Saw The Blair Witch Project. The movie which inspired endless found-footage shakey-cam horror-stravaganzas. Largely it holds up. Having picked up a lot information about the film by osmosis, I can sort of see where the enforced method acting breaks down (they never really explain why they're constantly filming) and where a bit of direction would have come in handy, but this film is very, very committed to the concept which results in some warts-n-all realism. It sounds funny to be complaining about naturalism in a film about a witch, but there it is.
I was impressed by the lack of explanation about the witch. Possibly inhuman, possibly just a lunatic, we don't know. And we don't have jump-shot glances into the witch's face or any silly nonsense like that. I felt oddly comforted because, without music and mostly without direction, this film is necessarily jump-shot free. I'm glad about this because I really can't stand jump-shots. It requires no skill to make me jump at a loud noise. Far better is to inspire creeping dread, as this movie does. I also knew, unfortunately, that no real special effects were available to the filmmakers and that they were smart enough not to rely on creatures, so I knew this would be largely a psychological thriller, which sucks some of the danger out of it.
So not a terrifying film, even to a wimp like me, but well done, smart, and not cheap. The climax is sufficiently frightening and only feels anticlimactic, rather than insulting.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 6, 2013
Badlands
Saw Badlands (thanks, Steve!) It was like the picnic scene from Bonnie and Clyde (67) stretched out to 90 minutes. Full of strange poignant moments, it celebrates the idea of the outlaw, though not the reality. It was deliberate but not boring, full of steady shots and declarative voice-over from the Bonnie character that is lyrical and slightly opaque. The pair seems to drift into a life of crime, going on the lam because it is the most logical next step, rather than because of any desire for notoriety or anything like that. In another life, they both might have been perfectly happy and law abiding.
The film is directed Terrence Malick, of recent Tree of Life fame. I'd only seen his film The New World which I found also deliberate, but sleepier than this one. The wild beauty of nature is on great display and after the pair go on the road, the film becomes almost a series of vignettes. It neither glamorizes nor condemns the pair, eschewing their growing notoriety and their daily struggles in favor of documenting their idle time and their half-understood (and high-school-ishly half-developed) inner lives.
Unfortunately, though I enjoyed the film there's not much I can easily grab on to to tease it apart. There was only one concrete thing I didn't understand and that was the fish on the bedside table near the beginning of the film. There's a catfish on the nightstand. I've no idea why. Apart from that uncharacteristic absurdity, this film is too amorphous for me to attack. I don't know why but it leaves me feeling confused and pleasantly unsettled, as though I'd seen a magic trick. If I hadn't just seen a good movie, I'd be pretty aggravated at the failure of my powers of analysis.
The film is directed Terrence Malick, of recent Tree of Life fame. I'd only seen his film The New World which I found also deliberate, but sleepier than this one. The wild beauty of nature is on great display and after the pair go on the road, the film becomes almost a series of vignettes. It neither glamorizes nor condemns the pair, eschewing their growing notoriety and their daily struggles in favor of documenting their idle time and their half-understood (and high-school-ishly half-developed) inner lives.
Unfortunately, though I enjoyed the film there's not much I can easily grab on to to tease it apart. There was only one concrete thing I didn't understand and that was the fish on the bedside table near the beginning of the film. There's a catfish on the nightstand. I've no idea why. Apart from that uncharacteristic absurdity, this film is too amorphous for me to attack. I don't know why but it leaves me feeling confused and pleasantly unsettled, as though I'd seen a magic trick. If I hadn't just seen a good movie, I'd be pretty aggravated at the failure of my powers of analysis.
Dec 5, 2013
Vendredi Soir
Saw Vendredi Soir. It opens on beautiful shots of the rooftops of Paris. They are deliberate, slow, and kind of cold. We pan slowly to street level to see the chaotic motion of sped-up cars and pedestrians. The slow, measured shot was in fast motion the whole time. The film is like that, a collection of interesting little contradictions. The film is lyrical and ever so slightly magical but always a bit chilly, a bit remote.
The plot follows a woman who is moving. She packs up and takes stock of her possessions, she loads her car full of boxes, and instantly gets stuck in horrible, miles-long bumper-to-bumper traffic. On a generous whim she invites a man into her car. There's a feeling of isolation, like their car is an island at sea and they are the only man, the only woman. We see into shops and into other cars which are their own plexiglass islands with their own inhabitants. The man and woman in the car are together and apart from the world. They are attracted to each other but their romance has a desperate feel to it. Less a consummation of passion than a sharing of loneliness.
The woman is the central character and she's often shot like a figure in an oil painting, beautiful and composed, but still and kind of arid. We are let inside her imagination here and there. At one point the logo on the bumper of the car in front of her dances to the music on her radio. A lampshade magically jumps onto a lamp, which turns on. There's a bit of whimsy and delight which saves this from being an absolute existential bore, but the black of night hovers nearby and things never really get truly heart-warming.
I admit, I fell victim to my favorite vice of nodding off while watching this slow, deliberately paced film, so my analysis may be a bit off (or, you know, I'm just not seeing what's right before my eyes, as usual) but I found the film very pretty, ever-so-slightly magical and interestingly cold.
The plot follows a woman who is moving. She packs up and takes stock of her possessions, she loads her car full of boxes, and instantly gets stuck in horrible, miles-long bumper-to-bumper traffic. On a generous whim she invites a man into her car. There's a feeling of isolation, like their car is an island at sea and they are the only man, the only woman. We see into shops and into other cars which are their own plexiglass islands with their own inhabitants. The man and woman in the car are together and apart from the world. They are attracted to each other but their romance has a desperate feel to it. Less a consummation of passion than a sharing of loneliness.
The woman is the central character and she's often shot like a figure in an oil painting, beautiful and composed, but still and kind of arid. We are let inside her imagination here and there. At one point the logo on the bumper of the car in front of her dances to the music on her radio. A lampshade magically jumps onto a lamp, which turns on. There's a bit of whimsy and delight which saves this from being an absolute existential bore, but the black of night hovers nearby and things never really get truly heart-warming.
I admit, I fell victim to my favorite vice of nodding off while watching this slow, deliberately paced film, so my analysis may be a bit off (or, you know, I'm just not seeing what's right before my eyes, as usual) but I found the film very pretty, ever-so-slightly magical and interestingly cold.
Dec 4, 2013
Stranger Than Paradise
Saw Stranger Than Paradise, a Jim Jarmusch film about trio of kids. A Hungarian guy, his pretty and incredibly self-possessed cousin, and his friend who has a kind of crush on the cousin. They hang out in various locations and hatch schemes to make money. The film is almost perverse in the un-exciting-ness of its storytelling. They plan to go the racetrack, but we don't see their adventures there. Rather, we stay with the cousin who is left behind in the hotel. Eventually we see the fallout of the racetrack adventure, but not before we get to really feel the lolling indolent boredom of the stranded cousin.
Shot on a shoestring, talky but listless, this film feels like the immediate ancestor of the mumble-core films. It's very arch and deadpan, like a cool kid in high school. This film comes from a list of "hipster" movies but I think this one is the first film to really nail that "hip" feel of listlessness and disaffection. Unfortunately, the film is very low-key and your enjoyment of it depends very much on how inaccessible and dry you like your entertainment. This film is dry like a wine, bitter but subtle and complex. Also like wine, enough will make you feel sleepy.
As an aside, I was very entertained by the Hungarian dude's Hungarian aunt who furiously speaks in rapid Hungarian and industriously feeds them soup. Having Hungarian grandparents myself, I was able to make out a word here or there and it made me happy.
Shot on a shoestring, talky but listless, this film feels like the immediate ancestor of the mumble-core films. It's very arch and deadpan, like a cool kid in high school. This film comes from a list of "hipster" movies but I think this one is the first film to really nail that "hip" feel of listlessness and disaffection. Unfortunately, the film is very low-key and your enjoyment of it depends very much on how inaccessible and dry you like your entertainment. This film is dry like a wine, bitter but subtle and complex. Also like wine, enough will make you feel sleepy.
As an aside, I was very entertained by the Hungarian dude's Hungarian aunt who furiously speaks in rapid Hungarian and industriously feeds them soup. Having Hungarian grandparents myself, I was able to make out a word here or there and it made me happy.
Dec 3, 2013
Mean Streets
Saw Mean Streets, a colorful film by Scorsese. It followed the adventures of a small-time businessman on the fringes of organized crime. His hands are clean, but his friends' hands are not. He struggles to get ahead and to help his gambling-addicted relation (their precise relationship was probably explained, but I missed its exact nature) to stay straight. I may be reading too much into this film (I don't really like gangster films and was idly digging into its (possibly imagined) symbolism) but I felt this struggle is given a slightly religious tinge. Several times, Roman Catholic imagery is shown (which may be unavoidable in an accurate portrayal of Italian-American life) and the protagonist loudly proclaims that "St Francis of Assisi had the right idea." Familial relationships are prominent, references to fathers especially, and the protagonist is (shall we say) quite self-sacrificing. Especially when it comes to his gambling friend.
The protagonist is fascinated by the concept of hell, going so far as to often stick his hand into open flames, perhaps to simulate the inferno. He talks also of the spiritual hell which seems, for him, to take the form of constant, low-grade desperation. He seems trapped by tradition and obligation, trapped in a relationship with a woman he doesn't particularly like and kowtowing to his mob-boss uncle for favors and handouts. He wants to talk back, against these impositions, but stops his mouth with a fiery red napkin.
The film is gorgeously colored, technicolor (possibly) being still new and exciting at this point, and I noticed a theme of red white and blue throughout the film. the film opens on a random junky in a blue jean jacket worn over a red-n-white stripped shirt and ends with a doctor in white, a cop in blue, and red blood. The gangsters seem to inhabit clubs lit entirely by infernal red lights. At one point they take a walk through a graveyard of very white stones, perhaps symbolizing death or purity. I don't know what all of this is in aid of however, beyond a sort of "Look! This is America!" message, which I think is a bit silly (America is pretty much just gangsters having a hard life, didn't you know?) but I am smug in my identification of this theme, so I won't complain. Also, by the way, there's some nice long-takes, if you're into that.
A brutish film about brutish men. I didn't really like it, but it was smarter than it seemed at first blush and well done.
The protagonist is fascinated by the concept of hell, going so far as to often stick his hand into open flames, perhaps to simulate the inferno. He talks also of the spiritual hell which seems, for him, to take the form of constant, low-grade desperation. He seems trapped by tradition and obligation, trapped in a relationship with a woman he doesn't particularly like and kowtowing to his mob-boss uncle for favors and handouts. He wants to talk back, against these impositions, but stops his mouth with a fiery red napkin.
The film is gorgeously colored, technicolor (possibly) being still new and exciting at this point, and I noticed a theme of red white and blue throughout the film. the film opens on a random junky in a blue jean jacket worn over a red-n-white stripped shirt and ends with a doctor in white, a cop in blue, and red blood. The gangsters seem to inhabit clubs lit entirely by infernal red lights. At one point they take a walk through a graveyard of very white stones, perhaps symbolizing death or purity. I don't know what all of this is in aid of however, beyond a sort of "Look! This is America!" message, which I think is a bit silly (America is pretty much just gangsters having a hard life, didn't you know?) but I am smug in my identification of this theme, so I won't complain. Also, by the way, there's some nice long-takes, if you're into that.
A brutish film about brutish men. I didn't really like it, but it was smarter than it seemed at first blush and well done.
Dec 2, 2013
The Killing
Saw The Killing, a heist film by Kubrick. It has his usual brilliant shooting and clever plot. The film jumps forward and back in time, nervously and obsessively detailing the characters' movements. They are attempting a very complex robbery of a racetrack and twice they walk by the track's spectators who are gazing with open mouths at the race, almost as we viewers are staring in wrapped fascination at this film. This is a sort of joke on us viewers, I think, but it's so damn clever that I don't mind it a bit. There's a more obvious, but more clever pseudo-joke involving a horseshoe that I don't want to spoil, but it's brilliant.
The imagery of characters behind bars is repeated so many times, it's a motif unto itself. Chain link fences, rungs of a staircase, the crossbeams of a window, venetian blinds, a bird in a cage, even the habitual plaid shirts of one of the conspirators. All of the conspirators are locked into this scheme in some way. The film even opens by explaining via (a very disdainful sounding) narrator that one conspirator feels he is as responsible for his actions as a puzzle-piece is responsible for the image it produces (another bit of locking in but with an added bonus-promise of a puzzle to be pieced together.)
One man's wife needs an operation, one man needs money to get married, one man needs it to make his shrew of a wife happy. This last wife is a prominent character. Tellingly, she owns the fore-mentioned birdcage and about her bed is a collection of oriental ornaments. Like a concubine, she exploits sex to manipulate men into doing her bidding. Her husband is put in the painful position of having two masters.
The cinematography is flawless. When the conspirators conspire, they are always lit from directly overhead, making them look nervy and claustrophobic. They are often shot from below and against black, making the characters seem remote and sinister and yet kind of lost. When the money is being stuffed into bags, it's loose and unstacked, making the cash spill everywhere in great plumes, demonstrating its great abundance. Two characters bookend the words "The End" in the final shot, a perfect little diorama to end this little Swiss watch of a film. Very clever, very subtle, and a lot of fun to spot little trends and cute flourishes (even if, as I freely admit, some of those flourishes perhaps exist solely in my own head.)
The imagery of characters behind bars is repeated so many times, it's a motif unto itself. Chain link fences, rungs of a staircase, the crossbeams of a window, venetian blinds, a bird in a cage, even the habitual plaid shirts of one of the conspirators. All of the conspirators are locked into this scheme in some way. The film even opens by explaining via (a very disdainful sounding) narrator that one conspirator feels he is as responsible for his actions as a puzzle-piece is responsible for the image it produces (another bit of locking in but with an added bonus-promise of a puzzle to be pieced together.)
One man's wife needs an operation, one man needs money to get married, one man needs it to make his shrew of a wife happy. This last wife is a prominent character. Tellingly, she owns the fore-mentioned birdcage and about her bed is a collection of oriental ornaments. Like a concubine, she exploits sex to manipulate men into doing her bidding. Her husband is put in the painful position of having two masters.
The cinematography is flawless. When the conspirators conspire, they are always lit from directly overhead, making them look nervy and claustrophobic. They are often shot from below and against black, making the characters seem remote and sinister and yet kind of lost. When the money is being stuffed into bags, it's loose and unstacked, making the cash spill everywhere in great plumes, demonstrating its great abundance. Two characters bookend the words "The End" in the final shot, a perfect little diorama to end this little Swiss watch of a film. Very clever, very subtle, and a lot of fun to spot little trends and cute flourishes (even if, as I freely admit, some of those flourishes perhaps exist solely in my own head.)
Dec 1, 2013
Shaolin Soccer
Saw Shaolin Soccer (Thanks, Basil!) It was the source of this reaction face (if you're into that sort of thing.) It was a hilarious Chinese comedy about a rag-tag troupe of secret Kung-Fu masters, currently stuck in various dead-end jobs, who band together to form a soccer team to fight the villainous Team Evil. The comedy is silly and absurd. At one point they have a practice match against a team of street thugs. Their leader is a pencil-necked nerd who wields a ball-peen hammer on the pitch. The Kung-Fu masters, full of naive high hopes, are decimated by the evil thugs. (This is early on in the movie. They haven't had the getting-stronger montage yet.) Their leader, the forward kicker, crawls along with a broken leg, other players' feet and arms flailing around him. Bullets whiz overhead as he crawls through mud under barbed wire, calling frantically for back-up on the radio.
This kind of gutsy, free-association nonsense is exactly the kind of absurd comedy I love. There is a dream-logic to it that almost makes sense. Later on they fight a team composed of teenage girls wearing false mustaches. This is played straight and, apart from the inherent absurdity of the premise, is not used as a punchline. As far as we know, the film-makers could only get girls that day. Hilarious.
Of course there's also the typical Asian hyper-drama, but the operatically overblown emotions only serve to make this feel like a yet more surreal parody of life. There is also the apparently typical xenophobia (which I guess is a trend in Chinese movies, unfortunately.) It turns out Team Evil has been cheating by using American steroids which give them the Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-style powers of flight and superhuman poise. This can also be deliciously absurd to the American viewer if you forget the relative seriousness that I believe the Chinese viewer would receive it with.
A hilarious movie with nothing more on its mind than absurdity and laughs. It is broad enough to translate well, but not so broad as to be boring. It's surprising and stupid. I liked it.
This kind of gutsy, free-association nonsense is exactly the kind of absurd comedy I love. There is a dream-logic to it that almost makes sense. Later on they fight a team composed of teenage girls wearing false mustaches. This is played straight and, apart from the inherent absurdity of the premise, is not used as a punchline. As far as we know, the film-makers could only get girls that day. Hilarious.
Of course there's also the typical Asian hyper-drama, but the operatically overblown emotions only serve to make this feel like a yet more surreal parody of life. There is also the apparently typical xenophobia (which I guess is a trend in Chinese movies, unfortunately.) It turns out Team Evil has been cheating by using American steroids which give them the Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon-style powers of flight and superhuman poise. This can also be deliciously absurd to the American viewer if you forget the relative seriousness that I believe the Chinese viewer would receive it with.
A hilarious movie with nothing more on its mind than absurdity and laughs. It is broad enough to translate well, but not so broad as to be boring. It's surprising and stupid. I liked it.
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