Müll im Garten Eden (2012)

Çamburnu, ett samhälle i Turkiet vid Svarta havet. Myndigheterna har tillåtit en nedgrävd soptipp (deponi) att inrättas här, på platsen där en koppargruva en gång funnits. Regissören Fatih Akin (Auf der anderen Seite, Gegen die Wand) har själv (några av) sina rötter på den här orten, och i Müll im Garten Eden dokumenterar han den absurda process som drar igång när invånarna gör allt för att förhindra en miljökatastrof och ett tickande (eller snarare rinnande och luktande) hälsoproblem. Deras möda, de olika rättsprocesser som initieras, tycks mest gagnlösa och här får tittaren en liten inblick i ett land som har skrotat rättssamhället. Filmen består av intervjuer med borgmästaren och med olika representanter för både soptipps-företaget och myndigheter. Men framför allt vill Fatih Akin ge en inblick i Çamburnu, i den vantrivsel som tilltar när stanken från tippen blir bara värre och när man oroar sig för om det är en vettig idé att odla något eller att fiska i havet. För tippen var ju inte det kontrollerade ingenjörsmästerverk som myndigheterna utlovat. Lakvattnet far iväg åt alla håll. Det stinker, det svämmar över, ekosystemen förskjuts, en tank för dräneringsvatten exploderar. Företagets representanter kläcker ur sig saker som "jamen det är ju bara så att det har regnat lite och därför svämmat över", "det löser sig nog av sig självt". Ansvar, det vill ingen ta. Akin har intervjuat flera ungdomar som säger att de inte längre vill bo kvar, de äldre är bittert medvetna om avfolkningen. I en scen ser vi några gubbar strida om politik. Det här är Erdoğans fel, utbrister en, och får mothugg och blir kallad "terrorist". Filmen kom ut 2012, då var Erdoğan statsminister och hade varit det sedan länge. Müll im Garten Eden är ingen fulländad film (den slits liksom åt olika håll och blir inte helhjärtad), men den är ett intressant tidsdokument och en viktig plädering för möjligheten att kunna påverka sin egen närmiljö. Och så ger den just en vink om allt som är åt helvete med rättssystemet i Turkiet. Fast filmen är inte ute efter att förklara något (det fanns för mig som är okunnig om Turkiet många förvirrande frågor), utan mer visa hur olika situationer fortskrider. I några scener får det absurda komma in, som när parfymflaskorna åker fram för att ta bort lukten.

Müll im Garten Eden, 2012
Regi: Fatih Akin.

Teorema (1968)

En ung man (Terence Stamp) dimper ner hos en familj i Milano vars överhuvud (just det) äger en fabrik. Den unga mannen slår genast an en ton, ja inte bara en ton utan massor av toner hos samtliga som befinner sig i huset. Den trånande dottern som drömmer om familjeliv, sonen som får sällskap i tonårsrummet, mamman som uttråkat stakar omkring i hemmafruns tillvaro, pappan som läser Tolstojs Ivan Illich och slutligen den människotörstande husan. Lite helbrägdagörande också, Gästen besitter oanade krafter (kameran söker sig dock gärna till Stamps skrev). Men sedan är han försvunnen, och hela familjen är ifrån sig och allt bryter ihop eller  bryter loss kanske.

Detta är bågen i Pier Paolo Pasolinis Teorema.

Att gästen är på väg meddelas av en ung man som kommer skuttande som en ängel, om han är en god eller ond sådan är oklart och samma gäller Gästen – för kanske poängen här är att cirklarna rubbas, ur förstörelsen av det gamla kan kanske något nytt uppstå, eller i varje fall väck med det livsförnekande? Och kanske slutet är som början: arbetarna ska äga fabriken?

Vandringen i öknen (ett vulkaniskt landskap) blir ett ledande motiv; är gästen/ängeln en frestare eller någon som för personerna bort från de frestelser som satts i system och blivit livsform? Citatet från Jeremia 20:7-8 ger upphov till nya frågor: 

"7. Du, HERRE övertalade mig, och jag lät mig övertalas; du grep mig och blev mig övermäktig. Så har jag blivit ett ständigt åtlöje: var man bespottar mig. 8. Ty så ofta jag talar, måste jag klaga. Jag måste ropa över våld och förtryck, ty HERRENS ord har blivit mig till smälek och hån beständigt." 

Att olika översättningar rör sig med begrepp som "bedra", "förledde" (engelska även: "förföra", "vilseleda") och "övertyga" visar kanske just problematikens sidor?

Jag är ingen Pasolini-kännare. Genom åren har jag sett några av hans kändare filmer och slagits av spännvidden, de stilistiska kasten och lagren av politik/religion/sex.  Teorema är naturligtvis ett av Pasolinis mer berömda verk. Jag slås av hur gåtfullheten förverkligas genom ett roligt spretigt filmspråk där det intertextuella finns med överallt, det vimlar av referenser och associationer. Från Mozart till Francis Bacon och Rimbaud. Var vi landar? Säg det.

Teorema, 1968

Regi: Pier Paolo Pasolini

I rollerna: Silvana Mangano,Terence Stamp, Massimo Girotti, Anne Wiazemsky, Laura Betti

Cria cuervos (1976)

I was totally enthralled by Victor Erice’s Spirit of the beehive. For reasons that are plentiful, while watching Cria cuervos, I imagined that it must be directed by Erice, too. But it is Carlos Saura who made it. Both films share a mysteriousness with which they approach the world of a child – a mysteriousness never even coming close to the cliché about children’s fairy-tale-like perception. Instead, the sense of mystery has to do with a world that, for the child, is barely comprehensible and is, in its lack of intelligibility, traumatic. These films delve in murky waters, attending to insecurity, eeriness and dissonance. And artistically, they have much in common as well, working with an almost painterly sense of composition of the image, where much of what is going on is half-hidden, half-obscured. A third link is the actress who plays the young main character of both movies, a puzzled outsider kid – the great Ana Torrent.

Ana grows up with her two sisters. After both her mom and dad have died, their aunt takes care of them in a gloomy house they also share with a housekeeper and a silent grandmother. The aunt treats the kids with a cold rigidity; she is stern, but somehow well-meaning, and strangely fragile. The sisters tend to each other, listening to music, just being. In several memorable scenes, we see Ana and her sisters listen to a proto-disco tune, a tune that is both catchy and strangely insistent. In another scene, we see them play dead, then coming back to life again, Ana being the person who commands and re-enacts traumatic scenes.

The death of the father is seen in the dramatic beginning of the film, when we see him having sex with some woman (that is not his wife) – and dying. Ana, an enigmatic child, feels guilt about the death of her mother. The film plays out as a dreamy tension between scenes that depict the mother, the sisters’ mundane life and Ana as a grown-up whose past is still present in her life as a menacing shadow (this is emphasized also by the fact that the adult Ana is played by the same actress who plays her mother). The perspective could be called ‘subjective’ – it is Ana’s experiences, her fantasies, her feelings we share. But at the same time the film treats the other characters as persons in their own right. The dynamic between the people in the film is never clarified – it is only shown in suggestive scenes, in which we can only guess at what is going on, and what it means. The same could be said about the sense of fear and guilt. The film is like a question: what was it all about? This question has a glimmer of hope in it, as a bewildered, staggering process of healing and recovery.

The film has often been read as a comment upon the last days on the Franco regime. These hints are obvious, especially with regard to the fact that Ana’s father is a general. There are plenty of ghosts that haunt this movie, and Franco is definitively one of ‘em. The film's paradoxical hopeful sense of foreboding is remarkable.

Rams (2015)

Two scraggy Icelandic brothers are involved in a bitter long-standing quarrel. This is the set-up of Rams, what one could call a pitch-black, tender comedy, directed by Grimur Hakonarson. Gummi and Kiddi haven't talked to each other for ages. They live in a small community in which the major event that everybody wait for is the early sheep-award. The film sticks to the brotherly feud that gets increasingly dangerous. Somewhere, the film loses touch with the story it tries to tell and some of the turns just feel like results of a writer that tries hard to make a dramatic movie about a small community. But somehow, regardless of its sweetness, there is no singular vision here, no urgency, and after a while, even the sweetness comes out a bit artificial. Which is a shame, because Rams has clear potential - not to speak of the grand landscape on display here.

Good men, good women (1995)

I've been quite impresed by the contemplative, slow-moving films I've seen by the Taiwanese director Hsiao-Hsien. Good men, good women was for some reason somewhat disappointing for me. Its part of a trilogoy that very much engages with the history of Taiwan, and at times I felt the stupid viewer who doesn't really get the subtleties of the depictions of change.  The film contains several layers, one of which is a story about a married couple in the forties who go to China to fight against the Japanese. After the war, they return to Taiwan, where they are politically active, but end up as victims of the political repression of the Chiang Kai Shek regime. The other level is about an actor living in an anonymous flat in present-day Taiwan, grieving her boyfriend & drinking booze. Mysteriously, she receives entries from her diary on her fax machine. The parts are related through the actor's preparation of a role where she plays the woman we see in the other story. For me, the two level weren't really satisfactorily intermingled and I tried to guess at the point of having them both. I remember the film for its neat scene composition that often gave very minute descriptions of a life situation by briefly presenting it - and successfully conjuring up not only political tensions but also strong emotions; the scenes capturing the lively atmosphere among intellectuals making a newspaper are especially memorable, and so are the scenes from the gruesome political prison. The film exudes a deep sadness about the traumatic history of Taiwan and the image we get of the present (the 90's) is a country stricken with corruption and commercialization.  

The secret in their eyes (2009)

Lots of films revolve around unsolved crimes that some eccentric is haunted by, perhaps taking one last shot at getting at the truth. The secret is in their eyes is a film that quickly draws the viewer into its own very tense and also very solemn universe. The main character is a legal cancellor who once almost had an affair with his superior. The attempt to solve an old case sparks old memories of their almost-affair, and they meet again. - - But beyond its tense atmosphere, I agree with the reviewer who compares it to a Law & Order episode with a few frames of nudity thrown in for good measure. The problem with the film is that the case is not that interesting, nor is really the tension that is still present between the retired law types. The cinematography is excellent, though. Some political dimensions of Argentina past & present are hinted at, but, sadly, they remain - for me at least - mere hints that aren't really developed into something to get hold of.

A remake has apparently been made of this movie, but I haven't seen it.

The Westerner (1940)

The Westerner is about the encounter between a drifter, Harden, accused of stealing a horse, and a somewhat morally corrupt judge Bean who hangs every man he convicts, on shady grounds, for crimes. The relation between them is not only defined by the drifter's supposed crime, but also by an English actress the drifter says he knows, and whom the judge is infatuated with. William Wyler's romantic western is also about the conflict between cattlemen and homesteaders, where the drifter acts as a kind of peacemaker, but the film never really rises to the level of penetrating analysis of cultural change. The good thing about this movie, if I were to say something in praise of it, is that one of the main characters switches back and forth between villain and good guy.

Away from her (2006)

Based on a short story by Alice Munro, Away from her is a gentle and, one could say, graceful, yet heartbreaking film directed by Sarah Polley. A marriage changes when the wife gets Alzheimer - but rather than predictable tearjerker, the film develops as an existential drama about what it means to see the person one loves slip away, become unreachable. And the film also choses not to lead us into a narrative that goes from health to sickness and deterioration. When the film starts, a dramatic change has already started. This is a bold move. Julie Christie and Gordon Pinsent are both excellent as the married couple. Their roles exude frailty, but in radically different ways. One could say that Away from her focuses on the grieving husband, who is trying to cope with his wife's sickness and also with her attempt to 'spare him'. He feels left out. The film succeeds in making that pain very tangible - it does this in quiet scenes including car rides and trips to the nursing home, to which the wife has moved. Polley does not shy away from the ordinary life of alzheimer's, what living with a person who has it means in the context of ordinary life and routines. The visual style evokes wintry landscapes and harsh light. But, luckily, it does not indulge - I thought - in explicit symbolism. Most of the time, Sarah Polley focuses on sickness in a way that is intermingled with the strange tangle that life is - a tangle of disappointment, joy and grief. She focuses on complexity and relationality, rather than a fetischized attention to the deterioration a person goes through.

Carol (2015)

Todd Haynes moody take on Patricia Highsmith's bittersweet story about closeted love exudes a remarkable dedication to the characters and the story. The languid aesthetics conjures up chilly 50's atmospherics with a fascinated attention to the details of decor and clothing. The slightly grainy cinematography adds some much-needed edge and grit to the slinky dresses and alluring cigarettes.

I haven't really been a fan of Cate Blanchette before, but maybe I just haven't understood her strength. Here, as Carol, the depressed housewife who falls in love with a young shopgirl, here acting has a brave sense of fragility, not to mention a leathal, heavy elegance. The shopgirl, Therese, is subtly played by equally terrific Rooney Mara. We see her intimidated by the older woman, but we also see her acting, being independent, fierce, even. She is very much a young person trying to know herself. These two manage to make us re-consider what is going on in the film, makes us re-consider who these people are. One of Carol's strengths is that, despits its framing in classical melodrama (Sirk), builds upon very unconventional characters. Neither are 'typical' in any sense.

Carol and Therese get involved and from the get-go, the film shows their mutual desire in an extremely powerful way. That desire is, for both of them, intermingled with loneliness. Carol is in the middle of a process of getting divorced, and is scared of losing her daughter. Theresa hangs out with boyfriends, increasingly tired of their prattle and plans. However, Carol is not a film in which we see the lovers hesitate and doubt each other. Yet, they feel lonely and they are scared. The film shows their emotions both directly - focusing on yearning gazes and lines full of secret meaning - and indirectly, for example through how Carol talks to her ex/friend (a Beautifully crafted character, so full of life), or through Therese' bored interaction with her boyfriends.

Sure, there are a couple of one-dimensional characters here. All of them are male. But one might defend this lack of depth with the heart of the movie all the time being the relationship between Carol and Therese. The male characters mainly shed light on the intimacy between the two women.

Rio bravo (1959)

Rio bravo is full of western artificiality but it succeeds, somehow, in filling its limited (this is almost a 'chamber western', no great plains here) world with life and even, a bit surprisingly, sweetness. Sweetness is not perhaps the description one would usually assign to a western movie and here I was also taken aback by this peculiar character of the film. It does have its quota of macho bravura - this is, after all, a John Wayne move - but even Wayne is a bit peculiar in that his role as a sheriff is very physical in a quite unusual way. Physical in the sense not of showing the standard range of masculine posture, but rather in displaying how toughness is suddenly broken down by tenderness. Howard Hawks directed the film and he uses a long format to tell a rather banal story about people gathered in a prison: a drunk, an old guy and a kid gunslinger (bunch of misfits, basically) who all try to protect the town against outlaws that are trying to free a bad guy from jail. Then there is a female gambler for whom the sheriff falls, played by Angie Dickinson with a beautiful range of emotions: she is a woman who shows a resiliant desire for the man, and it is she who pursues him, not the other way around.

However, Rio bravo offers standard fare when it comes to ideology. John Wayne's character is the all-American authority figure protecting the community and above all its female members against external threats. He is brave and he is manly and he is solid - but at least he cannot act on his own, but needs help from figures who might seem weak, but are shown not to be that. This lends some much needed complexity to the story. He is the man who wants to be independent, but this is shown to be a weakness, not a sign of brave strength. The sweetness I talked about is present in the relation between the sheriff and his flawed friends.

The representative of the law, the sheriff is also an image of civilization and social mores. But as I said, the film also shatters the common images of the stone-faced man a bit, and that, perhaps, saves it. (Some moments of random crooning by Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson provide some good cheesiness.)