around for someone smaller to stuff into a locker... all in all, I identified with this film because I lived it. Sneaky, eh?

The four main characters are an interesting mix: Megan, the popular-girl/ colossal bitch; Colin, the jock nice-guy; Jake, the acne-suffering geek; and Hannah, the outsider/ alt. girl. These depictions, of course, will strike a chord with any reader who reads this and attended high school in North America... we know these people... we are these people. And they are more complex than they appear... Megan keeps layering on the meanness, but an event from her past mitigates [but does not excuse] some of her actions... Colin, the thinnest-developed of the characters, has a dad who, when he isn't pressuring Colin to do well at basketball so that he can get a college scholarship, performs as an Elvis impersonator at the local Ramada... Jake might be geeky, but he isn't nerdy; he's oddly brave in his quest to meet girls, despite his heart-rending anxiety about his spotty complexion... and Hannah is a free-spirited, smart, and engaging young woman, who, despite her cranky mother's telling her "you're not special", is so obviously special, and so obviously constrained by living in Warsaw, Indiana, that one cannot help but cheer for her... did I tell you I had a crush? Of course, it is revealed [and glossed over] that she is under medical supervision for her dark thoughts, and it is alluded that her mom has a psychological inability to cope, but in this soup of homogenized middle-america, this character is refreshing.

Having expressed concern about the over-all representativeness of this movie, I must also express concern at the stageyness of it. The characters are so aware of the camera, indeed so obviously playing to it, that one is a bit uncomfortable at times. Some of the scenes appear to be "historical recreations", because the actions are too coordinated and the camera is in precisely the right spot too often for any other explaination [except, perhaps, clairvoyance]. This effort might make the film more genuinely entertaining, but it detracts from the notion that we are seeing the inside of a world that, even if we were once insiders, is unfamiliar to us. One gets the impression that we are seeing "teens for foreigners", much like one might go to a Flamenco show in Madrid... it is real, in-as-much-as they are really dancing and really wearing the outfits, and for 30 euros, including your first glass of wine, you can experience it, too.

There are real teen actions here, too: hanging out with friends, parties, school, good actions, bad actions, cruelty, triumph... and in many ways this is enough to redeem this film. The director spent a whole year in Warsaw, filming hundreds of hours of action, which gives us an insight into the thoughts and actions of a specific group of young people. The fact that I had a shudder [or two] of recognition tells me that, for all the artifice, this movie tells important truths.

Review #4 – And When Did You Last See Your Father?

This was the first film of the Fall 2008 Cinema CNC season, and it was a great choice, if I must say so myself.

When I read the description and some other reviews, I had some reservations –– is it maudlin? slow? trite? –– because, even though the writers were saying nice things, I sensed some reservations and, rightly, was suspicious. I am happy to report, for those who might consider this opinion worthy, that these suspicions are unwarranted.

The strengths of And When Did You Last See Your Father? rest with the acting, the characters, and the narrative structure... and the central question of seeing, really seeing, is consistently addressed. Thus, we have a film in which the three major constructors–– original author, director, and actors –– all do their jobs admirably... how refreshing.

Blake Morrison wrote the autobiographical account and is, therefore, responsible for the creation of believable characters, especially the father, played by Jim Broadbent, and the son, played by Colin Firth [and by Bradley Johnson as a young boy, and Matthew Beard as a teen... significant contributions in their own right]. The dad, Arthur, comes across as, variably, both sympathetic and unsympathetic... I am quite sure that I would like to meet him at a party, on one hand, but I am also equally convinced that I would not like to be related to him. The son, Blake, toys with our sympathies, too... he seems like he needs a boot in the butt sometimes, but at other times I found myself physically cringing on his behalf.

The acting in this film is superb. Colin Firth has developed his acting chops nicely, and now is atractive in more substantial ways that merely having once been Mr. Darcy [yes, I can hear you: "but he was THAT Mr. Darcy" (swoon)]. Jim Broadbent is inspired in his depiction of Arthur... I know that the word "inspired" usually denotes a certain scene-stealing quality, but I assure you that his inspiration is in quietly depicting this very-human man [as opposed to what is often on offer in the moving pictures] and leaving the audience to make critical determinations. A nod, too, to Juliet Stevenson for her role as Kim Morrison, mother and wife to the two central characters... and long-suffering she appears to be.

I must also give praise for the casting of this film: each of the characters that is supposed to be related [or might be... watch it and find out] looks like they are related. If you told me that Colin Firth is Jim Broadbent's boy, I would believe you ... other than the fact that there is only 11 years between their dates-of-birth. This is even more alarming for Juliet Stevenson... she is only 4 years older that Colin Firth! She does appear relatively youthful, but it is testament to the professionalism of the cast that these seeming discrepancies are skillfully overcome.

The director, Anand Tucker, structured his film in such a way that character is revealed carefully. The film jumps back and forth between earlier, formative moments and the present time of Arthur's decline. In doing so, our sympathies shift, and what could have been a trite condemnation of a boorish father, or an annoying whine of a privileged, but picked-on, child becomes a significant exploration of a complex relationship. by the time that the end of the film comes, the audience is quite ready for the central question posited by the title to be illuminated, and answered.

Watch this film... then phone someone you miss.

Film Night: Girls Rock! and Hell on Wheels

My friend, Bryndis, from Meow Records [best independent record shop in Canada, according to the CBC... and we believe them] wanted to have a movie night to raise funds for her local attempt to start a women's rollerderby league. We hosted the event at Cinema CNC... the turnout was a little light, but the films were a lot of fun. Bryndis chose them, and I must say, I approve.

Girls Rock! follows the exploits of participants at a form-a-band camp for young women [8 to 18] that takes place annually in Portland, Oregon, and is hosted by a number of top-flight members of indie bands from around the Pacific Northwest of the USA. We closely follow four of the campers: Laura, a death-metal-loving, well-spoken, adopted, 15-year-old Korean-American with some serious self-loathing issues; Misty, a 18-year-old recent inmate of a secure, lock-down facility [for drugs and gang activities,it seems], who is also homeless and in need of a place to fit in; Palace, an 8-year-old already experiencing conflict between worrying about how she looks versus having self-knowledge and self-worth [she also possesses heavy metal chops, both her sneer and her howl are worthy of the genre]; and Amelia, a 10-year-old geek-girl with a strong sense of her musical identity [anarchic], but who has serious self-image issues [and is currently writing a 14 installment musical cycle about her chihuahua, Pippi].

The girls form bands [each of our subjects is in a different band], write songs, learn instruments [Misty had never touched a bass before, for instance], and perform for an audience of 750... after five days together! This is quite the experiment and quite the movie, too.

The core message of Girls Rock! is inspiring... the girls are surprisingly successful [no, not because they are girls, but because they have 5 days to do something that most of us would find pretty near impossible... don't get me into trouble, here], but the cruel realities of growing up female in North America come screaming through the narrative. One criticism I would have of this film is that some of this is pointed out a little too obviously in unnecessary statistical intertitling... let the women tell their stories; they are vitally interesting enough to carry the movie... also, let's hear a little from some of the cousellors... they seem really interesting and have almost no voice, here. A little bit of back-story about how some of these strong women succeeded in an environment hostile to women's success would serve to give modelling for the audience that the campers are, obviously given the results, privy to. One telling scene has power-punk, jazzy-rocker, LKN [she's a little hard to describe] giving a lunch-time concert, modelling for the campers the stance of a strong, loud woman who takes no shit from nobody... the looks on the young women's faces is priceless, and the influence that is shown in subsequent performances demonstrates how inspiring she is. It would be valuable to share more of this inspiration with the viewing audience. The bands involved are Sleater Kinney The Gossip Nun Factory Pocket Parade LKN Swan Island Pom Pom Meltdown The Wind Up Birds Backbone

Rather than have me prattle on about this film, I will just say, watch Girls Rock! ... it will educate you, entertain you, and convince you... let's start a camp around here...


The second film of the Rollergirls double-feature was Hell on Wheels. This film follows the development of a women-only rollerderby league in Austin, Texas. For those of you who weren't born long enough ago to have experienced the rollerderby on TV [we only had two channels where I grew up... and it was 40 below in the winter... you had to watch!... besides, it was a lot of fun: Skinny Minny and Rupert the Bear and all the characters], this was a chaotic pseudo-sport that grew up earlier in the 20th century and eventually died out in the mid-seventies. Its resurection might have begun in a somewhat exploitive fashion, but it quickly turned into something else. A collosal weasel named Dan got the ball rolling, but when he failed to follow through, the captains of the four teams carried the ball forward and rollerderby is re-born.

Beside the trip down memory lane for this reviewer, this film is fascinating for a couple of other reasons: human dynamics and politics... and it is hard to divide these two. The story arc follows some documentary conventions, but things get really interesting when things fall apart. What I particularly enjoyed was how much of the story was straight from the participants... including some dramatically ironic utterences. The audience gets to know significant information about some of the principals, including messages that I am pretty sure they aren't aware they are transmitting.

As with most earnestly-begun amateur enterprises, problems errupt, chiefly because of good old-fashioned power politics. The captains try to maintain control of all aspects of the rollerderby, seemingly exploiting the goodwill and pocketbooks of the skaters. There are a number of rancorous meetings, resulting, eventually, in a break-away league [I don't want to ruin the movie for you by describing all the interludes leading up to this... see for yourself].

What is particularly telling for this viewer is that two distinct models for the leagues emerge: one modelled on capitalistic principles; and one modelled on socialistic principles. As a real-life experiment in power dynamics, this is fascinating... and much more realistic for an audience made jaded by an abundance of so-called "reality" on television. And the message that comes from this experiment is, hopefully, obvious: socialism wins, socialism wins, socialism wins. I don't think that this is the intention of the filmmakers, but the model with the flatter management structure and more buy-in from the participants is more fun, more fun to watch, and more successful! Take that, Donald Trump, you bastard!

Watch this film; its a lot of fun... who knows, next thing, you'll be strapping on the skates, putting on the helmet, and jamming like a mad fiend.

Story of Stuff

Here's another great little show, called The Story of Stuff, where Annie Leonard gives a compelling account of... well ... STUFF! And, since my blog is called "stuff I am thinking", it seems appropriate that one finds out where all this stuff comes from.

Thank you to my and Bergman's friend, Val, for pointing out both this and the subject of the last post.

Her presentation is inspirational for two reasons: one, the content [watch it...]; and two, the way it is delivered. A lot of public speakers could learn a great deal by seeing her in action.

Homegrown Revolution

If you've been by our place, or seen the post about "big-ass veggies", you'll know that we have a fairly abundant garden... I am pretty sure that we produce our own oxygen, and then some.

We get quite a bit of production out of our yard... fruits, vegs, flowers, without trying especially hard. Of course, there is more that could be done; I'd like to build a greenhouse and some coldframes, for instance.

Here's a video, called Homegrown Revolution, about a family that made some radical changes, with great results. They have the advantage of living in Southern California [and the advantage of being a bit nutty, too!], but their example is inspiring. On a tenth of an acre, they manage to produce 6000 lbs. of fruits and vegetables each year!

Sandwiches and Proust

The CBC [Canadian Broadcorping Castration... whoops, Canadian Broadcasting Corporation] has a show called "Sounds Like Canada" [which, if I heard Kevin Sylvester correctly, is going to be cancelled in the next couple of weeks!... what is up with these people... don't they know that, to quote a person close to me, "change is bad"?], and on that show messages from listeners are being played, detailing the sandwiches they consider delicious... after a few episodes traditional niceties were left behind, and now we are hearing about such delights as peanut butter and bologna, mustard and garlic, red onion and a variety of substances, et cetera, ad nauseum... but only because this listener is not the originator of the sandwich causing the slight rising of the bile. I am sure that, to each of the presenters, these concoctions are truly tasty and comforting [I must confess a liking for cheddar cheese and raspberry jam sandwiches, which, while mild on the disgust-o-meter, have elicited groans from others when offered as a dandy option]. One common denominator seems to be that, to a person, the peculiarly arranged alchemy of these productions was arrived at while still relatively young... bringing to mind the Proust maxim, "what is patriotism but the love of [I've also heard "memory of"] good things one ate in childhood." I'm not sure that an army could be mounted on the basis of a shared love of alfalfa sprouts and raisins on whole wheat [or even the simple madeleine, the biscuit of Proust's longing for temps perdu], but I do know that I will eat a great variety of foods I've been eating since young that, if I were introduced to them as an adult, I would find disgusting... or at least uninteresting. Most of these, for me, fit in the uninteresting category, macaroni and cheese [the packaged kind, of course] with a lot of Heinz's Ketchup on it, or wheat-puff chocolate squares... both of which I enjoy, but wouldn't eat now if I hadn't eaten them then... unless necessary for politeness' sake.

Review #3a

Melinda just reminded me of a great line in The House Bunny: "The eyes are the nipples of the face." You just think about that for a while.

Review #3 – The House Bunny

My first two reviews might have given the impression of a certain elitism in my movie selections, and this impression might, most of the time, be correct; however, while I love great movies and revel in the obscure and stylish, I will also watch pretty much anything.

I review films for our local CBC morning show and am limited to what is currently available in our one, six-screen cinema, which is treated by the programming lords as if it were a suburban mall cinema outside a major urban centre [with the implied choice for those who are interested to hop on public transit for a few minutes and go to an alternative screening] instead of the only game in town for a reasonably-sized small city [also ignoring the fact that people in outlying communities might be inclined to travel HERE for some greater options than they might find at home]... but I rant. 

Last week, the pickings were thin, because other reviews had already been done for the "better" films available, so I chose... The House Bunny. It sounds egregious in descriptions, but I thought, "how bad can it be?" and went, dragging along Melinda, who has a graduate degree in gender studies... you can see where this is going, can't you?

I will say, up front [or in the middle, as the case may be] that this film was both better and worse than I expected. Better, for the most part, because of the groans coming from the seat next to me... did I mention that she teaches Women's Studies? [a fine course, and there are still seats available for those who are looking to pick up some interesting college credits]... also better, because Anna Faris is relatively good and has some funny lines... of course, this is in comparison with the train wreck that is going on around her.

The House Bunny is worse than I expected, because I truly felt that there is room in the campus comedy and ditzy girl genres for something new, or at least subverting, or at least parodying [especially when Faris is most noted for her part in the Scary Movie franchise], and we don't find it here... yes, there is the message that being a smart girl is a good thing... BECAUSE IT WILL ATTRACT BOYS!... c'mon, folks, haven't we made it past this? And we get to this message after we have been subjected to the notion that the sorority Faris works to save is a sisterhood of losers because the women in it are all homely or funny-looking in some way... it doesn't ruin the movie for you to be told that their first victory [against the snooty, pretty girls] involves makeup, new outfits, and a lot of hairstyling action... uuuuuuuuunh!  

One gendered aspect of note is that almost all of the primary roles in this movie are women's roles, heroes, villains, old grumpy antagonist, etc., while the men's roles are primarily types: good boy, bad boy, sensitive  boy, etc. This reversal of the usual order is not, I am afraid, sufficient to redeem the effort. 

This notion of a central good effort in this movie is worth pondering; I felt that there were two authors of this movie [and it turns out on examination that two people did write it... we should hunt down the evil one and give her (both writers are women) a good shake]... it seemed like we could hear the voice alternating... on one side, the little angel saying, "let's have a movie where all the significant parts are played by women", and on the other shoulder, we find the one in the little red suit saying, "Yeah, and let's make sure they have some righteous tits on them! Yee haw! Party on! Whooo, whoo, whoo!" And from this description, you should be able to tell who got more attention [and secured more funding] for the project.

It is a challenge to filmmakers to make a movie primarily about women that doesn't have as central concerns a) attracting boys, b) personal appearance, and c) subverting other women's efforts to get ahead... all that, and make it a movie that we'd like to see... the challenge still remains, because it wasn't fulfilled in The House Bunny.

Bendito Machine

Watch more cool animation and creative cartoons at aniBoom

re: Humans!

The author of this animation is also the author of my all-time favourite on Aniboom, called The Bendito Machine, which I will post next [above]. Check them out, in case anyone is wondering why Aniboom is on my Links list.

HUMANS!

Watch more cool animation and creative cartoons at aniBoom

Gargoyles!

I was looking through the photos from my trip to Europe, trying to find some reason to show a few of them off... and then thought that perhaps somebody out there might be interested in the carved beings of Notre Dame Cathedral... so here are a few shots of our petrified friends:

Missed an important one

In trying to give Bergman some street cred, here's a dandy photo:

We went to Jasper

We went to Jasper for a little break... saw some sights, relaxed, ate good dinners, built a dogukshuk [like an inukshuk, only canine], went in an ice cave, and had some fun... see photos:

Review #2: Last Year at Marienbad

Alain Resnais is a very weird man... there, I've said it, and now we can get on with the review.

The director of L'Année dernière à Marienbad challenges his audience in a way unthinkable in contemporary mass-market cinema... and by all descriptions he expected people to pay to see his film. Nowadays, a similarly adventurous movie would be funded by a foundation and presented at a museum or gallery for the admiring few... at best it would be given an "arthouse" label and consigned to the obscurity that that suggests.

Resnais has a strong connection to literature, especially the nouveau roman movement... [he was also married to Florence Malraux, daughter of André Malraux]. The screenplay for his 1959 film Hiroshima, mon amour was written by Marguerite Duras; for this film Resnais turned to the master of enigmatic non-linear fiction, Alain Robbe-Grillet.

For some, watching Last Year at Marienbad could be trying; the use of off-putting camera angles in the opening sequence – with a minor-key repetitive score, and a vocal track that drifts into and out of comprehensibility – gives either a sense of anticipation because it is obvious that one is about to witness something excitingly different, or a sense of foreboding because it is obvious that one is about to be subjected to something weird. Both are legitimate responses, but I will challenge those who would put themselves in the second camp upon seeing this movie to suggest that it does not in some significant way haunt them... if anything, Last Year at Marienbad, gives one something to talk about and inspires a willingness to do just that.

And I've come this far without really saying anything about this film, so I must rectify this problem. There are three main characters: X, A, and M. X [a man] is trying to convince A [a woman] that they have met in the past. A seems unwilling or unable to accept this, but seems unwilling, also, to put X off completely. M may or may not be A's husband, but he is a gambler, for sure, and X and he play a number of variations of the same game of chance, with the same result. As the show goes on, one becomes both confused and convinced: confused because it isn't always apparent whether one is in the past, the present, or in a fiction of one of the character's making at any given time; and convinced that something has gone on between X and A [an affair? a kiss?] and that they do have affection for one another. All three characters have at least two sides presented: M seems both objectionable and sympathetic; X seems both passionately interested and a little creepily obsessed; A seems both vitally engaged and completely uninterested [while being played by the quite scrumptious Delphine Seyrig, dressed to the nines in Coco Chanel creations (uncredited)].

What is apparent is that this film is made by a consummately gifted filmmaker; the cinematography is stunning [sharp focus black and white], the mise en scène is brilliantly constructed, and the formalistic blocking of movement within the frame gives a sense of unreality to a very conventional cinematic plot: boy met girl, lost her [perhaps in a card game?], sees her again and tries to get her back, seems to fail, seems to succeed, all with the brooding presence of her other suitor casting a shadow over the whole [non] affair.

The film ends [yes it does, for those who might find it slightly torturous... it is only a bit over 90 minutes long] and one is left wondering what really happened... did something happen? Of course, one knows that something did happen, one watched this film and it will stick in memory for a long time. Watch it. Let me know what you think... I liked it.

Euro – JRTs

Those who are in the know know that my dog, Bergman, is a Jack Russell Terrier. While I was traveling, I took some shots of Jack Russells being themselves... and there's one bonus shot from Vienna that's a sassy reminder to not leave your sausages in the park... The first two are from Paris, the second two are from Aix-en-Provence, and the fifth one is already introduced.

Squirrel Meat

I was looking through my many photos, trying to find something to share... how to group them? how to make little photo-essays to entertain and amuse? Having failed to be inspired... sometimes a lot of photos remains just that, a lot of photos, for a while, but I did find this inexplicable offering, worthy of a post.

In the rather nicely-arranged window display of a butchershop [boucherie-charcuterie] amongst the sausages and cuts and the more-expected bottles of wine, I saw the following:

Tastes like chicken? Does this explain those little brown-paper-wrapped packages people were sneaking out of the establishment?

If a horsemeat shop is a chevalerie, would this be a écureuilerie? Inquiring minds would like to know.

What kind of wine is good with squirrel? Evidently, rosé... those sophisticated French folks, eh. In the hills around these here parts, we're more likely to serve it with some homemade porchclimber...

Some little movies I made

While I was traveling around, I took about 1400 pictures [no, I won't just put them into a single, long post!]... also, I shot a few little movies... here are two that seem worth taking a look at. I tried to upload another one, but I think that it is too big for Blogger... I will try again, as it is pretty funny. For now, though, check these ones out.

The first is of the Moulin de Trobodec at Pointe de Beg an Fri in Brittany. I shot the little movie, because the still photos didn't seem to capture the essence of the mill:




The second film is an homage to the Lumiere brothers. It is called Train Arriving at the Station at Chambery:



You can compare it with the original, Train Arriving at the Station at La Ciotat.

Review #1: Classe Tous Risques

This dandy film [I'll get the opinion out right in front] by Claude Sautet is a gem that has been a little lost in film history, being released in 1960, the same year and with a star in common [Jean-Paul Belmondo, but here in a supporting role] as Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless, and we've all heard of that one...

While Sautet [better know for 1992's Un Coeur en Hiver... a dandy flick, too] is paying tribute to American gangster films with his take on the "honour among thieves" theme, this film did not hit on enough of the theoretic notes of la Nouvelle Vague, [the New Wave] to be noticed, either in 1960 or in subsequent film criticism.

Abel Davos [played with vulnerable menace by Lino Ventura, an Italian-born former prize-fighter and professional wrestler who made a career out of playing thugs, heavies, and police officers...] is a wanted man, on the lam in Italy [before the days of the European Union's ease of travel between states], and feeling the heat. To complicate matters he is accompanied by a henchman [Raymond, played by Stan Krol], which is expected, and by his wife and two sons, which is unexpected... and it seems that he cares for his family life more than his life of crime... except he needs one last big heist to secure their return to France... and in the crime drama genre, we all know what one last job means, don't we?

Not to gloss over important details but also not wanting to ruin this film for you, I will jump ahead to when Abel waits in Nice for his "old friends" in Paris to help him out [are there any friends in the world of crime (on film)?]... and they insult him by not coming to his rescue personally, but sending a young unknown, Eric [played by Jean-Paul Belmondo], to help him return to Paris. Can Abel trust Eric? Can his family be saved? What should be done about the apparent betrayal demonstrated by the half-hearted attempt at support? The rest of the film deals with these critical questions.

What I particularly enjoyed about this film is its dependence on character, rather than action, to tell the story. At their first introduction, most of the characters do not strike the viewer as especially sympathetic; however, I found myself both cheering for otherwise-reprehensible gangster-types and seeing the virtues of lying and revenge. Of course, this might say more about my moral ambiguity than I would like to reveal in a simple film review, but I am sure than anyone else watching this film will enjoy the notion of the vulnerable villain... Abel's hardman/ familyman duality is something we have witnessed more currently with Tony Soprano [with the added variable of the necessity of a psychiatrist]; in Sautet's work this element is played out with simplicity and grace.

The title of this film is translated into English as The Big Risk; however, Classe Tous Risques is a hard-to-translate play on words that combines tourism and insurance... both of which seem risky in this production.

Rather than prattle on, I will just say that I liked this film and hope that you will trust this judgment sufficiently to take a look at this film noir gem.