(1/15/01)
It's been a while since I've seen Tess, so I won't have a lot to say about it. I found it very impressive and very moving when I did see it. I really liked the photography, especially that of exterior scenes. The opening shot, over the credits, is something to see. As I remember it the camera first shows us a deserted landscape, then pans until it shows us a road, then we see a group of young ladies and then the camera moves in on them. All in one take.
Nastassia Kinski made a big impact on moviegoers in the early 1980s. I think that Tess is the movie she will be remembered for. She had a riveting presence and in a couple of scenes reminded me of Ingrid Bergman.
One theme of the film is that of true aristocracy versus nouveau riche pretenders. Tess discovers that she is of an old, aristocratic family and her seducer, or pseudo-rapist, is from a family which has bought her name. What I liked about the way this film is worked out is that this theme doesn't really hit you until the end after Tess has married this guy who presumably was so filled with guilt over his role in her troubles and was so anxious to "do the right thing." When we see them as man and wife he treats her as a possession and seems to enjoy being condescending to her. It struck me that he wanted to bring her down because she had the true dignity and bearing of an aristocrat that his family's money could never buy.
Tess falls for a guy called Angel, who is also not what he appears to be at first. Angel seems noble, poetic, a dreamer. He plays a sort of flute while sitting in a tree (or something like that). But when Tess reveals to him the painful story of how she had an illegitimate child he reveals that he is really a very immature guy. He turns cold on her and goes off to South America, presumably to think things over. He doesn't answer Tess's letters. Yet, all the girls are infatuated by him, bowled over by his attractive persona.
He does return, of course, but Tess's aristocratic pride demands that she sends him away. (Later, she comes to him--after having killed her husband, which to me raised some serious questions about her sanity.)
I find it interesting that in dealing with both men Tess does things that look foolish or wrong, but which turn out to be right. She can't bring herself to tell Angel the truth about her past--and her fears turn out to be completely justified. When the other man wants to help her when she is poor she rebuffs him--and once again we are surprised that her reluctance was the right way to go.
The scenes dealing with Tess's baby were confusing to me; I didn't quite get what was happening. And that haunting finale in a place resembling Stonehenge--what was that all about? It obviously had some kind of significance which was not made clear. There are a couple of other references to paganism in the film, but that theme didn't seem to be sufficiently developed.
For a good part of the film I was thinking that it seemed like a remake of Griffith's Way Down East. But it isn't, even though there are striking similarities. I wish that Angel had gone and beaten the crap out of Tess's "seducer" instead of running off to South America and not even bothering to write.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Borom Sarret. 1963. Directed by Ousmane Sembene.
(1/14/01)
At the beginning of Borom Sarret a man makes a prayer, asking God to protect him from the law, or law-makers, or the police. It is interesting that the law is viewed not as something that protects, but as something to be feared. And this is certainly reinforced by the rest of the film--the police officer who confiscate the Borom Sarret's cart and lets his customer skip without paying does not administer justice. Back in his section of the town, he says he feels safer there because there are no police around.
There is a priest or singer of some sort who tells the borom sarret about the glories of his ancestors. That certainly doesn't do him any good. If anything, it makes him feel more acutely how far he and his people have fallen.
When this sarret, this cart-driver walks through the streets, thinking about losing his cart, it just doesn't feel that sad. His words are certainly dejected enough, but they don't hit me emotionally. I don't know if that was the way it was intended.
At the end of the film his wife assures him that they will eat that night and leaves. How is she going to provide for them? The thing that comes to my mind is prostitution, but I don't know for sure if that is the way the ending was meant to be understood.
At the beginning of Borom Sarret a man makes a prayer, asking God to protect him from the law, or law-makers, or the police. It is interesting that the law is viewed not as something that protects, but as something to be feared. And this is certainly reinforced by the rest of the film--the police officer who confiscate the Borom Sarret's cart and lets his customer skip without paying does not administer justice. Back in his section of the town, he says he feels safer there because there are no police around.
There is a priest or singer of some sort who tells the borom sarret about the glories of his ancestors. That certainly doesn't do him any good. If anything, it makes him feel more acutely how far he and his people have fallen.
When this sarret, this cart-driver walks through the streets, thinking about losing his cart, it just doesn't feel that sad. His words are certainly dejected enough, but they don't hit me emotionally. I don't know if that was the way it was intended.
At the end of the film his wife assures him that they will eat that night and leaves. How is she going to provide for them? The thing that comes to my mind is prostitution, but I don't know for sure if that is the way the ending was meant to be understood.
Black Girl (La Noire de...). 1966. Directed by Ousmane Sembene.
(1/14/01)
On a second viewing, a couple of things in this film became clearer. Diouana can understand directions in French, but she can only speak a few words, such as, "Oui, monsieur." Thus she has no effective means to express herself.
What is not clear is why the woman who employs her becomes so unpleasant. In Dakar she had given Diouana her old dresses, so why does she suddenly start snapping at her when they are all in France? The lack of communication doesn't explain it.
It is so poignant to see Diouana's excitement about getting the job when you know what it will lead to. She is so happy, running around telling everyone that she knows.
Diouana says internally that her mother didn't write the letter she received. So it seems that neither one of them can write. I noticed this time that the mother's letter is (at least partly) a request for Diouana to send her some money. She complains about how poor she is. That adds an extra bit of punch to the scene towards the end when she refuses to accept Diouana's wages.
The people who visit Diouana's employers for lunch discuss the situation in Africa. I don't have the background to really appreciate this conversation.
There is one moment that struck me this time around. Diouana gaily skips around on the top of a monument. The man she is with becomes angry and tells her to come down. I didn't grasp the significance of it, but I appreciated how alive and vital Diouana seemed.
On a second viewing, a couple of things in this film became clearer. Diouana can understand directions in French, but she can only speak a few words, such as, "Oui, monsieur." Thus she has no effective means to express herself.
What is not clear is why the woman who employs her becomes so unpleasant. In Dakar she had given Diouana her old dresses, so why does she suddenly start snapping at her when they are all in France? The lack of communication doesn't explain it.
It is so poignant to see Diouana's excitement about getting the job when you know what it will lead to. She is so happy, running around telling everyone that she knows.
Diouana says internally that her mother didn't write the letter she received. So it seems that neither one of them can write. I noticed this time that the mother's letter is (at least partly) a request for Diouana to send her some money. She complains about how poor she is. That adds an extra bit of punch to the scene towards the end when she refuses to accept Diouana's wages.
The people who visit Diouana's employers for lunch discuss the situation in Africa. I don't have the background to really appreciate this conversation.
There is one moment that struck me this time around. Diouana gaily skips around on the top of a monument. The man she is with becomes angry and tells her to come down. I didn't grasp the significance of it, but I appreciated how alive and vital Diouana seemed.
The Phantom of Liberty (La Fantome de la liberte). 1974. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(1/12/01)
This is another "Monty Python"-type film. I didn't like it. It had some interesting ideas and a few good moments, but overall I didn't find it funny and I didn't find it clever.
It is a series of sketches which are loosely connected--very loosely. A character comes into the middle of one episode and then we follow him on his way without the episode he wandered into concluding. It really seemed like Bunuel didn't care enough or didn't know how to wrap things up so he just went off in a different direction.
As I said, a lot of it didn't seem very clever to me. A middle-aged man offers two little girls some photos or postcards in a suggestive way. They bring them home and show them to their parents who are shocked. When we finally get to see them they are pictures of famous monuments.
We don't get to see these pictures for a while, so it is perfectly obvious that they are not the "dirty pictures" that Bunuel is trying to convince us they are. It is just so damn obvious that it is no surprise at all.
A professor is giving a lecture about laws and morals and customs. These change from culture to culture. Some people would like to radically change the morals that we live by, he says, but this could be very disturbing if carried out. To illustrate his point he describes a scene in which well-dressed people come together to comunally move their bowels asa a social occasion, while they eat in private. A man asks a servant the wayto the dining room where he takes his solitary dinner. A woman knocks on the door (or tries to open it) and he tells her that it is occupied.
This whole fantasy just seemed plain stupid to me. No one seeks a change in moral standards or in customs unless they see benefit in doing so--at least to someone. The professor did not give any reason whyy this reversal of the customs of eating and shitting would be desirable to anybody. It just seemed like a tiresome attempt to shock.
We know that Bunuel hated organized religion, but when he makes fun of it in this picture it just seems juvenile. Hungry soldiers in a church decide to eat the sacred host for food. Some monks come into a woman's room at an inn to pray for her father; they end up playing poker, betting with rosaries and scapulas. The same priests get invited for a drink in the room of a man who wants to perform an s&m routine with a leather-clad dominatrix. The priests run from the room, practically screaming.
I suppose that scenes such as these have a liberating effect on some people, but I'm just not there any more. They don't shock me and I don't find them clever or amusing.
A lot went on at that inn. A young man (I would say he is around 19 or 20) brings his elderly aunt there for an assignation. She doesn't want to go through with it. He pleads with him to let him see her naked. Then he turns violent, wanting to have sex with her. This scene brings up the taboo subject of the sexuality of the elderly which is seen elsewhere in Bunuel's films. I found that scene truly distasteful--which is what I am sure Bunuel wanted. OK, so Bunuel "got me." So what? There is something he can make me uncomfortable about.
There is also a sequence about a serial killer (or mass murderer--he's a sniper who shoots people at random from windows high up in a building) who becomes a celebrity, with people asking him for his autograph, after the trial. That part of the film left me unmoved, maybe because it's a subject which has been done in other films, maybe because it's so sadly true.
There are a few other surreal images that I remember. Strange things happen to a man with insomnia, such as animals coming into his bedroom. A man reminisces about his sister and we see her playing the piano nude. But again, my reaction is, "So what?" Maybe I'm just not attuned to surrealism. I just don't see any point in a lot of this.
One part of the film that I did like was when a little girl is reported missing from school, possibly kidnapped, and she's right there all the time. When she tries to tell them that she is there they tell her not to interrupt. In a way everyone knows that she's there because, for example, the police take down her description by looking her over. I think this had an impact because I have had the experience in my own head of not making such obvious connections.
I liked the ending, too. The police or the military go to fire on demonstrators who are shouting, "Down with liberty." They go for a confrontation at the zoo. You never see the demonstrators; you only hear the confrontation while looking at the heads of animals. That scene really did have an impact.
But as a whole I found The Phantom of Liberty kind of pointless and annoying to watch. It didn't seem to add up to very much.
I did enjoy seeing Adolfo Geli and Michael Lonsdale, two performers whom I only know from Bond movies.
This is another "Monty Python"-type film. I didn't like it. It had some interesting ideas and a few good moments, but overall I didn't find it funny and I didn't find it clever.
It is a series of sketches which are loosely connected--very loosely. A character comes into the middle of one episode and then we follow him on his way without the episode he wandered into concluding. It really seemed like Bunuel didn't care enough or didn't know how to wrap things up so he just went off in a different direction.
As I said, a lot of it didn't seem very clever to me. A middle-aged man offers two little girls some photos or postcards in a suggestive way. They bring them home and show them to their parents who are shocked. When we finally get to see them they are pictures of famous monuments.
We don't get to see these pictures for a while, so it is perfectly obvious that they are not the "dirty pictures" that Bunuel is trying to convince us they are. It is just so damn obvious that it is no surprise at all.
A professor is giving a lecture about laws and morals and customs. These change from culture to culture. Some people would like to radically change the morals that we live by, he says, but this could be very disturbing if carried out. To illustrate his point he describes a scene in which well-dressed people come together to comunally move their bowels asa a social occasion, while they eat in private. A man asks a servant the wayto the dining room where he takes his solitary dinner. A woman knocks on the door (or tries to open it) and he tells her that it is occupied.
This whole fantasy just seemed plain stupid to me. No one seeks a change in moral standards or in customs unless they see benefit in doing so--at least to someone. The professor did not give any reason whyy this reversal of the customs of eating and shitting would be desirable to anybody. It just seemed like a tiresome attempt to shock.
We know that Bunuel hated organized religion, but when he makes fun of it in this picture it just seems juvenile. Hungry soldiers in a church decide to eat the sacred host for food. Some monks come into a woman's room at an inn to pray for her father; they end up playing poker, betting with rosaries and scapulas. The same priests get invited for a drink in the room of a man who wants to perform an s&m routine with a leather-clad dominatrix. The priests run from the room, practically screaming.
I suppose that scenes such as these have a liberating effect on some people, but I'm just not there any more. They don't shock me and I don't find them clever or amusing.
A lot went on at that inn. A young man (I would say he is around 19 or 20) brings his elderly aunt there for an assignation. She doesn't want to go through with it. He pleads with him to let him see her naked. Then he turns violent, wanting to have sex with her. This scene brings up the taboo subject of the sexuality of the elderly which is seen elsewhere in Bunuel's films. I found that scene truly distasteful--which is what I am sure Bunuel wanted. OK, so Bunuel "got me." So what? There is something he can make me uncomfortable about.
There is also a sequence about a serial killer (or mass murderer--he's a sniper who shoots people at random from windows high up in a building) who becomes a celebrity, with people asking him for his autograph, after the trial. That part of the film left me unmoved, maybe because it's a subject which has been done in other films, maybe because it's so sadly true.
There are a few other surreal images that I remember. Strange things happen to a man with insomnia, such as animals coming into his bedroom. A man reminisces about his sister and we see her playing the piano nude. But again, my reaction is, "So what?" Maybe I'm just not attuned to surrealism. I just don't see any point in a lot of this.
One part of the film that I did like was when a little girl is reported missing from school, possibly kidnapped, and she's right there all the time. When she tries to tell them that she is there they tell her not to interrupt. In a way everyone knows that she's there because, for example, the police take down her description by looking her over. I think this had an impact because I have had the experience in my own head of not making such obvious connections.
I liked the ending, too. The police or the military go to fire on demonstrators who are shouting, "Down with liberty." They go for a confrontation at the zoo. You never see the demonstrators; you only hear the confrontation while looking at the heads of animals. That scene really did have an impact.
But as a whole I found The Phantom of Liberty kind of pointless and annoying to watch. It didn't seem to add up to very much.
I did enjoy seeing Adolfo Geli and Michael Lonsdale, two performers whom I only know from Bond movies.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Do the Right Thing. 1989. Directed by Spike Lee.
(1/2/01-1/3/01)
Do the Right Thing is a rich, high-energy tapestry of life in the Bedford-Stuyvesant area of Brooklyn. It is loosely constructed, but it unfolds in a series of sharp, interesting scenes and a gallery of characters who hold our interst. And it has some sexy scenes thrown in for good measure. The music gives it a hip, up-to-date feel.
It all takes place on one very, very hot summer's day. Sal and his sons run a pizzeria which has been at the same location for 25 years. One of Sal's sons wants to get out of Bed-Stuy, but Sal says he is theer to stay. He is part of the neighborhood and most of the people like him. There are people in the neighborhood who have grown up eating Sal's pizza and he is proud of that.
Sal--obviously an Italian--has a gallery of pictures of famous Italian-Americans. One black teenager becomes very offended that there are no pictures of "brothers." This kid is looking for trouble and spends most of the time trying to organize a boycott that no one wants to join. Eventually he joins forces with another troublemaker and they storm into the pizzeria and start a fight. It turns into a riot or a near-riot with the police restraining the other one who dies in the struggle. Then the angry blacks erupt and totally destroy the pizzeria.
The film ends with quotations from Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X about the use of violence as a means to achieve racial justice. King is against it and Malcolm X sees it as both justified and intelligent. Spike Lee apparently leaves this as an open question, something for the audience to ponder.
That is all well and good, but my feeling at the end was that the events of the film did not warrant the quotations and the importance that they seem to imply. This wasn't a film about any great struggle for justice. It was about two kids who were looking for trouble and one of them got killed. That is what can happen when you go looking for trouble. It doesn't have anything to do, really, with racial justice and it is unfortunate that blacks want to make it so.
However, I later read this in the program notes: "[I]n his [Spike Lee's] film, the riot is provoked by the murder of a black teenager by police" (emphasis added). That certainly wasn't the way that I saw it, but maybe that's how it was meant. If so, I don't think it was very successfully conveyed.
The word "murder" implies that the police deliberately intended to kill the young man. Why would they do that? For what reason? It looked to me like they were simply trying to restrain him as best they could and it was hard because he was big and energetic. They may have overestimated what amount of restraint was required, but that is a far cry from murder and to me it certainly falls under the heading of what can happen when you go looking for trouble.
There is so much else in this picture. Director Spike Lee himself plays Mookie, a black guy who works for Sal as a delivery boy. This is the first job that he has kept for over a month. He doesn't get along well with his employer. He gets involved with the relationship between Sal's two sons, basically trying to get one to stand up to the other. He drops in at his girlfriend's place for some quick sex when he should be working. He is chastized by his sister for not living up to his reponsibilities. (He has a son.)
At the end of the film it is Mookie who picks up a garbage can and hurls it through the window of the pizzeria, starting the riot. And the next day--unbelievably, as far as I was concerned--he comes back to ask Sal for his pay. He dismisses the damage by saying that the insurance company will pay for it. I couldn't believe it that Sal actually pays him--in fact, he overpays him, crumpling up the bills and throwing them at Mookie. Mookie throws the extra money back at Sal and they each sort of dare the other to take it. Mookie does, finally, reach down and scoop up the crumpled bills.
Sal is fond of Mookie's sister, Jade. She comes by and Sal is very nice to her. This makes Mookie very angry and he tells Jade to stay away and then tells Sal to leave his sister alone. There really isn't any reason to think that Sal has dishonorable intentions towards Jade.
All this is interesting in light of the fact that Mookie's girlfriend (and mother of his son) is not black. She is Hispanic. Mookie stays away from her as much as possible, except when he wants sex. He prefers to live with his sister.
The black women in this film come across as strong, dominant, maybe even authority figures (quite unlike the world of Bunuel's El). Jade talks to her brother in an authoritarian tone about his responsibilities and when "Da Mayor" rescues a child from being hit by a vehicle and tells his mother not to be too rough on him she tells him in a sharp, commanding tone that she won't let anyone tell her how to raise her child--even his father.
Da Mayor is a likable old man who comes across as a kind of wastrel or bum. He is fond of an older woman called "Mother Sister" who rebuffs his gentlemanly courtship. A tough young black male criticizes him for not having fought harder to feed his children. But Da Mayor has his positive qualities. He rescues the child from being hit and during the riot when Mother Sister sort of goes to pieces he puts his arms around her firmly and takes her home. He has gotten through her resistance.
Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee are wonderful to watch as Day Mayor and Mother Sister.
The kid that was killed by the police was called Radio Raheem. There is a scene where he shows someone gold knuckles (maybe brass, but I don't think so) with the words "love" and "hate" on them--similar to Robert Mitchum's use of the same words in Night of the Hunter. He tells the story of love and hate and how they struggle to dominate a person. This suggests a high level of spiritual awareness, but then he goes into Sal's pizzeria with a booming radio which he refuses to turn off. This shows zero respect for anyone else's experience and he just seems to be looking for a way to start trouble. He has a confrontation with Sal and his face is shown through a distorting lens, making it truly menacing. (This is repeated later.)
There is a wonderful montage of people of different ethnic backgrounds spewing forth racial epithets. The targets are not just blacks but Italians, Hispanics, Orientals. This is a hard-hitting vignette of rampant racism. In fact, the neighborhood we observe is full of different strains and the summer heat is--now that I think of it--a metaphor for the simmering tensions.
There is one very sexy scene where Mookie talks his girlfriend into having sex with him. He gets her to stand on the bed and undress. All we see is her legs on the bed and the panties drop over them. ("What do you have me standing on the bed for?" she asks.)
There is also a very nice scene where the young people in the neighborhood open up a fire hydrant and have fun getting each other wet. I liked some of the clothes the girls wore.
This film is full of interesting moments, interesting situations and things to think about. It is a rich film from beginning to end, but I don't think the ending was totally successful in that I can't see Raheem's death as a "murder" or the destruction of the pizzeria as being in the name of "racial justice."
Incidentally, I like the credits where two women alternately dance to Public Enemy's "Fight the Powers."
Do the Right Thing is a rich, high-energy tapestry of life in the Bedford-Stuyvesant area of Brooklyn. It is loosely constructed, but it unfolds in a series of sharp, interesting scenes and a gallery of characters who hold our interst. And it has some sexy scenes thrown in for good measure. The music gives it a hip, up-to-date feel.
It all takes place on one very, very hot summer's day. Sal and his sons run a pizzeria which has been at the same location for 25 years. One of Sal's sons wants to get out of Bed-Stuy, but Sal says he is theer to stay. He is part of the neighborhood and most of the people like him. There are people in the neighborhood who have grown up eating Sal's pizza and he is proud of that.
Sal--obviously an Italian--has a gallery of pictures of famous Italian-Americans. One black teenager becomes very offended that there are no pictures of "brothers." This kid is looking for trouble and spends most of the time trying to organize a boycott that no one wants to join. Eventually he joins forces with another troublemaker and they storm into the pizzeria and start a fight. It turns into a riot or a near-riot with the police restraining the other one who dies in the struggle. Then the angry blacks erupt and totally destroy the pizzeria.
The film ends with quotations from Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X about the use of violence as a means to achieve racial justice. King is against it and Malcolm X sees it as both justified and intelligent. Spike Lee apparently leaves this as an open question, something for the audience to ponder.
That is all well and good, but my feeling at the end was that the events of the film did not warrant the quotations and the importance that they seem to imply. This wasn't a film about any great struggle for justice. It was about two kids who were looking for trouble and one of them got killed. That is what can happen when you go looking for trouble. It doesn't have anything to do, really, with racial justice and it is unfortunate that blacks want to make it so.
However, I later read this in the program notes: "[I]n his [Spike Lee's] film, the riot is provoked by the murder of a black teenager by police" (emphasis added). That certainly wasn't the way that I saw it, but maybe that's how it was meant. If so, I don't think it was very successfully conveyed.
The word "murder" implies that the police deliberately intended to kill the young man. Why would they do that? For what reason? It looked to me like they were simply trying to restrain him as best they could and it was hard because he was big and energetic. They may have overestimated what amount of restraint was required, but that is a far cry from murder and to me it certainly falls under the heading of what can happen when you go looking for trouble.
There is so much else in this picture. Director Spike Lee himself plays Mookie, a black guy who works for Sal as a delivery boy. This is the first job that he has kept for over a month. He doesn't get along well with his employer. He gets involved with the relationship between Sal's two sons, basically trying to get one to stand up to the other. He drops in at his girlfriend's place for some quick sex when he should be working. He is chastized by his sister for not living up to his reponsibilities. (He has a son.)
At the end of the film it is Mookie who picks up a garbage can and hurls it through the window of the pizzeria, starting the riot. And the next day--unbelievably, as far as I was concerned--he comes back to ask Sal for his pay. He dismisses the damage by saying that the insurance company will pay for it. I couldn't believe it that Sal actually pays him--in fact, he overpays him, crumpling up the bills and throwing them at Mookie. Mookie throws the extra money back at Sal and they each sort of dare the other to take it. Mookie does, finally, reach down and scoop up the crumpled bills.
Sal is fond of Mookie's sister, Jade. She comes by and Sal is very nice to her. This makes Mookie very angry and he tells Jade to stay away and then tells Sal to leave his sister alone. There really isn't any reason to think that Sal has dishonorable intentions towards Jade.
All this is interesting in light of the fact that Mookie's girlfriend (and mother of his son) is not black. She is Hispanic. Mookie stays away from her as much as possible, except when he wants sex. He prefers to live with his sister.
The black women in this film come across as strong, dominant, maybe even authority figures (quite unlike the world of Bunuel's El). Jade talks to her brother in an authoritarian tone about his responsibilities and when "Da Mayor" rescues a child from being hit by a vehicle and tells his mother not to be too rough on him she tells him in a sharp, commanding tone that she won't let anyone tell her how to raise her child--even his father.
Da Mayor is a likable old man who comes across as a kind of wastrel or bum. He is fond of an older woman called "Mother Sister" who rebuffs his gentlemanly courtship. A tough young black male criticizes him for not having fought harder to feed his children. But Da Mayor has his positive qualities. He rescues the child from being hit and during the riot when Mother Sister sort of goes to pieces he puts his arms around her firmly and takes her home. He has gotten through her resistance.
Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee are wonderful to watch as Day Mayor and Mother Sister.
The kid that was killed by the police was called Radio Raheem. There is a scene where he shows someone gold knuckles (maybe brass, but I don't think so) with the words "love" and "hate" on them--similar to Robert Mitchum's use of the same words in Night of the Hunter. He tells the story of love and hate and how they struggle to dominate a person. This suggests a high level of spiritual awareness, but then he goes into Sal's pizzeria with a booming radio which he refuses to turn off. This shows zero respect for anyone else's experience and he just seems to be looking for a way to start trouble. He has a confrontation with Sal and his face is shown through a distorting lens, making it truly menacing. (This is repeated later.)
There is a wonderful montage of people of different ethnic backgrounds spewing forth racial epithets. The targets are not just blacks but Italians, Hispanics, Orientals. This is a hard-hitting vignette of rampant racism. In fact, the neighborhood we observe is full of different strains and the summer heat is--now that I think of it--a metaphor for the simmering tensions.
There is one very sexy scene where Mookie talks his girlfriend into having sex with him. He gets her to stand on the bed and undress. All we see is her legs on the bed and the panties drop over them. ("What do you have me standing on the bed for?" she asks.)
There is also a very nice scene where the young people in the neighborhood open up a fire hydrant and have fun getting each other wet. I liked some of the clothes the girls wore.
This film is full of interesting moments, interesting situations and things to think about. It is a rich film from beginning to end, but I don't think the ending was totally successful in that I can't see Raheem's death as a "murder" or the destruction of the pizzeria as being in the name of "racial justice."
Incidentally, I like the credits where two women alternately dance to Public Enemy's "Fight the Powers."
El. 1952. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(1/1/01)
El is a Bunuel delight. It is consistently entertaining. Arturo de Cordova has a field day as the jealous husband. Delia Garces seems rather colorless as the wife, but she is really playing straight man to Cordova.
It begins with a scene that really made me uncomfortable. It is in church and a priest is going through the ritual of washing (and I think even kissing) the feet of young boys. It is an image of perverted sexuality satisfied by religious ritual.
The eyes of a man, Francisco, stray from this spectacle to look at a row of women's feet. And in this row of women he finds one that he likes and that he pursues. Her name is Gloria and she is engaged to a friend of his, but he prevails and they marry.
Once they are married he becomes insanely jealous, with an emphasis on the words insane. He imagines ridiculous things about his wife and makes her life a living hell. What happens is both comic and horrifying.
Because Francisco is a well-respected man he is unvaryingly upheld as being in the right. When he insists that the man in the next room in the hotel has been chasing Gloria and picks a fight with him it is the other man who is asked to leave. Gloria goes to talk first to her mother and then to the priest. In both cases Francisco has beaten her to them, his account of the problem has been accepted and Gloria finds herself viewed as being in the wrong. She is not being a good wife.
The fact that he is a man gives him a big advantage. This is prefigured earlier in the film when the valet harrasses the maid and it is the maid who is dismissed. This is a patriarchal culture and men have the status.
Things come to a head in church. Where else? Francisco (I think) follows Gloria or a woman he mistakes for her into church. (I forget exactlywhat happens.) He imagines that every one is laughing at him. This scene is a tour de force. The film cuts back and forth from what Francisco imagines--everyone laughing and pointing fingers and making horn gestures at him--to reality. It is accenuated by freeze-frames. Finally, in his madness, he attacks the priest on the altar. Even Francisco can't get away with that.
At the end Francisco is living quietly in a monastery. Gloria has gone back to her former fiance, Raul. In the last shot Francisco walks a zigzag path. It is like the Catholic Church has claimed him. His real life has been taken away from him.
The Church is blamed, I believe, for francisco's problems. He has never had sex before his somewhat late marriage, probably in an attempt to live up to the morals he has been taught. His sexuality has been repressed and it can no longer function normally. Thus, the only place for him is a monastery.
I want to mention two other interesting moments. Francisco shoots Gloria with a gun and she falls. In the next scene we learn that the gun was filled with blanks and he was only trying to scare her. The other one is when he takes her to a bell tower in a church or mission and appears to try to throw her off. When she runs from him he tells her that he was only kidding.
El is a Bunuel delight. It is consistently entertaining. Arturo de Cordova has a field day as the jealous husband. Delia Garces seems rather colorless as the wife, but she is really playing straight man to Cordova.
It begins with a scene that really made me uncomfortable. It is in church and a priest is going through the ritual of washing (and I think even kissing) the feet of young boys. It is an image of perverted sexuality satisfied by religious ritual.
The eyes of a man, Francisco, stray from this spectacle to look at a row of women's feet. And in this row of women he finds one that he likes and that he pursues. Her name is Gloria and she is engaged to a friend of his, but he prevails and they marry.
Once they are married he becomes insanely jealous, with an emphasis on the words insane. He imagines ridiculous things about his wife and makes her life a living hell. What happens is both comic and horrifying.
Because Francisco is a well-respected man he is unvaryingly upheld as being in the right. When he insists that the man in the next room in the hotel has been chasing Gloria and picks a fight with him it is the other man who is asked to leave. Gloria goes to talk first to her mother and then to the priest. In both cases Francisco has beaten her to them, his account of the problem has been accepted and Gloria finds herself viewed as being in the wrong. She is not being a good wife.
The fact that he is a man gives him a big advantage. This is prefigured earlier in the film when the valet harrasses the maid and it is the maid who is dismissed. This is a patriarchal culture and men have the status.
Things come to a head in church. Where else? Francisco (I think) follows Gloria or a woman he mistakes for her into church. (I forget exactlywhat happens.) He imagines that every one is laughing at him. This scene is a tour de force. The film cuts back and forth from what Francisco imagines--everyone laughing and pointing fingers and making horn gestures at him--to reality. It is accenuated by freeze-frames. Finally, in his madness, he attacks the priest on the altar. Even Francisco can't get away with that.
At the end Francisco is living quietly in a monastery. Gloria has gone back to her former fiance, Raul. In the last shot Francisco walks a zigzag path. It is like the Catholic Church has claimed him. His real life has been taken away from him.
The Church is blamed, I believe, for francisco's problems. He has never had sex before his somewhat late marriage, probably in an attempt to live up to the morals he has been taught. His sexuality has been repressed and it can no longer function normally. Thus, the only place for him is a monastery.
I want to mention two other interesting moments. Francisco shoots Gloria with a gun and she falls. In the next scene we learn that the gun was filled with blanks and he was only trying to scare her. The other one is when he takes her to a bell tower in a church or mission and appears to try to throw her off. When she runs from him he tells her that he was only kidding.
Black Girl (La Noire de...). 1966. Directed by Ousmane Sembene.
(12/31/00)
Diouana seems like a rebellious teenager in a dysfunctional family. She is hired in Dakar to care for the children of a white family. They take her back to the Riviera with them and expect her to just cook and clean. She feels she wasn't hired to cook. The wife yells at her more and more and she refuses to carry out her duties and eventually cuts her throat.
According to the program notes this symbolizes the lack of communication between the black and white cultures. It is obvious that the husband and wife are having relationship problems and the wife--possibly also the husband but primarily the wife--is taking it out on Diouana. Diouana makes no attempt at all to communicate her unhappiness except through her rebelliousness. It seems pretty stupid to me that she would cut her throat without at least making an attempt to talk it out.
We hear Diouana's thoughts through an interior monologue similar to the one in Borom Sarret. We hear how unhappy and disappointed and isolated she is. She had hopes of seeing the Riviera and having nice clothes. The reality turns out to be quite different. She says that her whole life is spent between the kitchen and another room.
Why doesn't Diouana have time to herself, to do with as she pleases? Her employers don't seem to be really evil. And they don't seem to understand what's with her--it totally puzzles them.
When Diouana arrives in France the husband driver her to their home. There is a section in color showing the Riviera. The rest of the film is in black and white. I think that the brief section in color is unnecessary and distracting. Most of the rest of the film (except forflashbacks) takes place in the apartment. We never seem to go outside again and there is a real claustrophobic atmosphere.
Diouana can't write. We are also told that she can't speak French. That puts her at a great disadvantage on the Riviera, but I also wonder if there was any language through which she was able to communicate with her employers. I assume they had one language in common as the wife was always giving her orders.
There is a memorable scene in which Diouana receives a letter from her mother. The husband reads it to her and then, as Diouana can't write, decides to write a reply on her behalf. This scene is memorable because Diouana has no opportunity to express herself. She certainly couldn't dictate a reply in which she told her mother how she really felt and what her circumstances were really like. Moreover, the husband decides to just write a letter on her behalf, putting words in her mouth, and this struck me as presumptuous and disrespectful. (I wonder why exactly Diana can't write if her mother could. But maybe the letter from her mother was dictated.)
When Diouana comes to her new employers she brings them an African mask as a gift. Later, when she feels betrayed she tries to take it back and there is a fight over it. After her suicide the husband takes her belongings back to her family and a little boy puts on the mask and follows him around. I am sure that there is a significance to all this that I am not aware of. At any rate, the business of the little boy following the husband around wearing the mask is moving and eerie.
The husband tries to give Diouana's mother her wages, but the mother just turns away from him. The husband, at least, wasn't a bad person. Diouana's death seems like a tragedy that was stupid and unnecessary. If only the employers could have been attentive enough to this black girl to have heeded the warning signs. They could have at least taken her back to Africa.
Diouana seems like a rebellious teenager in a dysfunctional family. She is hired in Dakar to care for the children of a white family. They take her back to the Riviera with them and expect her to just cook and clean. She feels she wasn't hired to cook. The wife yells at her more and more and she refuses to carry out her duties and eventually cuts her throat.
According to the program notes this symbolizes the lack of communication between the black and white cultures. It is obvious that the husband and wife are having relationship problems and the wife--possibly also the husband but primarily the wife--is taking it out on Diouana. Diouana makes no attempt at all to communicate her unhappiness except through her rebelliousness. It seems pretty stupid to me that she would cut her throat without at least making an attempt to talk it out.
We hear Diouana's thoughts through an interior monologue similar to the one in Borom Sarret. We hear how unhappy and disappointed and isolated she is. She had hopes of seeing the Riviera and having nice clothes. The reality turns out to be quite different. She says that her whole life is spent between the kitchen and another room.
Why doesn't Diouana have time to herself, to do with as she pleases? Her employers don't seem to be really evil. And they don't seem to understand what's with her--it totally puzzles them.
When Diouana arrives in France the husband driver her to their home. There is a section in color showing the Riviera. The rest of the film is in black and white. I think that the brief section in color is unnecessary and distracting. Most of the rest of the film (except forflashbacks) takes place in the apartment. We never seem to go outside again and there is a real claustrophobic atmosphere.
Diouana can't write. We are also told that she can't speak French. That puts her at a great disadvantage on the Riviera, but I also wonder if there was any language through which she was able to communicate with her employers. I assume they had one language in common as the wife was always giving her orders.
There is a memorable scene in which Diouana receives a letter from her mother. The husband reads it to her and then, as Diouana can't write, decides to write a reply on her behalf. This scene is memorable because Diouana has no opportunity to express herself. She certainly couldn't dictate a reply in which she told her mother how she really felt and what her circumstances were really like. Moreover, the husband decides to just write a letter on her behalf, putting words in her mouth, and this struck me as presumptuous and disrespectful. (I wonder why exactly Diana can't write if her mother could. But maybe the letter from her mother was dictated.)
When Diouana comes to her new employers she brings them an African mask as a gift. Later, when she feels betrayed she tries to take it back and there is a fight over it. After her suicide the husband takes her belongings back to her family and a little boy puts on the mask and follows him around. I am sure that there is a significance to all this that I am not aware of. At any rate, the business of the little boy following the husband around wearing the mask is moving and eerie.
The husband tries to give Diouana's mother her wages, but the mother just turns away from him. The husband, at least, wasn't a bad person. Diouana's death seems like a tragedy that was stupid and unnecessary. If only the employers could have been attentive enough to this black girl to have heeded the warning signs. They could have at least taken her back to Africa.
Diary of a Chambermaid (Le journal d'une femme de chambre). 1963. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(12/24/00-12/31/00)
I guess I just don't "get" Bunuel because I found this film long and meandering and pointless. I saw it once before and it made no impression on me at all. I did not get interested in any of the characters and what happens to them.
Jeanne Moreau plays a woman from Paris who comes to work as a chambermaid at a chateau in the country. All the men are after her and some of them assume that because she is from Paris she is a bad woman.
The father of the woman who hires her is attracted to her and is very interested in having her wear boots when she serves him. The scenes in which he talks about this or shows interest in the maid made me uncomfortable. Yes, this is pushing one of my buttons--there is a taboo about acknowledging sexual feelings in the elderly.
There is a scene where, just before her father dies, the wife attempts to talk with the local priest about her sexual problems with her husband. This likewise made me uncomfortable.
There is a neighbor, known as the "captain" who keeps throwing garbage onto the husband's property. When the husband takes the matter to the police this "captain" hides behind his military rank and betrays the respect that has accrued to him. At the end he marries the maid.
There is the rape and murder of a little girl in the woods. Coming out of nowhere as it appears to it doesn't have much emotional impact. Celestine, the maid, is convinced that the servant Joseph is guilty and she remains when she had intended to leave in order to bring him to justice. She actually sleeps with him and offers to marry him in order to get evidence of his guilt.
Is Joseph actually guilty? He seems to be. He speaks with the girl as she goes off into the woods and then goes after her. The act is not shown and there is left just one small iota of doubt. I don't know if that was intended or not.
Celestine is unable to get Joseph to admit to the killing. So she takes matters into her own hands. She pries a small metal plate from one of his shoes and leaves it at the scene of the crime. Even if Joseph is guilty Celestine does not know this for a fact. So she is in a sense framinghim. It doesn't work and at the end of the film he has realized his dream of opening a cafe in a military or revolutionary area. And he may indeed have gotten away with the rape and murder of an innocent little girl.
There is one moving scene in which the husband--who has been trying to find some woman, any woman, to have sex with--tells a servant woman that he will come to her room later. As he leaves, she turns and there is a tear running down her face.
The film as a whole did not capture my interest. It didn't in 1994 and it didn't in 2000.
I guess I just don't "get" Bunuel because I found this film long and meandering and pointless. I saw it once before and it made no impression on me at all. I did not get interested in any of the characters and what happens to them.
Jeanne Moreau plays a woman from Paris who comes to work as a chambermaid at a chateau in the country. All the men are after her and some of them assume that because she is from Paris she is a bad woman.
The father of the woman who hires her is attracted to her and is very interested in having her wear boots when she serves him. The scenes in which he talks about this or shows interest in the maid made me uncomfortable. Yes, this is pushing one of my buttons--there is a taboo about acknowledging sexual feelings in the elderly.
There is a scene where, just before her father dies, the wife attempts to talk with the local priest about her sexual problems with her husband. This likewise made me uncomfortable.
There is a neighbor, known as the "captain" who keeps throwing garbage onto the husband's property. When the husband takes the matter to the police this "captain" hides behind his military rank and betrays the respect that has accrued to him. At the end he marries the maid.
There is the rape and murder of a little girl in the woods. Coming out of nowhere as it appears to it doesn't have much emotional impact. Celestine, the maid, is convinced that the servant Joseph is guilty and she remains when she had intended to leave in order to bring him to justice. She actually sleeps with him and offers to marry him in order to get evidence of his guilt.
Is Joseph actually guilty? He seems to be. He speaks with the girl as she goes off into the woods and then goes after her. The act is not shown and there is left just one small iota of doubt. I don't know if that was intended or not.
Celestine is unable to get Joseph to admit to the killing. So she takes matters into her own hands. She pries a small metal plate from one of his shoes and leaves it at the scene of the crime. Even if Joseph is guilty Celestine does not know this for a fact. So she is in a sense framinghim. It doesn't work and at the end of the film he has realized his dream of opening a cafe in a military or revolutionary area. And he may indeed have gotten away with the rape and murder of an innocent little girl.
There is one moving scene in which the husband--who has been trying to find some woman, any woman, to have sex with--tells a servant woman that he will come to her room later. As he leaves, she turns and there is a tear running down her face.
The film as a whole did not capture my interest. It didn't in 1994 and it didn't in 2000.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Borom Sarret. 1963. Directed by Ousmane Sembene.
(12/28/00)
I very much liked the photography of Borom Sarret.
The film has a political significance which was lost on me, really. It is the story of a cart-driver in Dakar who is persuaded to drive a client into a section of the city where cart-drivers (borom sarrets) are not allowed. He is arrested, the customer leaves without paying and his cart is confiscated. He has to return to his wife and children without the means to make a living.
The story is told through interior monologue. The driver comes across as an average person, not particularly likable.
The two sections of the city are contrasted through music. We hear African music when we are in the poor section and Western music when we are in the wealthy section. The soundtrack is quite inventive. When the driver is stopped by the authorities the sound ceases to be natural and becomes subjective, expressing his shock. There is also the motif of a squeaky wheel on the cart.
The driver is asked to take a pregnant woman to the maternity hospital. (He has difficulty driving because she insists on resting her head on his shoulder.) Soon afterwards he is hired to drive a man with a dead child to the cemetery. Birth and death are thus linked.
After he has been swindled and his cart confiscated the driver thinks back on these encounters, mentally blaming the customers involved for what happened to him. It was the fault of the man who had hired him to drive the child's body to the cemetery. It was the fault of the man who hired him to drive his wife to the maternity hospital. This is a very genuine human reaction.
For me, this film is a depiction of human meanness. I suppose the authorities in the wealthy district needed to keep some kind of order or protect the power structure. But did they really need to take his cart? I think that a stern warning would have been sufficient (as well as being deprived of his fare). Taking away his means of support really accomplished nothing except adding to the amount of misery in the world.
But I suspect that there was a lot to this picture which eluded me.
I very much liked the photography of Borom Sarret.
The film has a political significance which was lost on me, really. It is the story of a cart-driver in Dakar who is persuaded to drive a client into a section of the city where cart-drivers (borom sarrets) are not allowed. He is arrested, the customer leaves without paying and his cart is confiscated. He has to return to his wife and children without the means to make a living.
The story is told through interior monologue. The driver comes across as an average person, not particularly likable.
The two sections of the city are contrasted through music. We hear African music when we are in the poor section and Western music when we are in the wealthy section. The soundtrack is quite inventive. When the driver is stopped by the authorities the sound ceases to be natural and becomes subjective, expressing his shock. There is also the motif of a squeaky wheel on the cart.
The driver is asked to take a pregnant woman to the maternity hospital. (He has difficulty driving because she insists on resting her head on his shoulder.) Soon afterwards he is hired to drive a man with a dead child to the cemetery. Birth and death are thus linked.
After he has been swindled and his cart confiscated the driver thinks back on these encounters, mentally blaming the customers involved for what happened to him. It was the fault of the man who had hired him to drive the child's body to the cemetery. It was the fault of the man who hired him to drive his wife to the maternity hospital. This is a very genuine human reaction.
For me, this film is a depiction of human meanness. I suppose the authorities in the wealthy district needed to keep some kind of order or protect the power structure. But did they really need to take his cart? I think that a stern warning would have been sufficient (as well as being deprived of his fare). Taking away his means of support really accomplished nothing except adding to the amount of misery in the world.
But I suspect that there was a lot to this picture which eluded me.
Bona. 1980. Directed by Lino Brocka.
(12/24/00)
Bona reminds me of Italian neo-realism with its emphasis on describing poverty and on very real, ordinary, believable human situations. I think, though, that time has given the classic Italian neo-realist films a kind of lustre which sort of distances them. Bona hadthe kind of immediacy, the feeling of watching "real life" that I suppose the neo-realist films had in the 40s.
I was thinking of saying that this film had an "amateurish" quality, but I think that a more appropriate word would be "rough." It has a rough, unvarnished look about it.
Bona is a teenage girl, a young adult, who has an unhappy home life and develops an attachment to an extra or bit player in films. She moves in with him. She loves him but he regards her as a servant. He brings other women home and expects her to serve them. Her father appears, they fight and he has an attack and is taken to the hospital. He later dies and Bona's mother sends for her to come to the wake where her brother throws her out. The actor, Gardo, informs her that he is leaving with another woman. He advises her to go home, but she can't. The film ends when Bona scalds him with a pot of boiling water.
The performers are believable to a fault, but Nora Aunor steals the show as Bona. Her name is the title of the film and we feel for her. She is uncooperative in her home where her parents (her father, especially) yell at her, but willingly works to serve Gardo--so we see that she isn't lazy. She comes across as meek and passive and in that final scene the repressed anger erupts.
Philip Salvador is also quite fine as Gardo--frequently strutting around in his brightly colored briefs. He is self-centered, but we see things from his point of view, too. He gives Bona a home and anescape from her family. He never leads herto think that they are a couple or romantically involved. So he isn't doing anything to her by having affairs with other women. While we feel her pain it isn't like Gardo is deliberately exploiting her. (That's how I see it, anyway.) It is just the kind of situation that people get into.
Gardo is certainly insensitive. He shows no concern for Bona at all at the end and even hits her up for the money to pay for the abortion of a girl he's knocked up.
The climax where Bona scalds him with the water is masterfully edited. You can really feel the tension building. Then the film ends so suddenly, right at the moment of climax and with no falling action. We are left wondering, "And what happened then?" It is sudden and abrupt--which is part of what I mean when I say that the film has a "rough" feel to it.
This film is interesting for its scenes of making movies in the Philippines. It deals with the familiar subject of hero-worshipping a celebrity who turns out to be not very much as a human being. In that respect it is a kind of darker version of Fellini's The White Sheik.
There is also one very sensuous scene where Gardo can't sleep and asks Bona to massage him. She massages him with oil and it becomes very obvious that they are going to make love. (Brocka doesn't show us that, however.)
Bona begins very strangely with shots of masses of people at a parade or religious procession. I would like to know more of what that was all about. And I would like to see other films by and know more about Lino Brocka.
(12/28/00)
A futher note about Bona:
Bona seems pretty bleak at the end insofar as the protagonist's prospects are concerned. But there is one note of hope. Earlier in the film Bona had told one ofGardo's lovers that "if you get along with people you don't starve." People help one another in that milieu and Bona does have her amiability to fall back on.
Bona reminds me of Italian neo-realism with its emphasis on describing poverty and on very real, ordinary, believable human situations. I think, though, that time has given the classic Italian neo-realist films a kind of lustre which sort of distances them. Bona hadthe kind of immediacy, the feeling of watching "real life" that I suppose the neo-realist films had in the 40s.
I was thinking of saying that this film had an "amateurish" quality, but I think that a more appropriate word would be "rough." It has a rough, unvarnished look about it.
Bona is a teenage girl, a young adult, who has an unhappy home life and develops an attachment to an extra or bit player in films. She moves in with him. She loves him but he regards her as a servant. He brings other women home and expects her to serve them. Her father appears, they fight and he has an attack and is taken to the hospital. He later dies and Bona's mother sends for her to come to the wake where her brother throws her out. The actor, Gardo, informs her that he is leaving with another woman. He advises her to go home, but she can't. The film ends when Bona scalds him with a pot of boiling water.
The performers are believable to a fault, but Nora Aunor steals the show as Bona. Her name is the title of the film and we feel for her. She is uncooperative in her home where her parents (her father, especially) yell at her, but willingly works to serve Gardo--so we see that she isn't lazy. She comes across as meek and passive and in that final scene the repressed anger erupts.
Philip Salvador is also quite fine as Gardo--frequently strutting around in his brightly colored briefs. He is self-centered, but we see things from his point of view, too. He gives Bona a home and anescape from her family. He never leads herto think that they are a couple or romantically involved. So he isn't doing anything to her by having affairs with other women. While we feel her pain it isn't like Gardo is deliberately exploiting her. (That's how I see it, anyway.) It is just the kind of situation that people get into.
Gardo is certainly insensitive. He shows no concern for Bona at all at the end and even hits her up for the money to pay for the abortion of a girl he's knocked up.
The climax where Bona scalds him with the water is masterfully edited. You can really feel the tension building. Then the film ends so suddenly, right at the moment of climax and with no falling action. We are left wondering, "And what happened then?" It is sudden and abrupt--which is part of what I mean when I say that the film has a "rough" feel to it.
This film is interesting for its scenes of making movies in the Philippines. It deals with the familiar subject of hero-worshipping a celebrity who turns out to be not very much as a human being. In that respect it is a kind of darker version of Fellini's The White Sheik.
There is also one very sensuous scene where Gardo can't sleep and asks Bona to massage him. She massages him with oil and it becomes very obvious that they are going to make love. (Brocka doesn't show us that, however.)
Bona begins very strangely with shots of masses of people at a parade or religious procession. I would like to know more of what that was all about. And I would like to see other films by and know more about Lino Brocka.
(12/28/00)
A futher note about Bona:
Bona seems pretty bleak at the end insofar as the protagonist's prospects are concerned. But there is one note of hope. Earlier in the film Bona had told one ofGardo's lovers that "if you get along with people you don't starve." People help one another in that milieu and Bona does have her amiability to fall back on.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Robinson Crusoe. 1952. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(12/23/00-12/24/00)
Bunuel's Robinson Crusoe looks like an unpretentious adventure film. Which is what it is. It doesn't come across as an "important" film, although Bunuel's concerns are present and his voice can be heard if one watches it closely.
Daniel Herlihy doesn't have much presence as Crusoe although he ages very well. The first part of the film, in which Crusoe is stranded on the island and battles loneliness, tired me. But when Friday showed up he brought the film to life.
Since Bunuel was a surrealist it is worth noting a couple of strange scenes. Crusoe, sick with fever, has a dream or a delirium of his father laughing at him and pointing out that he told him not to go. Crusoe has a great thirst and his father appears to have lots of water. There is also a sort of fascinating moment when Crusoe has a fantasy of making a bomb and blowing up the cannibals.
Crusoe is dying of loneliness--I don't mena that literally--yet when he finds himself with another person to interact him he puts him in chains (leg irons, to be precise). He has to go through a whole process of learning to trust Friday. This is however understandable because Friday is a cannibal. At least he appears to be part of a tribe that practices cannibalism.
Then there is that scene where Friday sneaks into Crusoe's room and picks up the ax. He says he wanted to try smoking, but it is still very suspicious. If Bunuel is trying to tell a story about a man who has to learn to trust he is stacking the deck.
What is very interesting is that when Friday shows up Crusoe just assumes a master-servant relationship with him. That is how he has been conditioned to think about savages. (Even though Friday is intelligent enough to question Crusoe's Bible.) I can't help wondering what would have happened if Friday had turned out to be a very large, strong, aggressive, imperious black man. That would have been a whole different film.
Crusoe discovers Friday's love and loyalty to him. He tells Crusoe, for instance, that he doesn't want to go back to his own people except with Crusoe. But why should he feel this affection for a man who puts him in leg irons and lords it over him? This is not explained to my satisfaction, even though Crusoe did save his life.
There is one poignant moment when Friday puts on a woman's dress that Crusoe had salvaged from the ship and decorates himself with gold coins. He is dressed up as a woman and Crusoe turns hard and tells him to take it off. It is a haunting moment because we--the audience--understand why he acts like this, but Friday doesn't.
Alida Walsh pointed out the pithy image when Crusoe needs a scarecrow to keep predatory birds away from his crops. He says (in his mind) that he wants something that will inspire fear and death and picks up two pieces of wood that he has bound together. They are in the shape of a Christian cross.
There are a few interesting images to do with animals. Crusoe breaks open an egg and there is a live chick inside. He rescues a cat from the ship and enjoys the company of a faithful dog. The dog's death is a very sad piece of business, even if it is a cliche.
Crusoe is very lonely, yet when he first dicovers a footprint--even before he finds out about the cannibals--his first reaction is one of fear.
Bunuel's Robinson Crusoe looks like an unpretentious adventure film. Which is what it is. It doesn't come across as an "important" film, although Bunuel's concerns are present and his voice can be heard if one watches it closely.
Daniel Herlihy doesn't have much presence as Crusoe although he ages very well. The first part of the film, in which Crusoe is stranded on the island and battles loneliness, tired me. But when Friday showed up he brought the film to life.
Since Bunuel was a surrealist it is worth noting a couple of strange scenes. Crusoe, sick with fever, has a dream or a delirium of his father laughing at him and pointing out that he told him not to go. Crusoe has a great thirst and his father appears to have lots of water. There is also a sort of fascinating moment when Crusoe has a fantasy of making a bomb and blowing up the cannibals.
Crusoe is dying of loneliness--I don't mena that literally--yet when he finds himself with another person to interact him he puts him in chains (leg irons, to be precise). He has to go through a whole process of learning to trust Friday. This is however understandable because Friday is a cannibal. At least he appears to be part of a tribe that practices cannibalism.
Then there is that scene where Friday sneaks into Crusoe's room and picks up the ax. He says he wanted to try smoking, but it is still very suspicious. If Bunuel is trying to tell a story about a man who has to learn to trust he is stacking the deck.
What is very interesting is that when Friday shows up Crusoe just assumes a master-servant relationship with him. That is how he has been conditioned to think about savages. (Even though Friday is intelligent enough to question Crusoe's Bible.) I can't help wondering what would have happened if Friday had turned out to be a very large, strong, aggressive, imperious black man. That would have been a whole different film.
Crusoe discovers Friday's love and loyalty to him. He tells Crusoe, for instance, that he doesn't want to go back to his own people except with Crusoe. But why should he feel this affection for a man who puts him in leg irons and lords it over him? This is not explained to my satisfaction, even though Crusoe did save his life.
There is one poignant moment when Friday puts on a woman's dress that Crusoe had salvaged from the ship and decorates himself with gold coins. He is dressed up as a woman and Crusoe turns hard and tells him to take it off. It is a haunting moment because we--the audience--understand why he acts like this, but Friday doesn't.
Alida Walsh pointed out the pithy image when Crusoe needs a scarecrow to keep predatory birds away from his crops. He says (in his mind) that he wants something that will inspire fear and death and picks up two pieces of wood that he has bound together. They are in the shape of a Christian cross.
There are a few interesting images to do with animals. Crusoe breaks open an egg and there is a live chick inside. He rescues a cat from the ship and enjoys the company of a faithful dog. The dog's death is a very sad piece of business, even if it is a cliche.
Crusoe is very lonely, yet when he first dicovers a footprint--even before he finds out about the cannibals--his first reaction is one of fear.
Clepsydra. 1992. By Phil Solomon.
(12/23/00)
There are images which are obscured by something done (I suppose) to the surface of the film. We attempt to look through a veil into the images and decipher them. But why? The images are deliberately obscured.
Presented in this short film is the image of a clock. It is a large clock because human hands reach and manipulate the hands of the clock.
I did not get the point of this film.
There are images which are obscured by something done (I suppose) to the surface of the film. We attempt to look through a veil into the images and decipher them. But why? The images are deliberately obscured.
Presented in this short film is the image of a clock. It is a large clock because human hands reach and manipulate the hands of the clock.
I did not get the point of this film.
Murder Psalm. 1980. By Stan Brakhage.
(12/23/00)
Murder Psalm is interesting for the contrast of different visual textures. The ones I remember are footage of violence filmed off a TV and a cartoon about (I think) a mouse policeman. I really liked how the TV footage was obviously images of violence, even though we couldn't see exactly what those images were.
Murder Psalm is interesting for the contrast of different visual textures. The ones I remember are footage of violence filmed off a TV and a cartoon about (I think) a mouse policeman. I really liked how the TV footage was obviously images of violence, even though we couldn't see exactly what those images were.
Thigh Line Lyre Triangular. 1961. Directed by Stan Brakhage.
(12/23/00)
What I didn't notice the first time about this film was the use of distorting lenses. This film shows a birth, but Brakhage's scratching (and maybe some other form of manipulating) the surface distracts my attention from the event depicted. He brings the surface plane crackling to life with a lot of energy. It is a dazzling effect and it points towards Brakhage's later work where he focuses more and more on scratching and painting the film's surface.
What I didn't notice the first time about this film was the use of distorting lenses. This film shows a birth, but Brakhage's scratching (and maybe some other form of manipulating) the surface distracts my attention from the event depicted. He brings the surface plane crackling to life with a lot of energy. It is a dazzling effect and it points towards Brakhage's later work where he focuses more and more on scratching and painting the film's surface.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Window Water Baby Moving. 1959. Directed by Stan Brakhage.
(12/23/00)
The basic idea of this film--or a basic idea of this film--is to take what is traditionally a private, personal moment and make it a public spectacle. Or, at any rate, to put it in a public context. It is very difficult for me to put my finger on my personal reaction to this. I wasn't offended or shocked. I didn't much care. I'm possibly jaded by too much exposure to pornography when I was younger. I really never struck me as any big deal (I have seen this film a number of times). I don't see any great value in sharing this moment with the public in such a graphic context. And I end up wondering what's wrong with me.
That said, I do admire the masterful images of the water. And Jane's breasts are lovely in this film.
The basic idea of this film--or a basic idea of this film--is to take what is traditionally a private, personal moment and make it a public spectacle. Or, at any rate, to put it in a public context. It is very difficult for me to put my finger on my personal reaction to this. I wasn't offended or shocked. I didn't much care. I'm possibly jaded by too much exposure to pornography when I was younger. I really never struck me as any big deal (I have seen this film a number of times). I don't see any great value in sharing this moment with the public in such a graphic context. And I end up wondering what's wrong with me.
That said, I do admire the masterful images of the water. And Jane's breasts are lovely in this film.
Anticipation of the Night. 1958. Directed by Stan Brakhage.
(12/9/00-12/23/00)
I liked this film a lot better on a second viewing. There is, first of all, a sense of urgency, of going somewhere. That is very involving. The repeated image of a shadow in a doorway is very interesting, especially the hand by its side. I very much liked the fast pans when the chirldren are riding on the merry-go-round.
I was fascinated by the images of the flamingo. It is a very elusive image, as if seen through peripheral vision. This time I actually saw the comparison of the moon to street lights. There is, as I recall, a beautiful shot travelling past a row of street lights, with the moon beyond.
I also liked the shots of the baby crawling in the grass. I remember these as being in extreme close-up and some of them out of focus.
The film cuts up time, taking shots from different pointis in time and juxtaposing them. It's like cubism in that respect. But since film proceeds in a linear sequence it doesn't seem to work well. It confuses things, but then, cubism is always confusing.
According to Doanld Richie's 1970 program notes, the flamingo is part of the children's dream. I wouldn't have been able to figure that out. There are also images of a polar bear which are enjoyable.
The film does proceed towards dawn, towards morning. This is very enjoyable and indeed the film seems to arrive somewhere. This is definitely a film which rewards multiple viewings.
I liked this film a lot better on a second viewing. There is, first of all, a sense of urgency, of going somewhere. That is very involving. The repeated image of a shadow in a doorway is very interesting, especially the hand by its side. I very much liked the fast pans when the chirldren are riding on the merry-go-round.
I was fascinated by the images of the flamingo. It is a very elusive image, as if seen through peripheral vision. This time I actually saw the comparison of the moon to street lights. There is, as I recall, a beautiful shot travelling past a row of street lights, with the moon beyond.
I also liked the shots of the baby crawling in the grass. I remember these as being in extreme close-up and some of them out of focus.
The film cuts up time, taking shots from different pointis in time and juxtaposing them. It's like cubism in that respect. But since film proceeds in a linear sequence it doesn't seem to work well. It confuses things, but then, cubism is always confusing.
According to Doanld Richie's 1970 program notes, the flamingo is part of the children's dream. I wouldn't have been able to figure that out. There are also images of a polar bear which are enjoyable.
The film does proceed towards dawn, towards morning. This is very enjoyable and indeed the film seems to arrive somewhere. This is definitely a film which rewards multiple viewings.
Espana 1937. 1937. No director credited.
(12/9/00)
This was a partisan documentary about the Spanish Civil War. It had no subtitles so I was unable to follow it. There were lots of shots of men making speeches, of soldiers marching in parades and the destruction of war. There were a lot of bombed buildings. The film had a lot of interesting optical wipes.
This was a partisan documentary about the Spanish Civil War. It had no subtitles so I was unable to follow it. There were lots of shots of men making speeches, of soldiers marching in parades and the destruction of war. There were a lot of bombed buildings. The film had a lot of interesting optical wipes.
Land without Bread. 1932. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(12/9/00)
This was shown in a very poor print. I could not hear all of the narration. I assume that the print was 16mm.
It just seemed like an average, run-of-the-mill documentary. I didn't see anything especially interesting about this film. It is about a very poor region in Spain and the miserable living conditions there.
There are a couple of shocking moments. One, of a sick donkey with insects all over it. Another was of a young girl who we are told had been lying in the street for three days. We are told what sickness she has and that she can't get treatment. (I think it was implied that she couldn't get treatment for lack of money.) Then we are informed that she died soon thereafter. This made me wonder: why didn't the makers of this film try to help her? That is a horrible thing to contemplate--that Bunuel and his associates might have been able to save a young life, but didn't.
There is one interesting shot--from above, I believe--of a donkey falling down a hill. And of course these starving villagers who live in such squalor have a beautiful church. That is a very Bunuel-like touch.
This was shown in a very poor print. I could not hear all of the narration. I assume that the print was 16mm.
It just seemed like an average, run-of-the-mill documentary. I didn't see anything especially interesting about this film. It is about a very poor region in Spain and the miserable living conditions there.
There are a couple of shocking moments. One, of a sick donkey with insects all over it. Another was of a young girl who we are told had been lying in the street for three days. We are told what sickness she has and that she can't get treatment. (I think it was implied that she couldn't get treatment for lack of money.) Then we are informed that she died soon thereafter. This made me wonder: why didn't the makers of this film try to help her? That is a horrible thing to contemplate--that Bunuel and his associates might have been able to save a young life, but didn't.
There is one interesting shot--from above, I believe--of a donkey falling down a hill. And of course these starving villagers who live in such squalor have a beautiful church. That is a very Bunuel-like touch.
The Fall of the House of Usher (La Chute de la maison Usher). 1928. Directed by Jean Epstein.
(11/23/00)
I really didn't like this film very much. It had a lot of interesting images, but it just didn't involve me. Maybe seeing it in a preservation print had something to do with it. If I had seen it in a fresh, original print it might have had a drastically different effect.
The opening, when the mn comes to the inn an tries to get a carriage to take him to the Usher residence, is very reminiscent of the opening of Dracula.
All of those blowing curtains got to be a bit much. The slow motion effects were interesting to see at the time.
The best scene was when Roderick and his friend go to bury Madeleine. We see overhead shots of the sky and superimpositions of candles.
The actor who played Roderick didn't make a very good impression on me--but that might have just been the character he was playing.
There is a scene in which something appears to happen to Madeleine as Roderick is painting her portrait. That was confusing to me. The shots of Madeleine's portrait almost disembodied in blackness were interesting, but that was about it.
I also found the shots of books falling and a suit of armor falling--in slow motion--very interesting. And leaves blowing around the floor, all images of decay.
Perhaps if I saw this film a few more times it might appeal to me more. I am frustrated that I can't really appreciate it. I heard Stuart Oderman comment about what a wonderful film it is. Why can't I see what he sees?
I did read that thye atmosphere of Edgar Allan Poe is very difficult to transfer to the screen. Maybe that's part of the problem with this film--that it is really trying to put a literary quality onto the screen and it doesn't work. Maybe the atmophere of Poe is really subjective--each person creates it for himself.
I didn't like the shots of the house of Usher collapsing. That was just so obviously a miniature that I couldn't accept it.
A problem might have been that the atmosphere was allowed to run rampant and wasn't kept in its place. Or there wasn't a balance between atmosphere and plot.
I really didn't like this film very much. It had a lot of interesting images, but it just didn't involve me. Maybe seeing it in a preservation print had something to do with it. If I had seen it in a fresh, original print it might have had a drastically different effect.
The opening, when the mn comes to the inn an tries to get a carriage to take him to the Usher residence, is very reminiscent of the opening of Dracula.
All of those blowing curtains got to be a bit much. The slow motion effects were interesting to see at the time.
The best scene was when Roderick and his friend go to bury Madeleine. We see overhead shots of the sky and superimpositions of candles.
The actor who played Roderick didn't make a very good impression on me--but that might have just been the character he was playing.
There is a scene in which something appears to happen to Madeleine as Roderick is painting her portrait. That was confusing to me. The shots of Madeleine's portrait almost disembodied in blackness were interesting, but that was about it.
I also found the shots of books falling and a suit of armor falling--in slow motion--very interesting. And leaves blowing around the floor, all images of decay.
Perhaps if I saw this film a few more times it might appeal to me more. I am frustrated that I can't really appreciate it. I heard Stuart Oderman comment about what a wonderful film it is. Why can't I see what he sees?
I did read that thye atmosphere of Edgar Allan Poe is very difficult to transfer to the screen. Maybe that's part of the problem with this film--that it is really trying to put a literary quality onto the screen and it doesn't work. Maybe the atmophere of Poe is really subjective--each person creates it for himself.
I didn't like the shots of the house of Usher collapsing. That was just so obviously a miniature that I couldn't accept it.
A problem might have been that the atmosphere was allowed to run rampant and wasn't kept in its place. Or there wasn't a balance between atmosphere and plot.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Siren of the Tropics (La Sirene des tropiques) (fragment). 1927. Directed by Henri Etievant and Mario Nalpas.
(11/23/00)
Josephine Baker lit up the screen at the beginning of this film. She had an exciting presence, was completely uninhibited and the energy just poured out of her. She totally dominated the picture, but the effect began to wear thin after a bit.
This film is very incomplete. We have the beginning reels, the last two reels--and none of them have intertitles. The first part is set in the tropics with Baker as some kind of native. The last reels are set in a city of the western world. Her excitement doesn't carry into the second part of the film, even when she dances. (She is a showgirl of a sort.) In fact, the excitement began to pall for me even before the film left the tropics.
It does seem to be a very lively film. The first part has an unwelcome suitor energetically pursuing her. He attempts to get rid of a rival by cutting a rope bridge that the latter is crossing. The second half doesn't seem so interesting except for one wonderful moment when two men go to fight a duel and Baker shoots one of them from a tree, leaving the other totally bewildered.
This was probably a very entertaining film in its complete version.
Josephine Baker lit up the screen at the beginning of this film. She had an exciting presence, was completely uninhibited and the energy just poured out of her. She totally dominated the picture, but the effect began to wear thin after a bit.
This film is very incomplete. We have the beginning reels, the last two reels--and none of them have intertitles. The first part is set in the tropics with Baker as some kind of native. The last reels are set in a city of the western world. Her excitement doesn't carry into the second part of the film, even when she dances. (She is a showgirl of a sort.) In fact, the excitement began to pall for me even before the film left the tropics.
It does seem to be a very lively film. The first part has an unwelcome suitor energetically pursuing her. He attempts to get rid of a rival by cutting a rope bridge that the latter is crossing. The second half doesn't seem so interesting except for one wonderful moment when two men go to fight a duel and Baker shoots one of them from a tree, leaving the other totally bewildered.
This was probably a very entertaining film in its complete version.
L'Age d'or. 1930. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(11/23/00)
It is difficult to comment on this film as it was shown without English subtitles. From what I could tell it seemed like a 1930 version of a Monty Python comedy. Even though it has attained the status of a classic and of "art" I think it would be a mistake to take this film too seriously.
It starts off with scorpions. Then we see men who work or do something around the seashore. We see some bishops and later we see them as skeletons. People come to see them, but are interrupted by a man and a woman groping in the mud. Detectives escort the man to a city.
The best moment, I think, occurs at a party with well-dressed people. An elderly woman gets a man a drink, but spills some of it on his hand. He violently knocks her down. This savagery is repeated when a man shoots a little boy for some minor prank.
A man and a woman keep running into obstacles in their attempts to be alone together. They eventually find themselves alone and nibble on each other's fingers. The woman sucks and kisses the toes of a statue.
The ending is a parody of the Marquis de Sade's 120 Days of Sodom. Degenerate aristocrats have holed themselves up in a chateau for 120 days of orgies. When they emerge one of them turns out to be Jesus Christ. That struck me as just juvenile. What is the point to it? It wasn't clever at all, just sophomoric. He goes back into the chateau with a young woman and we hear her scream. So what?
It is difficult to comment on this film as it was shown without English subtitles. From what I could tell it seemed like a 1930 version of a Monty Python comedy. Even though it has attained the status of a classic and of "art" I think it would be a mistake to take this film too seriously.
It starts off with scorpions. Then we see men who work or do something around the seashore. We see some bishops and later we see them as skeletons. People come to see them, but are interrupted by a man and a woman groping in the mud. Detectives escort the man to a city.
The best moment, I think, occurs at a party with well-dressed people. An elderly woman gets a man a drink, but spills some of it on his hand. He violently knocks her down. This savagery is repeated when a man shoots a little boy for some minor prank.
A man and a woman keep running into obstacles in their attempts to be alone together. They eventually find themselves alone and nibble on each other's fingers. The woman sucks and kisses the toes of a statue.
The ending is a parody of the Marquis de Sade's 120 Days of Sodom. Degenerate aristocrats have holed themselves up in a chateau for 120 days of orgies. When they emerge one of them turns out to be Jesus Christ. That struck me as just juvenile. What is the point to it? It wasn't clever at all, just sophomoric. He goes back into the chateau with a young woman and we hear her scream. So what?
Un Chien andalou. 1929. Directed by Luis Bunuel.
(11/23/00)
I can't help but wonder if Bunuel and Dali really expected people to believe that was a human eye that was slit at the beginning--it is so obviously an animal's. Of course, it was obvious to me because I have seen this film before and know what is coming. It might have a very different effect on someone seeing it for the first time and not expecting it.
The film has a narrative continuity which is meaningless. It is a string of gags or shocking moments strung together in a sequence. And I really don't even know if the images or moments refer to each other.
The hand with the ants crawling on it is typically Dali. The ants represent an itch or desire. There is a box with a hand in it--which makes me think of The Addams Family. The moment that works the best, I think, is when the man is struggling to get at the woman, but is held back by the pianos with the donkeys on top of them. I remember Alida Walsh explaining that he is held back from expressing himself sexually by "cultural baggage." I believe there are priests tied to those pianos, too--religion interfering with natural sexual expression.
There are shots in which a character begins a movement in one place and completes it in another, as in Maya Deren films. Thus, the man and the woman find themselves at the seashore. In the last part mannequins or dolls resembling them are shown buried to their waists, presumably dead.
I can't help but wonder if Bunuel and Dali really expected people to believe that was a human eye that was slit at the beginning--it is so obviously an animal's. Of course, it was obvious to me because I have seen this film before and know what is coming. It might have a very different effect on someone seeing it for the first time and not expecting it.
The film has a narrative continuity which is meaningless. It is a string of gags or shocking moments strung together in a sequence. And I really don't even know if the images or moments refer to each other.
The hand with the ants crawling on it is typically Dali. The ants represent an itch or desire. There is a box with a hand in it--which makes me think of The Addams Family. The moment that works the best, I think, is when the man is struggling to get at the woman, but is held back by the pianos with the donkeys on top of them. I remember Alida Walsh explaining that he is held back from expressing himself sexually by "cultural baggage." I believe there are priests tied to those pianos, too--religion interfering with natural sexual expression.
There are shots in which a character begins a movement in one place and completes it in another, as in Maya Deren films. Thus, the man and the woman find themselves at the seashore. In the last part mannequins or dolls resembling them are shown buried to their waists, presumably dead.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Destiny (Der mude Tod). 1921. Directed by Fritz Lang.
(11/23/00)
The film is dominated by the figure of death. I don't know the actor's name, but he is a towering, commanding presence. It is interesting that in the early part of the film he is very stern, but as we get to know him and understand how reluctantly he carries out his duty he takes on a very sympathetic dimension. I think it would be interesting to compare him with Bengt Ekerot or this film with Fahrmann Maria.
I very much like the presentation of an old-fashioned German (or Flemish) town. I think I like the sets (or the "production design") better than The Golem, but I would have to see it again to be sure. I like the idea of the high wall around Death's residence and the interior of his castle. I think the most powerful moment in the film (for me) is when Lil Dagover sees the spirits of the dead approaching the wall.
The three episodes in which the girl attempts to defeat the inevitability of death seem inspired by Griffith's Intolerance. They come across as action pieces and don't match the seriousness of the first part of the film. They are jarring in this respect and I was particularly disappointed in the first one. I'll admit that they are both colorful and lively.
The second episode, set in Venice during a carnival, has a kind of Hitchcockian twist in that the heroine sets one man up to be killed, but it is her lover who dies instead. The third story, set in ancient China, is the best of the three. The magician A Hi and the lustful emperor are both entertaining characters and it is a lively fantasy full of magic and special effects in the tradition of The Thief of Bagdad. In fact, I wondered if Fairbanks' The Thief of Bagdad may have been inspired to some degree by Destiny.
The film has a sort of coda in which the heroine can still save her lover if she can find someone who is willing to give up the remaining portion of his life. Everyone she asks underatandably turns her down--the old, the decrepit, a woman who complains of nothing left to live for. This brings squeals of laughter from a contemporary audience. Was that how it was originally intended?
At the end the girl learns the lesson of compassion when she sacrifices herself rather than allow Death to take a child from a burning building. In surrendering her life she is reunited with her lover. I don't think that last scene really convinces. I left with the feeling that it was a cliche put there to wrap things up rather than a point to which the film meaningfully built.
The film is dominated by the figure of death. I don't know the actor's name, but he is a towering, commanding presence. It is interesting that in the early part of the film he is very stern, but as we get to know him and understand how reluctantly he carries out his duty he takes on a very sympathetic dimension. I think it would be interesting to compare him with Bengt Ekerot or this film with Fahrmann Maria.
I very much like the presentation of an old-fashioned German (or Flemish) town. I think I like the sets (or the "production design") better than The Golem, but I would have to see it again to be sure. I like the idea of the high wall around Death's residence and the interior of his castle. I think the most powerful moment in the film (for me) is when Lil Dagover sees the spirits of the dead approaching the wall.
The three episodes in which the girl attempts to defeat the inevitability of death seem inspired by Griffith's Intolerance. They come across as action pieces and don't match the seriousness of the first part of the film. They are jarring in this respect and I was particularly disappointed in the first one. I'll admit that they are both colorful and lively.
The second episode, set in Venice during a carnival, has a kind of Hitchcockian twist in that the heroine sets one man up to be killed, but it is her lover who dies instead. The third story, set in ancient China, is the best of the three. The magician A Hi and the lustful emperor are both entertaining characters and it is a lively fantasy full of magic and special effects in the tradition of The Thief of Bagdad. In fact, I wondered if Fairbanks' The Thief of Bagdad may have been inspired to some degree by Destiny.
The film has a sort of coda in which the heroine can still save her lover if she can find someone who is willing to give up the remaining portion of his life. Everyone she asks underatandably turns her down--the old, the decrepit, a woman who complains of nothing left to live for. This brings squeals of laughter from a contemporary audience. Was that how it was originally intended?
At the end the girl learns the lesson of compassion when she sacrifices herself rather than allow Death to take a child from a burning building. In surrendering her life she is reunited with her lover. I don't think that last scene really convinces. I left with the feeling that it was a cliche put there to wrap things up rather than a point to which the film meaningfully built.
The Policewoman (Die Polizisten). 2000. Directed by Andreas Dresen.
(11/23/00)
I really liked this picture. It was such a warm-hearted film. It is about a 27-year-old woman who becomes a policewoman. She is the only female on the force and interestingly enough she is totally accepted from the beginning. No one resents her or gives her a hard time, even at the beginning.
And they could--because she commits a couple of what could be construed as typically feminine gaffes. A man is caught beating a prostitute whome he claims has stolen his wallet. Anne (the policewoman) is ordered to strip-search the traumatized woman. She finds the wallet, but denies it. It is found by the man.
Later on, she is left guarding a criminal who is handcuffed to something. She lets him persuade her to release him and then kidnaps her. Both of these incidents would provide ammunition for those claiming that a woman shouldn't be on the force, but the film never pursues that direction.
It is a very down-to-earth film about life in a modern town where there is a lot of poverty and in which life is hard. Anne becomes involved with the problems of a ten-year-old boy who is a shoplifter, whose father can't see him because he can't come up with the means to support him.
It is reminiscent of Dragnet, which I barely remember. There aren't any really bad people in the film, although really harsh reality does intrude in the scene of a man in a hospital who has murdered his wife or lover when he didn't know what he was doing. And then there is the scene in which Anne and her partner have to go and tell the parents of a young man that their son has died in some kind of auto-erotic death situation.
The film realistically describes Anne's loneliness. She reluctantly has an affair with her partner, who is married, then asks her superior to find her another partner. This is a realistic human situation.
The film seemed to have been filmed entirely with a hand-held camera which gave the whole thing a documentary quality. It was also very grainy, looking as if it had been blown up from 16mm.
I really liked this picture. It was such a warm-hearted film. It is about a 27-year-old woman who becomes a policewoman. She is the only female on the force and interestingly enough she is totally accepted from the beginning. No one resents her or gives her a hard time, even at the beginning.
And they could--because she commits a couple of what could be construed as typically feminine gaffes. A man is caught beating a prostitute whome he claims has stolen his wallet. Anne (the policewoman) is ordered to strip-search the traumatized woman. She finds the wallet, but denies it. It is found by the man.
Later on, she is left guarding a criminal who is handcuffed to something. She lets him persuade her to release him and then kidnaps her. Both of these incidents would provide ammunition for those claiming that a woman shouldn't be on the force, but the film never pursues that direction.
It is a very down-to-earth film about life in a modern town where there is a lot of poverty and in which life is hard. Anne becomes involved with the problems of a ten-year-old boy who is a shoplifter, whose father can't see him because he can't come up with the means to support him.
It is reminiscent of Dragnet, which I barely remember. There aren't any really bad people in the film, although really harsh reality does intrude in the scene of a man in a hospital who has murdered his wife or lover when he didn't know what he was doing. And then there is the scene in which Anne and her partner have to go and tell the parents of a young man that their son has died in some kind of auto-erotic death situation.
The film realistically describes Anne's loneliness. She reluctantly has an affair with her partner, who is married, then asks her superior to find her another partner. This is a realistic human situation.
The film seemed to have been filmed entirely with a hand-held camera which gave the whole thing a documentary quality. It was also very grainy, looking as if it had been blown up from 16mm.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Stammheim. 1985. Directed by Reinhard Hauff.
(11/21/00-11/23/00)
This film is about the trial of the Baader-Meinhoff gang of terrorists. This was a major incident in German history of the last several decades. I particularly wanted to see this film because the same subject was treated by Gerhard Richter in a series of fifteen painting which is currently on view.
The film appears to be a direct transcription of the trial and thus is a modern descendant of Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc. I was unfamiliar with the events that the trial referred to and thus was quite lost watching the film. I didn't know what it was all about for a lot of the time. In the early part of the film the terrorists seemed like a bunch of disruptive, arrogant punks and I had very little sympathy for them. I particularly wasn't impressed with people who chose to go on hunger strikes and then complained that they weren't well enough to stand trial. As the film progressed, howver, it seemed more and more as if the authorities actually were abusing them and that it was a rigged trial. This interpretation seemed especially valid when one of the judges had to resign for leaking details of eavesdropped conversations to the press.
I thought that the actor who played Baader gave a really electric performance--intense in the way James Cagney would have been.
I don't feel that watching this film increased my knowledge of the Baader-Meinhoff group or the events of October 1977 very much.
This film is about the trial of the Baader-Meinhoff gang of terrorists. This was a major incident in German history of the last several decades. I particularly wanted to see this film because the same subject was treated by Gerhard Richter in a series of fifteen painting which is currently on view.
The film appears to be a direct transcription of the trial and thus is a modern descendant of Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc. I was unfamiliar with the events that the trial referred to and thus was quite lost watching the film. I didn't know what it was all about for a lot of the time. In the early part of the film the terrorists seemed like a bunch of disruptive, arrogant punks and I had very little sympathy for them. I particularly wasn't impressed with people who chose to go on hunger strikes and then complained that they weren't well enough to stand trial. As the film progressed, howver, it seemed more and more as if the authorities actually were abusing them and that it was a rigged trial. This interpretation seemed especially valid when one of the judges had to resign for leaking details of eavesdropped conversations to the press.
I thought that the actor who played Baader gave a really electric performance--intense in the way James Cagney would have been.
I don't feel that watching this film increased my knowledge of the Baader-Meinhoff group or the events of October 1977 very much.
Carrie. 1976. Directed by Brian De Palma.
(11/9/00-11/21/00)
I am tempted to begin by saying that Sissy Spacek had the role of her career in this, but I haven't seen much of her other work so I can't say that. But that's what it feels like when you watch this picture. Spacek dominates it all the way.
It's a poignant performance and a poignant film. It's more poignant than horrifying though it is a horror film. It works because the situations in it ring true even if they are exaggerated. There is meanness in hisgh school. People, young people in particular, do like to pick on the vulnerable and different. Kids do grow up in dysfunctional families with crazy parents. And kids who are picked on--nice as they may be--do sometimes lash out or strike back blindly when hurt and the consequences can be disastrous.
It's a painful film to watch. It goes for the solar plexus right at the beginning when we see a vulnerable teenage girl in a shower room going into hysterics because she is having her first period and had never been told about that. The other girls laugh at her and humiliate her. Just the fact that we see this vulnerable girl nude or nearly nude under5 such circumstances made me very uncomfortable, set me on edge.
The gym teacher is outraged by this heartless treatment and punishes the girls. This sets the stage for disaster, because the girls are resentful and decide to seek revenge on Carrie. And this is the kind of thing that can and does happen. Someone trying to take a vulnerable person's part--with all good intentions--inadvertently directs more cruelty at the poor soul.
We then see Carrie at home. Her mother--mentally unstable--is a religious fanatic and has a horror of sex. This, too, is true--children have maladjusted parents that they have to cope with and because of this are "different." And scorned because of it. So Carrie is rooted in very real problems and situations.
The actress who played Carrie's mother resembled her enough that it was really believable that they were mother and daughter.
The film is grounded in real situations, but, it being a horror film, something else is thrown into the brew. Carrie has telekinetic powers. We see it right from the beginning. And she goes to the library and starts reading up on how to develop them. This strand of the story isn't developed sufficiently. We never see Carrie working to develop these abilities and we never know exactly what she plans to do with them. Or maybe she is just trying to understand herself and something about her that really is "different." But this is not made clear.
Carrie's peers work out a horrible plan to humiliate her at the high school prom. And at this time of great stress all hell breaks loose. Carrie lashes out with her powers and creates an inferno and just about everyone is consumed. And this too rings true in that when someone is hurt, humiliated and provoked to the point where they lash out in fury they are not selective in whom they unleash their anger on. And it is very sad that most of the people at the prom did not want to hurt Carrie and would have been sympathetic and probably would have been consoling.
I liked some of the effects in this climactic scene very much. I liked the slow motion effects as Carrie goes to the podium and the silence. But I didn't like the split-screen effects when Carrie lets loose with her powers. That's just my own reaction.
Forlorn, Carrie goes home to her insane mother, desperately in need of consolation. And the mother tries to kill her, considering her a witch. This is the last cruelty. Carrie has about as much luck as the heroine of Waterloo Bridge.
At the end we see one girl who survives and is recovering from shock. She is one of the instigators of the plot against Carrie. She has a nightmare in which Carrie attacks her from the grave. This seemed like a cheap shock effect, but the movie seemed to need that kind of jolt at the end and it worked. Actually, that scene serves a purpose in giving us a shot of Carrie's grave with nasty graffiti written on it. "Burn in hell" or something like that. That is the final touch of heartlessness and smugness. At least Carrie doesn't have to be subjected to it anymore. The nightmare about the grave does raise interesting questions about how the story will be remembered.
I am tempted to begin by saying that Sissy Spacek had the role of her career in this, but I haven't seen much of her other work so I can't say that. But that's what it feels like when you watch this picture. Spacek dominates it all the way.
It's a poignant performance and a poignant film. It's more poignant than horrifying though it is a horror film. It works because the situations in it ring true even if they are exaggerated. There is meanness in hisgh school. People, young people in particular, do like to pick on the vulnerable and different. Kids do grow up in dysfunctional families with crazy parents. And kids who are picked on--nice as they may be--do sometimes lash out or strike back blindly when hurt and the consequences can be disastrous.
It's a painful film to watch. It goes for the solar plexus right at the beginning when we see a vulnerable teenage girl in a shower room going into hysterics because she is having her first period and had never been told about that. The other girls laugh at her and humiliate her. Just the fact that we see this vulnerable girl nude or nearly nude under5 such circumstances made me very uncomfortable, set me on edge.
The gym teacher is outraged by this heartless treatment and punishes the girls. This sets the stage for disaster, because the girls are resentful and decide to seek revenge on Carrie. And this is the kind of thing that can and does happen. Someone trying to take a vulnerable person's part--with all good intentions--inadvertently directs more cruelty at the poor soul.
We then see Carrie at home. Her mother--mentally unstable--is a religious fanatic and has a horror of sex. This, too, is true--children have maladjusted parents that they have to cope with and because of this are "different." And scorned because of it. So Carrie is rooted in very real problems and situations.
The actress who played Carrie's mother resembled her enough that it was really believable that they were mother and daughter.
The film is grounded in real situations, but, it being a horror film, something else is thrown into the brew. Carrie has telekinetic powers. We see it right from the beginning. And she goes to the library and starts reading up on how to develop them. This strand of the story isn't developed sufficiently. We never see Carrie working to develop these abilities and we never know exactly what she plans to do with them. Or maybe she is just trying to understand herself and something about her that really is "different." But this is not made clear.
Carrie's peers work out a horrible plan to humiliate her at the high school prom. And at this time of great stress all hell breaks loose. Carrie lashes out with her powers and creates an inferno and just about everyone is consumed. And this too rings true in that when someone is hurt, humiliated and provoked to the point where they lash out in fury they are not selective in whom they unleash their anger on. And it is very sad that most of the people at the prom did not want to hurt Carrie and would have been sympathetic and probably would have been consoling.
I liked some of the effects in this climactic scene very much. I liked the slow motion effects as Carrie goes to the podium and the silence. But I didn't like the split-screen effects when Carrie lets loose with her powers. That's just my own reaction.
Forlorn, Carrie goes home to her insane mother, desperately in need of consolation. And the mother tries to kill her, considering her a witch. This is the last cruelty. Carrie has about as much luck as the heroine of Waterloo Bridge.
At the end we see one girl who survives and is recovering from shock. She is one of the instigators of the plot against Carrie. She has a nightmare in which Carrie attacks her from the grave. This seemed like a cheap shock effect, but the movie seemed to need that kind of jolt at the end and it worked. Actually, that scene serves a purpose in giving us a shot of Carrie's grave with nasty graffiti written on it. "Burn in hell" or something like that. That is the final touch of heartlessness and smugness. At least Carrie doesn't have to be subjected to it anymore. The nightmare about the grave does raise interesting questions about how the story will be remembered.
The Innocents. 1961. Directed by Jack Clayton.
(11/6/00)
I really didn't like The Innocents for most of its length. I found the production stuffy. I didn't get interested in the characters. There was too much talk about things which should have been seen. Pamela Franklin's voice came across as shrill and was hard to hear. At the beginning of the film Michael Redgrave as the uncle emphasizes that Niss Giddens will need to be able to assume complete responsibility and not bother him. Thus, it seems certain that he knows that strange events are taking place regarding the children, but this angle is never developed.
I very much liked Martin Stephens as the possessed Miles. He was totally convincing as an adult in the body of a boy. There is one really disturbing scene where he kisses Miss Giddens on the mouth.
The film really comes to life when Miss giddens does battle with the possessing spirits. It is so poignant when she tries to get Flora to admit that she sees the spirit of the dead woman and Flora ends up in hysterics, like she has been abused. This is so painful for Miss Giddens who is kind and means so well to be made to be seen an abuser of the little girl.
The final confrontation with Miles is absorbing, except for his sudden, abrupt death. This is a disappointment as we are denied the pleasure of a hard-won victory, but it also leaves us wondering what it means. Or it left me wondering, at any rate.
This film is based on The Turn of the Screw, which I have not read, but I believe that the original story is ambiguous. It is never made clear whether the two children or if Miss Giddens is imagining it. There is no question in The Innocents and I think that the film would have benefited from some ambiguity.
I really didn't like The Innocents for most of its length. I found the production stuffy. I didn't get interested in the characters. There was too much talk about things which should have been seen. Pamela Franklin's voice came across as shrill and was hard to hear. At the beginning of the film Michael Redgrave as the uncle emphasizes that Niss Giddens will need to be able to assume complete responsibility and not bother him. Thus, it seems certain that he knows that strange events are taking place regarding the children, but this angle is never developed.
I very much liked Martin Stephens as the possessed Miles. He was totally convincing as an adult in the body of a boy. There is one really disturbing scene where he kisses Miss Giddens on the mouth.
The film really comes to life when Miss giddens does battle with the possessing spirits. It is so poignant when she tries to get Flora to admit that she sees the spirit of the dead woman and Flora ends up in hysterics, like she has been abused. This is so painful for Miss Giddens who is kind and means so well to be made to be seen an abuser of the little girl.
The final confrontation with Miles is absorbing, except for his sudden, abrupt death. This is a disappointment as we are denied the pleasure of a hard-won victory, but it also leaves us wondering what it means. Or it left me wondering, at any rate.
This film is based on The Turn of the Screw, which I have not read, but I believe that the original story is ambiguous. It is never made clear whether the two children or if Miss Giddens is imagining it. There is no question in The Innocents and I think that the film would have benefited from some ambiguity.
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