A Place in the Sun (1951)

I think I read somewhere that A place in the Sun (dir. George Stevens) is a hugely romantic film. The truth is, however, it's a hugely cynical film. That is not a bad thing. The film has enough guts to satirize the unbending rules of social climbing. Of course, this is covered up in a love story, but to be honest, the love part is pretty invisible around here. We see a lot of infatuation, a great deal of (self-)deception and some murky, dark intentions, too. Most of the people just don't know what to do with themselves, they are just shuffled along, driven by capricious motives. The story is simple. A young man is hired in a factory owned by his relative. He is in love with one of his fellow workers, who becomes pregnant. Too bad; the boy has already found another, more interesting, and, you guessed it, wealthier girl. What to do? To be a film from the era of right-wing censorship, this is pretty impressive stuff (the end of the film is not exactly jolly). Great acting at times, too. Elizabeth Taylor had a few really good roles and she shines in this performance of the self-indulgent, socially dazzling girl who thinks she can have it all. Montgomery Clift is good as well as the fickle George. Along with that, some bad acting, especially from the overwrought representation of the hysterical girl in Trouble. It has been complained that the film is confusing with regard to the viewer's sympathies with the characters. For my part, I like the fact that the film's main character, nice boy Clift, treads the path between boy next door and grim killer.

Barton Fink (1991)

Without exception, Joel & Ethan Coen have made a string of humorous, sometimes gritty but always quirky, movies. Barton Fink is all of these things. You might say that Barton Fink is more style than content, but that does not matter much. I liked it. If you manage to create a strangely intimate film about an aspirational left-wing playwright who tries to make it big in Hollywood, you really should not complain (he is assigned to make a movie about, ahem, wrestlers). Crass is the word that springs to mind when trying to encapsulate the film's take on Hollywood business. The fact that the story takes place in the 30's make little difference. This is the kind of film that builds atmosphere by means of lengthy takes in which the only thing we see is a dingy/stylish hotel corridor. I like that kind of thing, and I cannot resist the quiet and sometimes gross humor that transforms Barton Fink from a stylistic show-off to an affectionate film about loneliness and ... you know, good old writer's block. There are hundreds of films about writer's block. Writer's block is the stuff of horror movies (think: The Shining) and sweet comedies such as Wonder Boys. There seems to be few better ways of satirizing the life of the Genius than focusing on the pathetic self-engrossed version of writer's block. The heart of the film belongs to John Goodman, who acts the role of a insurance man who, under the facade of likeable and down-to-earth companion, is not what he appears to be. John Torturo as the neurotic and world-weary playwright is good as well. In short, Barton Fink is a funny film and lovely-looking film about selling one's soul to the devil.  

Melancholia (2011)

I can't get my head around Melancholia. Or, in some respects I can, and some things just baffle me. I watched the movie a week ago, and I still don't know quite what to say. The film starts on the grandest note possible. The thundering intro to Tristand & Isolde rattles the viewer's bowels. We see images in slow-motion. People are moving around, slowly, slowly. A small child. Two women. A horse. But we also see a planet moving towards Earth, and, after a long, long time, colliding into it. This long prelude is on a par with the most bombastic, yet strangely dazzling, scenes from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Lars von Trier is not the man of understatement here. APOCALYPSE is spelled in capital letters. But that doesn't make me any more convinced I know in what way this is a film about the end of the world.

What I find perfectly rewarding is the drastic changes in styles that occur several times during the film. The Wagner-fuelled prologue is very different from what comes next; an upper-class wedding is depicted using a wobbly, nervous cinematography. Early on, we get a sense everything is not quite right. The bride makes several attempts to escape from the wedding dinner, among other, worse, things, and her parents can't stop hating each other and acting like small children. It's all a nightmare of dysfunctional relations, really, too much for a desperate wedding planner (Udo Kier!) who tries to keep up appearances. In the last segment of the film, the pace is slowed down and we follow the bride and her sister's family in the days after the catastrophic wedding. The planet from the prologue is re-introduced. The planet Melancholia is known to approach Earth, but according to "reliable scientists" it will pass by Earth on a safe distance. Each family member deals with the news in her own way. Justine, the bride, is wrapped up in depression. We don't really see her react in any way, in relation to the strange planet or anything else, for that matter, until the very end. Her sister Claire takes care of her, while at the same time trying not to check the latest news updates on the Internet. She is a down-to-earth person who just want things to work out, but that planet keeps her awake at night. Her husband (who resembles the male protagonist in Antichrist) represents himself as the voice of reason, of science and clear-headed sobriety.

What makes this film bearable, good even, is that for all its overblown end-of-the-world scenarios, for all its cheap metaphors and tired clichés of the mad woman eating jelly with her hands - the film takes a stand to represent depression in a novel way, not as an irrational aberration but as a place where you will see reality from a certain point of view. For that reason, the ending scene has an eerie beuty to it. I say this even though I'm not sure I should buy von Tries defense of the depressed. But in this health-crazed culture where each of us is encouraged to tread through life in sound knowledge of "business being business", von Trier's film provides a refreshing protest.

There are even more reasons for watching it. Charlotte Rampling is excellent, as always. Even though one could lament some overly beautific images, I really dig the film's sharp contrasts, making the erratic cinematography of the beginning nudge with the tranquility of the later segment. Melancholia has some weak parts and some pieces of dialogue are just out of order in being so, so pretentious - but it still is a film I've been thinking about all week, re-enacting some images in my mind's eye.

The Quiet Earth (1985)

A man wakes up in a world in which he finds himself on his own – literally speaking. There seem to be no other people on earth, than him. We come to know the man is some kind of scientist. Naturally, he tries to get clear about what has happened. But all he sees is empty streets and empty stores. – This scenario, of course, is the backbone of any number of films about zombies and/or the apocalypse. But The Quiet Earth is a gem of quirky scenes. First of all, the protagonist is a plump, baldish man, not the typical action hero. We see him exploring this eerie surrounding of human things and infrastructure, but no people. The volume is turned down. Only two other characters are introduced, but of course they bring some drama into this story about the end of the world. And of course there has to be a love story. Where most other films about the apocalypse focus on showy effects, The Quiet Earth opts for depicting quite ordinary emotions such as fear, loneliness, boredom and jealousy. Sometimes, the film is a tad bit silly, but in my book, all this is excused due to the sheer strangeness of it all. Thematically, this treads the familiar path of criticism of overblown scientific projects. It turns out that the protagonist is partially to blame for the catastrophe earth has undergone. I like the film best when it is most lighthearted, when our scientist dresses up in a dress and just paces around this desolate place on earth (New Zeeland, apparently). The end of the film is so bad it might just as well be ... well, not good but the kind of awful that is necessary if the theme is sexual possession of a girl and, paired with that, a second end-of-the-world. This is, I must tell you, cheesy stuff all the way, but quite entertaining this film is all the same.  

Source code (2011)

I can't say I am a strict proponent of hard SF. In other words: if a film asks us to go along with preposterous "scientific" mumbo jumbo - fine. The thing that usually matters is instead the extent to which the film offers an enticing space for imagination. Visually, Source code tries hard to live up to the vibrant, colorful setting we all have gotten used to with films such as Matrix and Inception. On this level, the film is a failure. There is nothing we haven't seen before. The film simply follows the usual tracks in the 100 steps of making a Hollywood Blockbuster, explosions and all (but, thankfully, no sex scenes). Well, I guess the story is no better than the visual style. What we have here is a film that mixes 'what if...' questions with pretty shallow musings on Making a Difference in the World, Love and Eternity (or something along those lines). The brain of a dead soldier has been activated so as to help prevent terrorist attacks to come. Early on in the film, the soldier finds himself on a train, with a woman. This is all strange to him. Later on, we are informed that the brain of the dead soldier is connected with the victims of the explosion that occurs on that same train. The purpose is to, through some kind of simulation, build up an alternative reality that will help find the terrorists behind the bombings. Source code dabbles with the idea of changing the past, but considering the premises on which the film is developed, there are few hints about the existential urgency of that kind of wish. Because, you know, this is more of an action movie than it is a film about change. In that respect, Groundhog day is a far more ingenious and affectionate film that keeps the audience alive to some important questions - whereas Source code simply dulls the mind to pretty much everything beyond flashy pix of Chicago and Jake Gyllenhaal's face. When Source code tries to re-connect with ze Emozions, things just get ridiculously embarassing. Duncan Jones' earlier, much, much quieter film, Moon, is a far more interesting attempt to revitalize science fiction.

The girl on the bridge (1999)

In some films, a pretentious streak can be forgiven (arguably, this is the case in Theo Angeloupolous' slowest films). However, some films are unforgivably pretentious. Patrice Leconte's Girl on the Bridge has one or two things that speaks for it, but really, this is über-romantic trash that annoyed me from almost the first moment to the last. A girl stands on a bridge, ready to jump. An introductory monologue prepares us with one or two facts about her life. This girl, we are to think, is troubled. By chance, she meets a man on the bridge. She jumps. The man saves her. They run off from hospital together. The man is a knife-artist. The girl on the bridge is his partner in new circus tricks. The message: these people Need Each Other. Their business depends on luck to a great deal, but even luck has a relation to - love. Even though I didn't exactly enjoy this film, I found its depiction of erotic thrill - unconventional. This film lacks graphic sex scenes. Sex, here, is something different than most Hollywood films present it to be. Of course the story is augmented by black-and-white, frenzy & very French, cinematography. Well, Girl on the bridge is a parody of every cliché about "European movies". A rule of thumb: does the film contain one single circus scene? JUST DON'T WATCH IT!

Tokyo Sonata (2008)

Tokyo Sonata is not the only film to tell a story about a man who cannot bear to tell his family about having been made redundant. But Kiyoshi Kurosawa's film doesn't really limit itself to that theme. Not only the man's world is falling apart, his entire family is shattered, each family member dealing with demons of his/her own. For the first hour, this works really well. The film quietly registers the twists and turns of ordinary life. Then: the Revelation. A series of unexpected events take place and I must say that the film could no longer engage me at that point. In the first part of the film there are, however, a number of strong and sombre scenes that manage to represent humiliation without one hint of sentimentality. - But what is lacking here is perspective: we never get a deeper perspective on how to understand work and non-work and what kind of reaction humiliation is. For this reason, there are some scenes that I can't really get my head around. Ryuhei, the man who was rendered redundant in the beginning of the film, finally gets a cleaning job. We are led to believe that this job is not only hard, but humiliating, so humiliating that when his wife, ignorant about her husband's new occupation, happens to catch a glimpse of him at this new job, she is repelled by his degradation. Or is this what is going on? As I said, the film contains a number of unnecessary plot: the man's older son decides to enlist in the American army; the younger son rebels against his father in taking piano lessons; the wife is taken hostage by a robber... Had it been more focused on what appears to be the main theme (un/employment), I suppose Tokyo Sonata would have been a far less confusing film. Or maybe I just didn't get the point? - Still, this film is interesting and at times breathtakingly beautiful.

Direktören för det hele (2007)

When he wants to, Lars von Trier can be completely humorless (parts of Antichrist are sufficient evidence). On the other hand, he can also be very funny. Direktören för det hele is a comedy and a good one at that. An actor is hired to act the role of company boss. Not on screen, but in the company, where one man, Ravn, can not take the responsibility of the boss, but rather wants to give it to somebody else. Kristoffer is an unscrupulous man who thinks that a good actor should be the master of any situation. So, Kristoffer is presented to the personnel of the It-company as the boss who has uptil now been invisible. Even though this is a lightweight (but not conventional) film, it has moments of brilliance. In one of them, the real boss and the actor boss is sitting on a childish carousel taking about gravely things. In a very funny way, the film shows the self-deception involved in dodging responsibility. Ravn wants to be the cuddly bear, friends with everybody. The friendly bear cannot be the same person who makes tough business decisions, such as selling the company off to a pair of tough Icelanders who hate the sentimentality of the Danes. It turns out that Ravn is perhaps the one doing just as much acting as Kristoffer, and that we might even say that Kristoffer's acting is more uncomplicated than Ravn's. Of course, the film can be read on two levels: as an insider joke about directors and actors, and as a film about the lack of responsibility in business.

A curious detail of the film is its cinematic style, which is claimed to stem from a computer generated system of angles, pans and tilts. All this creates a frenzy & nervous backdrop for the story. This film won't change your life, but it is indeed very entertaining in its self-conscious "flat" and "harmless" way.

Triple Agent (2004)

The second world war is about the begin. A Russian ex-officer and his wife live in Paris. The ex-officer is "white" and works against the Communists. But with whom is he allied? In conversations with his wife, who is an artist, we see this life of a spy unravel.

My hunch about Triple Agent is that it would have been an almost unwatchable film had it been made by anyone else than Erich Rohmer. Rohmer takes the suspense out of the agent story and turns it into an investigation of the ordinary life of an agent. This makes the clandestine nature of this man’s work all the more interesting: when it is contrasted with ordinary conversations about the things we tell each other and the things we don’t, how not telling things is a form of betrayal, and how sometimes not telling things has to do with our thinking the other is not “interested”. Rather than focusing on the intricate mission of a “triple agent”, Rohmer dwells on a more common form of deceit and secrecy. What I also appreciate about this film is its absolute lack of cinematic props and tricks that are to make us enthusiastic about the film. I am not by any means saying that Triple Agent is an extraordinary film, I am simply struck by the fact that a film about an agent was radically removed from the James Bond-kind of tradition. Because if anything, this is not James Bond. In James Bond, the role of the dialogue is to be informative and witty: in Triple agent, conversations are the backbone of the film, the driving force. I must admit I think this is a quite bold film. - If you have no better reason for watching this film, watch it for the very French last line of the film.

The incredible shrinking man (1957)

I must admit this might be one of the weirdest films I’ve ever seen. Even within the tradition of bad sci-fi movies from the 50’s, it stands out as a masterpiece of goofy weirdness. A man and a woman are sunbathing on a boat. While the woman fetches a beer (for the man, stupid) the man, Scott, is suddenly shrouded in a cloud of mist. Whatever that cloud is, it is dangerous: it makes the man shrink in size. At first, he thinks his clothes do not fit, but then, after a series of scientific investigations, it is evident that the man undergoes some unexplainable physical shrinking process. At first, the man is the size of a dwarf. Then we see him residing in a doll house. One day, the cat is after him. The cat, by now a big monster, chases him into a corner of the room and he falls – into the cellar, where his wife cannot find him, because he is so small. The rest of the film takes place in the cellar, transformed into an otherworldly landscape which we see from the man’s microscopic perspective. The surge of these images consist in the eerie effect of seeing everyday objects that no longer remind us of the everyday world of matches, drawers and dust. In the man’s strenuous attempt to keep himself alive in this alienated world of deathtraps, a needle becomes a sword, a thread becomes a rope and a crumb is a means of subsistence. The man’s greatest enemy is a big, black spider. The film presents an image of human beings typical for the time: man is a rational being – even a man smaller than a match does – but he is also a part of nature, and he is basically driven by the survival instinct. What sets him apart from the spider is just that he is a bit more intelligent (just look at that gruesome spider slaughtering scene….!) I mean, given the silliness of the idea, this is simply a wonderful little film. It doesn’t make much sense, but it need not do so. The quasi-religious ending of the film is just – right. My verdict: Awesome!