Le Silence de la Mer (1949)

The German occupation of France, WWII: A German officer called von Ebrennac is lodged with a French family consisting of an elderly man and his young niece. The man and the niece defiantly refuse to talk to the German. But the German talks. First, hesitatingly, and then freer; it turns out he is no raving Nazi, but a lover of culture, a composer whose feelings about the war are ambiguous. It seems as if he does not understand his hosts and their contempt for him. He cannot stop talking about how much he loves France, and French culture (but not the modern part of it). Germany, to him, is Bach’s turf, not Hitler’s. Vivaciously, he imagines the alliance of two cultures. During a visit in Paris, he goes through some sort of spiritual conversion, in that he sees the reality of occupation: raving Nazis against the backdrop of Famous Monuments.

Le Silence de la Mer (dir. Jean-Pierre Melville) suffers from a few flaws, yet it is still a good film. The problem is that it overstates its case. The German is made too one-dimensional; a romantic whose perspective is destined to be shattered by reality. Of course, this is a good description, but the question is how it is made honest, so that rough edges are not glossed over. The silent Frenchmen are also overly simplified, but their silence is expressive enough to keep up tension.  But another problem is a very problematic depiction of secret love. We hear a man’s voice, the elderly Frenchman’s. He talks about the burgeoning feelings for the German shown by the niece. But she is silent throughout the film. A pretty face, a white neck, twitching, busy hands, whose movements are interpreted by another. Melville evokes the different ways in which we are silent, how silence changes from hostility to intimacy.

With Dutch angles, extreme close-ups and over-lighted sets, Melville transcends conventional film-making. Melville works with the medium, and tries to capture an atmosphere. The minimalism of the film could be the work of Bresson. Most events take place in one single room, where a clock is always ticking. Some scenes are really striking. For a film with so much talk in it, it is interesting to note that it is not the German’s monologues that keep this film going. The monologues are heavy with words, and they do not always work.

Of course, the political surrounding of the film should not be forgotten. The manuscript is based on a book written as a part of the French resistance movement during the war. The book, at the time, was very famous. Still, it is interesting to learn that the film was a commercial success. I think this has still to be one of the best films by Jean-Pierre Melville I’ve seen so far. To be honest, I’m not crazy about his crime films. To me, this film was much more interesting than his tongue-in-cheek crime flicks.

Born to Kill (1947)

I am either equipped with a poor taste, or Born to kill (dir. Robert Wise) is a perennial example of good, sleazy film noir. Reno: a gruesome murder has been committed. Right from the start, we know who the killer is. For that reason, Born to kill is no mystery film. The murderer, Sam, is a man who knows himself to be an unstoppable charmer. On a train to San Francisco, he meets a lady, Helen. What he doesn’t know is that the woman on the train, a tough divorcee, was the person who discovered the dead bodies.  Sam clearly fancies an affair with Helen, whom he considers an equal in terms of cynical mentality. There’s something there, all right, but Helen is about to get married. Sam chooses the next good option that comes along and marries Helen’s wealthy sister (which doesn't stop the erotic tension between him and Helen). It soon dawns on Sam & Helen that the murdered girl’s female admirer has hired a private investigator. And so on, and so forth.

So what the heck is so funny about this? Well, I like the no-nonsense energy of the film. There are logical holes in the story, but regardless of that, the film moves on towards its tragic end with a mixture of screwballsy misunderstandings and illicit relationships. The dialogue is of the kind we expect: keep it short, keep it expressive. Born to kill also features some good examples of how the infamous Hayes code was dodged. There are several hints, quite explicit, too, of gay relationships.  As all the good noir films, there is no trace of moralism. What happens, happens. One can interpret the end as the expression of conscience – but just as likely, on can read it in the opposite way. Born to kill is lots of fun in all sorts of ways.

Contemporary critics were appalled by the Vices excercised in this film. God bless films who "pander to the lower levels of taste" and are an "offence to a normal intellect"! I love this film.

The Third Man (1949)

Graham Greene is Graham Greene and this is not a bad movie. It was directed by Carol Reed - one of the very few well-known female directors from that period.

The story is by far not as remarkable as the atmosphere. The plot is set in post-WWII Vienna. Vienna is divided into four zones. The political tensions are evident in the story. Holly comes to Vienna to see his friend Harry. When he arrives, he is told that Harry is dead, killed in a car crash. Holly suspects there’s something more at play here than a mere accident. He meets Harry’s girlfriend, and talks to several of his acquaintance. Then the story takes a sudden turn. Things are not what they appear to be. Well, as I said, I wasn’t exactly engrossed by the story. There were plenty of other things to pay attention to. The weirdly fitting soundtrack is one of them. It could have been music for a comedy, but now, in this setting, it became something else. And the most striking aspect of the film is the way Vienna is depicted; a dark place of endless secrets, weird characters and pompous buildings next to the ugly-looking traces of war. Reed hits home the point by using jarring angles, tilted shots and events drenched in haunting shadows. In more than one scene, we see a face only partly lighted, otherwise remaining in the shadows. For this reasons, it is more than logical that the main character is a writer of pulp stories. The film itself is never excessive – always tasteful. Small details catch my eye; a restless cat, a screaming kid, a balloon salesman. And let’s not forget the grand finale, located in the grand-looking but mucky sewers. Great stuff, all the way, at least style-wise.

And yay for the ending scene! Very stylish. Very decent - and brave - choice.

Atonement (2007)

I watched the first hour of Atonement. I am pretty sure I cannot bear to finish it. Even though the film has several well-developed themes, the style is, to me, quite unbearable. Incessant big gestures; five orchestras play music – everything little twitch of event is filled to the brim with The Ominous Feel. In the first part of the film, we see like a million moments of Repressed and not so repressed Sexuality, witnessed by a child. There are miscomprehensions, which have drastic results. Then there's the War and... Things are building up for drama big time. – But as the first half of the film is so stuffed with Dramatic Turns, I have little hope that it will get any better.Maybe the book is better than the film. Ian McEwan is a good author who know his craft, in the best sense. As a film this is not good at all.

La Soledad (2007)

La Soledad - Solitary Fragments is a very quiet film. Jaime Rosales, who directed the film, have drawn on many sources: the family dramas of Ozu, Mondays in the sun – and perhaps even ordinary life and routines unraveled in Jeanne Dielman. It is not a perfect film. It does not always manage to muster up the tension necessary for those very long takes featuring in the film. Solitary fragments is largely a film about women. When men appear, they are always in the background. Two female characters make up the heart of the story. A single mother leaves a safe life to pursue a new career in Madrid. A widowed woman has a conflctual relation with her three daughters.

The cinematography used here is curious. The camera is static. But the events are rarely placed in the very midst of the frame. Instead, they take place half-seen, blocked by doors, sometimes reflected by mirrors. The perspective created often feels unreal, but at the same time all-to-real. I think of Fassbinder and his compulsive use of frames split by objects. In many frames, it’s the same here. But where Fassbinder employs artificiality to make a point, Jaime Rosales work with a dry mode of perception, slightly disorienting, but still very mundane. And usually – it works just fine. This technique forces us to open our eyes, listen, see what is to be seen, use our imagination. As I said, there’s not much drama to speak of here. But when something happens, it comes with a shock, as a jolt in the head of the viewer. I will not reveal anything here, though, as that might destroy your viewing experience.  

All in all: it is a beautiful film that you don't want to miss. I heartily recommend it.

The Locket (1946)

We all know that many noir films have more than a hint of misogyny. Women are commonly depicted as deceptive, sneaky bastards whose angelic appearance makes men fall into their trap. In other words, women are seen as plotting spiders. In the cynical world of noir, men are rarely any better than their female companions, but it is mostly women who infect men with seeds of doubt, harden their heart - or drive men right over to the Dark Side. This is particularly true for John Brahm’s The Locket, which follows the formula step-by-step. There’s a femme fatal, and she is a cunning monster, a man-eating liar. Etc. The men in the movie are all naïve and clueless – until the woman's deceitful behavior make them paranoid or cynical. The Locket might be a lesser known noir film from the era of classic noir, but it is, regardless of its misogynistic tendencies, an entertaining movie. You have to see it for what it is; a trashy piece of pulp. Only adding to the feeling of excessive application of the noir blueprint, what we have here is a story told in triple flashback. Plus – it’s treatment of “psychoanalytic storytelling” is well … as over the top as you’d ever want it.All in all - The Locket excels in noir virtues: paranoia, cynicism and dark psychology.

The Man from Laramie (1955)

I am no fan of western. Still, I try to be open-minded. That is, I watch a western every now and then, and sometimes I am positively surprised. The Man from Laramie is one of the better westerns I’ve seen, even though it is not particularly good. Yes, it has some unnecessary melodramatic elements, but nonetheless, it is mostly a restrained film dealing with some traditional themes in the genre: revenge, loneliness, confrontation and a sudden sense of commitment. James Stewart plays the stranger who rides into a town in the middle of nowhere. He has a mission. It is clear that most townspeople consider him a bothersome nuisance, too many questions asked. The stranger sticks around. He gets into fights. His presence spells trouble – and change. It was not so much the story that I liked. I liked the airy aesthetics, the quiet scenes and how a sense of rage and foreboding was kept mostly under the surface, only to explode into your face in the very end.The best thing about The Man from Laramie is one of its female character, a strong-headed woman of a kind rarely to be seen in this type of move.

Children of paradise (1945)

I don't know what to do with Marcel Carnés Children of Paradise. It's a bucolic & tragic film about unrequited love within a group of circus artists and dropouts. But I just didn't see the point in this. I didn't find it particularly aesthetically appealing, nor did was I moved by its content. What was slightly intriguing about Children of Paradise is that it does not conform with stereotypical gender norms. Passion remains fatal, fatal, fatal and, oh, how life plays out.

Waltz with Bashir (2008)

An animated documentary might sound like a contradiction in terms. Well, it will appears so if a very shallow notion of documentary is employed. The first time I "watched" this film, I was at a friend's place. It was late at night. I was tired. They had a very small TV, and I could not see the subtitles. I understood nothing of the dialogue, but was stunned by the visuals. I still am. Waltz with Bashir succeeds in what has proven an impossible task for most directors: to evoke the space of imagination, dreams and memories. Ari Folman works with haunted images where not too much is shown. In this light, the ending scenes are all the more powerful. The questions the film ceaselessly poses is: what does it mean to "see", to "witness", to experience and be aware of? There are not epistemological questions, but rather, the director ignites these issues from a moral perspective.

The story begins with a sense of confusion. Folman tries to understand why he is unable to remember a specific event during the invasion of Libanon in 1982. Waltz with Bashir is an exploration of the past-as-trauma, reconstruction of memories and fuzzy dreams. It's a difficult film. It is also a very serious film. We see no traces of garrulous recollections of adventures. The film's images, in sickly yellows, reds and browns - ooze dread, fear and a dreamy sense of dislocation. A sense of something being all-to-real, too real to handle.  Of course, it is also a political film. Folman's trauma is not an individual one. His film seems to get at the more or less willful repression of memory, amnesia as an evasion of responsibility. But there are no pointing fingers here, or very few ones. The dialogue is quiet, and sticks to the concrete, to the level of experience rather than general conclusions. Questions about guilt and responsibility are not solved - but they are addressed. It is a very important film.

Murderous instincts (1964)

Watching Murderous instincts in a slightly befuddled post-op state might actually have been all for the best. This is an experimental film with very little plot. I am not sure if I liked it or not. On the one hand: it is the type of movie that puts its female characters through misery and degradation, while the men in the movie are portrayed as pathetically jealous and cruel. On the other hand, cruelty, rather than being fetishized by the director, is situated in the struggles of social reality. This is not a film that glorifies family life, and it doesn't romanticize "traditional roles" either.

Shohei Imamura, by whom I have previously only seen The Eel, is not known for making light comedies. Murderous instincts is visually stunning. In some scenes, the camera twirls around the setting, while in other, it remains coldly static. I was impressed with how Imamura builds most frames around some "disturbance". The human face is very rarely the centre of the image. Imamura, like many other directors of that time, explores the changes of modern society. Here, as in many other films from that period, the train grows into a symbol of a society which is not what is has been.

I am aware that I can't do justice to this film right now. It's a film that requires several viewings. So much is going on. The use of narrative & the style of cinematography is thought-provoking, and there are some scenes that I'd like to watch again to let them sink in.