Author: Sasa

La Captive

Yeah, this is just not really a good movie. I have a thing for Chantal Akerman, but then again I don’t. To be perfectly truthful, I am watching this film because of Stanislas Merhar. When I was much younger, I used to like the “Comte de Monte-Cristo” mini-series with Gérard Depardieu, where Merhar was Albert de Morcerf. In the book he never stood out to me as a character, and in the mini-series they turned him into a whiny little douchebag. I have always been wondering if it was just the actor being strange or if he was acting strange. Stanislas Merhar never really did anything else of note. I was surprised to stumble upon this, and I found myself obsessing with him as an actor in the film.

Sylvie Testud might be a good actress, but most of the film actually relies upon Merhar’s character. Calling Simon crazy is an understatement, and Merhar plays him beautifully in my opinion. He does have this strange way of swinging his arms and shoulders heavily when he walks, and maybe his role in “La Captive” is not too different from the one of the weak, troubled young man, but I don’t disapprove of that. His inquiring way of asking questions, the restlessness of his mind reflected in the way he wanders around – always following Ariane, but rather following an image he projects onto her rather than herself. He follows her so closely that she feels it and he does not appear to truly want to hide that. Bottom line – this man is openly creepy, the key ingredient of any good French film on obsessive love.

I have a thing for dark, obsessive love in movies. “Lolita”, “A short story about love”, even “Vertigo” – they are all great because the main characters act in a way people would be creeped out by in real life. But in art, we can indulge in these actions, analyze them, perhaps also condemn them, but ultimately what we really want is to sympathize with them within the realms of the film. Every one of these films is a little painful, because obsessive love must be dark. Yet love is always painful… Towards the end, when the couple is about to separate, he tells her to admit to her lies. His inability to trust and the way it troubles him – that dialogues at the end of the film hit home pretty well and it reminded me of my teenage angst from 10 years ago.

Style-wise I thought the movie was pretty lovely. With a backdrop of old-style Parisian apartments, the film is full of beautiful women and a lingering eroticism between them is actually always present. How French, isn’t it?

Now “La Captive” cannot be compared to those masterpieces about love, and without ever having read Proust, I guess the film also cannot compare to the book (just like no “Monte Cristo” film could ever be comparable to the book), but that is alright for I don’t know the book. It’s one of these silly films I like for no particular reason.

PS. Speaking of obsession, I think one of the nicest obsessive love stories is Snape’s in the last Harry Potter book. He single-handedly redeems the house of Slytherin, the actually most likable house of all. Slytherin is for all those calm, smart and nerdy introvert, not like those Gutmensch-y Gryffindors full of mischief. Yet the Gryffindor spirit is what we envy, the carefree positiveness, the willingness to act rather than to ponder, the place in the sun. For this winter I am considering knitting scarves again, one in Ravenclaw, one in Gryffindor and one in Slytherin colors.

Bonnie and Clyde

I didn’t actually know that they were real people. All I know that this is a famous classic, and that I have always wanted to see it.

As a historical account, the film doesn’t have much to offer. It’s largely an adventure film, exploiting some real facts but mostly it stands on its own. But as an adventure film, the film is a little bit too gory, with the characters constantly fearing to die to the point of panicking like crazy. Perhaps it makes most sense to view the film as a misguided love story.

Most of the good scenes in the film involve Bonnie and Clyde together – alone. They have their relationship troubles, especially when Blanche was added to the group, but their first meeting, the scene where they bonded with the farmer family who got driven away from their farm and finally their last day together were probably the most interesting parts of the film for me. In fact, the most memorable part of the film was precisely the end, where Bonnie and Clyde actually died together. I find it remarkable that they put Bonnie into a romantic white dress, and that this death scene had to come shortly after they found something like bliss in their relationship. The impact of the scene was also heightened by the disturbing attractiveness of Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway. (How does she manage to keep her hair so immensely stylish all the time?)

The only good scene not involving Bonnie and Clyde alone is definitely the one with the hostages. Gene Wilder only had a very short role but boy he is awesome in it already. It was probably the only truly humorous scene of the entire film and it worked well.

Apart from that, “Bonnie and Clyde” was an interesting, fairly suspenseful story, and quite revolutionary for a film at that time. Criminals (in fact murderers) were portrayed as likable, yet they died a gruesome, very visually shocking death. But for me, the film has too many weaknesses to be recommendable. All other characters besides Bonnie and Clyde were rather boring and just served as plot devices, and the 60s style of the film strongly disturbed me considering that it is supposed to play at the beginning of the 30s – that mixture doesn’t necessarily look bad, but it certainly looks very wrong. Watch the film but don’t expect too much.

Before the devil knows you’re dead

Pip recently has a tendency to find things he sees on screen unsettling. I agree, and I have been wondering why. I think it should be considered a strength of the film if it disturbs you – it means that it was able to captivate you emotionally.

Considering that this is an action-laden film which I expected to be some heist-thriller, I was surprised how much it was about devastating feelings. For a Sidney Lumet film, I should not have been too surprised. His films always have some humanity, exploring morals and such. But it is the morals of his film which are unsettling. I cannot get over the ending of the film in which you see one of the most disturbing, cold-blooded murders I have seen in a long time.

Of course the main reason for me to see this film was Philip Seymour Hoffman. As always, he delivers perfectly and makes the character of Andy more interesting than anyone else probably could have. I also have always liked Marisa Tomei and her willingness to casually show off her naked body on screen. Unlike most people, she appears professional and mature because she does not hide her age; it is those blemishes that make her hotter than most young girls’s bodies. But the biggest surprise was Ethan Hawke. Unlike PSH, I did not expect anything from him in this film, and he turned out to be a likable douchebag – I am quite impressed.

A discussion with Loris made me realize that the biggest strength of the film was not actually its characters (which was an positive aspect I remarked very quickly) but its storytelling. When I read prior to watching the film that it would have a non-chronological storyline, I was worried. Most of the times it means that a film is utterly confusing. In this case however, I can only applaud Lumet’s brilliance. The non-chronology contributes to the suspense because the crime in the film is revealed only slowly in small parts. Then the pieces are strung together by intertitles displaying the date and scenes which repeat for a few seconds such that you know what is happening when. People have compared the film to Miller’s Crossing, and when looking at their narrative elements, one can easily see why.

In comparison, Miller’s Crossing is definitely even more amazing at bringing strings of storyline together, but this film has no reason to hide. It is actually a rare gem of good storytelling, and an interesting film on filial piety, remorse and grief.

PS. I have been asked a few times why I do not write novels. The truth is that I believe it is one of my top 3 weaknesses (the other two being calculating things in my head and coming up with funny backacronyms), and when it comes to novels, I would never want to write a novel worse than, say, a Dostoevsky. My expectations would just be too high.

The Queen

Since this year marks Elizabeth II’s 60th year of reign, I figured it would be a good time to watch the most acclaimed film about her.

Actually I had no idea what the film would be about beforehand. I just knew that Helen Mirren did a great job as Elizabeth II, but actually it was all about grieving Diana’s death. My younger childhood (before the 9/11 incident which I consider adolescence) was marked by two big media events. One was the Levinsky affair which made me stop watching the news because I couldn’t stand her face anymore, and the other was Diana’s death. The latter was much more annoying, bit I had a certain fascination with it. I read biographies of her, watched this movie about her life and especially liked those comparison articles with Sissy. But now, over 10 years have passed, and “The Queen” is a surprisingly interesting way to look back at it.

Sometimes I don’t really know why films are highly acclaimed, such as this one. Its storyline is largely boring and it deals with a time which is not exactly interesting anymore either. Today, Elizabeth II probably doesn’t busy herself with Diana anymore, it is largely forgiven and forgotten. But in the film, Diana lives on as a ghost, she is almost a second main character next to the queen herself. Luckily the film is about Elizabeth II, a much more interesting character than Diana. Perhaps the real Elizabeth II is nothing like that at all, but what Helen Mirren presents here is an interesting extension of the little bit you can see publicly. Just like Gorp has said previously, all the scenes involving her were the best of the film – absolutely amusing.

I do not quite think that the film was supposed to be purely comical though. Certainly some of the characters were designed to be a little comical (*coughcough* Charles *cough* Philip), but there is a lot of beauty in the friendship between movie-Blair and movie-Elizabeth. He is the only one who sees how misunderstood she is, and how dignified she is as a queen, desiring privacy in grief rather than a public outpour of emotions. I actually liked this premise of the film, and if it wasn’t for that silly stag, the film would have been a marvel in execution of a story in which not all too much happens. It is ultimately a story about Elizabeth not doing anything, and the film made this “nothing” surprisingly interesting and suspenseful.

I don’t think I would ever re-watch this film, especially since most characters besides Elizabeth II are rather weak. But it is definitely an interesting and rather unique film.

Foolish Wives

I just referred to the film as “20 minutes of story and 2 hours of bla” when telling Pixelmatsch about it, and in essence this is exactly what the film is. He responded with “That is because they cut out 2 hours of story and 4 hours of bla” – which I think is most likely also accurate. That is just what Stroheim’s films always are, and the hours of blabla are what make his films great. Most of the times, the storyline is okayish at best (though I thought that “Blind Husbands” had an engaging, amusing story), it is the way Stroheim portrays his Schnitzlerian characters and the lavish environments that make his films into what they are. If you cut the film down to just its story, there won’t be much left. Stroheim knows how to make a picture. As for me, I am totally going to watch the 4-hour-version of “Greed” and I wish the 8-10 hour version was still there.

In essence, I think Stroheim was just ahead of his time. What he really needed was the concept of the modern TV series. His 8-10 hours of Greed could easily have become a 13 episode series with ~45 minute episodes. “Foolish Wives” as a story has enough material for at least a 6 episode mini-series. If the first part of Queen Kelly is going roughly at the pace that Stroheim wanted, I think that prologue could easily have become the first 2 episodes of a longer series. After all, at the end of the day Stroheim was not even able to get to the actual story.

With that in mind, it is hard to judge a Stroheim film. With the story being largely altered or not explained deeply enough due to all the cuts, one has to focus on the looks of the film. As always, those are impeccable. Stroheim’s Monte Carlo is a feast of stylishness and a gem of history. Nobody else is able to use so much splendid decor and make it feel so natural instead of pompously silly. Furthermore, Stroheim himself is the perfect actor for the role of the evil swindler who appears to have every bad character trait in the world including cowardice (and it still surprises me how well he was able to pull off the good guy in “La Grande Illusion”).

I think that Stroheim is a completely crazy old man, but at the same time I greatly appreciate his movies. I don’t think history will repeat itself. Someone like Stroheim is a one of a kind, absolutely unique thing in all of history, and movies like his will never be made anymore.

Kuroneko

In fact, there is a longer tradition of ghosts in Asian horror films, as opposed to monsters in Western horror. The post title says that I am interested in it, but really I don’t actually know much about it. By some definitions of horror, the Mushishi anime could be – some of the mushi are so disturbing and dangerous that they could just as well inspire horror. “Kuroneko” is called a horror movie, but primarily it actually is a ghost story.

In many aspects, “Kuroneko” reminded me of “Ugetsu Monogatari”, especially with the “ghost woman lures men into her illusionary house” element. erotic, and I agree with that. Nevertheless, it is a very Japanese view of eroticism and seeing a man chase a woman across the room while she giggles and turns around alluringly will always, always baffle me to no end. Seriously. Is sexual teasing really fun if you know exactly that you’ll get what you want anyways? Aren’t these games the very root of misunderstandings in the kind of “When she says no it actually means yes”?

Feminist rants aside, “Kuroneko” is what I’d call a beautiful movie. It certainly is low budget but the decor and attire creates an atmospheric environment where even the Japanese court woman style eyebrows look stylish. Most of the times, I am not really into samurai movies just because I think that the period doesn’t lend itself to beautiful shots as Chinese or Korean period dramas do. (When looking at Japanese period movies, kimonos appear to exist to whore around, but I am digressing back to feminism again.) Samurai almost always look ragged and ridiculous, the aforementioned eyebrows look silly and whitened geisha faces are creepy. Farmers suitably wear kimonos, but they are short and people in a short kimonos just don’t look as good as in the more refined longer version. “Kuroneko” is rather different. It modernizes the traditional attire by just a little bit (although I cannot quite pinpoint what it is specifically) and the characters appear very strongly the way they are supposed to – the samurai look evil and morally degraded, the main character looks attractive and the two women look desirable. In terms of style, this is probably the nicest Japanese film apart from Teshigawara’s masterpieces which are unparalleled in beauty in my book.

At the same time, of course the film doesn’t really make sense. It is quite clear that the two ghosts are the mother and the wife respectively. But then – and this is also in the spirit of the Japanese – the mother would be even more willing to sacrifice her arm (and perhaps, by extension, her life) for her son. But in the film she literally killed her son. Now this might be explained by how the devil which made the mother became more and more demonic throughout the film, but that is implied at best. In any case it makes no sense for a mother to be ultimately less loving than a wife.

In a nutshell, I consider the possibility that I am irrationally biased towards “Kuroneko”. Normally I don’t like horror stories (and this includes Japanese ghost stories as I was fairly bored with Ugetsu) and a story which appears illogical to me. But the illogical aspects came towards the end and by that time, I was already completed smitten with the beauty of the film.

Drive

I recently complained to Loris that I don’t like Carey Mulligan as Daisy Buchanan in the new “The Great Gatsby” movie, especially since I was excited to see Leonardo DiCaprio play Gatsby. As you might all know, I am now a dedicated Leo fan and I think he’s quite perfect for the role. Now Daisy might be a terrible woman, but I don’t want her to be the sad-faced crybaby that Carey Mulligan always is. In my imagination, Daisy Buchanan is something like an air-headed femme fatale, a dashing beauty who is not exactly stupid but perhaps a mix of maliciousness and ignorance. She must at least be exceedingly attractive and have the qualities of a desirable flower. The last thing she should look like is meek or negative in any sense, but that is exactly what Carey Mulligan is doing most of the time! In “Never let me go” she was perfect for her role – and so were the other characters, but Daisy? Daisy?! Daisy is a woman one must hate, but would not because one sees her with the eyes of Gatsby who is obsessed with her. I have no idea why anyone in this world would get obsessed with Carey Mulligan. (Actresses who would work as Daisy? Charlize Theron, Cameron Diaz, Rachel McAdams, Scarlett Johansson, heck even Evan Rachel Wood would be great.)
In the end, Loris brought up a good point. The 1974 version of the film features Mia Farrow in the role of Daisy – she is exactly the same meek, negative type! Is it me, am I misinterpreting her character? Is she supposed to be played by an annoying face of eternal misery?

Alright, enough complaining about Carey Mulligan, especially since she was okay in this movie. She was basically just the damsel in distress here and didn’t have to do that much. To me, she appeared likable enough and that was enough. One could say the same thing about Ryan Gosling. After seeing him in “Blue Valentine” and “The Ides of March”, I think that the blank-faced samurai type character suits him (he could literally play anything) but it does not fully exploit his capabilities as an actor. I think there is a surprising large amount of great and good-looking actors – Johnny Depp, aforementioned Leonardo DiCaprio and now Ryan Gosling come to mind. I liked his cold and almost harsh attitude with a big heart underneath the surface, but it did not really contribute to the enjoyment of the film.

The biggest problem of “Drive” is that… it is not a good movie. Sure, it’s dramatic and fast-paced, but also pretty predictable and bland. Sure, the shots are beautiful, but there is more to beauty that night shots of L.A. from a helicopter. For me, the beauty of “Drive” is too artificial and not pure enough. And finally, I find the storyline of the film absolutely hollow, and the terrible “A real hero” song does not help its cause. I am not elaborating much here, but I also don’t think my harsh criticism needs too much explanation. I knew beforehand that the film would not be the best in the world (thanks for the warning!), what I did not expect was that the style of the film left me quite unimpressed.

In that respect, Gorp, I have higher expectations for “The American” since I think Corbijn’s style is pretty great (at least in “Control”). As for “Drive”, well I’d say I am indifferent. Currently I am doing research on what we call ‘regret’ – the quantification of the loss you incur because you ‘regret’ not having taken some other action. Now I don’t regret having seen the film, as it was not a complete waste of time but I probably would also not regret missing the film if I had known beforehand how little I would like it. In essence, Regret(Drive) = 0.

The Secret of Kells

Through Movies in Frames, I have encountered many films which I otherwise would have completely neglected. When a film has great visuals, it is possible that I will end up liking the entire package. In the case of “Stalker” (I am currently obsessed with the film huh?) it really is the case. Showing only 4 screenshots of a film makes it possible to point to certain details which would otherwise be overlooked, and sometimes some of these details alone are enough to make a film worthwhile to see. “The Secret of Kells” is the kind where a screenshot captivated me.

Indeed, the movie is stunningly beautiful. The landscape constantly reminded me of the universe in the Zelda: Skyward Sword. Without a doubt, the background design for the film could have been a piece of artwork for itself. But… what was the point of the film? We have a little boy whose mission was to, uh, write a book? For who? For what? Why was there an enemy in the first place? I have always had a tendency to dislike fantasy and favor science fiction, because science fiction is so damn meaning – and most fantasy stories are so disturbingly one-dimensional. It’s always a little orphaned boy, there is some adventure and at the end of the story he will do something great.

Perhaps I am even more disappointed because this is animation and for some reason I don’t quite understand, the film is being praised. For what? Certainly it looked beautiful and it had likable characters, heck it even had Brendan Gleeson, but nothing else. I am so tired of animated films which are largely an exercise in style, and I think it is inhibiting the genre of animated film to be taken seriously. I understand that not every film can be “Spirited Away”, but this kind of film just doesn’t help. Luckily it seems that the movie is already plunging into oblivion, so I might have nothing to worry about.

Bottom line: It was an acceptable, very beautiful film. But ultimately forgettable.

Andrei Rublev

“Andrei Rublev” is a strange film. After seeing Tarkovsky’s masterpieces, “Stalker” and “Solaris”, I expected a film of that sort. Both “Stalker” and “Solaris” are color films, and you can categorize them into “existential mood pieces poor on dialogue”. “Andrei Rublev” is so immensely different. Without the Tarkovsky colors, the film strangely focuses on its rather long dialogue and comparably short shots. In fact, I perceived it as openly shocking – a Soviet film about religion, showing naked pagans and extremely violent war scenes? Is that really Tarkovsky? Upon second inspection, one would come to the realization that it of course is Tarkovsky. It is a very contemplating film full of ideas, and as a film about an artist’s block it is much more thoughtful than, say, 8 1/2. I liked how it saw the artist less as an individual (ultimately we still don’t know much about Andrei Rublev!) but more about “the artist” in general in relation to its surroundings, and how he can marry what he sees in the world with his art. The Andrei Rublev shown by Tarkovsky is someone who does not have many characteristics besides being good at his art and troubled with the world, but that is precisely the crucial generalization driving the point home.

Surprisingly enough, for its black and whiteness, “Andrei Rublev” appears less stylish to me than “Stalker” and “Solaris”. Tarkovsky defies all rules governing my viewing preference. I typically prefer fast-paced films with lots of dialogue in black and white. But, oh, “Stalker” is the exact opposite of that and I absolutely love it.

Visually, the raid of the church is probably the most stunning scene of the film. (And the end of it!) Somehow I also really liked the scene with the brotherly kiss where the one guy stomps on the feet of the other while doing so. Just like every other Tarkovsky film, “Andrei Rublev” is one of those movies which makes you plunge into a different world, in this case medieval Russia which I assume most of you have not really encountered either.

I am a little bit obsessed with the character of Durochka, who is clearly the most positive in the whole film. She has the most awesome and beautiful scenes, it’s almost a declaration of love from Tarkovsky to his wife. My second favorite part was the little bell maker. He is full of himself and has so many faults, yet I was rooting for him. The end was so suspenseful and it felt like a little miracle was happening.

Tarkovsky is amazing at picking great topics. Putting the artist’s block into Russian medieval times is a very typical thing for him to do (has he made any movie in the “normal” contemporary world?) and it turned out great. It’s a film that makes you relish in the pictures and contemplate about what you just saw. At the same time, it is a film one could also easily dismiss as “too brainy” or “too boring”. For me, right now this is exactly what I am looking for.