Cutter's Way
The best mysteries are not about the mystery, instead utilizing genre as a starting point to
actually getting a psychoanalysis produced. Though theoretically about finding a way to
prove a rich and powerful man was behind the murder of a young woman, Cutter's Way
inspects the effects of the Vietnam War on postwar USA. Cutter (John Heard) was
crippled by a landmine and arguably can't do much given he's missing much of his left
side, but inarguably could do a whole lot more than he does, which is drink and mope.
Bone (Jeff Bridges) avoided the war by going to an Ivy League school, but that arguably
cost him the woman he wanted (Lisa Eichhorn), as she married Cutter. Bone drifts
through life, running from everything, especially responsibility. Cutter is supposed to be
the crazy that everyone should ignore, but actually he's keenly observant and constantly
voices his dissatisfaction in brutal tirades that would get him shut up if her weren't a
cripple. He doesn't drink to escape like the others, "The routine grind drives me to drink.
Tragedy I take straight." Bone is supposed to be the functional one that deserves a
promotion.
The film doesn't take any stance on the war or really anything else for that matter; it
simply illustrates the disillusionment in a remarkably convincing manner.
Cutter's Way
The best mysteries are not about the mystery, instead utilizing genre as a starting point to
actually getting a psychoanalysis produced. Though theoretically about finding a way to
prove a rich and powerful man was behind the murder of a young woman, Cutter's Way
inspects the effects of the Vietnam War on postwar USA. It provides vivid characters that
you are deeply effected by, and drags you so deeply into their world that, in the end, the
mystery is something you care about because it will have such an effect on the course of
their lives.
Cutter (John Heard) was crippled by a landmine and arguably can't do much given he's
missing much of his left side, but inarguably could do a whole lot more than he does,
seemingly drink, mope, and verbally abuse everyone around him. He's a poor man living
on the outskirts of a rich dream world who despises the wealthy, considering them all to
be disreputable shirkers who conned people like him to go and do their dirty work while
they stayed home and reaped the financial rewards. Bone (Jeff Bridges) avoided the war
by going to an Ivy League school, but that arguably cost him Mo (Lisa Eichhorn) as she
married Cutter. Bone is a womanizing beach boy drifting through life aimlessly and
running from all responsibility and commitment. He accepts all the horrors of his life
with passive pragmatic cynicism, so he's supposedly the functional one that deserves a
promotion. Cutter is supposed to be the crazy that everyone should ignore, but actually
seems keenly observant. The film works so well because we can't tell if he's a conspiracy
theorist or just willing to say what others choose to avoid. He constantly voices his
dissatisfaction in brutal yet insightful tirades that are very persuasive and would get him
shut up if her weren't a cripple.
The real problem for Cutter is he doesn't drink to escape like the others, "The routine
grind drives me to drink. Tragedy I take straight." He's at odds with the world around
him, a world that was completely changed when he came back to it, looking different but
for the most part maintaining the same mindset. Cutter's verbal protests to these changes
are his reason for living, but Bone is completely purposeless, so in their own way
everyone tries to force him into embarking on some path.
Though Heard gives an exceptional performance in maintaining a balance between loony
and truthteller, worthless drunk and bitter wise man, it's Eichhorn who is ultimately the
most haunting and memorable performer. She moves between accepting and rejecting,
lusting for and being repulsed by, the polar opposite personalities of the two men. We
can't help but feel she deserved more, especially since with the exception of the scene
where she cheats on Cutter because she's so desperate for any sign of affection, the more
either of them are around the more lonely and damaged she seems. She is not as screwed
up as the men in the sense that she is still a functional human being capable of taking care
of herself. That makes her inability to love herself that much more pronounced. As she
waits for them to live, particularly Cutter who in some senses she is incredibly loyal to,
she becomes more deeply immersed in their bitter hopeless drunken stupor.
People have called this film anti war and anti wealth, but the film doesn't take any stance.
It is not about delivering messages, about converting people to a certain ideology. It
simply illustrates the post war disillusionment in a remarkably convincing manner. None
of it is ever stated, but we know these characters wouldn't exist if they hadn't lost their
confidence in their government, in institutions, and in life, instead choosing to embrace a
deadening cynicism because it was "true" or easier. The film would be excellent if simply
about these memorable characters, but it cuts right to the bone because they are simply a
metaphor for how a war had such a nation changing effect on the USA regardless of all
the usual dividing aspects, regardless of what side you were on or if you were indifferent.
What it depicts is how everyone was so deeply wounded that they lost their ability to
know how to where to channel their energy and how to heal.
The cinematography by Jordan Cronenweth and score by Jack Nitzsche are incredibly
effective, setting the atmosphere and mood without calling attention to themselves in
most cases. They are often purposely at odds, the cinematography is glossy as a
purposeful comment on what California especially and USA in general sells itself on. The
score is very atypical, utilizing a glass harmonica and zither, instruments that are out of
place in this world thus serving to create a disturbing imbalance. The combination shows
the discord that lies beneath the glitz, the reality to be much different than the fantasy. A
further jarring aspect comes when the situations slip into the surreal. No technique is used
to differentiate these scenes, the settings and look are the same beach paradise, we are
simply trusted to know they are something else and the scenes are more effective for not
calling that extra attention to themselves that occurs with fanciful shifts in color/texture
or editing effects.
The movie is a moving meditation on power, desperation, and paranoia. It is also a great
love story.
Smooth Talk
Physical maturation occurs sooner than other forms, most notably mental and emotional.
Laura Dern plays a shallow empty 15-year-old who has reached the former quicker than
her classmates, and decides to trade in all her previous relationships (granted they are
nothing great but generally mean well) her for the attention of older males. Dern is
interested losing her virginity, but she is not ready for it and constantly plays a game of
advance and retreat. She loves the way boys treat her all of a sudden, but doesn't seem to
comprehend their reasons, that they are after what she is curious about but ultimately
unwilling to give. The film is very good at capturing the tradeoff Dern is making, the
effects of all her effort going toward fun and boys, going toward cock teasing even
though she isn't exactly aware of this. There's a good scene before politically correct
lying was in vogue where the girls attract some muscle narcissist they think is a fag, these
kind of scenes are too rare even in films out to show the shady undesirables you are
opening yourself up to. Unfortunately, the film goes considerably awry in the final stages,
turning into a cheesy gothic shocker. The majority of the film is a credible low key look
at the alienation and moodiness caused by a transition period, and to a lesser extent a
culture that doesn't seem to offer teens anything actually of culture. Part of the problem is
making Dern's character the exception, which results in Treat Williams as dangerous
James Dean wannabe (even though he's shady, it again falls into showing the great
looking guys you attract) naturally singling her out. The smooth talk of Williams is
credible in the sense that he's so much older and more experienced he can shift tactics
until she gives in, but the threatening extent he has to go to actually contradicts that point.
As Barbification occurs at alarmingly younger and younger ages due to advertisers being
allowed to prey on kids and children's entertainers being nothing more than models
peddling product, the value of the film, originally shown on PBS, only increases over
time because it points out how being oversexed reduces the amount of control she has
over situations. The whole final segment wreaks of the usual capitalist contradictions,
pushing women to look artificial and then making them fear they've somehow become so
amazingly hot that penises will fly out of jeans and attack them if they leave the house for
anything other than more shopping. Dern gives an excellent restrained performance that's
fitful and awkward when necessary, and rising the character well above all the easy
stereotypes. Unfortunately, all the other characters are so underwritten they never rise
above functional.
At home, she suffers because her mother clearly prefers her older sister. She suffers, too,
from the well-meaning idiocy of her father, who talks in vague terms of "finally having a
home of our own," as if this were Connie's goal, too, and she would always be 15 and
always be coming home to it
It is a study in deviant psychology, and in the power that one person can have over
another, especially if one pushes in the direction where the other person is already
headed.
Atomic Café
This wants to be the Dr. Strangelove of documentary, making US atomic bomb and cold
war propaganda into a hilarious black comedy. It succeeds in being one of the funniest,
scariest documentaries ever made, but black comedy is not meant for fiction. As
dishonest as the newsreel and government archive footage they've used from the 40's and
50's is, the film ultimately lies at what should be the very heart of it's truth. It purports to
let the US government simply incriminate itself by using 100% archive footage and
refusing to provide any narration or explanation for clips selected, but it's not long before
you realize they are simply giving the other side often by manipulating the footage. In
some cases the manipulation is justifiable, showing footage of the people affected while
an official lies about no one being harmed, but there's a lot of jokey alterations such as
comical music and editing effects which simply make footage that should have been seen
as foolish enough to stand alone obviously inauthentic. By stooping to the propagandistic
level of those they are criticizing, they make it just as difficult to believe them as it
should have been to believe the original sources. The film is still valuable for a couple of
reasons, particularly showing the huge effect the nuclear age had on American culture
and how popular culture is used to as a cheerleader to bring people around to the official
story. In the beginning everything remains a celebration in the upbeat and folksy manner
that had been the norm, but eventually the government increases their power by scaring
people into going along with them, manufactured paranoia ushering in the culture of fear
that seems to only grow more oppressive. The importance of this film is not so much in
seeing how we used to be mislead, but in understanding how the same tactics and
language is constantly reapplied in honed and more persuasive means to fit the new
enemy. Playing the religious card is no recent occurrence; the worst actions of man have
always driven people to seek solace in religion. We can hear Truman justifying science
through religion by thanking God that he gave us the bomb and asking us to pray he'll
guide us to use it for his purposes; we can join in the celebration that there are no atheists
in the foxhole.
Details the three stages of US interaction with the bomb. First when we are the only ones
that have it, and thus everyone is joyful and the world (or at least the "free world") is safe
because we'd never misuse it. The Bikini islanders are "well pleased that the Yanks are
going to add a little variety to their lives" by testing the bomb there. After we've
demonstrated it's glory even our citizens fear it in our good hands, so they begin to
emphasize the beauty of the bomb, essentially promoting it as the world's greatest
firework. Second when Russia "steals" it from us, resulting in widespread paranoia and
the rise of McCarthyism. The anti-Communist propaganda glorifies the consumerism and
materialism they'd rob us of, celebrating the shopping center as a "concrete expression of
the practical idealism that built America." Finally, the "inevitability of nuclear war leads
to increased expenditure on security at home and abroad. Ridiculous products and
precautions to "save us" turn up. Adults are given badge for doing their duty, a "This
home is prepared" sticker when they install their bomb shelter while children are
indoctrinated by having "Bert the Turtle" teach them to "Duck and Cover".
Soldiers sent in with sunglasses and told to keep their mouth shut
Man With A Cross
One of Rossellini's least screened and certainly least revered works because it was made
during the fascist rule of Italy and, among other things, for a few moments condemns the
execution of a soldier for not renouncing his allegiance to fascism. It's generally
considered a propaganda film, but contains little that would fall under the what the
government would like us to believe category. In fact, it actually serves as quite a
credible document of the times because, as always, Rossellini's goal is to film real people
and reflect their situations and attitudes.
Rossellini's country has gone fascist, so it's no surprise that by sheer numbers the loyal
and passionate fascists overwhelm the many other types of people caught up in the war.
This is actually less of a propaganda film than his breakthrough and most famous work
Open City, the difference is people agree with the anti fascist material in that film even
though there's far more in the way of caricatures and cheap shots there. In a sense the
fascists are the heroes and the Russians are the bad guys, but Man With A Cross is
mainly pro Catholicism and actually isn't particularly political.
The film follows a saintly chaplain who serves as a medic for one of the fascist
regiments. Early on he agrees to stay behind with a wounded man who can't safely be
moved yet, and thus the film is the priest risking life and limb by taking it upon himself
to save the man physically or at least spiritually. The priest puts himself in the line of fire
until he's killed, but prays over the wounded man who he died going out to save first,
living long enough to save his soul before keeling over himself. The priest loses his
glasses on the way, seemingly to signify a return to a more innocent time and he dies at
peace knowing he and his patient will be eternally saved.
Balancing off the amiable chaplain is a fiery woman Irina who is not at peace with her
past. Though equally willing to die, she is motivated and terrorized by her experiences
rather than looking forward to the eternal.
The meaning of the film probably isn't found in the narrative and characters, but rather
the structuring and framing. It seems to really be about the lack of rights and more
importantly freedom during wartime. Fleeting moments of deliverance are interrupted or
perhaps overwhelmed by the nearly constant and inescapable harshness of war. It opens
with a scene of birds flying free, but man cannot match them though when given a chance
to show it we can see they long to.
Rossellini's tendency to follow the prevailing dogma is the downside of not only this
work, but of all his work. However, he's such a skilled filmmaker that his work
transcends whatever aspects we might find to be naive or nonsensical. The war footage is
very believable and the film has the spirit and urgency of his more famous trilogy of war.
It's not as refined as Paisan or Flowers of St. Francis, but very obviously by the same
talented individual. ***
Gremlins
Steven Spielberg produced what, perhaps accidentally, would have specifically been the
perfect riposte to his childish benign alien fantasy E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, and
generally to his clear-cut vision of the world. In particular, Gremlins opposes his black
and white ideas about good and evil which he must consistently milk the audiences
emotions over, even in “historical” situations where we are supposed to ignore the fact
that millions were killed and instead worry about the lives of a few because he’s
aggrandized them by making them his characters. Chris Columbus’ original script was
much darker than Spielberg was willing to produce. Joe Dante wanted to go ahead with
the key idea of having cute and cuddly Gizmo, E.T. minus the homely nature, turn into
ugly malicious gremlin Stripe, but Spielberg overruled him because he essentially
believed the kiddies required the huggable creature throughout.
In a sense Gremlins is about how children start off as adorable innocents but - especially
in the hands of immature parents – become obnoxious troublemakers run amok by
puberty. Gizmo may not be converted by the series of lapses and mistakes of the
seemingly conscientious minded late teen caretaker Billy Peltzer (Zach Galligan), but he
spawns aggressive offspring that give everyone trouble. The gremlins are anarchistic
creatures who might enjoy breaking all the rules, but wouldn’t bother themselves with
knowing them in the first place. They aren’t exactly monsters, but are too demented to
simply be written off as mischief makers.
Quickly learning all human vices and pleasures while ignoring all codes of behavior and
rules of conduct, the gremlins create their own little America: imagine an area run by a
combination of Looney Tunes Tasmanian Devil and an animalistic version of the Marx
Brothers with a mean streak. Joe Dante was heavily influenced by the old Looney Tunes
cartoons, eventually directing 2003’s Looney Tunes: Back in Action though it was his
worst film since the 1970’s as big budget Hollywood films had become so generic by
then even the most personal of studio directors seemed unable to control more than
getting some of his in-jokes included. In any case, his interest in the animation of people
like Tex Avery, Frank Tashlin, Robert Clampett, & Chuck Jones (who has a bit part in
Gremlins and animated the opening and closing segments in Gremlins 2) made him well
suited to direct Gremlins, as Bugs Bunny had taken one on in Clampett’s 1943 Warner
Brothers cartoon Falling Hare. Though not particularly linked, the gremlin was one of the
only characters to ever outsmart Bugs: magnified in Gizmo’s relationship with them, he’s
initially completely helpless in their presence, but his knowledge of how to deal with
them grows over time. By Gremlins 2 Gizmo learns how to combat them by happening
upon a Rambo movie on TV.
Gremlins also deals with the clash between the quaint neighborly America kids like
Dante and Spielberg who grew up in 1950's became used to and the fast paced new
technological America dominated by a few greedy rich people who care for no one and
nothing beyond more money. Small town America is going through tough times with
many honest hard workers losing their voice and leverage if not their jobs, thus
maintaining their culture and way of life becomes nearly impossibly when the
unscrupulous few are leveraging their power to get richer by hoisting their whims upon
the desperate increasingly manipulable masses. The original can be seen as the small
town apocalypse, while Gremlins 2: The New Batch is the resultant sellout to the
impersonal big city.
One thing that makes Gremlins special is the audience’s relationship with them
constantly varies. I could try a sports metaphor linking them to an out of conference
powerhouse; we root against them if they are playing our team, but for them if they are
playing a division rival of our team. But that’s not entirely true either. Their nature is so
varying, with many situations seemed designed to place them as the stand-ins for various
groups, ideas, and ways of life, we are unable to universally approve or disapprove of
their behavior. The gremlins may appear to be good guys for turning this ever
transitioning human world upside down, but even if we revel in them taking apart the
billionaire’s skyscraper in Gremlins 2, their may be more designed to show us our own
foolishness. This is a world where everything and everyone is corrupted. Even if Gizmo
doesn’t turn ugly, he can’t survive without donning a bow and arrow. In a sense the
reason Gizmo lives and E.T. dies is Gizmo is willing and able to adapt to earth’s ugliness.
Still, part of us wants to indulge ourselves. Who hasn’t dreamed of doing whatever they
wanted to? The gremlins lack either the ability or desire to hold themselves back, so their
life is one of constant gratification, and that’s desirable to anyone.
I’d say Gremlins is one of the funniest horror movies (Judge Reinhold is at his best as
Galligan’s smug and prudish superior at the bank, donning him “Captain Clip-on”), but it
isn't limited to genre. It's not really horror as some of the scenes that would normally be
played as such are instead provided to illicit chuckles, but it’s not simply a horror spoof
or even a black comedy. In many ways it’s as much an out of control sci-fi fantasy.
Though Dante is willing to make it at least as dark as Columbus scripted, while
terrifying, more than anything else this is a hilarious satire that incorporates gag after gag
about movies, backfiring technology, and man’s idea of order.
Chris Walas' special effects work is hard to top. The effects are so special because they
never call attention to themselves, the tangible nature of the mogwai and gremlin puppets
allowing for believable interaction with the humans and integration into their world. The
Gremlins are in action for at least half the runtime, yet they never seem like anything less
than a new breed of animal. Like a pet, each one has his own unique personality and
some would do less damage if they were quickly condemned to the microwave. ***1/2
Gremlins
In a sense Gremlins is about how children start off so cute and cuddly, but especially in
the hands of immature parents, become obnoxious troublemakers run amok by puberty.
In a sense Gremlins is a clash between the America a child who grew up in 1950's
became used to and the new technological America dominated by a few greedy rich
people. Small town America is going through tough times and trying to preserve the old
ways though everything around them is changing because the few scrupulous are getting
rich while the honest hard working are losing their jobs. In the midst of this emerges the
Gremlins, who break up the traditional construct of clearly delineated good guys and bad
guys, of comic book scenarios that lack subtlety, the film seems doomed to be greatly
reduced by. The Gremlins turn this work upside down, quickly learning all human vices
and pleasures while ignoring all the rules of conduct. Thus while this is not really a
horror movie and they are not monsters, it's very tempting for us to see them as mischief
makers. Though Steven Spielberg bought the rights to the film and produced it, aside
from the xenophobia in many ways it's the perfect riposte to his very clear-cut vision of
the world where an alien is an innocent harmless cuddly pet. The film isn't limited to
genre, it's not really horror or horror spoof, it's more a riotous sci-fi fantasy that's as
anarchic as anything world Looney Tunes ever created. The film is not afraid to be dark
and is occasionally terrifying, but more than anything else this is a hilarious satire that
works in gag after gag about movies, backfiring technology, and order. As a special
effects film, Chris Walas' work is hard to top. The effects are so special because they
never call attention to themselves. The Gremlins are in action for at least half the runtime,
yet they never seem like anything less than a new breed of animal. Like a pet, each one
has his own unique personality and some would do less damage if they were quickly
condemned to the microwave. ***1/2
Howl's Moving Castle
Miyazaki breaths another dose of life into the sadly dying field of animation with a
human touch, once again putting the computers to shame with his combination of
compassion and painstakingly realistic immensely detailed drawings. Miyazaki takes the
time to make every blade of grass sway perfectly in the wind, but this does not sap any of
his wild imagination or distract from what he has to say. It's so rare these days to see a
children's movie that's not the least bit plot oriented and instead functions more as a
dream, but that is certainly the case with this magical fantasy. Even rarer is a children's
movie whose hero is an octogenarian, but that's what we have here as young Sophie is
turned into a 90-year-old and her youthful version only reappears when thoughts of Howl
bring it back. Still, it's something of a coming of age film, even if Sophie blossoms after
the evil Wicked Witch of the Waste turns her into an elderly woman because Howl takes
an interest in her instead. This is a work where anything can happen that in some senses
exists apart from reality, but that's also more than willing to show pedestrian life, in this
case a lot of cleaning. In general Howl's is more a showcase for Miyazaki's drawings,
which are better than ever. The film is aptly named after the shape-shifting castle that
moves on four spindly legs, which for better and worse is the most intriguing character in
the film. The characters are not as captivating as in his best work, but it's very much
Miyazaki in how they stick together through the hardest times even though they were
only briefly friends/lovers when times were good. I like how Miyazaki puts across his
values. For all Miyazaki's artistry the most striking thing is how he puts across his values
in a way that can only be taken positively. For instance he finds physical fitness
important, but fitness is linked to physical activity which is good for you rather than
muscles which encourage use of performance reducing drugs. Love and friendship work
hand in hand, driving both parties to try harder and to push themselves both when
together and when apart, either way showing the importance of and the various ways to
be together. The witch is also vengeful, but Sophie has pity on her and winds up not only
befriending her but also taking care of her. The witch gives way to the war as the
preeminent menace, yet as war is inherently pointless and meaningless it is only there to
show that despite moments of powerlessness clearheaded people can work to prevent it.
Every character is highly imperfect and prone to screwing up. ***
people and objects are constantly transforming
understanding, trust, resourcefulness and love
A young hat-maker named Sophie (voiced by Emily Mortimer) is turned into an old
woman by the dreaded Witch of the Waste (Lauren Bacall) when she attracts the notice
of Howl (Christian Bale), a young wizard whom the witch desires for herself. As the old
woman, (voiced by Jean Simmons), Sophie finds refuge as a cleaning lady in Howl's
magical castle, an impressively realized mishmash of anthropomorphic shafts and gears,
where she meets, among other wonders, a cantankerous fire demon named Calcifer (Billy
Crystal). Howl's courage inspires her to seek a cure for her curse, and vice versa, and the
two work together to prevent a major war as the castle roams the countryside on its
mechanical legs.
Numero Deux
An extremely layered experimental film where Godard deconstructs family life by
watching it on TV. Though presented in Cinemascope (after being shot on video), life is
crunched to the miniscule dimensions of the television set. Only at the beginning and the
end do we see a full screen, which adds Godard watching projections of what he's filmed.
There's usually two television sets on at once (sometimes with superimpositions); in one
sense they function as a mirror while in another they (or more precisely those who
control them) are pulling the strings of life like the Wizard of Oz. The majority of the
film shows an ordinary capitalist family in their apartment; we never see them leave it
and only once when they are also watching TV do we see all six (there's two
grandparents) together. It's a quasi documentary with largely non professional actors,
kind of a precursor to reality shows, except Godard is actually realistic showing the
housewife cooking, bathing the children, sucking cock, without glorifying or glamorizing
any of them. The audience is always kept at a certain distance, the voyeuristic structuring
of watching the family on television ensures that (this is one of the only Godard films
where the characters themselves don't reference the filmmaking process), yet in many
senses the film is as intimate as anything ever made. We often get the feeling we are
seeing things we shouldn't see, not really because that is the case but because Godard
shows personal things that everyone else skips. In a sense this is Godard's most
simplistic, focused, and concise portrait, that's perhaps why he's more successful than
usual at broadening the scope. The point may be that everything is manufactured from
family life to government to entertainment, and by taking apart the former largely
through two "prisoners" - the stuck at home wife and bored with work husband - he
delves into politics, sex, work, and the general disenchantment of life without taking on
so much it's impossible for him to come close to touching on everything. The questions
of the children bring the outside problems and the questionable future into the home;
Godard's subversion lies in being incredibly open about sex and critical of the
government screwing the workers, but nothing ever feels cheap or in any way dishonest.
It's often a difficult film to watch, but that it's audacious and disturbing is part of its
brilliance. ****
The first full-length feature by Godard and Anne-Marie Miélville experimented with
transferring video to film in order to achieve an astonishing array of images - ostensibly a
home movie of family life.
Fallen Angel
Film noir portrait of unfulfilled people in a sleazy little post WWII California town. Dana
Andrews is an intelligent tough world weary con men who knows all the angles, but
never quite seems to get a break, especially in love. The drifter decides to stay in town
when he can't stop himself from falling for beautiful earthy not particularly pleasant local
waitress Linda Darnell, who all the locals are also smitten over but have failed with for
years. She seems a slut but has aspirations of controlling her destiny and thus not only
won't fool around with Andrews but will settle for nothing less than a man who will
marry her, take her to the big city and support her. The similarity between the two is both
long to be somebody. Andrews can take her to SF, but has a dollar to his name so he
decides to swindle an eligible but uninteresting rich woman (Alice Faye) out of her
money. Typically the film condescends to culture, the boring woman being a classical
pianist who reads books, and glamorizes drinking. When Andrews has to marry Faye to
do so, the film takes a shocking turn, somewhat revealing what Preminger is up to this
time. Generally the less said about the plot the better, but this is good psychological and
pathological study in obsession, longing, want, and desperation. The acting isn't
memorable, but as always Preminger utilizes elaborately blocked long takes, practically
turning the camera into actor with the way he uses it to reveal the emotional states with
its movement. Joseph LaShelle's brings pinpoint precision to the tracking shots and
delivers a murky atmosphere.
Night and the City
Though completely unprincipled, Harry remains almost likeable through his childlike,
imaginative eagerness, and because he is the underdog. Yes, success in his chosen field
has eluded Harry; but his certainty that each new scheme will bring him the "life of ease
and plenty" makes him feel justified in swindling or stealing from anyone, even the
woman (Tierney) who inexplicably loves him. Harry's latest scheme is foolproof (he
thinks): he'll wrest "control of wrestling in all London" away from gangster Christo
(Herbert Lom), by taking on as partner Christo's father Gregorius (Stanislaus Zbyszko,
former U.S. champ), an aging, "legitimate" Greco-Roman style wrestler. But in
execution, this plan makes Harry new enemies, all of whom are harder, more realistic,
and more dangerous than himself.
low-key lighting
world of Harry Fabian is a maze of wet cobblestoned alleys, narrow staircases, bombedout walls, and subterranean dives, crossed by the blackest, most menacing shadows
London has ever seen. Actors are often photographed from low angles and even lit from
beneath for maximum menace. Location scenes meld so seamlessly with studio shots that
infinite pains must have been taken with location lighting. From tight close-ups to long
shots, the entire film is a sequence of little masterpieces of visual composition.
An Actor's Revenge
Occasionally the greatest films can emerge from what seems to be the least ambitious of
circumstances. One might believe Teinosuke Kinugasa (Gate of Hell) could direct one of
the most brilliant of all Japanese films, especially when the subject matter is a female
impersonator given that was his profession before he entered film. However, I doubt
anyone would expect it would instead be a remake (actually the third version) of his 1935
film with the same actor, Kazuo Hasegawa, designed to celebrate Hasegawa's 300th (and
unfortunately last) film appearance. The studio certainly did not, as they assigned
Ichikawa this film as punishment for his recent box office failures. Though I've not seen
the (black and white) original and Kinugasa is notable for his lush Technicolor and
inventive use of wide screen, I have to think that most of the brilliance is coming from
the underrated master Ichikawa. I say that because this self-aware extravagant kitsch
masterpiece is somehow like no other. Ichikawa is just experimenting here, splashing
color everywhere and incorporating aspects from arts and mediums as disparate as kabuki
to comic books to determine what the film medium is capable of. Many of the hyper
stylized experiments, particularly filming exteriors on hyper stylized sets, link the cinema
to the theatre. More often though the film is a study of their conflicts, particularly with
the expansive widescreen Daieiscope photography exposing how limited and confined
the movements of the kabuki actors are. The cliched and melodramatic plot is about the
star of a Kabuki troupe, the female impersonator (Hasegawa), having to act all the time to
enact his revenge plot. Adding to the audaciousness and creating a duality, Hasegawa
also plays a part-time rebel burglar who comments on his other character and is the only
one that understands the female impersonator. To a certain extent Ichikawa doesn't care
about the plot, though his work is usually about seeing how far an obsessed man will
push himself. Still, whether this all seems believable or completely phony, this bold mix
largely plays right into the plot which is the clash between opposites such as real and
fake, male and female, classical and modern. The soundtrack is a perfect example,
utilizing period wood instruments but also contemporary jazz.
Hasegawa was a matinee idol when Kinugusa made the original, but now 25 years later
he's a pudgy old man seducing a woman that could sooner be his daughter.
Yukinojo's interior monologue, which occurs during the staid, dramatic theatricality of a
kabuki performance, is shown through an incongruous peripheral view that is patterned
after a comic strip thought bubble
Structuring the film through the layered, narrative perspective of a performance within a
performance
The restrictive, measured formalization of traditional kabuki theater is presented through
the innovative, broader aspect ratio of Cinemascope. However, Ichikawa irreverently
flouts the adapted conventions of widescreen formatting even further with clever,
whimsical visuals such as a lassoed rope that appears to stretch beyond the bounds of the
screen into infinity, and the familiar genre of sweeping, epic scale chanbara swordfights
parodically reduced to odd sensorial compositions of truncated image snapshots and
dissociated sounds: intermittently clashing blades, obscured action set in perceptibly
artificial outdoor stage sets, opponents singularly framed (often in confined frontality)
during fight sequences, and momentary flashes of non-directional light.
Ichikawa's recurrent fragmentation of images innately reflects the voyeuristic relationship
between spectator and performer: obscured, extended fight scenes witnessed from
rooftops, seamless visual transitions between theatrical dramatization and stylized, 'reallife' off-stage episodes, the framing of actors through doorways or other visual occlusions
that seem to underscore the intrusive, key-hole perspective of the audience.
An Actor's Revenge is a stylistically bold and irreverent satire that seeks to reconcile the
familiar, traditional elements of native culture with the modern vitality of Western
influence in contemporary Japan. The audaciously eccentric fusion of traditional and
modern Japanese art forms are further exemplified through an eclectic soundtrack that
combines traditional kabuki accompaniment, folk music, jazz, and avant-garde ambient
sounds. By concurrently celebrating and defying traditional Japanese artistic and
dramatic forms, Ichikawa creates an audacious and infinitely fascinating exercise in
straddling the fragile equilibrium that interweaves cultural past and present, Eastern and
Western aesthetics, classical theater and modern cinema.
melding a host of new cinematic techniques with constant theatrical nudges to the viewer
that break with the sacred fourth wall convention of screen drama, all laid down to a
score that alternates between traditional Japanese music and sultry 60s jazz.
In one shot, two thieves tug on a piece of rope that extends from one end of the frame to
and beyond the other side. There's a hypnotic sword fight set against a plain black
backdrop, and in other such heavily stylized scenes as Yukinojo's initial appearance in
the midst of an onstage snow storm as the faces of his persecutors appear superimposed
in oval irises, Ichikawa bowls us with his eclectically cobbled together melange of jarring
cinematic techniques and a lush and vivid color palate.
Kon Ichikawa's 1963 masterpiece, one of the most dazzling and stylistically audacious
Japanese films ever made, has to be seen to be believed--though in Japan, interestingly
enough, it's never been regarded as anything but a potboiler. The film was putatively
made to celebrate the 300th film appearance of box-office idol Kazuo Hasegawa, and is
in fact a remake of a 1938 film by Teinosuke Kinugasa that featured Hasegawa in the
same parts. Ichikawa uses it as an unprecedented opportunity for unbridled stylistic play
(the film's use of 'Scope and color is breathtaking), Shakespearean complication
(Hasegawa plays two parts, one of them in drag), and a fascinating investigation into the
relationship between theater and cinema. The hero is a Kabuki female impersonator out
to avenge the death of his parents, and the plot proceeds somewhat like a film noir (with
revelatory flashbacks), while adroitly mixing onstage and offstage action. To make the
campy mixture even weirder, Ichikawa periodically uses contemporary jazz on the sound
track. One can easily see here why Disney is one of Ichikawa's favorite filmmakers, but
perhaps the most remarkable aspect of this singular experiment is its demonstration that
theater and film are more kissing cousins than distant relations--the more stage bound the
film gets, the more cinematic it becomes. If you've never seen this, prepare to be stunned.
three men who drove his parents to suicide twenty years earlier, and plans his revenge,
firstly by seducing the daughter of one of them
There are bold splashes of primary colors and dramatic, very theatrical lighting. Some
sets are intentionally artificial-looking while others are not. Somehow the two styles don't
clash but instead portray the perfect intermingling of theater and cinema.
A man who acts like a woman (both on-stage and off), seducing a woman young enough
to be his daughter lends a touch of the bizarre which just makes things more interesting.
extravagant visual and stylistic tricks: split screen, distorted colour, strip-cartoon thoughtbubbles
Rather than trying to rationalize the corny plot Ichikawa plays it at full throttle, reveling
in its wild implausibilities and sexual ambiguity: at one point Hasegawa as the bandit
watches himself as the actor, in drag, making falsetto advances to a woman. The
photography, art direction and jazz-tinged music score all contribute to the mood of
shameless bravura
his major works are nearly all studies of anguished, obsessive characters pushed to
extremes
whose persona is maintained offstage, and who is driven by the idea of killing the men
who caused the death of his parents
The Howling
A tongue in cheek tribute to the classic werewolf movies, Dante and screenwriter John
Sayles keep relating current "real" scenes to "fake" scenes from various media, usually
old movies, with one disproving or at least commenting on the other. Dee Wallace is a
newswoman who delves into sex crimes for ratings, and the film shows the nightly news
as a thinly veiled provider of primitive impulses. The film attempts to be an intelligent
horror film that uses the beast to represent man's sexual repression, but Dante had yet to
become a sharp satirist and for the most part is only able to be sporadically funny. The
story makes no sense if you think about it too much, for instance if you want to keep your
society of wolves a secret you don't involve people that will be missed, such as national
celebrities. As always with Dante you can count on state of the art technology to
malfunction, in this case it provides the initial danger. This is by far Dante's scariest film,
perhaps his only good true horror film (but less horror and more satire is a great tradeoff
where Dante is concerned). John Hora's cinematography is very colorful and atmospheric
ala Cocteau's Beauty and The Beast, but also creates a great deal of tension and unease
though sinister movements and early on by keeping the evil obscured and thus
mysterious. Special effects god Rob Bottin gets far more character and believability using
jelly, rubber, and condoms than any stupid computer, and at a fraction of the cost. The
famous show stopping transformation scene, notable because editing was no longer
necessary, predates that in the more famous but overall far inferior film An American
Werewolf in London. ***
White of the Eye
An exploration of the aesthetic values and appeal of violence, and our instinctive
animalistic drive toward what we find beautiful. The serial killer believes he is creating a
masterpiece by dissecting his victims, and is thus an artist. This art may not make sense
like certain Picasso or be the most appealing, but Cammell is thinking art in the sense of
eliciting a visceral response from the viewer. The metaphor of killer as artist implicates
Cammell and his fellow film directors as well as us the viewer. The man's victims happen
to be female victims, but rather than the typical objectification (this is the one Cammell
film without nudity and it also avoids violence of a sexual nature) the reasons are they are
more difficult to kill than an animal and the opposite of the killer. Cammell's style here is
very similar to that of the artistic horrors produced by the Italians, who were at the peak
of their international popularity with Dario Argento now writing and producing works of
his proteges Lamberto Bava and Michele Soavi. POV photography is used extensively,
depicting "art" through the eyes of the killer like these horrors, but also by alternating to
shots that can't be from his point of view we are seeing things through the eyes of the
director and ultimately through the eyes of ourselves, as we are all ultimately following
in his footsteps. These murder scenes are truly simulations of the actual act of murder.
That may sound silly in a world where every film seems to have a killing, but I mean they
are presented in a way that is designed to give you the experience of actually killing
someone. The progressive rock portion of soundtrack is even somewhat Goblinesque,
particularly the murder scene by Nick Mason (Pink Floyd) where the bass beats to the
rhythm of the heart. I'm making the film sound derivative, but even if he rarely got to
show it Cammell was one of the greatest audio and visual editors the cinema has seen.
His gift was taking a generic story and tampering with time and space in order to make us
observe. By using point of view and editing to make us assume something then correcting
that assumption and by linking but holding off revelations we are forced to reflect upon
their meaning. Ultimately Cammell manipulates the footage until it becomes so intense
we are forced to confront certain aspects we would otherwise ignore, in this case that he
and we find beauty in murder. He denies realism in favor of crafting the footage so it
takes on all kinds of meanings, only a few of which are implied by quick linking cuts.
David Keith is the man accused of committing these heinous crimes, but much of the
film, particularly the final third focuses on how his wife Cathy Moriarity deals with the
fact that she may have a profound love for a demented and insane man. These two are
opposites, and one of the key themes is with opposites they unite, destroy, or both.
Though Keith may be the bad guy, what's interesting is he's ascribed the positive traits of
nature, independent and claiming only what he needs to survive, while she is the needy
one. At the heart of the film is the conflict between the natural and the highly stylized, as
shown by the setting that alternates between the desert and commercially developed
portions of Arizona.
The soundtrack is much deeper than we might initially think. It's sets the opposing moods
of the desert and the city, with calmer, traditional, and more spiritual country/blues and
new age music for the desert and blaring very manufactured sounding pop and hard rock
for the city. But then it combines them, as the desert forms the background of the
developed portions, these opposites forced to coexist creates a volatile alliance.
Keith is far too obviously the killer. It's supposed to be a big mystery, but this is a film
where you actually wait for the twist because all the evidence points to Keith to the point
it's hard to believe they actually have it be him.
Pather Panchali
A stark neorealist bent mood piece led by the rhythmic score of the great Ravi Shankar.
Ray's Cannes winning debut feature, the first in the legendary Apu trilogy, put Indian
filmmaking on the map with a depiction of the trials and tribulations of a poor peasant
family in a 1920's Bengali village. The idealistic priest father sets his family up for this
hard life, uprooting them from the city to follow his dream of succeeding his artistic
ancestors. The realistic mother winds up sacrificing herself to take care of the household
duties as well as earn much of the wages. This pair, and the film itself, shows both sides
of life. The main character, Apu, is a born into this and in this film largely lurks in the
shadows, little more than a witness. Little changes for the better despite their high hopes,
but they still love life and never allow their spirit to be crushed. He grows up like his
father, warm and optimist to the core, which allows the films to be far more uppers than
downers. Encouraged by her great aunt to pick fruit from the orchard that no longer
belongs to them, the daughter in a way provides for herself the only way she knows how,
but that's by being a kleptomaniac. The film captures the spirit of life and the tragedy of
death in a profound and moving way. Ray uses non-professionals without makeup,
shooting in whatever scenery and weather were available and applicable. The rough black
and white film stock emphasizes the harsh social realities over the lovely natural Calcutta
settings, but Ray shows their beauty in the joy the characters sometimes have interacting
with it. The film is very simple yet so meticulously drawn. There is nothing contrived or
glamorous, so we not only believe in these characters and their world, we feel like we
inhabit it with them.
this film lingers lovingly over the natural world
Dracula Pages From The Virgin's Diary
Guy Maddin may be the only active director that truly understands how to make a great
silent film, but perhaps what's more important is the way he can discretely use the entire
history of filmmaking to his advantage. This is an extremely expressive and highly erotic
work, and the fact that Maddin has largely used the techniques of the 1920's to achieve
that end should speak volumes about what movies have lost. But the fact that people don't
even notice he's used digital effects says a lot about what can be done with modern
technology when it's not used for the sake of modernity. This is probably one of the most
original films ever made, certainly a one of a kind. I say that because any attempt one can
possibly make to describe it will be incredibly limiting and restrictive. You can't even say
you'll like this film if you like ballet or Bram Stoker's Dracula, as even though the former
is applied to the latter Maddin's work bares little resemblance to any ballet or vampire
film that's been made. Maddin himself was leery of accepting the commission because he
isn't particularly fond of either primary element. Usually in those cases the director either
mails it in or makes something that completely dishonors the source arts/materials, but
Maddin's Dracula is one of the few depictions of Stoker that approach faithfulness and
though the film sees ballet in a new light it's one that brings out different things without
being disrespectful. One place where Maddin's interests meet ballet is in gesture. In a
talking film ballerinas come across like fishes out of water, but I was amazed how in
place the ballet actually looked within the confines of nearly silent film, as both arts rely
so heavily on highly expressive performances. The grace of the performers coincides
with that of Maddin's presentation, melding dance choreography with cinematography
and post production to create a mesmerizing experience where the film itself seems to
move to the ballet. Maddin's work is poetic and highly stylized with an amazing arsenal
of effects, but what's important is he utilizes them to open as many doors to his and our
experience as he can. Maddin never sticks with a shot and tampers with every frame of
his film, but it's to create his own aesthetic rather than to show off. The film emphasizes
the hate of the outsider aspect that's common to Maddin by casting a Chinese man as
Dracula. Dracula tends to come down to fear of sex, but this version goes deeper, dealing
more with ones power over another. The amazing thing about Maddin's film is normally a
classic suffers heavily when transformed to another medium, but here he's taken the
ballet version of a great novel and put it to a legendary Mahler symphonies without
losing the power of any of them. The novel and symphonies may be better on their own,
but each aspect is adding a good deal of quality to an inventive new whole. ***1/2
Kwaidan
At a time when Japanese horror movies were known for pitiful rubber monsters and
cheesy effects, master director Kobayashi seemingly switched gears by elegantly
delivering four literate tales of the supernatural. Kobayashi's moral tales deal with the
problems humans face, in this case our material nature tends to squash the spiritual and
emotional side of our being, which crushes us in ways so amazingly predictable the
ending is often obvious right from the beginning. Perhaps he's a bit less socially
conscious and more into punishment in his life lessons, but I see this as far less of a
thematic departure than normally billed. The pain these characters cause is happening
everywhere every day, but for the fun of these fables their missteps actually create ghosts
that tend to penalize them or someone else. Kwaidan is scary because it exploits human
frailty so well, ghosts may be involved but memories and past failures haunt people.
The difference is he's scrapped almost all sense of realism in order to reach the pinnacle
of studio artistry. Kobayashi has a ton of fun showing remarkably beautiful versions of
Japan throughout the ages. His meticulously designed studio sets, painterly framing and
glorious use of lavish color surpasses even Michael Powell. The real achievement of the
work might be the way the formal beauty works hand in hand with the creepy
otherworldly tales. Kobayashi's horror is the subtle haunting variety. The terror sets in
over time, unfolding as mistakes and missed opportunities ultimately, inevitably, and
relentlessly lead to tragedy. Toru Takemitsu might well be the greatest film composer of
all time, and his avant-garde scores for Kobayashi are his most experimental. Due to the
fact Takemitsu doesn't actually provide a score, Kwaidan is horror in stealth mode,
creeping up without a sound then making its presence felt through alternately understated
and jolting sound effects that have a huge effect on the mood. Dead calm gives way to the
unsettling, but then the eerie quiet once again allows you to relax. Lengthy intros with no
dialogue except from the narrator set the stage for the events for come. Brilliant
widescreen photography with the static camera to build anticipation and lengthy snail
paced tracking shots to create tension.
Kobayashi uses the studio so he can control every aspect of this highly artistic work. He
understands how to use the entire frame so well, spacing the characters properly to
capture the action and inaction, keeping us at the proper distance throughout and showing
the emptiness of the money driven existence in the first story. The expert color patterns
and lighting schemes are arguably most effective during the beginning of second tale,
where pale blues help add to the icy feeling of being stranded in the forest during a
blizzard. Later these icy blues are contrasted by the golden sky that's seemingly brought
on by finding a new love. Kobayashi's film is like a series of paintings, you could isolate
any frame and use it for a textbook of framing, angle, or color, but together they flow and
set the otherworldly mood.
conflicting emotions that swirl in the dark night of the human soul
stylized production design, its stunning color cinematography, and its spare, expressive
musical score by Toru Takemitsu
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