Taste of cherry (1997)

A middle-aged man, Mr. Madii, has decided to commit suicide. However, he needs some help. Madii drives around in his car in the wastelands outside Tehran to find somebody who can help him. He talks to laborers, a young man drafted in the army, a seminary student and a man employed in a museum. He tells them about what he is about to do. He offers them money. But the first people he asks refuse his offer. He is getting increasingly desperate. Taste of cherry is very much a Abbas Kiarostami-film. The quasi-documentary feel is there, the naturalistic dialogue works all right – and the landscape of the film is simply stunning. Still, I feel this is a less successful movie than, for example, The Wind Will Carry Us. Regardless of its slow pacing and naturalism, Taste of cherry has some weak moments, where the dialogue and film language verge on the pathetically pompous. The themes of the film, suicide and the meaning of life are sometimes dealt with in a heavy-handed way. As much as these moments bother me, this is a good film, a moving film. The main character is surrounded by an air of mystery. We know he wants to die. We know he interrupts his interlocutors in a way that signals that he doesn’t really care. He wants to settle the deal. Other than this, we don’t know much. Why this man wants to die, we do not know (there are some very small hints, but in no way are they conclusive). For the first twenty minutes we just see the man slowly driving around in his car, gazing at men. Yes, in fact, it seemed as if this was a cruising hunt, as Madii asked men if they were lonely, if they wanted to take a ride with him, etc.

Nature plays a major part in this film. One might even say that it is a specific perception of nature that the ending scenes revolve around. Nature is not romanticized. Even though one of the characters, who also wanted to commit suicide, talk about the life-inducing experience of eating mulberries, there are other, less traditional, images of nature: a burly machine is shoveling stone, swirling dust, winding roads in a rocky landscape, a town scene in the twilight of the early morning hours. Every frame is filled with a melancholy sense of life, of being alive. Kiarostami underscores this feeling with a masterful combination of sound and images of nature. 

As for the very last images of the film: well, I really don’t know. To me, it didn’t work. I didn’t get the point. I felt it was an unnecessary distancing gesture – what for?

Heading south (2005)

Laurent Cantet is a director I tend to appreciate. I liked The Class, and Human resources is a striking film. So, I sat down to watch Heading south with some positive expectations. The film takes place in the late 70’s. We are presented to a group of women who spend their vacation(s) in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Soon, we grasp why they are there. These middle-aged women have hooked up with local youngsters, with whom they have sexual relationships. It is clear that the boys are exoticized to an almost extreme degree in the eyes of these women: one line that is repeated, over and over again, “it is different here”. Their tourist resort is to be kept as a safe haven, tending to their needs and emotions. “You know money is not a problem.” 

The boys are not “professional” prostitutes (it seems) but at the same time, they are compensated for their “services”. This is of course one of the very few movies to depict female sex tourism. Cantet has perhaps not made a cinematic masterpiece (as a film, this is nothing special, really) but it is more than satisfying in attempting to put these women’s activities in a global perspective of race, class and gender. The three women all offer different perspectives on this kind of half-monetary relationship. Ellen (played with wit and ingenuity by Charlotte Rampling) is the cynic who appears to see through romantic dreams (but it turns out she is not as honest to herself as she thinks she is). Her friend Sue adopts a more playful attitude. Enjoy it while it lasts. Brenda, on the other hand, seems to have fallen romantically for her Haitian “friend”. What these characters have in common is self-delusion. They tend to see themselves as liberators for these boys, to whom they offer passports. The film could have dedicated a larger part of the story to the boys’ perspective. The information we obtain about their lives – a girlfriend, a worried mother, lethal threats – sheds little light on how they experience their everyday life with these women. What I would have wished for is a more direct way to address political issues.  It’s there, all right (especially in all scenes, in which the waiter Albert takes part), but it could have been dealt with in detail – instead of looking at the competition between two self-indulged women. But Cantet’s film is surprisingly low-key, and it has its merits. 

Laurent Cantent is one of the few directors that takes an interest in work/labor. This theme has been recurrent in all his film, and he deals with it in a very non-preachy way. 

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.