Cassavetes, Linklater and Altman
Published by modium.
I first saw Shadows a couple years ago, before the Criterion set came out. I wanted to see if I liked his style. Here's what I wrote about it in my old blog:
Saw Shadows the other night. Kind of torn about it. I thought the plot was pretty well-written, and it was actually well-performed, with plenty of emotion. Some parts just dragged on though, and the plot took too long to actually get started. But that's just me. Have to see something else before I decide on the Criterion uber-set.
After that, I checked out The Killing of a Chinese Bookie later on, and I didn't like it in the least. It seemed far too long, drawn out, boring, and self-indulgant to me.
The reason I bring up Cassavetes is because I've got copies of Opening Night and A Woman Under the Influence sitting here, waiting to be watched, and some history between me and Cassavetes is in order. I've been reading more about him, and maybe I just wasn't attuned to his style back then. So we'll see how it turns out.
I've only seen two Linklater films, but I liked neither of them. Waking Life, which many consider an incredible masterwork, I thought was a pretentious bore. It would be served better to be read in some dude's blog, rather than being spoken by characters in a 'film'. School of Rock, I guess I just don't like Jack Black. I wish my feelings on one actor didn't have as much of a bearing on an entire film, but in School of Rock, it's hard to enjoy anything else in the film if you're not a fan of Jack Black's humor. He's constantly overshadowing everyone else in the film. If somebody does anything of interest in the film, you can bet Black is about half a second away from jumping in front of the camera and doing something loud and obnoxious.
I'm checking out Slacker soon, so we'll see. The Sunset/Sunrise movies look interesting, and like they'd be right up my alley, but that's what I thought about Lost in Translation...
Robert Altman is a running joke between Luke and I. Luke doesn't like his films at all, yet can't stop buying and watching them. I've only seen MASH, which I really liked but seems extremely overrated, and Short Cuts, which I didn't like. But, I'm willing to keep trying him, as 3 Women, Tanner '88, Godford Park, Secret Honor and McCabe and Mrs. Miller all sound pretty good.
What a neat idea for a post, me whining about directors I don't like, but whose work I will keep checking out. Just trying to give some background on why some of the flicks I'll be watching soon are of importance. More accurately, why my opinions on said flicks are important.
Saw Shadows the other night. Kind of torn about it. I thought the plot was pretty well-written, and it was actually well-performed, with plenty of emotion. Some parts just dragged on though, and the plot took too long to actually get started. But that's just me. Have to see something else before I decide on the Criterion uber-set.
After that, I checked out The Killing of a Chinese Bookie later on, and I didn't like it in the least. It seemed far too long, drawn out, boring, and self-indulgant to me.
The reason I bring up Cassavetes is because I've got copies of Opening Night and A Woman Under the Influence sitting here, waiting to be watched, and some history between me and Cassavetes is in order. I've been reading more about him, and maybe I just wasn't attuned to his style back then. So we'll see how it turns out.
I'm checking out Slacker soon, so we'll see. The Sunset/Sunrise movies look interesting, and like they'd be right up my alley, but that's what I thought about Lost in Translation...
Breathless (1960), Naked Lunch (1991)
Published by modium.
Breathless (1960)
For me, Godard is kind of hit or...not-hit. First of his I saw, and one of my first foreign films I ever saw, was Alphaville, which I loved then and still do. Then, I blind-bought Band of Outsiders and thought it was pretty good, but kind of empty. After that, I saw a Woman is a Woman and didn't really like it, it seemed more like style over substance. Contempt I liked, but once again, it seemed kind of hollow. So, Breathless is supposed to be Godard's masterpiece and, along with Truffaut's 400 Blows, the work that ushered in the French New Wave. I can now say that Breathless is my favorite Godard film yet.
It's hard, really, to explain why Breathless is so good. In the grand scheme of it, it really changed movies afterwards. But, that doesn't necessarily make it an enjoyable film to watch. Nonetheless, it is. It's a loose mixture of pulp, pop culture and romance. It's made with such ingenuity and enthusiasm, it's hard not to get sucked into it. The pace and the style of the film are far more engrossing than the plot itself.
Oddly enough, for how illogical they acted and how little motivation they seemed to have, they're surprisingly relatable. They're just so charming, so fun, so interesting that you can't help but like them and feel like, oddly enough, you know them.
I can't quite put my finger on why, but I loved Breathless.
Naked Lunch (1991)
So, I love Cronenberg's work. I consider Videodrome, The Fly and Dead Ringers to all be masterpieces. The Brood is great, but the rest I've seen are dragged down by schlocky effects, low-budget material and uncreative scripts. But, I can toss Naked Lunch into that upper pantheon of masterpieces, because it's just...wow.
I know nothing of Burroughs, so I can't say how great a job was done adapting his work and life to the screen, but from what I've read, an incredibly unique, creative and wholly effective job was done. I really liked the way that it's kind of a making-of-Naked Lunch, than the plot of the book itself. You begin to wonder "Damn, is this what Burroughs was like when he wrote the book?"
The entire film is a wonder of hallucinatory experiences. It seems like it'd be great to study, just to unravel all the layers upon layers of reality, hallucination, dreams, etc. It seems to be full of typical Cronenberg-isms, like hallucinations, frequent drug use, and extreme perversion. But, look a little closer and you'll seen that it's actually a deep rumination on drug addiction, grief, and the craft of writing itself.
I really liked Weller's performance in the film. He handles it all with a Bogart-like calmness, like he was ready for all this to happen. In many other ways, the film resembles a noir, as it has some of the trappings. For instance, the way that Bill's typewriter kept giving him these 'jobs' to do, where he has to go into the underworld. And especially at the end when Benway sheds his skin and reveals his master plan to Bill, full of typical double-crosses.
Cronenberg has done a great job in bringing Naked Lunch to the screen, I'd say. Definitely a film that stays with the viewer a long time afterwards. I can't wait to grab my own copy and watch it again, heh.
For me, Godard is kind of hit or...not-hit. First of his I saw, and one of my first foreign films I ever saw, was Alphaville, which I loved then and still do. Then, I blind-bought Band of Outsiders and thought it was pretty good, but kind of empty. After that, I saw a Woman is a Woman and didn't really like it, it seemed more like style over substance. Contempt I liked, but once again, it seemed kind of hollow. So, Breathless is supposed to be Godard's masterpiece and, along with Truffaut's 400 Blows, the work that ushered in the French New Wave. I can now say that Breathless is my favorite Godard film yet.
It's hard, really, to explain why Breathless is so good. In the grand scheme of it, it really changed movies afterwards. But, that doesn't necessarily make it an enjoyable film to watch. Nonetheless, it is. It's a loose mixture of pulp, pop culture and romance. It's made with such ingenuity and enthusiasm, it's hard not to get sucked into it. The pace and the style of the film are far more engrossing than the plot itself.
Oddly enough, for how illogical they acted and how little motivation they seemed to have, they're surprisingly relatable. They're just so charming, so fun, so interesting that you can't help but like them and feel like, oddly enough, you know them.
I can't quite put my finger on why, but I loved Breathless.
Naked Lunch (1991)
So, I love Cronenberg's work. I consider Videodrome, The Fly and Dead Ringers to all be masterpieces. The Brood is great, but the rest I've seen are dragged down by schlocky effects, low-budget material and uncreative scripts. But, I can toss Naked Lunch into that upper pantheon of masterpieces, because it's just...wow.
I know nothing of Burroughs, so I can't say how great a job was done adapting his work and life to the screen, but from what I've read, an incredibly unique, creative and wholly effective job was done. I really liked the way that it's kind of a making-of-Naked Lunch, than the plot of the book itself. You begin to wonder "Damn, is this what Burroughs was like when he wrote the book?"
The entire film is a wonder of hallucinatory experiences. It seems like it'd be great to study, just to unravel all the layers upon layers of reality, hallucination, dreams, etc. It seems to be full of typical Cronenberg-isms, like hallucinations, frequent drug use, and extreme perversion. But, look a little closer and you'll seen that it's actually a deep rumination on drug addiction, grief, and the craft of writing itself.
I really liked Weller's performance in the film. He handles it all with a Bogart-like calmness, like he was ready for all this to happen. In many other ways, the film resembles a noir, as it has some of the trappings. For instance, the way that Bill's typewriter kept giving him these 'jobs' to do, where he has to go into the underworld. And especially at the end when Benway sheds his skin and reveals his master plan to Bill, full of typical double-crosses.
Cronenberg has done a great job in bringing Naked Lunch to the screen, I'd say. Definitely a film that stays with the viewer a long time afterwards. I can't wait to grab my own copy and watch it again, heh.
Castle in the Sky (1986), The Phantom of Liberty (1974)
Published Friday, August 19, 2005 by modium.
Castle in the Sky (1986)
Keeping in line with the Miyazaki, I checked out Castle in the Sky. A very good film, albeit kind of shallow. I mean, I would have preferred something with a little more depth and substance in terms of plot and character, like Mononoke. But, Castle in the Sky was still very good. Another grand, inventive adventure from Miyazaki. Pure escapism.
The Phantom of Liberty (1974)
Ah, late-career French Bunuel. Phantom of Liberty once again proves that Bunuel lost some steam in his later years. Granted, it's still a very good film, but it can't hold a candle to his earlier Spanish flicks.
By biggest complaint with the film is its episodic nature. It feels more like a loose series of vignettes than a fully-developed story. I don't mind it if there's something tying them all together, but Phantom of Liberty seems to lack narrative focus, which really distracts from the film. It's almost like Bunuel had a bunch of different ideas and tossed them all together in a film.
Still, it's a good film nonetheless. Some of the stuff was downright hilarious. The toilet scene, of course, classic. Also, there are many small touches that made me chuckle far more often than the outright gags, mostly due to the dry nature that Bunuel gives them. When the 'Police Commissioner' walks in on his Sister playing piano nude, he simply walks around her, seemingly not noticing. It lends the film a very dreamlike quality insofar as the people seem to accept these bizarre events as completely normal and banal.
I really can't see what ties each of the parts to liberty, personally, but I've been proven to be bad with interpreting Bunuel's stuff. The 'pornographic' photos, is it meant to say that lovely architecture and beautiful scenery is disgusting to the bourgeoisie? The painting of the execution being present quite a few times during the film, is it meant to say something of authority? And the greet speech on laws and morals given by the man in the police station, but constantly interrupted, is it meant to symbolize society as a whole, that we can't even learn basic fundamentals before we're constantly interrupted by the bustle of everyday life? Or, is it Bunuel, seemingly interrupted by the bizarre actions of the characters in this film, as if he has no control over them? Still, he makes the most sense of anyone in the film by stating that different countries have different sets of morals and ethics. He says, "Everyone is someone else's barbarian."
It doesn't seem as much like an attack, as some other Bunuel films, on society. It seems to me, to be more like a breaking down of social conventions, by pointing out the absurdities of everyday life by exaggerating them. A very good film, but just not great.
Edit: Still a day after and I'm chuckling over The Phantom of Liberty. A much better essay can be found here.
Keeping in line with the Miyazaki, I checked out Castle in the Sky. A very good film, albeit kind of shallow. I mean, I would have preferred something with a little more depth and substance in terms of plot and character, like Mononoke. But, Castle in the Sky was still very good. Another grand, inventive adventure from Miyazaki. Pure escapism.
The Phantom of Liberty (1974)
Ah, late-career French Bunuel. Phantom of Liberty once again proves that Bunuel lost some steam in his later years. Granted, it's still a very good film, but it can't hold a candle to his earlier Spanish flicks.
By biggest complaint with the film is its episodic nature. It feels more like a loose series of vignettes than a fully-developed story. I don't mind it if there's something tying them all together, but Phantom of Liberty seems to lack narrative focus, which really distracts from the film. It's almost like Bunuel had a bunch of different ideas and tossed them all together in a film.
Still, it's a good film nonetheless. Some of the stuff was downright hilarious. The toilet scene, of course, classic. Also, there are many small touches that made me chuckle far more often than the outright gags, mostly due to the dry nature that Bunuel gives them. When the 'Police Commissioner' walks in on his Sister playing piano nude, he simply walks around her, seemingly not noticing. It lends the film a very dreamlike quality insofar as the people seem to accept these bizarre events as completely normal and banal.
I really can't see what ties each of the parts to liberty, personally, but I've been proven to be bad with interpreting Bunuel's stuff. The 'pornographic' photos, is it meant to say that lovely architecture and beautiful scenery is disgusting to the bourgeoisie? The painting of the execution being present quite a few times during the film, is it meant to say something of authority? And the greet speech on laws and morals given by the man in the police station, but constantly interrupted, is it meant to symbolize society as a whole, that we can't even learn basic fundamentals before we're constantly interrupted by the bustle of everyday life? Or, is it Bunuel, seemingly interrupted by the bizarre actions of the characters in this film, as if he has no control over them? Still, he makes the most sense of anyone in the film by stating that different countries have different sets of morals and ethics. He says, "Everyone is someone else's barbarian."
It doesn't seem as much like an attack, as some other Bunuel films, on society. It seems to me, to be more like a breaking down of social conventions, by pointing out the absurdities of everyday life by exaggerating them. A very good film, but just not great.
Edit: Still a day after and I'm chuckling over The Phantom of Liberty. A much better essay can be found here.
Breaking the Waves (1996)
Published Thursday, August 18, 2005 by modium.
Breaking the Waves (1996)
Breaking the Waves is an incredible film. I wasn't ready for the huge impact it had on me. I'd expected it to be good, but I didn't expect it to be devastatingly beautiful. I've seen Element of Crime a few times and really liked it, and I loved Dogville. But, Breaking the Waves...wow. Someone needs to give this a proper Region 1 release, stat.
Usually, when I take notes on a film, I'll have 2-4 lines full of shorthand notation, and I can usually fit 5 or 6 films' worth of notes on a page. Breaking the Waves took up about 3/4 of an entire page, and I could have kept going if I wasn't too engrossed in the film.
Breaking the waves is a great film because it inspires a lot from its viewers. It inspires you to think about yourself, your own life and situation, and wonder what you would do in that situation. It inspires you to discuss with others who have seen the film, and even those who haven't, on the themes of love, faith and sacrifice, as mostly everybody will have a different opinion on the events and the spirituality of the film. It inspires a lot of soul-searching in the viewer, as he's forced to look into his own spirit and wonder if he does or could ever possess the same amount of faith that Bess has in the film.
The film is shot handheld then transferred back and forth from 35mm film, which results in a shaky, grainy image. It makes the film feel far more 'real' and raw than it otherwise would have, due to the shakiness of the always-handheld camerawork. Because of this 'realness' of the film, we're inclined to believe everything in the film, take it all as completely logical and true. Yet, when Bess prays for Jan to come home and when she begins to cure him with her actions, we begin to wonder if God actually exists, if there's a mystical, spiritual element at work. This, I think, brings things to a screeching halt in the psyche of the viewer. He wonders "Wow, if this world is real, and God is at work...then is God at work all around us?" At least, that's what I got from it. It's kind of a polarizing piece of work, in that way.
It's interesting that we know almost nothing about the characters before the start of the film, other than Bess and Jan are supposedly in love and got married. We don't know if Jan swept Bess off of her feet with grand, romantic gestures, or if he simply settled for her. We don't know if Bess was truly searching for Jan all these years, or if he's simply the first man to express a romantic interest in her. Throughout the film, we never learn much about Jan or his motivations. Is he just entirely driven by sex, or is there a lot more to his nature, a kind, gentle side that the viewer isn't shown? At the end of the film, Jan is walking again, and Bess isn't even in the ground, which leads me to believe he made such a great recovery in a couple weeks' time, nothing short of miraculous. We believe this is due to Bess' sacrifice of her own life for his. We begin to wonder- this is who this wonderful woman gave up her life for? Is he even worth it? But, that doesn't matter. It could be anybody that she gave herself for, the focus of the story is Bess herself, and more importantly, the faith she exhibited.
Towards the end of the film, it's an utterly devastating experience. When the young children chase Bess through the town, throwing rocks at her, calling her a tart, it's heartbreaking. The handheld camera really adds to the effect, because its shakiness mirrors the panic and emotional breakdown that Bess is experiencing. This is an incredible moment, once you step back and look at it. This woman has been having all kinds of sex with random men, performing deplorable acts, all while she has a husband. If you can look past this moral issue, she's still a deeply disturbed person, dealing with a great amount of psychosis. We should condemn her, or at least take a great amount of pity on her and distance ourselves from her. Yet, we've been with her every step of her journey, we understand her emotions, her plight, and we begin to believe in miracles, alongside her. Because we identify with her, her actions are completely logical, and we feel overwhelming emotion for her.
It's interesting to note how the spirituality of the viewer can color the events of the film for them. In the beginning of the film, when Bess begins to have a lot of sex with Jan and distance herself more and more from the church, it's implied that everyone in the congregation looks down upon her as falling from grace, if it will. If the viewer is a spiritual person with the same views as those in the church, we agree with them and shake our heads at Bess. Yet, if the viewer looks upon the church as being more of a hindrance, either due to a disagreement with the methods of showing faith employed, or due to their own agnosticism or atheism, they look upon the events as being an eye-opening experience for Bess, and they silently cheer for her.
Emily Watson's performance is one of the greatest I've ever seen put to screen. She IS Bess for the running time of the film. She takes something that could have easily ended up trite and eye-rollingly embarrassing, and makes it incredibly moving. It's because of her performance that we believe in the events, and because of her that we feel our hearts go through the wringer and subsequently feel astonishment as she finally experiences a spiritual epiphany, as the church bells finally ring, a true miracle.
Also, something that I keep thinking about, and Breaking the Waves made me want to put forth- How much about the film is the viewer expected to know? Does the director make the film hoping that the viewer will know nothing about the film, that every single aspect of the plot, characters and the look of the film will be completely new and previously unseen? Or, does he make it expecting that the viewer has seen a trailer, and is familiar with the basic plot, look and feel of the film, and knows precisely what to expect? Because, some films, like Breaking the Waves, give away a large amount of plot on the back of the DVD cases, of all places. Breaking the Waves, in fact, gives away around 4/5 of the plot, in terms of running time, and throws in some big hints as to the ending, which kind of spoiled the film for me.
Any other film nerds want to chime in?
Breaking the Waves is an incredible film. I wasn't ready for the huge impact it had on me. I'd expected it to be good, but I didn't expect it to be devastatingly beautiful. I've seen Element of Crime a few times and really liked it, and I loved Dogville. But, Breaking the Waves...wow. Someone needs to give this a proper Region 1 release, stat.
Usually, when I take notes on a film, I'll have 2-4 lines full of shorthand notation, and I can usually fit 5 or 6 films' worth of notes on a page. Breaking the Waves took up about 3/4 of an entire page, and I could have kept going if I wasn't too engrossed in the film.
Breaking the waves is a great film because it inspires a lot from its viewers. It inspires you to think about yourself, your own life and situation, and wonder what you would do in that situation. It inspires you to discuss with others who have seen the film, and even those who haven't, on the themes of love, faith and sacrifice, as mostly everybody will have a different opinion on the events and the spirituality of the film. It inspires a lot of soul-searching in the viewer, as he's forced to look into his own spirit and wonder if he does or could ever possess the same amount of faith that Bess has in the film.
The film is shot handheld then transferred back and forth from 35mm film, which results in a shaky, grainy image. It makes the film feel far more 'real' and raw than it otherwise would have, due to the shakiness of the always-handheld camerawork. Because of this 'realness' of the film, we're inclined to believe everything in the film, take it all as completely logical and true. Yet, when Bess prays for Jan to come home and when she begins to cure him with her actions, we begin to wonder if God actually exists, if there's a mystical, spiritual element at work. This, I think, brings things to a screeching halt in the psyche of the viewer. He wonders "Wow, if this world is real, and God is at work...then is God at work all around us?" At least, that's what I got from it. It's kind of a polarizing piece of work, in that way.
It's interesting that we know almost nothing about the characters before the start of the film, other than Bess and Jan are supposedly in love and got married. We don't know if Jan swept Bess off of her feet with grand, romantic gestures, or if he simply settled for her. We don't know if Bess was truly searching for Jan all these years, or if he's simply the first man to express a romantic interest in her. Throughout the film, we never learn much about Jan or his motivations. Is he just entirely driven by sex, or is there a lot more to his nature, a kind, gentle side that the viewer isn't shown? At the end of the film, Jan is walking again, and Bess isn't even in the ground, which leads me to believe he made such a great recovery in a couple weeks' time, nothing short of miraculous. We believe this is due to Bess' sacrifice of her own life for his. We begin to wonder- this is who this wonderful woman gave up her life for? Is he even worth it? But, that doesn't matter. It could be anybody that she gave herself for, the focus of the story is Bess herself, and more importantly, the faith she exhibited.
Towards the end of the film, it's an utterly devastating experience. When the young children chase Bess through the town, throwing rocks at her, calling her a tart, it's heartbreaking. The handheld camera really adds to the effect, because its shakiness mirrors the panic and emotional breakdown that Bess is experiencing. This is an incredible moment, once you step back and look at it. This woman has been having all kinds of sex with random men, performing deplorable acts, all while she has a husband. If you can look past this moral issue, she's still a deeply disturbed person, dealing with a great amount of psychosis. We should condemn her, or at least take a great amount of pity on her and distance ourselves from her. Yet, we've been with her every step of her journey, we understand her emotions, her plight, and we begin to believe in miracles, alongside her. Because we identify with her, her actions are completely logical, and we feel overwhelming emotion for her.
It's interesting to note how the spirituality of the viewer can color the events of the film for them. In the beginning of the film, when Bess begins to have a lot of sex with Jan and distance herself more and more from the church, it's implied that everyone in the congregation looks down upon her as falling from grace, if it will. If the viewer is a spiritual person with the same views as those in the church, we agree with them and shake our heads at Bess. Yet, if the viewer looks upon the church as being more of a hindrance, either due to a disagreement with the methods of showing faith employed, or due to their own agnosticism or atheism, they look upon the events as being an eye-opening experience for Bess, and they silently cheer for her.
Emily Watson's performance is one of the greatest I've ever seen put to screen. She IS Bess for the running time of the film. She takes something that could have easily ended up trite and eye-rollingly embarrassing, and makes it incredibly moving. It's because of her performance that we believe in the events, and because of her that we feel our hearts go through the wringer and subsequently feel astonishment as she finally experiences a spiritual epiphany, as the church bells finally ring, a true miracle.
Also, something that I keep thinking about, and Breaking the Waves made me want to put forth- How much about the film is the viewer expected to know? Does the director make the film hoping that the viewer will know nothing about the film, that every single aspect of the plot, characters and the look of the film will be completely new and previously unseen? Or, does he make it expecting that the viewer has seen a trailer, and is familiar with the basic plot, look and feel of the film, and knows precisely what to expect? Because, some films, like Breaking the Waves, give away a large amount of plot on the back of the DVD cases, of all places. Breaking the Waves, in fact, gives away around 4/5 of the plot, in terms of running time, and throws in some big hints as to the ending, which kind of spoiled the film for me.
Any other film nerds want to chime in?
A Love Song for Bobby Long (2004)
Published by modium.
A Love Song for Bobby Long (2004)
My wonderful friend Nichole told me this film was beautiful and instructed me to see it. Now, I have to get this off my chest before I explode: I hate Scarlett Johansson. She was okay in Ghost World. But, with each passing film I saw, she got more and more pretentious and her acting suffered. Not to mention I've never seen a more grating offscreen persona. So, that said, I was trepidatious about seeing the film, but I'm glad to report the film falls under 'very good' on the Modium Rating Scale.
So, the film managed to get to me on an emotional level. It shouldn't have, I know this is probably true, but it did nonetheless. The big twist is so obvious that I never thought it'd actually turn out to be true, so I put it out of my mind fairly early on, which made the effect much more powerful later. The characters are all well-portrayed, and seem to undergo changes right when they should, so you don't really get to know them so much that you can predict their actions too much, but just enough so you feel like you know them.
So, the hag was good in the film. Aside from the occasional Magical Disappearing Accent, she seemed to do a good job of showing just enough emotion to make the character seem real. Although, it is kind of funny that the first time you see her onscreen, she's in her panties. Whoops, so much for tact!
The biggest thing that bothered me about the film, humorously, was that John Travolta never played the guitar when he was supposed to. Maybe it's because I play guitar myself, but it was annoying to see his hand not even strumming in the long shots, not his fingers moving in the closeups. Christian Bale can lose 63 pounds, surviving on tuna and apples, and you can learn some strumming patterns, Johnny? Yeesh.
My wonderful friend Nichole told me this film was beautiful and instructed me to see it. Now, I have to get this off my chest before I explode: I hate Scarlett Johansson. She was okay in Ghost World. But, with each passing film I saw, she got more and more pretentious and her acting suffered. Not to mention I've never seen a more grating offscreen persona. So, that said, I was trepidatious about seeing the film, but I'm glad to report the film falls under 'very good' on the Modium Rating Scale.
So, the film managed to get to me on an emotional level. It shouldn't have, I know this is probably true, but it did nonetheless. The big twist is so obvious that I never thought it'd actually turn out to be true, so I put it out of my mind fairly early on, which made the effect much more powerful later. The characters are all well-portrayed, and seem to undergo changes right when they should, so you don't really get to know them so much that you can predict their actions too much, but just enough so you feel like you know them.
So, the hag was good in the film. Aside from the occasional Magical Disappearing Accent, she seemed to do a good job of showing just enough emotion to make the character seem real. Although, it is kind of funny that the first time you see her onscreen, she's in her panties. Whoops, so much for tact!
The biggest thing that bothered me about the film, humorously, was that John Travolta never played the guitar when he was supposed to. Maybe it's because I play guitar myself, but it was annoying to see his hand not even strumming in the long shots, not his fingers moving in the closeups. Christian Bale can lose 63 pounds, surviving on tuna and apples, and you can learn some strumming patterns, Johnny? Yeesh.
The Browning Version (1951), Mon Oncle (1958)
Published Wednesday, August 17, 2005 by modium.
The Browning Version (1951)
The Browning Version is a little-known, but very good British movie. The story, adapted from a stage play, centers around a headmaster whose ailing health is forcing him to quit his job at the school where he teaches. His young wife openly cheats on him, his students mock him and his co-workers compare him to Himmler, so you know he's not the coolest dude. The events on the film force him to reflect on his career and the dreams he once had as a younger man.
The film still retains many of the trappings of its stage incarnation. Most notably are the individual scenes, which still feel like they belong more on the stage than on the screen. The camera adopts a very play-like persona, as it frequently forgoes close-up shots in lieu of longer shots that show more than one character at once. These shots allow for less cutting and probably allowed the actors more freedom to express themselves. Not that it's a bad thing, it's still a very good film.
The characters are are well-developed in a short span of time. Almost instantly, you get a feel for Mr.s Crocker-Harris, Hunter, Taplow, and especially The Crock himself, played beautifully by Michael Redgrave. It's interesting to see his character, because, to the children, he's a very imposing, mean presence. Yet, to the viewer, he's very fair and even and occasionally very funny. Though, he does recall to the mind of most viewers that one teacher you had, who seemed to see and know everything in their classroom, as if they had eyes in the back of their head.
It's interesting to watch, because here, 50 years later, across the pond, we can see how things were like going to school in Britain in the 50's. It's notable because, from listening to Pink Floyd, especially The Happiest Days of Our Lives, we're always told that schoolboys in Britain were horribly mistreated and oppressed by their headmasters. And, you can somewhat see that in the Browning Version, although I'm inclined to believe many reports are greatly exaggerated. Yet, at the same time, Brits are thought of as being entirely respectful and courteous to one another. Weird.
Mon Oncle (1958)
If you remember right, I really enjoyed M. Hulot's Holiday, Tati's earlier Hulot comedy. So, I was expecting more of the same from Mon Oncle, which completely exceeded my expectations.
With Mon Oncle, Tati has outdone himself. He's done what only the best directors/storytellers can do, he's created his own world. The world Hulot inhabits is full of life and rich in detail. Dogs run around, kids have fun, and the stuffy adults who worry more about their house than their own child constantly have to deal with their technology backfiring. Meanwhile, characters like Hulot and his nephew, Gerard, are blissfully ignorant inhabitants, choosing only to to amuse themselves with the simple pleasures of life. In Gerard, Hulot plays opposite a great kindred soul, someone with the same easygoing attitude that he has.
Even the minor characters in Mon Oncle are entirely memorable. From the kids who amuse themselves by causing small troubles for the uptight adults around town, to the street sweeper who seems to do anything he can to avoid sweeping, to the innumerable dogs who run around town with exuberance, they're all completely endearing and likable.
The Browning Version is a little-known, but very good British movie. The story, adapted from a stage play, centers around a headmaster whose ailing health is forcing him to quit his job at the school where he teaches. His young wife openly cheats on him, his students mock him and his co-workers compare him to Himmler, so you know he's not the coolest dude. The events on the film force him to reflect on his career and the dreams he once had as a younger man.
The film still retains many of the trappings of its stage incarnation. Most notably are the individual scenes, which still feel like they belong more on the stage than on the screen. The camera adopts a very play-like persona, as it frequently forgoes close-up shots in lieu of longer shots that show more than one character at once. These shots allow for less cutting and probably allowed the actors more freedom to express themselves. Not that it's a bad thing, it's still a very good film.
The characters are are well-developed in a short span of time. Almost instantly, you get a feel for Mr.s Crocker-Harris, Hunter, Taplow, and especially The Crock himself, played beautifully by Michael Redgrave. It's interesting to see his character, because, to the children, he's a very imposing, mean presence. Yet, to the viewer, he's very fair and even and occasionally very funny. Though, he does recall to the mind of most viewers that one teacher you had, who seemed to see and know everything in their classroom, as if they had eyes in the back of their head.
It's interesting to watch, because here, 50 years later, across the pond, we can see how things were like going to school in Britain in the 50's. It's notable because, from listening to Pink Floyd, especially The Happiest Days of Our Lives, we're always told that schoolboys in Britain were horribly mistreated and oppressed by their headmasters. And, you can somewhat see that in the Browning Version, although I'm inclined to believe many reports are greatly exaggerated. Yet, at the same time, Brits are thought of as being entirely respectful and courteous to one another. Weird.
Mon Oncle (1958)
If you remember right, I really enjoyed M. Hulot's Holiday, Tati's earlier Hulot comedy. So, I was expecting more of the same from Mon Oncle, which completely exceeded my expectations.
With Mon Oncle, Tati has outdone himself. He's done what only the best directors/storytellers can do, he's created his own world. The world Hulot inhabits is full of life and rich in detail. Dogs run around, kids have fun, and the stuffy adults who worry more about their house than their own child constantly have to deal with their technology backfiring. Meanwhile, characters like Hulot and his nephew, Gerard, are blissfully ignorant inhabitants, choosing only to to amuse themselves with the simple pleasures of life. In Gerard, Hulot plays opposite a great kindred soul, someone with the same easygoing attitude that he has.
Even the minor characters in Mon Oncle are entirely memorable. From the kids who amuse themselves by causing small troubles for the uptight adults around town, to the street sweeper who seems to do anything he can to avoid sweeping, to the innumerable dogs who run around town with exuberance, they're all completely endearing and likable.
Sin City (2005)
Published by modium.
Sin City (2005)
My pal Scott Weinberg has been raving and gushing about Sin City since before its release. Being that I almost never get to the theater, I, unsurprisingly, didn't get to see it. But, I've been anxiously awaiting its DVD release. Now, the hardest part is trying to avoid sounding like a gushing fanboy.
What is there to say about Sin City that hasn't already been covered? It's an incredible ride. It's got the pacing of a speeding freight train with nearly unbearable tension and relentless action. It seems like the picture was reading my mind in spots, simply because it was producing everything my imagination wanted to see. In some ways, it's almost like sensory overload, just from being bombarded with awesome visuals, sounds, action and characters. It grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go.
Great acting in the flick throughout, especially Rourke and Del Toro, who has the funniest scene in the film. Even Bruce Willis, Elijah Wood, Clive Owen, Jessica Alba, Brittany Murphy...everyone did a great job of bringing the characters to life. Visually, very arresting picture, with a heavy debt owed to film noir and thusly German Expressionism. The stark black and white look of the film is incredible, and really lends itself well to the movie.
Right from the start, Hartigan goes into a building, guns blazing, and the goons he shoots go flying into the air backwards. Immediately, if the visuals weren't a dead giveaway, the audience knows that this isn't reality. This is, quite simply, Frank Miller's graphic novel, come to life. Everything is so exaggerated, larger than life, and yet, the picture still manages to tap into the primal pressimism of the viewer, the same way that film noirs did back in the 40's and 50's. The protagonists are all obsessive in their quests. They're all searching for truth and a form of justice in a world that seemingly lacks them.
Sin City is like eating a three-course meal. It's extremely dense, rich, and filling. Heck, if I don't see another movie for a week, I'll still be satisfied. I don't know how well it will hold up to repeat viewings, but Sin City is an incredible movie.
My pal Scott Weinberg has been raving and gushing about Sin City since before its release. Being that I almost never get to the theater, I, unsurprisingly, didn't get to see it. But, I've been anxiously awaiting its DVD release. Now, the hardest part is trying to avoid sounding like a gushing fanboy.
What is there to say about Sin City that hasn't already been covered? It's an incredible ride. It's got the pacing of a speeding freight train with nearly unbearable tension and relentless action. It seems like the picture was reading my mind in spots, simply because it was producing everything my imagination wanted to see. In some ways, it's almost like sensory overload, just from being bombarded with awesome visuals, sounds, action and characters. It grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go.
Great acting in the flick throughout, especially Rourke and Del Toro, who has the funniest scene in the film. Even Bruce Willis, Elijah Wood, Clive Owen, Jessica Alba, Brittany Murphy...everyone did a great job of bringing the characters to life. Visually, very arresting picture, with a heavy debt owed to film noir and thusly German Expressionism. The stark black and white look of the film is incredible, and really lends itself well to the movie.
Right from the start, Hartigan goes into a building, guns blazing, and the goons he shoots go flying into the air backwards. Immediately, if the visuals weren't a dead giveaway, the audience knows that this isn't reality. This is, quite simply, Frank Miller's graphic novel, come to life. Everything is so exaggerated, larger than life, and yet, the picture still manages to tap into the primal pressimism of the viewer, the same way that film noirs did back in the 40's and 50's. The protagonists are all obsessive in their quests. They're all searching for truth and a form of justice in a world that seemingly lacks them.
Sin City is like eating a three-course meal. It's extremely dense, rich, and filling. Heck, if I don't see another movie for a week, I'll still be satisfied. I don't know how well it will hold up to repeat viewings, but Sin City is an incredible movie.
by Brakhage: An Anthology
Published Tuesday, August 16, 2005 by modium.
by Brakhage: An Anthology
I first heard about by Brakhage slightly before it was announced, when I knew next to nothing of cinema, yet relished learning about each month's new Criterion announcements. I remember looking him up on imdb and learning that he'd done over 300 films in total, yet I'd never heard of him. I was always interested in seeing it, but at the time, had no access to most Criterions.
Later on, I got Netflix, and eventually got around to renting Disc 1 of by Brakhage. I watched Desistfilm and didn't get it. Watched some of Wedlock and Dog Star Man, and didn't get them either. Watched The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes and was disgusted. From then on, I hated Brakhage. For every great review that made me want to like Brakhage, like Dave Jesteadt's here, there was one like Mark Zimmer's that really resonated with me, made me pump my fist and go "yes, someone I can agree with!"
So, somewhere, I started to look at Brakhage again, and at his almost universal praise, and wondered if there was something I'd overlooked. Admittedly, I'd made a few mistakes in my viewing. I went in with extremely high expectations, didn't watch them in the right environment, didn't give them a chance. So, I rented the Criterion set from the library, and watched them again.
Desistfilm - This was the first Brakhage film I saw when I Netflixed the disc, and is again the first one I watched. Through the supplements I learned that Brakhage was very influenced by Italian Neorealism and French Poetic Realism, or Surrealism if you will. This gave him points in my book already. So, Desistfilm is supposed to be about Desistialism (sp?), the opposite of existentialism. I really didn't get it. Camper's essay says that all the figures at the party were isolating themselves in a way, doing something to amuse themselves while not bothering with anyone else and that I can see. But, I kind of don't buy it. The soundtrack gives it a very out-of-control, oppressive kind of mood.
Wedlock House: An Intercourse - What incredible and haunting imagery this film has. The lighting is sparse and sporadic, as if lit by a swinging lightbulb. Since most of the film is pitch black, you never know what room or angle you will be seeing next. Captures the phrase 'wedlock' very well as the couple seems to be falling into a collective rhythm with one another, essentially trapping them. There were moments where I found myself completely absorbed, entirely forgetting the world outside the frame existed.
Dog Star Man - This is 74 minutes long. Brakhage said it is his try at making an 'epic' story. 74 minutes is extremely excessive, and I got very bored watching Dog Star Man. The first part, Prelude, is a dream sequence, which is pretty neat, as it presents visions of things to come, and swirling imagery much like that of our own dreams. But it stretches on for 25 minutes, which is far too long. The next sequence is the main narrative, which is simply Brakhage climbing a snowy mountain with his dog and rolling around in different shutter speeds. A pointless waste of 30 minutes. The next part is very interesting, it covers a kind of 'birth' and has some very cool effects and is only 5 minutes, so doesn't outstay its welcome. The final two segments are typical Brakhage weirdness, dragging on far too long at 13 minutes combined. I simply did not get this, and it bored me throughout. I think Brakhage is just better experienced on short bursts.
The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes - This was the film that made me despise Brakhage the first time I watched it. It's basically a filmed autopsy. I got fed up with Brakhage and went off, claiming that 'this isn't art' and all of that. I tried to watch it again this time, and just couldn't stomach more than a few minutes of it, but that's just me. I have the luxury of being able to turn the DVD off, though.
Cat's Cradle - I kind of didn't get this one, but it was still kind of cool. Brakhage's editing is great here, giving normal activities the impression of being sexual and vice versa.
Window Water Baby Moving - This one I really liked. It's Brakhage filming the home birth of his first child. That he could take something this real and turn it into a piece of experimental art says something about him, and those are the types of work I like most, from him anyway. It's unflinching and raw but never disgusting. In fast, intercutting between the birth and shots of Brakhage and his wife kissing, holding hands and lyrical shots such as water rolling off of her pregnant stomach, Brakhage has crafted a film of real beauty.
Mothlight - One of the films I just didn't get. It's really neat hearing the story behind why he did it, and the fact that it's so innovative, gluing moth wings to film, but it just doesn't do anything for me. The pictures move to fast to form anything more than a 3-minute montage of motion. It's one of those cases where I like the idea and effort more than the film itself.
Eye Myth - 9 Seconds of paint blotches with a vague-ly human shape in the center sometimes. I really don't see how this symbolizes the man being imprisoned and liberated by the paint.
The Wold Shadow - Strange little film. It's cool to see the trees fade in and out, only to fade back in brighter, then fade back out again.
The Garden of Earthly Delights - Another one like Mothlight, only this time with plantlife. I liked it a little more than Mothlight, because some of the compositions are striking, while the last, and it gives a better sense of feeling behind the images.
The Stars Are Beautiful - Oddly enough, the imagery in this Brakhage is pretty droll. It makes a little more sense to read Camper explain how the intercutting of shots of Brakhage's children clipping the wings of chickens is a way of showing how we clip their wings, but let our imaginations soar. The stories are all really interesting to hear and thought-provoking. I can see how Brakhage lets either the images or the sound tell the story, never both.
Kindering - This was one of my favorite films. Brakhage simply filmed his grandchildren with distorted lenses, doing odd things, and added a soundtrack of a little girl trying to sing along with the radio. It's pretty unsettling to witness, and probably says something about the horrors of childhood.
I...Dreaming - I didn't like this one as much as others. I liked the way the music was choppy and seemed to be independent of the visuals. It seemed to be like a snapshot of life in the father/child relationship, as we see Stan put on shoes and leave, then come back, sleep, wake up, intercut with fast-motion footage of his kids playing.
The Dante Quartet - I really liked The Dante Quartet. It has some great imagery because Brakhage made it with used 35mm film, scraping off the old movie and sometimes leaving a trace of human figures, moving around, so it appears that they're in the flames of Hell. It's very interesting to look at, even if some of the imagery does seem very repetitive.
Nightmusic - I kind of didn't like and didn't get this one. More blotches of paint splashed around. I must be missing something.
Rage Net - One of my favorites in the package. I loved hearing from Brakhage how it came out of an angry time in his life, going through a divorce and helped me to realize that this is how he deals with things, how he expresses himself in life. Visually, very interesting to watch, and you can almost feel the 'rage' he expresses by scratching up the film stock.
Glaze of Cathexis - This film is pretty good, although I don't think I quite understand what he's trying to say, what with all the Freud and psychological Cathexis and whatnot. But, hey, that's Stan Brakhage for ya. Camper reads a lot more into it than I do, but I just can't see most of what he refers to.
Delicacies of Molten Horror Synapse - At first I worried that I wouldn't 'get' this film, but as it went on, I began that realization process that happens during most of my Brakhage viewings, where I tell myself just to relax and feel it through. I kind of get what he's showing here, through the use of static, scan lines and such. What's really cool is the bright shapes that appear for a frame or two out of the blackness that create an impression in your eyes that you can still see once the screen goes black. I kept wondering if I was seeing subliminal things and sexuality as a statement on the content of Television, but then told myself it was made 14 years ago. I'm not entirely sure if things were different allll the way back then, I don't remember watching much television, nor do I remember the content too well.
Untitled (For Marilyn) - I like the way that Brakhage scrawls out his words here, and that they're constantly evolving- "here" becomes "Where". In most of the film, the sparse colors seem to rise up out of the darkness maybe the small bits of happiness Brakhage is thankful for. At the end, after he says "praise be to God" the screen erupts with almost-blindingly bright light, that has an angelic, ethereal presence over the darkness previously dominating the piece.
Black Ice - This is a great little film, inspired from Brakhage's fall on black ice which led to him needing two cataracts. It's kind of a re-telling of his fall, in the typical Brakhage way, with light-colored paint seemingly rushing into the camera. It creates a fantastic sense of motion, essentially, falling onto the black ice itself. Very cool.
Study in Color and Black and White - This is one of my least favorite ones. Just didn't do much for me at all.
Stellar - This is supposed to be outer space, as seen from Brakhage's eyes and paintbrush. The first few seconds looked amazing, because they really closely resembled the cosmos, painted by Stan. But then, it goes back into the whole 'paint splotch' thing, which left me fairly disappointed again.
Crack Glass Eulogy - An allegory on city life, supposedly. The electronic bleeping music sounded to me like a radar, as we're shown footage of a huge city, full of buildings, from an aerial view. Maybe it symbolizes the 'radar' of trying to find a living soul, down there in that sea of buildings. Then, Brakhage actually cuts to a shot of the sea. Later, he shows another shot of water, dwarfed by a city skyline as the camera whirls out of control, as if the viewer has suffered vertigo.
The Dark Tower - Very very cool. Incredible how Brakhage formed a black tower in the center of the frame by splattering paint everywhere but a strip in the center. I could swear that I saw little creatures jumping around in the foreground during this one. Extremely good short.
Commingled Containers - I was kind of disappointed in this one, as it wasn't what I expected. Once I got over the initial confusion, I really liked the imagery presented in this film. Flowing water, crosscut with light pouring through glass bottles full of water. The light, or what I assume is light, kind of distorts into small spots as it passes through the water, and is photographed, creating some very neat-looking shapes.
Love Song - Sex, as visualized through the mind's eye. Slowly, I begin to realize that Brakhage films aren't anything concrete, as they're always simply what you make of it. I started to see vague outlines of a couple making love, I thought. The colors swirled around one another, as if one yin and another yang. The footage speeds up and slows down in waves, much like lovemaking, as the colors change, as the amount of black paint in the image vary. At some points, you can see that Brakhage is not painting on the film anymore, but photographing a canvas that's been painted on. The light bouncing off the paint itself lends it a completely different quality. Almost like breaking-down-the-forth-wall, Brakhage style.
Overall, I really liked Brakhage's films. Dog Star Man is overly long, and some are far too similar, but he's a man who expressed himself in incredibly unique and creative ways, and some of his work is just flat-out brilliant. I'm glad that I took a shot. It took time and effort to invest myself in seeing films the way I think they should be seen, but it was worth it.
In case anybody stumbles upon this and wants to take the plunge and try Brakhage, just a few general guidelines that will ensure you don't ABHOR his work, like I did at first. First off, throw out any and all expectations you have, good, bad or indifferent. You should try to get ahold of the Criterion set, complete with both discs and booklet. If not, get disc 2 first, and read Fred Camper's great essay to learn more about Brakhage beforehand. If you have noise-canceling headphones or earplugs, wear them during the film, or do anything you can to block out distracting outside noise. Darken the room as much as you can, and never pause the films themselves. Pick and choose films based on their title or whichever appeals to you most, so you can ease your way in. If there are Brakhage remarks about the title on its menu, listen to them first to gain insight. Then, open your mind and let it wash over you.
Brakhage isn't for everybody. It really sounds like a huge investment, but it's a very good exercise, overall, in trying to get into the practice of immersing yourself in film. If you're interested, give him a chance with an open mind. You may be pleasantly surprised, as I (eventually) was.
I first heard about by Brakhage slightly before it was announced, when I knew next to nothing of cinema, yet relished learning about each month's new Criterion announcements. I remember looking him up on imdb and learning that he'd done over 300 films in total, yet I'd never heard of him. I was always interested in seeing it, but at the time, had no access to most Criterions.
Later on, I got Netflix, and eventually got around to renting Disc 1 of by Brakhage. I watched Desistfilm and didn't get it. Watched some of Wedlock and Dog Star Man, and didn't get them either. Watched The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes and was disgusted. From then on, I hated Brakhage. For every great review that made me want to like Brakhage, like Dave Jesteadt's here, there was one like Mark Zimmer's that really resonated with me, made me pump my fist and go "yes, someone I can agree with!"
So, somewhere, I started to look at Brakhage again, and at his almost universal praise, and wondered if there was something I'd overlooked. Admittedly, I'd made a few mistakes in my viewing. I went in with extremely high expectations, didn't watch them in the right environment, didn't give them a chance. So, I rented the Criterion set from the library, and watched them again.
Desistfilm - This was the first Brakhage film I saw when I Netflixed the disc, and is again the first one I watched. Through the supplements I learned that Brakhage was very influenced by Italian Neorealism and French Poetic Realism, or Surrealism if you will. This gave him points in my book already. So, Desistfilm is supposed to be about Desistialism (sp?), the opposite of existentialism. I really didn't get it. Camper's essay says that all the figures at the party were isolating themselves in a way, doing something to amuse themselves while not bothering with anyone else and that I can see. But, I kind of don't buy it. The soundtrack gives it a very out-of-control, oppressive kind of mood.
Wedlock House: An Intercourse - What incredible and haunting imagery this film has. The lighting is sparse and sporadic, as if lit by a swinging lightbulb. Since most of the film is pitch black, you never know what room or angle you will be seeing next. Captures the phrase 'wedlock' very well as the couple seems to be falling into a collective rhythm with one another, essentially trapping them. There were moments where I found myself completely absorbed, entirely forgetting the world outside the frame existed.
Dog Star Man - This is 74 minutes long. Brakhage said it is his try at making an 'epic' story. 74 minutes is extremely excessive, and I got very bored watching Dog Star Man. The first part, Prelude, is a dream sequence, which is pretty neat, as it presents visions of things to come, and swirling imagery much like that of our own dreams. But it stretches on for 25 minutes, which is far too long. The next sequence is the main narrative, which is simply Brakhage climbing a snowy mountain with his dog and rolling around in different shutter speeds. A pointless waste of 30 minutes. The next part is very interesting, it covers a kind of 'birth' and has some very cool effects and is only 5 minutes, so doesn't outstay its welcome. The final two segments are typical Brakhage weirdness, dragging on far too long at 13 minutes combined. I simply did not get this, and it bored me throughout. I think Brakhage is just better experienced on short bursts.
The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes - This was the film that made me despise Brakhage the first time I watched it. It's basically a filmed autopsy. I got fed up with Brakhage and went off, claiming that 'this isn't art' and all of that. I tried to watch it again this time, and just couldn't stomach more than a few minutes of it, but that's just me. I have the luxury of being able to turn the DVD off, though.
Cat's Cradle - I kind of didn't get this one, but it was still kind of cool. Brakhage's editing is great here, giving normal activities the impression of being sexual and vice versa.
Window Water Baby Moving - This one I really liked. It's Brakhage filming the home birth of his first child. That he could take something this real and turn it into a piece of experimental art says something about him, and those are the types of work I like most, from him anyway. It's unflinching and raw but never disgusting. In fast, intercutting between the birth and shots of Brakhage and his wife kissing, holding hands and lyrical shots such as water rolling off of her pregnant stomach, Brakhage has crafted a film of real beauty.
Mothlight - One of the films I just didn't get. It's really neat hearing the story behind why he did it, and the fact that it's so innovative, gluing moth wings to film, but it just doesn't do anything for me. The pictures move to fast to form anything more than a 3-minute montage of motion. It's one of those cases where I like the idea and effort more than the film itself.
Eye Myth - 9 Seconds of paint blotches with a vague-ly human shape in the center sometimes. I really don't see how this symbolizes the man being imprisoned and liberated by the paint.
The Wold Shadow - Strange little film. It's cool to see the trees fade in and out, only to fade back in brighter, then fade back out again.
The Garden of Earthly Delights - Another one like Mothlight, only this time with plantlife. I liked it a little more than Mothlight, because some of the compositions are striking, while the last, and it gives a better sense of feeling behind the images.
The Stars Are Beautiful - Oddly enough, the imagery in this Brakhage is pretty droll. It makes a little more sense to read Camper explain how the intercutting of shots of Brakhage's children clipping the wings of chickens is a way of showing how we clip their wings, but let our imaginations soar. The stories are all really interesting to hear and thought-provoking. I can see how Brakhage lets either the images or the sound tell the story, never both.
Kindering - This was one of my favorite films. Brakhage simply filmed his grandchildren with distorted lenses, doing odd things, and added a soundtrack of a little girl trying to sing along with the radio. It's pretty unsettling to witness, and probably says something about the horrors of childhood.
I...Dreaming - I didn't like this one as much as others. I liked the way the music was choppy and seemed to be independent of the visuals. It seemed to be like a snapshot of life in the father/child relationship, as we see Stan put on shoes and leave, then come back, sleep, wake up, intercut with fast-motion footage of his kids playing.
The Dante Quartet - I really liked The Dante Quartet. It has some great imagery because Brakhage made it with used 35mm film, scraping off the old movie and sometimes leaving a trace of human figures, moving around, so it appears that they're in the flames of Hell. It's very interesting to look at, even if some of the imagery does seem very repetitive.
Nightmusic - I kind of didn't like and didn't get this one. More blotches of paint splashed around. I must be missing something.
Rage Net - One of my favorites in the package. I loved hearing from Brakhage how it came out of an angry time in his life, going through a divorce and helped me to realize that this is how he deals with things, how he expresses himself in life. Visually, very interesting to watch, and you can almost feel the 'rage' he expresses by scratching up the film stock.
Glaze of Cathexis - This film is pretty good, although I don't think I quite understand what he's trying to say, what with all the Freud and psychological Cathexis and whatnot. But, hey, that's Stan Brakhage for ya. Camper reads a lot more into it than I do, but I just can't see most of what he refers to.
Delicacies of Molten Horror Synapse - At first I worried that I wouldn't 'get' this film, but as it went on, I began that realization process that happens during most of my Brakhage viewings, where I tell myself just to relax and feel it through. I kind of get what he's showing here, through the use of static, scan lines and such. What's really cool is the bright shapes that appear for a frame or two out of the blackness that create an impression in your eyes that you can still see once the screen goes black. I kept wondering if I was seeing subliminal things and sexuality as a statement on the content of Television, but then told myself it was made 14 years ago. I'm not entirely sure if things were different allll the way back then, I don't remember watching much television, nor do I remember the content too well.
Untitled (For Marilyn) - I like the way that Brakhage scrawls out his words here, and that they're constantly evolving- "here" becomes "Where". In most of the film, the sparse colors seem to rise up out of the darkness maybe the small bits of happiness Brakhage is thankful for. At the end, after he says "praise be to God" the screen erupts with almost-blindingly bright light, that has an angelic, ethereal presence over the darkness previously dominating the piece.
Black Ice - This is a great little film, inspired from Brakhage's fall on black ice which led to him needing two cataracts. It's kind of a re-telling of his fall, in the typical Brakhage way, with light-colored paint seemingly rushing into the camera. It creates a fantastic sense of motion, essentially, falling onto the black ice itself. Very cool.
Study in Color and Black and White - This is one of my least favorite ones. Just didn't do much for me at all.
Stellar - This is supposed to be outer space, as seen from Brakhage's eyes and paintbrush. The first few seconds looked amazing, because they really closely resembled the cosmos, painted by Stan. But then, it goes back into the whole 'paint splotch' thing, which left me fairly disappointed again.
Crack Glass Eulogy - An allegory on city life, supposedly. The electronic bleeping music sounded to me like a radar, as we're shown footage of a huge city, full of buildings, from an aerial view. Maybe it symbolizes the 'radar' of trying to find a living soul, down there in that sea of buildings. Then, Brakhage actually cuts to a shot of the sea. Later, he shows another shot of water, dwarfed by a city skyline as the camera whirls out of control, as if the viewer has suffered vertigo.
The Dark Tower - Very very cool. Incredible how Brakhage formed a black tower in the center of the frame by splattering paint everywhere but a strip in the center. I could swear that I saw little creatures jumping around in the foreground during this one. Extremely good short.
Commingled Containers - I was kind of disappointed in this one, as it wasn't what I expected. Once I got over the initial confusion, I really liked the imagery presented in this film. Flowing water, crosscut with light pouring through glass bottles full of water. The light, or what I assume is light, kind of distorts into small spots as it passes through the water, and is photographed, creating some very neat-looking shapes.
Love Song - Sex, as visualized through the mind's eye. Slowly, I begin to realize that Brakhage films aren't anything concrete, as they're always simply what you make of it. I started to see vague outlines of a couple making love, I thought. The colors swirled around one another, as if one yin and another yang. The footage speeds up and slows down in waves, much like lovemaking, as the colors change, as the amount of black paint in the image vary. At some points, you can see that Brakhage is not painting on the film anymore, but photographing a canvas that's been painted on. The light bouncing off the paint itself lends it a completely different quality. Almost like breaking-down-the-forth-wall, Brakhage style.
Overall, I really liked Brakhage's films. Dog Star Man is overly long, and some are far too similar, but he's a man who expressed himself in incredibly unique and creative ways, and some of his work is just flat-out brilliant. I'm glad that I took a shot. It took time and effort to invest myself in seeing films the way I think they should be seen, but it was worth it.
In case anybody stumbles upon this and wants to take the plunge and try Brakhage, just a few general guidelines that will ensure you don't ABHOR his work, like I did at first. First off, throw out any and all expectations you have, good, bad or indifferent. You should try to get ahold of the Criterion set, complete with both discs and booklet. If not, get disc 2 first, and read Fred Camper's great essay to learn more about Brakhage beforehand. If you have noise-canceling headphones or earplugs, wear them during the film, or do anything you can to block out distracting outside noise. Darken the room as much as you can, and never pause the films themselves. Pick and choose films based on their title or whichever appeals to you most, so you can ease your way in. If there are Brakhage remarks about the title on its menu, listen to them first to gain insight. Then, open your mind and let it wash over you.
Brakhage isn't for everybody. It really sounds like a huge investment, but it's a very good exercise, overall, in trying to get into the practice of immersing yourself in film. If you're interested, give him a chance with an open mind. You may be pleasantly surprised, as I (eventually) was.
Richard III (1955)
Published by modium.
Richard III (1955)
"What need'st thou run so many miles about, when thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way?"
This brilliantly describes how I feel about Shakespeare. While he writes really great stuff, it's incredibly hard to follow because of his vernacular. Maybe back is his time, or maybe even in Olivier's time, it was a lot easier to comprehend. Luke and I both agreed that Shakespeare's work is much better read than watched on the silver screen, simply because then you have time to comprehend the meaning of the words. When watching his work performed, by the time you've figured out what one line means, 4 others have since passed.
In it's credit, Richard III isn't a bad film at all. If you like Shakespeare, and are familiar with the play itself or can easily interpret Shakespeare, then you're bound to love it. Olivier does a great job as the titular usurper. The sets are all well-designed and the Technicolor photography makes it all come to vivid life.
But, like I said, the plot is very hard to follow if you're not familiar with the play, mainly because of the language used. Hopefully I'll be able to return to the film later on and appreciate it more, but, for this first viewing, it mostly bored and frustrated me.
On a side note, to see two hilarious interpretations of Shakespeare's work (in fact, they even satirize morons like me) check out Chris Coutts' Tales for the L33t, featuring Romeo + Juliet and Hamlet.
"What need'st thou run so many miles about, when thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way?"
This brilliantly describes how I feel about Shakespeare. While he writes really great stuff, it's incredibly hard to follow because of his vernacular. Maybe back is his time, or maybe even in Olivier's time, it was a lot easier to comprehend. Luke and I both agreed that Shakespeare's work is much better read than watched on the silver screen, simply because then you have time to comprehend the meaning of the words. When watching his work performed, by the time you've figured out what one line means, 4 others have since passed.
In it's credit, Richard III isn't a bad film at all. If you like Shakespeare, and are familiar with the play itself or can easily interpret Shakespeare, then you're bound to love it. Olivier does a great job as the titular usurper. The sets are all well-designed and the Technicolor photography makes it all come to vivid life.
But, like I said, the plot is very hard to follow if you're not familiar with the play, mainly because of the language used. Hopefully I'll be able to return to the film later on and appreciate it more, but, for this first viewing, it mostly bored and frustrated me.
On a side note, to see two hilarious interpretations of Shakespeare's work (in fact, they even satirize morons like me) check out Chris Coutts' Tales for the L33t, featuring Romeo + Juliet and Hamlet.
Kundun (1997), The River (1951)
Published Monday, August 15, 2005 by modium.
Kundun (1997)
I haven't talked about Scorsese yet, but he is, without a doubt, my favorite filmmaker still working today. I mean, Taxi Driver is my personal favorite film. Mostly everything else I've seen is great, as well. He imbues his work with such personality, adding little pieces of himself and his life. His characters are great, often loners or outcasts, be it by choice or by circumstances. These characters are where he works best, though. He's amazing at getting into the psyche of a character and examining them, presenting them in an objective and interesting manner. It's hard to explain why I love his work, but I do.
That said, Kundun is one of his most disappointing pictures.Not that it's a bad movie, because even Scorsese's worst is much better than the best effort of some others. But, Kundun, to me, just felt a little flat. Many times I was bored with it, despite the beautiful cinematography. It was interesting to learn about the Dhali Lama and the history of Tibet in general, but the plot just moved far too slow for my taste. Characters were well-defined, though, and the photography is simply a work of art. I love Philip Glass' work, especially in the Qatsi trilogy, and this is one of his best scores. It's not overbearing as some of his other scores can be, and fits the setting well.
It's not a bad film at all, just an 'okay' one.
The River (1951)
The River is a great film by legendary French director Jean Renoir. Before this, I'd only seen Grand Illusion(great), and Rules of the Game(even greater). I own The Lower Depths, Boudu is coming soon, and then there's the Stage & Spectacle set, so I've still got lots to see. But, with the River, so far, Renoir is 3/3 with me.
It's a fairly simple movie about an American (or English?) family, living in Bengal, India. A young man comes to stay for a while, cousin to a nearby neighbor, which affects the family and all their friends, most notably the young girls who all fall in love with his chisled good looks and confused loner-demeanor. Everybody pretty much changes throughout the story, and grows up a little, comes of age, if you will.
The story is told partly in narration by the main character, Harriet. Most of what she explains pertains to the Indian and Hindu culture, which is all fascinating. Admittedly, I don't know a whole lot about their culture, so it was interesting for me to learn it all and connect. Because it's being produced mainly for English-speaking audiences, it's all explained in a way that's easy to understand and pretty entertaining.
Because of the fact that they're an English-speaking family in the center of an entirely different culture, we, the audience, really identify with them, which helps immerse us in the story. Yet, at the same time, they're used to it all by now and have a deep understanding, so it's not a completely alien experience to us. This comes from a deep understanding and respect for the culture in general by everyone on the crew, definitely helped by Rumer Godden, who originally wrote the novel and then adapted it, along with Renoir, for a screen.
The film is shot in Technicolor and looks absolutely gorgeous. Technicolor films do tend to look a little to bright and surreal for my taste, but here it helps bring out the beauty of the River itself and the surrounding land. The 2004 restoration looks amazing, on par with Warner's best efforts.
I haven't talked about Scorsese yet, but he is, without a doubt, my favorite filmmaker still working today. I mean, Taxi Driver is my personal favorite film. Mostly everything else I've seen is great, as well. He imbues his work with such personality, adding little pieces of himself and his life. His characters are great, often loners or outcasts, be it by choice or by circumstances. These characters are where he works best, though. He's amazing at getting into the psyche of a character and examining them, presenting them in an objective and interesting manner. It's hard to explain why I love his work, but I do.
That said, Kundun is one of his most disappointing pictures.Not that it's a bad movie, because even Scorsese's worst is much better than the best effort of some others. But, Kundun, to me, just felt a little flat. Many times I was bored with it, despite the beautiful cinematography. It was interesting to learn about the Dhali Lama and the history of Tibet in general, but the plot just moved far too slow for my taste. Characters were well-defined, though, and the photography is simply a work of art. I love Philip Glass' work, especially in the Qatsi trilogy, and this is one of his best scores. It's not overbearing as some of his other scores can be, and fits the setting well.
It's not a bad film at all, just an 'okay' one.
The River (1951)
The River is a great film by legendary French director Jean Renoir. Before this, I'd only seen Grand Illusion(great), and Rules of the Game(even greater). I own The Lower Depths, Boudu is coming soon, and then there's the Stage & Spectacle set, so I've still got lots to see. But, with the River, so far, Renoir is 3/3 with me.
It's a fairly simple movie about an American (or English?) family, living in Bengal, India. A young man comes to stay for a while, cousin to a nearby neighbor, which affects the family and all their friends, most notably the young girls who all fall in love with his chisled good looks and confused loner-demeanor. Everybody pretty much changes throughout the story, and grows up a little, comes of age, if you will.
The story is told partly in narration by the main character, Harriet. Most of what she explains pertains to the Indian and Hindu culture, which is all fascinating. Admittedly, I don't know a whole lot about their culture, so it was interesting for me to learn it all and connect. Because it's being produced mainly for English-speaking audiences, it's all explained in a way that's easy to understand and pretty entertaining.
Because of the fact that they're an English-speaking family in the center of an entirely different culture, we, the audience, really identify with them, which helps immerse us in the story. Yet, at the same time, they're used to it all by now and have a deep understanding, so it's not a completely alien experience to us. This comes from a deep understanding and respect for the culture in general by everyone on the crew, definitely helped by Rumer Godden, who originally wrote the novel and then adapted it, along with Renoir, for a screen.
The film is shot in Technicolor and looks absolutely gorgeous. Technicolor films do tend to look a little to bright and surreal for my taste, but here it helps bring out the beauty of the River itself and the surrounding land. The 2004 restoration looks amazing, on par with Warner's best efforts.
Walkabout (1971)
Published Sunday, August 14, 2005 by modium.
Walkabout (1971)
I've wanted to see Walkabout for a while. Since meeting Exiled and becoming a fan of his, I've been eager to see what Austrailia has to offer for cinema. So, decided to check out Walkabout and enjoyed it.
The cinematography and design of the film was fantastic. The Outback provides a great landscape to photograph. I loved the way the camera frequently longers on the landscape, then zooms in quickly to capture a lizard waddling around, or a bird perched somewhere. Little things like that seemed to help immerse the viewer
Like any who see the film, I couldn't help noticing that the Father's suicide, which is the catalyst for the events, is never explained. Why did he do it in the first place, and why couldn't he have done it alone and not subjected his own children to it and stranding them in the desert? Maybe he was trying to test them, to give them their own Walkabout, but I guess it's just left to interpretation. It really showed the strength of the girl though, who not only had to deal with the grief of her Father's suicide, but had to keep it from her Brother as well as trying to survive out there.
In some ways, this is a fantasy film. Not in the same vein as, say, The Neverending Story or Harry Potter or something, obviously. But, I know when I was younger, I often fantasized about being out on my own, learning survival skills, fending for myself, being self-sufficient, just living off the land. I probably would have never made it on my own, but I guess that's why it was a fantasy in the first place. Not that I didn't dream about flying dragons or magic or things of that nature, but I remember dreaming of living off the land more often.
Now, I'm usually the last person to notice sexual subtext in film. I know that Marian Keane is always quick to explore sexual symbolism in the films of Hitchcok and of others, but I often times never see it, and don't really buy into it after it's pointed out. But, I did notice a whole bunch of sex stuff in the film, like lingering glances between the girl and the Aborigine, which is probably what leads to his dance and concurrent suicide. Also, the heavy amount of non-sexual nudity brings it to mind again, and don't forget the scene of the people studying weather balloons studying the woman's body far more than the balloons themselves. Lastly, one thing that struck me was after they were all climbing on the tree, the camera zoomed in and showed the 'crotch' of the tree branches and I'll be damned if it didn't resemble a vagina. Like I said, I'm the last person to notice this stuff, so it must have been pretty obvious.
I've wanted to see Walkabout for a while. Since meeting Exiled and becoming a fan of his, I've been eager to see what Austrailia has to offer for cinema. So, decided to check out Walkabout and enjoyed it.
The cinematography and design of the film was fantastic. The Outback provides a great landscape to photograph. I loved the way the camera frequently longers on the landscape, then zooms in quickly to capture a lizard waddling around, or a bird perched somewhere. Little things like that seemed to help immerse the viewer
Like any who see the film, I couldn't help noticing that the Father's suicide, which is the catalyst for the events, is never explained. Why did he do it in the first place, and why couldn't he have done it alone and not subjected his own children to it and stranding them in the desert? Maybe he was trying to test them, to give them their own Walkabout, but I guess it's just left to interpretation. It really showed the strength of the girl though, who not only had to deal with the grief of her Father's suicide, but had to keep it from her Brother as well as trying to survive out there.
In some ways, this is a fantasy film. Not in the same vein as, say, The Neverending Story or Harry Potter or something, obviously. But, I know when I was younger, I often fantasized about being out on my own, learning survival skills, fending for myself, being self-sufficient, just living off the land. I probably would have never made it on my own, but I guess that's why it was a fantasy in the first place. Not that I didn't dream about flying dragons or magic or things of that nature, but I remember dreaming of living off the land more often.
Now, I'm usually the last person to notice sexual subtext in film. I know that Marian Keane is always quick to explore sexual symbolism in the films of Hitchcok and of others, but I often times never see it, and don't really buy into it after it's pointed out. But, I did notice a whole bunch of sex stuff in the film, like lingering glances between the girl and the Aborigine, which is probably what leads to his dance and concurrent suicide. Also, the heavy amount of non-sexual nudity brings it to mind again, and don't forget the scene of the people studying weather balloons studying the woman's body far more than the balloons themselves. Lastly, one thing that struck me was after they were all climbing on the tree, the camera zoomed in and showed the 'crotch' of the tree branches and I'll be damned if it didn't resemble a vagina. Like I said, I'm the last person to notice this stuff, so it must have been pretty obvious.
Kanal (1957)
Published by modium.
Kanal (1957)
So, I finally got to see Kanal. Unfortunately, thanks to the fine folks at Blockbuster Online, it wasn't the Criterion version, but the Facets disc. And I'm not exaggerating when I say it's one of the worst discs ever produced. No extras at all and that's not a bad thing, since there are many Criterions that lack them as well. The audio is scratchy, 2-channel mono, and even if I put it into Pro Logic to force the sound into the center channel, it resonates in all 4 surrounds instead. The subtitles are tiny and poorly translated. My favorite was when a man asked a woman "Was he you first?" But, the main offender here is the video transfer. For the first half hour or so, the video is dark, scratchy and lacking focus, but it's still watchable. Then, if you know anything about the film, you know that more than half of it takes place in the sewers. This stretch is almost unviewable because the transfer is so dark and murky, you may as well be watching the film with your TV off. I think, ultimately, this really affected my viewing of the film, because I couldn't tell what was happening on screen many times.
Backbiting about the transfer aside, I really enjoyed Kanal. As far as Wajda, it was far better than A Generation, and only slightly behind Ashes and Diamonds. I felt that Ashes and Diamonds was a richer experience, had more depth to it, and the characters were far more well-defined. Though, that said, I really liked Kanal. It's tightly plotted with a decent ensemble cast, and the cinematography (or at least what I could see) is top-notch.
The opening of the film is a beautiful feat, as we see a row of soldiers marching in the distance. They move closer and pass in front of the camera, one by one. The camera pans around, tracking past each one then subsequently allowing each to pass by again. During this, the narration reveals small details about each character as they march by the camera, in the same way that Jeunet would do many years later in films like Amelie and A Very Long Engagement. Bear in mind, this is all one shot. After this, the camera still pans as the band of freedom fighters makes its way through a battlefield, ducking behind cover here and there, ultimately emerging on the other side. This beautiful shot is the first of many moments of great cinematography in Kanal. I was surprised to see that the film wasn't shot by Jerzy Wojcik, who shot Ashes and Diamonds, but Jerzy Lipman who'd also done Wajda's A Generation and would go on to shoot Polanski's Knife in the Water, among many others. Fine work he did here, though.
It's interesting that much is made early on of their fate. We know from the very beginning, through narration, that all the men here will be dead a few hours later. This information looms over the rest of the picture like a spectre, and we know that despite their best efforts, they will not survive.
One of the final scenes, depicted on Criterion's exquisite cover is a spectacular piece of art. It's breathtaking, exciting and tense. Kudos for Criterion for picking the most memorable moments from the films for the stylized artwork on the covers of the discs. The scene in Kanal is likely to stick with all who view the film for a long time.
So, I finally got to see Kanal. Unfortunately, thanks to the fine folks at Blockbuster Online, it wasn't the Criterion version, but the Facets disc. And I'm not exaggerating when I say it's one of the worst discs ever produced. No extras at all and that's not a bad thing, since there are many Criterions that lack them as well. The audio is scratchy, 2-channel mono, and even if I put it into Pro Logic to force the sound into the center channel, it resonates in all 4 surrounds instead. The subtitles are tiny and poorly translated. My favorite was when a man asked a woman "Was he you first?" But, the main offender here is the video transfer. For the first half hour or so, the video is dark, scratchy and lacking focus, but it's still watchable. Then, if you know anything about the film, you know that more than half of it takes place in the sewers. This stretch is almost unviewable because the transfer is so dark and murky, you may as well be watching the film with your TV off. I think, ultimately, this really affected my viewing of the film, because I couldn't tell what was happening on screen many times.
Backbiting about the transfer aside, I really enjoyed Kanal. As far as Wajda, it was far better than A Generation, and only slightly behind Ashes and Diamonds. I felt that Ashes and Diamonds was a richer experience, had more depth to it, and the characters were far more well-defined. Though, that said, I really liked Kanal. It's tightly plotted with a decent ensemble cast, and the cinematography (or at least what I could see) is top-notch.
The opening of the film is a beautiful feat, as we see a row of soldiers marching in the distance. They move closer and pass in front of the camera, one by one. The camera pans around, tracking past each one then subsequently allowing each to pass by again. During this, the narration reveals small details about each character as they march by the camera, in the same way that Jeunet would do many years later in films like Amelie and A Very Long Engagement. Bear in mind, this is all one shot. After this, the camera still pans as the band of freedom fighters makes its way through a battlefield, ducking behind cover here and there, ultimately emerging on the other side. This beautiful shot is the first of many moments of great cinematography in Kanal. I was surprised to see that the film wasn't shot by Jerzy Wojcik, who shot Ashes and Diamonds, but Jerzy Lipman who'd also done Wajda's A Generation and would go on to shoot Polanski's Knife in the Water, among many others. Fine work he did here, though.
It's interesting that much is made early on of their fate. We know from the very beginning, through narration, that all the men here will be dead a few hours later. This information looms over the rest of the picture like a spectre, and we know that despite their best efforts, they will not survive.
One of the final scenes, depicted on Criterion's exquisite cover is a spectacular piece of art. It's breathtaking, exciting and tense. Kudos for Criterion for picking the most memorable moments from the films for the stylized artwork on the covers of the discs. The scene in Kanal is likely to stick with all who view the film for a long time.
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