Children of Paradise (1945)

I had pretty high expectations for Children of Paradise, namely because it's called the greatest French film of all-time by many. I wouldn't go so far as to agree, but it is a great film nonetheless.

I was impressed with the characters in the film most of all. They're all effortlessly developed very quickly, and you have a sense of who every character is and what they're about almost instantly. You spend the first half of the film getting to know and care for these characters and in the second half, which takes place two years afterwards, it's almost like you're catching up with old friends. You're re-introduced to them one by one, and learn what they've become in this time. It's a heartwarming feeling.

In fact, the main character, Garance, seems to be an enigma at first, not only to her suitors but to the audience as well. She moves gracefully from one place to the next, always leaving a newly-smitten man in her wake. Out of the four men who woo her, it's hard to believe that she can't find one that she'd like to be with. Only in the second half do you really begin to understand her. She reminded me of a girl I used to know, Veronica. Very much the same way, she had guys clamoring for her, but none of them ever understood what they couldn't offer her. Eventually, we fell for one another, and it felt so alien as I was able to get a glimpse into the soul of a girl who everyone deemed unknowable. Children of Paradise gives me much of the same feeling.

I think it's pretty interesting to note the structure and plot of the film. In many ways, it resembles a standard melodrama or tragedy. In this way, it mirrors the plays the characters themselves perform onstage. Likewise, you can find many similarities between the characters and the characters that said characters portay.

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)

About an hour into Colonel Blimp, I wasn't too impressed. I've seen many films like this before, and this didn't seem to have much new to offer. Soon, the main character, Clive Candy, befriended a Prussian soldier who couldn't speak any English and I couldn't help loving the picture. From then on, I was drawn into Candy's story and really enjoyed it.

I'm not big on war films in general (no pun intended), but Colonel Blimp really isn't a 'war film'. It's definitely a character study, based on a person whose profession happens to be in the British Military. It deeply examines Candy and just what kind of person he is. It shows his ups and downs, the big moments and the small, all the things that make him Clive Candy. In the end, he's an old man, in many ways, out of touch with the world around him. It's all changing, and despite his best efforts, he's being left behind.

I don't really like technicolor films, mostly because they're so bright. I understand that it's a necessity, due to the technicolor process. But still, they always seem so much brighter to me, it makes the fact that everything is constructed and false evident. Although, it does add a great touch of whimsy and beauty to a frame, it's just a matter of personal preference to me. Technicolor or not, a great film is a great film. I have to wonder how many times the crew of Colonel Blimp misspelled Technicolor. Technicolour?

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Exiled at 24fps has some good thoughts relating to subtitles and how they affect the viewing of films. Definitely worth a read.

Downfall (2004)

I really liked Downfall. There's been so much praise heaped onto the film, that it's almost overwhelming to find something terribly original to say. All I can say is that it was a great film. It felt more personal than anything. It paints a fair and accurate picture of Hitler and everybody else portrayed in the film. It feels very intimate for such a grand film. It's not just about Hitler, but about Germany as an entire nation. Even with that, it never feels anything less than truly intimate.

I loved the visuals of the film. The photography is vivid and the set design is incredibly detailed and always presents something interesting to look at, so your eyes won't get bored. There are a few images that will undoubtedly stick with me for quite a while.

Downfall is a look at the desperation of the Nazis, right before the Russian invasion. It's also a look at those who were simply following orders. It's chilling to see how brainwashed these people could get, when you step back to realize. The performances are great all around. The supporters were great, and Alexandra Maria Lara has a great future ahead of her. The film, though, clearly belongs to Bruno Ganz, portraying der Fuhrer himself. At some moments, he's so perfectly in character, that you'd think you were there, watching it all unfold in front of you. His performance is probably the single most responsible factor for bringing the viewer into the film.

I can wholeheartedly recommend Downfall to anybody. A chilling, brutally honest examination of the final days of the Third Reich.

Grey Gardens (1974)

Grey Gardens was a strange documentary, made by Alfred and David Maysles (see also: Salesman and Gimme Shelter). It's a very intimate look into the lives of Edith and Edie Beale, Mother and Daughter, and cousins to Jackie O. They live in a terribly dilapidated mansion in the East Hamptons, all alone, with 8 cats, a few raccoons and a weird teenage(?) boy hired to do what seems to be nothing at all.

The two are probably the worst representations of Mother and Daughter ever captured on film. All Little Edie can talk about is how much she laments having to take care of her Mother for 20 years. All Big Edith can talk about is how much potential her Daughter had and squandered. It's hard to watch in spots, simply because her Mother bashes almost everything Edie does, and yet she seems to take it in stride- I guess she's used to it.

They both seem to be perpetually stuck in the past. Edith used to be a great singer (and still kinda is, from her bed at least) and Edie used to be a dancer and a model of some sort. They still indulge themselves at every chance they get. Edith warbles along to her old records incessantly (yet berates Edie if she tries to do the same). Edie dances all the time, seemingly in a trance, most likely thinking about how the used to do the same thing when she was younger and more beautiful. In some ways, it's a look back to their pasts, and a look at the people they could have been if given another chance at life. But instead, all they do is bicker at one another like an old married couple.

I think Errol Morris is one of the best documentary filmmakers to have ever come out of America. Heck, one of the best to ever strap on a camera, period. I also think that he's entirely underrated. He never gets his due. I mean, what's up with that?

The thing I love most about Errol Morris is that he profiles incredibly interesting people. One thing I've always been interested in is the fact that everybody has a story. Sometimes, you start talking to somebody at random, and it's just interesting to hear their spiel. Sure, there are those who are incredibly droll and vapid, but there are also those out there who are fascinating characters. Morris takes the most seemingly random people and makes them entirely interesting to listen to.

One thing that I find interesting is the eccentricity and quirkiness of Errol Morris' subjects themselves. Who else would consider profiling the owners of a pet cemetery, or a man who thinks his pet turtle is a gopher, or somebody who works in a museum of human deformities? At the same time, he never casts these people in a negative light. He has a talent for taking whose who would be easy to ridicule, and presenting them in an entirely respectful, dignified way.

Last week, MGM released The Errol Morris Collection on DVD, which contains his three earliest films, Gates of Heaven, Vernon, Florida, and The Thin Blue Line. The discs themselves are bare, with only trailers for extras, aside from The Thin Blue Line, which contains an episode of Morris' show, First Person. Speaking of which, MGM also released First Person - The Complete Series last week. It's a 3-disc set, with no extras, containing all 17 episodes of the great show.

Gates of Heaven (1980)

Gates of Heaven was Morris' first film. He finished it due to the encouragement of German New Wave genius Werner Herzog (who would subsequently eat his shoe). It profiles the folks who established a successful pet cemetery in California and their subsequent move of all the animals to another cemetery. As a first feature, it shows immense progress. Morris forgoes most of the usual trappings of a traditional documentary feature. His shots are very still, often framing his subjects in their own environments. He doesn't cut out anything a little extraneous, allowing us to get a glimpse into the hearts and minds of these people, as well as learning about their experiences.

In addition to those behind the scenes of the cemetery, he interviews those with pets buried in the cemetery. They really help you to realize that a pet cemetery is not absurd in the least, if you had any doubts. Morris shows these people in such a touching, poignant way, that it's hard not to feel emotion for them, and think about your own pets differently.

In Gates of Heaven, Errol Morris doesn't focus as much on the narrative as much as he does the people themselves. His films are very artistic, especially for documentaries. I think Morris works more towards developing an emotional link to his subjects than he does on telling a particular story. There's a scene at the very end of the documentary which just shows a slideshow of pet tombstones from the cemetery. You're able to read what their owners have had engraved into them, and see their photos, and it's hard not to get emotional yourself. No one else but Errol Morris.

Vernon, Florida (1981)

Vernon, Florida is the weakest of the films here, but it's still a very interesting, compelling look at the residents of the small town. Among them are an elderly couple who is convinced the sand in their possession is growing, an expert on turkey-hunting, and an old man who thinks his pet turtle is really a gopher.

Once again, easy people to laugh at (and you will), but Morris delves deep within them, and shows that they're simply human, just like everybody else. Sure, they're a little eccentric, but who isn't? He treats them with respect, as he does all his subjects. It's not as interesting or as deep as his other films, but it's still a good film to watch, and a good meditation on small-town life and the nature of eccentricity in general.

The Thin Blue Line (1988)

The Thin Blue Line is unquestionably Morris' greatest work. In it, he reconstructs the murder of a Dallas Police Officer, which occured in 1976. A man had already been imprisoned for the murder since then. The entire story is told in way of interviews with those present and well-done reenactments, based on the eyewitness accounts.

It's very different from Morris' other work, but it represents another facet of his style. I remember reading somewhere that he regards himself as more of a detective than a filmmaker, and The Thin Blue Line proves this idea. In fact, he's done a much better job than those on the case did.

In the film, Morris presents testimony from those involved, and then subsequently proves what they say to be truth or fabrication. In that respect, it's almost a Rashomon-like experience, because everyone involved has their own story as to what actually happened. It's an incredibly gripping story, and it really hooked me from the get-go.

It's hard to say much about The Thin Blue Line without spoiling the story. You really have to see it for yourself. But, I highly recommend that, whomever you are, you should go see it immediately.

First person - The Complete Series (2000)

First Person is a television series that Morris developed for the Bravo Network in 2000. Basically, he finds interesting people and simply interviews them. He uses a device he calls Interrotron, which is basically a camera attached to a small monitor. This allows the subject being interviewed to maintain eye contact with Morris while they speak, but also look directly into the camera. The effect it gives is great, as you get the feeling that the person is speaking to you directly, hence the name, First Person

As a series, it's very good. Not what you'd expect to see on TV, in terms of content or interviewees. Most of the characters Morris gathered together for these 17 episodes are fascinating to watch and listen to. Not only that, they teach you quite a bit about whatever it is they're interested in. A fairly-completeepisode listing is available at TV.com, and I've offered my thoughts on each one below.

Mr. Debt - Mr. Debt acts almost like a modern-day Robin Hood. He's a lawyer who represents those crippled by debt of credit card companies. He's an interesting character, very charming and makes a lot of good points. Personally, I think he's for real, but that's just me.

Eyeball to Eyeball - This episode centers around Clyde Roper, who's making it his life's work to be the first human to ever see a giant squid. Giant squids exist, and there's no shortage of them in the ocean. We've recovered plenty of proof including numerous corpses, though nobody's ever seen one alive. A great episode with a wealth of interesting facts and plenty to learn.

Stairway to Heaven - Stairway to Heaven focuses on the woman who designed the ramps that are used today to lead cows into slaughterhouses. She's been autistic all her life and feels she relates more to cows than humans. It's interesting to see how she came to plan the ramp system out and how it leads the cows easily.

The Killer Inside Me - Pretty screwed up. A woman dated a man in High School who ended up being a serial killer. So, she contacted him from jail to get information from him to write a tell-all book about him. Other criminals tried to get her to write their stories, one of which she falls in love with.

I Dismember Mama - Episode about a man who works in cryogenics. He talks a lot about the process, relating some stories. Evidently, his Mother was frozen and he stole her head and is now keeping it in a safer location. Yup.

The Stalker - The Stalker is a very chilling episode about a former Postal Worker. One man who worked under him got fired and blames everything on his former employer and begins to stalk him, making threatening phone calls and eventually coming to the Post Office and murdering people. Despite his stalker's death, he's still living in fear to this day.

The Parrot - The Parrot feels more like The Thin Blue Line than the other episodes. It involves the murder of a woman in which the only witness was a parrot who calls out "Richard, no no no!" The woman has a friend named Richard, but the police ignore the parrot and instead lock up another friend of the woman's. Two women who knew the imprisoned man offer conflicting viewpoints and tell the viewer the other woman isn't to be trusted. Great episode.

Smiling In a Jar - This episode is about a woman who runs a Museum dedicated to human deformities. She's got a lot of interesting views on just about everything. A decent enough episode, but it just might turn your stomach.

In the Kingdom of the Unabomber - Gary Greenberg is a psychologist who decides he wants to make a name for himself, so he begins to write to the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski. The two begin to correspond, but another psychologist begins to write to Kaczynski to sabotage Greenberg's efforts. Another really cool episode.

The Little Gray Man - The Little Gray Man was a good episode about a former CIA secret agent. He discusses his career and how you have to be a non-descript 'gray' person to successfully blend in.

You're Soaking in it - This episode centers on a woman who works in the field of cleaning up violent crime scenes. She got started when her son killed himself and she had to clean up the mess herself. She comes across as a very strong person, willing to step up and do something that would revolt most.

Mr. Personality - Michael Stone studies the personalities and the psyches of serial killers and other psychopathic individuals. For you crime buffs, this is a must-see, as Stone really knows his stuff and it comes across in this fascinating episode.

The Only Truth - Not a great episode. This one involves a lawyer for some really bad criminals. He simply relates a few choice stories and then preaches his own sermon about truth and the American court system.

Harvesting Me - I was misled on this one. I went in, thinking that this guy would be some kind of nut who worshiped Gilligan. Actually, Gilligan merely serves as a symbol for the worship of Television in our age. He's a surprisingly intelligent and relatable guy who lives his life, by choice, on Television, much like in The Truman Show. Pretty good, interesting episode.

One In A Million Trillion - Here's a great example of Morris' style, because I absolutely hated the guy in this episode. All he does is whine and complain that the answers he GUESSED on a TV Game Show weren't correct. It's interesting to see such an obsessive person, but this guy's just annoying and bitchy to me. But, that's a great example of what Errol Morris films can do, present an objective portrait of a human being and let each viewer make his or her own decisions.

Leaving the Earth - Incredible, easily the best episode in the series. It's an hour long, and focuses exclusively on Denny Fitch's story. He was an off-duty Airline Pilot, taking a flight home, when disaster occurs on his plane. He's forced to help out the best that he can under inconceivable conditions. He recounts his story in such vivid detail, and it's so compelling to watch. I was affected deeply by his harrowing story. Great great episode.

The Smartest Man in the World - A decent episode centering on a nightclub bouncer who has an IQ around 200, making him the smartest man in the world. This one's a bit preachy too, but he's got some interesting views on culture in general, so it's pretty interesting.

Fast, Cheap and Out of Control (1997)

I don't remember a whole lot about this one, because I'd seen it a few months ago, but I do remember it was great. The best thing about the film is that it presents four individuals who don't have much in common, on the surface. Though, watching the film, more abstract connections arise in your mind. You realize that these men are all obsessed, in their own way, with their own fields. They all strive to manipulate the world around them, be it via robotics, lion taming, topiary sculptures or studying the naked mole rat.

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I hope that somebody reads this sometime and becomes interested in Morris. Like I said, he's one of the best documentary filmmakers of all-time, and still relatively unknown in the grand scheme of things. If I've piqued your interest, go rent one of his flicks and give it a viewing with an open mind. Hopefully, you'll be able to appreciate the genuis behind it.

If you're interested, DVDTalk Radio has a PodCast featuring Morris himself, and I can't wait to give it a listen.

Miller's Crossing (1990)

I like to compare the Coen Bros. to Howard Hawks. Both directors have taken on completely different genres almost every single time, and both do so with great success. This is, in some ways, more admirable than the more artistic auteurs out there. Despite working in many different genres, their individual style is always apparent through their deft direction, witty dialogue, and the general atmosphere their talent lends to the film.

Miller's Crossing is the Coen Bros. take on the 1930's-era Gangster film, though it probably shares more in common with film noir from the 1940's and 50's. There are many different characters with their own allegiances, double-crossings, a dangerous woman, shadows, smoke and a hell of a lot of fedoras. I think that the hat itself is a great motif, and might have a ton of significance if I were to watch it again and try to analyze it all. Obviously, the opening and the scene where Tom dreams he loses his hat. Also, if you pay attention, there's plenty of hat activity around, they're tossed aside, taken off, put back on, blown away, knocked off of heads. It's probably completely obvious, but I didn't start noticing it until late in the film.

The acting is great, all around. Really no complaints, as Byrne carries the film well, and the rest of the gangsters all handle their roles with gusto. I've always liked John Turturro, and he turns in a great performance here, in the few scenes he's a part of. Marcia Gay Harden didn't do as good a job as the rest of the cast did, but I'm awfully picky about my femme fatales, no matter how 'fatale' they may or may not be.

I thought Miller's Crossing was awesome. I'm really starting to warm up to the Coen Bros., so they'd better bring something new out very soon.

The Bicycle Thief (1948)

Wow, what a great movie. One of those movies that's just great to watch. You pop it in, and before you know it, the film's already over. It's an easy, effortless watch. Not that there's no substance, though. It evokes a very emotional response in the viewer, in addition to the compelling plot.

I really admired the way that De Sica effortlessly puts in little touches that completely illustrate the state of poverty in Italy at that time. Like when the family sells off their sheets to afford the bicycle, and the man at the Pawn Shop has to climb up a huge wall, full of sheets, and you realize that so many families were forced to hock things like this simply to survive. There are plenty of little touches like this in the film that go a long way towards establishing how bad the economic situation was at that time.

Also, it definitely does a great job of showing a Father-Son relationship. These people are not perfect, as shown when Anthony slaps his son after he annoys him. Though as soon as he does it, the camera cuts to his own face and you immediately see the regret and remorse wash over his face. At the end, he sends his son away, just so he isn't a negative influence on him. He's not perfect, but he's simply trying to keep his family alive in these tenuous times.

It's through illustrating the dire straits of the time and place, that the events of the film are able to get such an emotional response from the viewer, especially at the very end of the film. Yes, Anthony steals a bicycle, but we've seen everything leading up to it, and we completely understand his motivations in doing so. Heck, in that situation, I'd imagine most would do the same as he did. At the end, when the crowd catches up to him, you feel fear, because you don't know what they're going to do to him, and you understand that his hand was forced by his situation. The film ends with him and his son walking down the streets of Rome, still poor, but free. You begin to wonder if Anthony hadn't preferred to be thrown in jail or be lynched on the spot, for his actions. Makes you wonder if death would have been better than living in such a state.

Steamboy (2004)

I didn't have the highest expectations for Steamboy, going in. It only averaged 6.9 on imdb.com and quite a few critics dismissed it as sub-par. I'm glad to report that it exceeded my expectations greatly. It's a fun anime romp, plain and simple. Plenty of great action setpieces abound, and a serviceable plot. The setting, the 1800's steam era, serves the movie very well, and adds a nice atmosphere that you don't get from conventional anime.

There are a few passing similarities between this and Akira. They both center around young children who must rise up and save the world. And they both involve something big kicking all kinds of ass. It's very different from Akira though, as far as I can remember. There's a great sense of morality in the film, too. I think it'd be a great flick for kids to see, not only for the action and animation, but for the anti-war message it delivers.

Early on, about 10 minutes in, the main character, Ray, bashes another kid in the head with a brass valve for insulting his Father. After this, he walks home and begins to tinker with his gadgets happily. This really bothered be, because I thought this made me hate the character, because he could do such a thing without remorse, and we're supposed to identify with him afterwards. Though, soon enough, he gets punished by his Mother for it, which alleviated my conscience about it. I guess I was just bothered because they didn't show the consequences for his actions, but I'm glad that they did.

The Exterminating Angel (1962)

I've only seen 5 Bunuels before this, and I haven't been entirely impressed. I saw Bourgeiose and was pretty much baffled and not very amused. After that, I saw los Olvidados, Simon of the Desert and Belle De Jour and gained a better appreciation for Bunuel's craft and style. In fact, I feel like revisiting those now, since I've read a lot about Bunuel and understand his style much better. Maybe it's for that reason, or maybe not, but The Exterminating Angel is my very favorite Bunuel thus far.

I was in hysterics throughout most of it, which is far more than I can say about Bourgeoise. It was such a brilliantly executed attack on the idle rich and the entire 'class' system in general. I was thinking that it might not have much relevence if made today, but then I started to wonder...

A big deal is made of WHY exactly they can't leave the room. Everytime I try to hypothesize an answer, I arrive at one conclusion; it's Bunuel. Maybe it's some kind of forcefield that's holding them in? Nah, Bunuel. Maybe it's some kind of psychosis they've all developed? Nah, Bunuel. Divine intervention? Nah, Bunuel. A statement on the lazy and lethargic nature of the bourgeosie? Perhaps, but undeniably Bunuel.

So, it's been a little over a month since I started this blog, and judging from my original intentions, I think it's been very successful. I started it, really, just to get down my own thoughts on the films I watched. I noticed that after I watched any film, I would read reviews, talk to other people about it, read essays, watch commentaries. Then, when I recalled my own feelings of the film, I was swayed more by other peoples' thoughts and interpretations, that I had no real grasp on how it originally made ME feel.

So, it's been a rule throughout that I not read anything about a film until after I've gotten my thoughts down about it. It's interesting, because in the case of a film like L'Age D'Or, it's all left to the interpretation of the viewer. So, while my interpretation may differ from the general, 'accepted' meanings of the film, it's still interesting to see how they differ, and realize that maybe, in my own stupid way, I'm right.

It's all helped though, I'm getting more of a grasp on my feelings of films, and I'm becoming far more adept at interpreting the language of cinema (although it's such an abstract idea, that being 'good' at it carries virtually no weight). I'd be lying if I said that having more people reading it wasn't a big interest of mine, but it doesn't bother me much, in all honesty. I've got a few people that read it fairly regularly and give me good feedback, so it's a-okay with me.

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So, I started watching the commentary for Hiroshima, Mon Amour, and I'm realizing that I miss the most obvious things sometimes. I didn't realize that the opening shots had ash falling over the lovers, I simply assumed it was some kind of symbolic glittering effect. Also, the opening scenes of Hiroshima, where Riva's character talks about what she's seen in Hiroshima, it's not implying that she thinks she was there, but she's simply recalling the museums and tourist traps that she's seen over the last few days. I think this is probably due to the fact that I didn't know there were museums dedicated to Hiroshima, located IN Hiroshima, so soon after the incident. It makes sense, but it still seems kind of counter-productive in ways. I suppose no matter how good you think you're getting, you always miss something. heh

L'Eclisse (1962)

A while back, I saw L'Avventura, at the suggestion of a friend. I was entirely transfixed by it, and it moved me greatly, although I couldn't make much sense out of the subtleties of it. After re-watching it, then watching the commentary, and reading many posts about it, I have a good understanding of it. It's now one of my favorite films of all-time. La Notte, the second film in Antonioni's informal trilogy, I really liked as well. Maybe it was because I didn't spend enough time with it that I didn't fall completely in love with it, but Ingmar Bergman did. I saw and loved Blow-Up, one of Antonioni's later masterworks. Needless to say, I have a great appreciation for Antonioni, so I was excited to watch L'Eclisse. I wasn't disappointed in the least.

So, in L'Eclisse, there's essentially little-to-no plot. There are things that happen, things that are important for one reason or another, but nothing resembling a traditional storyline. For some reason, despite this, I couldn't help being enthralled by it. I think it's due to the emotions and feelings it evokes in the viewer, and Antonioni's vision in general. However, the fact that there's not much in terms of a traditional plot helps the film greatly. It unfolds at a very leisurely pace, which allows the feeling and mood to wash over the audience. The characters, Vitti's in particular, are roaming around, drifting, searching around this modern world for someone or something to connect to. Essential, the film roams, drifts and searches along with her. The audience is encouraged to tag along, searching for our own connections in this world.

Obviously, the key Antonioni themes are on display here; loneliness, isolation, malaise, alienation, finding one's self in an increasingly-modernized world. Antonioni uses his craft in a way that displays these ideas and themes without bludgeoning the viewer over the head with them. Every framing, sound effect, camera move, every part of the performance, every little nuance is designed carefully to stylistically express the feelings of the characters, and to make the viewer relate.

One thing I noticed, as in Blow-Up, is the use of reflections in the film. In Blow-Up, I think it served to symbolize a reflection of reality, to disorient the viewer and make them wonder if what they're seeing is real. L'Eclisse's themes are completely different, so I have to wonder what the reflections are supposed to signify here. Maybe it's just an Antonioni trademark? (I haven't seen L'Avventura in a while, so I'd have to go back and look for reflections there.) Maybe, it's one way of showing isolation. In the opening scene, Vittoria stands in front of windows on two different occasions, both closed, displaying her reflection. It's a way of reminding the viewer that there is glass there, that the window is not opened, which isolates her character, cuts her off from the outside world. There are also two scenes later on where Vittoria opens a glass door between her and Piero. They kiss one another through the glass, obviously cutting one off from the other. Though, there are plenty of other reflections in the film which aren't due to windows, so maybe I'm wrong.

I love the Antonioni's framing in the film, and I think Gianni de Vananzo, the photographer, is owed a great debt. Like the scenes I described above, every shot is framed in a way that isolates the characters, specifically Vitti's. Shortly after they meet, Vittoria and Piero are framed on opposite sides of a giant pillar. Many times, characters are photographed on opposite sides of the same frame, exemplifying the physical distance between the two, and implying the emotional distance as well.

Of course, the world that Antonioni's characters inhabit is increasingly mechanized and is perpetually under construction, becoming more and more modernized. This is shown, obviously in the architecture, but also by the characters. In the opening scene, a static shot of Vitti's character is held while a oscillating fan turns back and forth, blowing her hair back slightly. Houses are inhabited by appliances, which characters use without a second thought. Heck, Piero even shows another man at the stock exchange his new hand-held fan, but the older man shrugs it off. Even the stock market itself is an element of modern business, and its presence on the film and in Vittoria's life is increasingly overbearing.

I'm sure that there's plenty I've missed or misinterpreted here. But, I suppose that's the joy of film, interpreting it for yourself and studying it so you can better interpret these things on your own. While I love the mood of the film and Antonioni's framing and mise-en-scene, I'm almost completely stumped as to how it really works, how certain things effect me the way that they do. L'Eclisse, like most of Antonioni's work, is a great film to dive into, to analyze and interpret on one's own.

Moulin Rouge (2001)

I don't think Moulin Rouge is a bad film. There's plenty of good things about it, and I admire what the filmmakers attempted to do with it. There are leigons of rabid fans whom have fallen in love with it. That said, unfortunately, Moulin Rouge didn't do much for me.

Essentially, the plot is stretched incredibly thin. It's one of the most trite, cliche-ridden stories I've ever seen, and it just served to bore me. Though, I understand that it's just a loose framework on which to hang elaborate song-and-dance numbers on. It's a case of style over substance. Though, in Moulin Rouge, there's next to no substance, and the style came off as being ultimately pointless.

Really, I'm torn between an understanding and admiration of what's trying to be done with Moulin Rouge, and the fact that it just didn't do much for me. I guess there are enough people out there who are in love with it, that one guy who merely liked it should be just fine.