I've watched too many Hungarian and French movies about the Existential Void so I dig out a VHS tape containing a trashy movie about .... the Existential Void. Tony Scott is the person responsible for the quasi-experimental action flick Domino. No, it wasn't good at all and yes, Tony Scott directed Top gun. Though it was an inanely directed, messy film the story of which was ridiculously overwrought, Domino was quite fun to watch because of its visual over-the-top, music-video stylized voluminousness. Sadly, the "edge" of the visuals has a slightly dated feel already a couple of years after the film was released. Scott works with extremely short takes (2-3 seconds per take), processed images & filters, plus lots of slow-motion and other visual tricks. For all its visual inventiveness, this is pure zero-brains entertainment and the whole thing comes off pretty ... cheap. Be prepared for lots of cheesy, unintentionally funny lines.
Keira Knightley plays a tough bounty hunter. In the film, her role is limited to a pretty face and cool clothes. Mickey Rourke plays her colleague and his role is to have a rugged face. God damned Ian Ziering plays a former Beverly hills 90210 star (which is quite fun). And I won't even start talking about the Tom Waits cameo... The main learning from this movie is that people from Afghanistan are skillful in the art of blowing things up. Here's how Ebert ended his review: "Seeking guidance in understanding the movie's manic narrative, I poked around online, and discovered in one review the explanation that the movie "totally challenges the bourgeois notion of the nuclear family." Oh."
fredag 18 juni 2010
Fish tank (2009)
Fish tank, directed by Andrea Arnold, is gut-wrenchingly good. Arnold knows how to make mundane landscapes, urban rubble, come to life. And her film handles its character very well - complexity & sometimes ambiguity are not refused. In contrast with many contemporary directors, she is interested in the medium of film making; there is not one sloppy image of this film - and there is no scenes that is added in the film only for its "information value". Taking into account the main character's interest in dancing, the film itself, and the handheld camera that lends a peculiar energy to the images, is driven by a steady rhythm. Sometimes that energy reminds me of greasy, American movies from the 70's (like Dog day afternoon). The very first frame has an amazing surge.
Lots of film makers attempt to make films that explore the theme of coming-of-age. Most of these films are terrible failures. Arnold's film features some real insight into young people's lives & how young people talk. In that way, her film doesn't come off as a contrived attempt at "authenticity". It's a story about Mia, who is in her element only when street-dancing by herself, her working-class family, and the drunken mum's boyfriend with whom Mia is infatuated. Despite its bleak story, the film is not worn down by moralistic tendencies. It's not trying to be bleak (except, perhaps, during a couple of scenes towards the end which are somewhat less accomplished than the rest of the film - but still great) and it's not trying to rub a message into your face either.
What makes Fish tank such a good film is that it takes a real interest in the world inhabited by its characters; a shady trailer park, grey apartment blocks, a deserted apartment, dichotomous suburbia. As one theme of the film is a young person's passion for dancing, it is only natural that, to a great extent, the film revolves around space; how space is made, inhabited, deserted. But the awareness of space also make the film politically and artistically interesting. The tension of many scenes builds upon the clash of one type of space with another: interiors & exteriors, grey apartment blocks & a quiet lake, a quiet forest & domesticized suburbia. And freedom is nowhere to be found.
For this particular reason, it is impossible to place Arnold's film in the "human interest" box. It is not a human interest movie the purpose of which is to make the viewer "empathic". If people tell you it's a film about "dysfunctional families" you might be led to think it is. But you can just as well say it is a film about dysfunctional space. And, anyway, Fish tank has more in common with the fierce realism of Mike Leigh or Ken Loach than with the very American style displayed in a recent films such as Precious.
Lots of film makers attempt to make films that explore the theme of coming-of-age. Most of these films are terrible failures. Arnold's film features some real insight into young people's lives & how young people talk. In that way, her film doesn't come off as a contrived attempt at "authenticity". It's a story about Mia, who is in her element only when street-dancing by herself, her working-class family, and the drunken mum's boyfriend with whom Mia is infatuated. Despite its bleak story, the film is not worn down by moralistic tendencies. It's not trying to be bleak (except, perhaps, during a couple of scenes towards the end which are somewhat less accomplished than the rest of the film - but still great) and it's not trying to rub a message into your face either.
What makes Fish tank such a good film is that it takes a real interest in the world inhabited by its characters; a shady trailer park, grey apartment blocks, a deserted apartment, dichotomous suburbia. As one theme of the film is a young person's passion for dancing, it is only natural that, to a great extent, the film revolves around space; how space is made, inhabited, deserted. But the awareness of space also make the film politically and artistically interesting. The tension of many scenes builds upon the clash of one type of space with another: interiors & exteriors, grey apartment blocks & a quiet lake, a quiet forest & domesticized suburbia. And freedom is nowhere to be found.
For this particular reason, it is impossible to place Arnold's film in the "human interest" box. It is not a human interest movie the purpose of which is to make the viewer "empathic". If people tell you it's a film about "dysfunctional families" you might be led to think it is. But you can just as well say it is a film about dysfunctional space. And, anyway, Fish tank has more in common with the fierce realism of Mike Leigh or Ken Loach than with the very American style displayed in a recent films such as Precious.
onsdag 16 juni 2010
La peau douce (1964)
If it wasn't for the very last scene, I would have rated The soft skin very poorly. The last scene is redeeming, but it doesn't save the film from being yet another French new wave film that makes you despise humankind (that's so deep). Truffaut's movie might not have been as sexist as it initially appeared to be, but it does revolve a lot around the tired old schema of "war of the sexes" (trading in stereotypes & dichotomies). What I intend to say is just that Truffaut's film is a bloody mess when it comes to how he deals with gender.
You know what I think about Nouvelle Vague? I think it is overrated. I might change my mind someday, but right now - I am so fed up with sexist & self-indulgent movies directed by auteurs admired for their technical skills but mostly for their existential depth. (I managed to watch 20 minutes of Jules et Jim.)
Truffaut has some interesting things going on here. The treatment of sound is excellent - how some random sound (the rumbling of an aeroplane, for example) suddenly dominates the viewing experience and interrupts the story. The fascination with "modernity" works well, too. What about the genre-hopping? That works to some extent, too.
The story is nothing to write home about. Truffaut studies the psychology of adultery and a seedy affair that goes nowhere because the man, a succesful academic, is too reserved to be dragged along into a love affair and because the woman, a young stewardess, seems not to be attracted to this guy anyway. Poor Pierre.
You know what I think about Nouvelle Vague? I think it is overrated. I might change my mind someday, but right now - I am so fed up with sexist & self-indulgent movies directed by auteurs admired for their technical skills but mostly for their existential depth. (I managed to watch 20 minutes of Jules et Jim.)
Truffaut has some interesting things going on here. The treatment of sound is excellent - how some random sound (the rumbling of an aeroplane, for example) suddenly dominates the viewing experience and interrupts the story. The fascination with "modernity" works well, too. What about the genre-hopping? That works to some extent, too.
The story is nothing to write home about. Truffaut studies the psychology of adultery and a seedy affair that goes nowhere because the man, a succesful academic, is too reserved to be dragged along into a love affair and because the woman, a young stewardess, seems not to be attracted to this guy anyway. Poor Pierre.
tisdag 15 juni 2010
Le couperet (2005)
Le couperet is yet one of those films to digest an interesting theme, but that tries too hard in satisfying the viewer's cravings for "interesting story". A middle-aged man loses his job at a paper manufacturing firm due to outsourcing. Embittered by being let down by his employer, he looks for a new position, but with no success. The world of work is no utopia and the man goes to some lenghts to secure his position: he kills off his competitors. As a critique of capitalism, Le couperet makes some good points, rediculing some elements of work that are usually glorified; "to be ambitious", to show that one "cares about finding a job". For the man, Bruno, work is everything. He explains that losing his job means losing the essence of himself - and even his family. There are a couple of scenes in the film in which the ruthlessness of modern work is displayed to a great effect. But mostly, Le couperet bores me with its attempt at being a "thriller" and "black comedy". Even when dealing in "critique", it tends to miss the mark by clinging to a scale of black & white.
Jose Garcia's blanked-faced acting is excellent, though.
But yes, I agree with the sinister message of Le couperet: capitalism does not create healthy ambition - it moulds its own character trait: psychopathy.
Jose Garcia's blanked-faced acting is excellent, though.
But yes, I agree with the sinister message of Le couperet: capitalism does not create healthy ambition - it moulds its own character trait: psychopathy.
onsdag 9 juni 2010
Delta (2008)
Delta seems to be one of those films that is shown on a couple of film festivals and is subsequently sent off to mould in movie archives. Then again, Finnish TV showed it a few months ago. To my pleasure, because this is a quite good film.
The young director, Kornél Mundruczó, is mostly in charge of what s/he does here. It's an artistically successful movie: visually stunning, great scenery (the Danube delta), great work with colors, mostly unostentatious acting (but maybe not through-and-through convincing). Interestingly, Mundruczó is the person responsible for the horrendous Johanna, which I reviewed a while ago. Arguably, his work has an inclination towards the controversial. In Johanna, that proved to be a bad thing. With regards to Delta, I'm not sure what to say.
Mihail returns to the village where his mother, new boyfriend & half-sister lives. He has saved some money to build a house on the river delta on land owned by his late father. His sister goes to live with him and it turns out the bond between them is not limited to the Hegelian/Platonic purity of brother/sister relationship. There are some twists along the way and right from the start, I have a hunch something bad is bound to happen. There's a heavy feeling of tragic foreboding in these images, regardless of what they depict: beautiful landscapes, the peaceful ploddings of a turtle.
There are weaknesses in how the story unfolds & in how it is developed. Some scenes are ingeniously shot with long, swirling takes, but not complex enough in terms of content. But that doesn't bother me too much. It was an interesting film that managed to stick to its aesthetic ideas - even though it is clearly inspired by the great Béla Tarr, it didn't end up being intrusively derivative. Mundruszó doesn't play in Tarr's league with this film but the visual poetry it creates is still quite marvellous.
Some things bother me, though, and, as in Johanna, it concerns Mundruczó's interest in female sexuality. To some extent, he shows awareness of patriarchal society & the kind of repression and violence it exerts. But maybe the problem is that the elements of violence runs the risk of becoming a mere visual shock disrupting the languid pace of the film - that Mundruczó is more interested in scenery and people end up being mere dramatic prop? But that is not entirely true.
söndag 6 juni 2010
The man from London (2007)
I regard Béla Tarr as one of the most interesting contemporary directors. The 7 ½-hour long Sátántangó is a mysterious exploration of greed and decay - and so is the marvellous Werckmeister harmóniák. These themes are not discarded. In The man from London, he re-builds the world of gloom and shadows for which he is known. Somehow, it makes perfect sense that the present film, shot in dazzling monochrome, is a take on 40's film noir. The cynism and alienation is there, for sure, along with disquieting moments of fear and paranoia.
The story is of a familiar kind: a railroad worker called Maloin (with a standard noir-ish haggard face) witnesses a possible murder in an anonymous dock area. A briefcase is dropped into the water. Maloin retrieves the briefcase, in which there is money. Some time into the film, we find out that Maloin gains knowledge of who murdered the man, and that a detective (whose talks more slowly than any actor heard on film - ever) is looking into the case... But this would not be a Béla Tarr film if the story was the primary source of interest.
Once again, Tarr challenges his audience with long takes and stunning camera work. The scenes from Maloin's watch tower are simply stunning. The movement of the camera, the play with light and shadow, evoke a truly eerie atmosphere. The sudden moments of humor (mainly represented by nods to the noir genre) work to great effect. And the last 25 minutes of the film, which contains a longish take of the murderer's wife that (as my sister said) is on a par with a Carl Dreyer moment, ties the film together in a beautiful way. But there are some problems. Tilda Swinton is a great actor, but her character in this film is bizarre in the wrong way and does not work in the context. The rest of the actors (especially Ági Szirtes as Brown's wife) are very good. Another problem concerns the role of the images. In Tarr's other work, I have never felt that there was a gap between the meticulous composition of the images and the few strands of "story". His images encourage me to contemplate over what I see, what is it I see? But in A man from London, there is not the same sense of mystery or wonder, even though that is what he seems to aim at. The question "what did I see?" is posed differently, in a more conventional way. On some moments, the images lapse into being just ... stunning - in the desolated and dreadful way that has come to be the Tarr trademark. It's just that most images lack the depth of his previous work. Disappointed? Yes, maybe a little.
The story is of a familiar kind: a railroad worker called Maloin (with a standard noir-ish haggard face) witnesses a possible murder in an anonymous dock area. A briefcase is dropped into the water. Maloin retrieves the briefcase, in which there is money. Some time into the film, we find out that Maloin gains knowledge of who murdered the man, and that a detective (whose talks more slowly than any actor heard on film - ever) is looking into the case... But this would not be a Béla Tarr film if the story was the primary source of interest.
Once again, Tarr challenges his audience with long takes and stunning camera work. The scenes from Maloin's watch tower are simply stunning. The movement of the camera, the play with light and shadow, evoke a truly eerie atmosphere. The sudden moments of humor (mainly represented by nods to the noir genre) work to great effect. And the last 25 minutes of the film, which contains a longish take of the murderer's wife that (as my sister said) is on a par with a Carl Dreyer moment, ties the film together in a beautiful way. But there are some problems. Tilda Swinton is a great actor, but her character in this film is bizarre in the wrong way and does not work in the context. The rest of the actors (especially Ági Szirtes as Brown's wife) are very good. Another problem concerns the role of the images. In Tarr's other work, I have never felt that there was a gap between the meticulous composition of the images and the few strands of "story". His images encourage me to contemplate over what I see, what is it I see? But in A man from London, there is not the same sense of mystery or wonder, even though that is what he seems to aim at. The question "what did I see?" is posed differently, in a more conventional way. On some moments, the images lapse into being just ... stunning - in the desolated and dreadful way that has come to be the Tarr trademark. It's just that most images lack the depth of his previous work. Disappointed? Yes, maybe a little.
söndag 30 maj 2010
Der Stand der Dinge (1982)
What's the matter with me? I'm watching a Wim Wenders movie - again! The story told about this movie is that Wenders did a film in Hollywood. Lots of things went wrong. The process was interrupted and Wenders went to Portugal, where he found a film crew that had run out of money. Then he made a film, The State of Things, in which Hollywood is bashed. In the beginning of the film, we see a film team in action. They make a B-movie. It turns out there is no more film and no more money either. The crew, stranded in Lisbon, try to occupy themselves. The director goes to L.A. to hunt down the producer, with fatal consequences.
Wenders attempts to show how real life have no stories but how we try to think that we need "stories". Alas - as soon as the film crew is deserted by their producers, the film falls apart, the story starts to wander. The anti-story theme is also explicity elaborated in the dialogue of the film - sometimes not too subtly. “Stories only exist in stories, whereas life goes by in the course of time without the need to turn out stories”. Errr.
The cinematography, dusty black-and-white, works perfectly to capture the trudging rhytm of the film. But many scenes were far too pretentious (the problem I have with some of Jarmusch's work). However, I must admit that the last 15 minutes, chronicling the re-union of director & producer, were awesome. Here, he builds up some tension and there is also a hint of comedy.
This is not the worst film about movie-making. Wenders might be self-obsessed, but Godard and Fellini are still in a league of their own.
Wenders attempts to show how real life have no stories but how we try to think that we need "stories". Alas - as soon as the film crew is deserted by their producers, the film falls apart, the story starts to wander. The anti-story theme is also explicity elaborated in the dialogue of the film - sometimes not too subtly. “Stories only exist in stories, whereas life goes by in the course of time without the need to turn out stories”. Errr.
The cinematography, dusty black-and-white, works perfectly to capture the trudging rhytm of the film. But many scenes were far too pretentious (the problem I have with some of Jarmusch's work). However, I must admit that the last 15 minutes, chronicling the re-union of director & producer, were awesome. Here, he builds up some tension and there is also a hint of comedy.
This is not the worst film about movie-making. Wenders might be self-obsessed, but Godard and Fellini are still in a league of their own.
lördag 29 maj 2010
Blonde Venus (1932)
Half through Josef von Sternberg's Blonde Venus, I had high hopes that it would be a film antagonistic to family values. No it wasn't. The ending scenes displayed shiny happy family triangulation. A chemist marries a German cabaret artist (Marlene Dietrich). He gets sick and needs money for medical treatment. His wife performs one more time (a racist number) and ends up selling herself to a rich man. Some of the scenes in the film worked very well: it was nice to watch how Dietrich becomes an outsider to a patriarchal society. But, as I said, in the end, she pays her homage to that same society and everything is well.
This might be a bad movie, but it was messy in a rather entertaining way, and it was interesting to note that almost all characters were unsympathetic.
This might be a bad movie, but it was messy in a rather entertaining way, and it was interesting to note that almost all characters were unsympathetic.
söndag 23 maj 2010
Les glaneurs et la glaneuse (2000)
Les glaneurs et la glaneuse was certainly a very different film from Cleo from 5 to 9, Agnès Varda's most famous film. I didn't know what to expect. For some reason, I didn't think I were to see a very political, yet simple, documentary about poverty and waste. The film is shot with a digital camera. The visual style of the film is thus very simple. That is no shortcoming. Varda's film could almost be called an essay-documentary, in how it explores its theme by means of association and reliance upon the viewer's own ability of reflection. Varda explores "gleaning"; a variation of activities revolving around picking up stuff discarded by others, be it fruit, vegetables, broken TV:s or food in garbage bins. Varda talks to gleaners and supervisors, shop owners and activists. Varda's voice-over provides the film with structure, at times reflective and interesting, but during some moments too obtrusive, and too self-occupied (a very French motif: towards-death and quasi-phenomenology: "My project is to film with one hand my other hand). The strenght of the film is how soberly it deals with materiality. Varda does not look down on the gleaners, nor does she make any grand claims about "survival" nor "consumerism". She quietly observes day-to-day variations of eating, living and consuming, along with the joys and miseries of rummaging and scavenging.
måndag 17 maj 2010
Herzog x 2: Auch Zwerge haben klein angefangen (1970) & Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle (1974)
Auch Zwerge haben klein angefangen was, in my opinion, a disappointing movie, even a bad and cynical one. Maybe some consider it subversive. I don't. This was such a crude way to hammer home a point about, I suppose, "stripping down civilization" and "nature's revenge is cruel, cruel, cruel". Early on, we see a chicken feeding on another chicken. Get it? If you want to watch a movie about the indifference of nature - watch Grizzly man instead.
Auch Zwerge... - dwarfs and all - was cluttered with metaphors and allegorical hints. And, so I don't forget to mention it: pointless scenes. The story starts with a prison-like institution in the middle of rebellion. The innates rebel against control, their oppressors and society. The rebellion quickly slides into destruction and brutality.
Actually, I doubt that Herzog himself knew what he was up to when directing this one. Even the music (something "African") seemed to suggest quite repulsive ideas in combination with the images of "savage people" and "the brutality of nature".
Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle is also about civilization, but this time we are watching the trite construction of "civilized men". A young man, Kaspar Hauser, turns up at a village square. He cannot speak and he can barely walk. It is evident that he has grown up with very little contact with other human beings. "Civilization", in this film, means everything from cruel freak shows to a professor in logic who uses Hauser as a test to whether logic is something you can grasp without an education (and what logic!). In all these contexts, Hauser remains an outsider, "an artistic mind" that is necessarily out of touch with the expectations and norms of society.
In some ways, this film is just as speculative as Auch Zwerge.., but it is far more focused, and even those parts that veer towards the ridiculous or the overstated contain enough ambiguity and humor to be interesting - the brainy ending is a case in point. It's a better film. The points made in this film about social morality and weird ideas about what it means to "grow" or to be "natural" (theology and all) are far better developed than the caricatures we are exposed to in Auch Zwerge...
Auch Zwerge... - dwarfs and all - was cluttered with metaphors and allegorical hints. And, so I don't forget to mention it: pointless scenes. The story starts with a prison-like institution in the middle of rebellion. The innates rebel against control, their oppressors and society. The rebellion quickly slides into destruction and brutality.
Actually, I doubt that Herzog himself knew what he was up to when directing this one. Even the music (something "African") seemed to suggest quite repulsive ideas in combination with the images of "savage people" and "the brutality of nature".
Jeder für sich und Gott gegen alle is also about civilization, but this time we are watching the trite construction of "civilized men". A young man, Kaspar Hauser, turns up at a village square. He cannot speak and he can barely walk. It is evident that he has grown up with very little contact with other human beings. "Civilization", in this film, means everything from cruel freak shows to a professor in logic who uses Hauser as a test to whether logic is something you can grasp without an education (and what logic!). In all these contexts, Hauser remains an outsider, "an artistic mind" that is necessarily out of touch with the expectations and norms of society.
In some ways, this film is just as speculative as Auch Zwerge.., but it is far more focused, and even those parts that veer towards the ridiculous or the overstated contain enough ambiguity and humor to be interesting - the brainy ending is a case in point. It's a better film. The points made in this film about social morality and weird ideas about what it means to "grow" or to be "natural" (theology and all) are far better developed than the caricatures we are exposed to in Auch Zwerge...
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