Twenty-Four Eyes (1954)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Twenty-Four Eyes (1954) -- K. Kinoshita

Kinoshita's "epic" plays out from 1928 to 1946, showing the life of a primary school teacher (first grade to sixth grade) and her interactions with her pupils on rural Shodo Island in the inland sea of Japan.  These were difficult times for Japan and the film is poignantly anti-war. We only come to know a few of the 12 students (with 24 eyes) specifically but their stories are often deeply sad, as they come to terms with poverty and later militarism.  I'm a softie so I did have tears well up on more than one occasion, but I didn't feel that the film was manipulating me too much.  Hideko Takamine is great (as usual).  On the downside, some of the child actors are less natural and it is sometimes difficult to feel they are the same person as they grow across the years (changing actors along the way).  Kinoshita uses an inordinate number of extremely long shots, with the children or Takamine simply small shapes in the environmental context. This may represent the way we are all buffeted by the events around us, over which we have no control and which can easily overwhelm us.

Oldboy (2003)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Oldboy (2003) -- C. W. Park

I waited a long time to see this because I'm not a fan of the ultra-violence that somehow is popular in some quarters.  But after seeing a clip in Mark Cousins' Story of Film (15 part series) and noting Oldboy's inclusion in a lot of lists, I thought I would check it out.  The set-up/premise grabbed me right away -- after a drunken night out, our protagonist, Oh Dae-su, wakes up in a small apartment which turns out to be his prison for 15 years.  He doesn't know who has imprisoned him or why.  When he gets out, it is his task to find out.  So, it is a thriller/mystery film and the clues keep coming.  In fact, there is a "Moriarty-like" character who taunts our hero (if that's what you can call him) as well.  So, the movie creates some suspense but its real pleasure is in its style, with a lot of audacious shots, split screens, and just plain panache (gratuitous violence and live octopus eating aside). Perhaps the content of the plot is a little too convoluted, a little too sick, but Chan Wook Park's aim was likely to try to top Tarantino or Gaspar Noe and in some ways he succeeds. Thrilling enough to recommend for those who have the tolerance for this sort of thing.

F for Fake (1974)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

F for Fake (1974) -- O. Welles

Orson Welles' first "essay film" -- not quite a documentary, not quite fiction -- helped herald in other works that crossed this line (by Werner Herzog especially, but also Mark Rappaport, Errol Morris, Michael Moore, and a steady stream of others).  Godard (and/or Chris Marker) was probably a progenitor but Welles is playing with his own legend as a faker (and the film feels sui generis), as well as focusing on two notorious "fakers", Elmyr de Hory (an art forger) and Clifford Irving (who faked Howard Hughes' autobiography) using found footage from another director.  He also tries to prank us with a story focused on his romantic partner, Oja Kodar. The editing here is pretty incredible -- and not everything that seems to be, well true, is actually thus.  Welles went on to make "Filming Othello" in this vein and one can only wish that he had had a chance to do more.

The Wicker Man (1973)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Wicker Man (1973) -- R. Hardy

Edward Woodward is a deeply religious (Christian) cop who is called upon to investigate the disappearance and possible murder of a young girl on the Scottish island of Summerisle.  What he finds there deeply conflicts with his values and views -- a thriving community of pagans led by none other than Christopher Lee (in a great performance).  Although somewhat cheesy at times, the movie doesn't hold back and shows the members of this rural farming community (in real Scottish locales) really honoring the rituals of the ancient past (for example, at one point, a teacher exclaims to her young pupils that the may day pole is like a giant penis symbolizing the fertilization of the land). To say more about Woodward's quest would spoil the fun, but the movie does tilt into horror by the end.

Le Cercle Rouge (1970)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Le Cercle Rouge (1970) -- J.-P. Melville

A long prelude to the actual heist shows us how all the players came to be "in the red circle" at the same time -- Delon just out of jail, Volonte escaping arrest by Bourvil, and Montand in bed with the DTs but ready to go cold turkey.  The heist itself is methodically plotted (and shot). The denouement brings all the vectors together (yes, in the red circle), as Bourvil makes his move. In fact, in this film, Melville seems to spend as much time detailing the cop's position as he does (as is his wont) the crook's. Everyone, on both sides, is tough and cool -- they don't blink, they just get on with it, even when shit happens. Red circles appear now and again, but the film is primarily blue and gold.  Probably the fourth best Melville film (after Le Samourai, Le Doulos, and Army of the Shadows), but still great.

Ran (1985)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ran (1985) -- A. Kurosawa

Kurosawa takes on King Lear (changing the three daughters to three samurai sons) and has Tatsuya Nakadai slowly go mad with crazy white hair and beard while his fool (Peter) speaks and sings the truth (i.e. he screwed up) as the audience's surrogate.  I saw this (my second time) on a really huge screen in 1991 in Surabaya, Indonesia, in Japanese with Bahasa Indonesian subtitles, and the majestic images of blue, yellow, and red armies with banners waving in the wind have never left me.  Now watching it on blu-ray (but with only a 32" screen), setpieces, such as the brutal battle which leaves the castle in flames, are still pretty amazing.  True, its epic length could be a bit wearying and the plot operates well on a grand scale and not so sensitively on a smaller interpersonal scale.  But these are quibbles and this is a fine elegiac last triumph for AK.

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Rosemary's Baby (1968) -- R. Polanski

A perennial favorite and one of those films that you wish you could go back and watch for the very first time again.  Polanski provides just enough ambiguity (but not too much) for us to feel that Mia Farrow is, perhaps, going insane -- after all the odds would seem to suggest that outcome is more certain.  But most audiences will know too much and the thrill is in hoping that Satan is real.  You know the story:  actor John Cassavetes and wife move into NYC apartment building (where John Lennon was shot) and meet vivacious older couple (Ruth Gordon and Sidney Blackmer in astonishing performances).  Have they seduced the husband into joining their witches' coven? The evidence mounts.  One of the great ones.

Stop Making Sense (1984)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Stop Making Sense (1984) -- J. Demme

I'm finding it too hard to review this on cinematic grounds without having all of my sentimental and nostalgic feelings influence my reaction.  But I think that's OK because this concert film by Talking Heads really meant a lot to me and thus deserves my highest rating.  Back in 1984, my friends and I saw this at Cinema 93 and danced in the aisles.  I bought the album with a special glossy book (now lost) in Hanover, NH (Dartmouth bookstore, I think) and later the cassette because it had remixes or longer versions of the songs.  When my high school had an "air band" contest, we got a "big suit" from my friend Todd's dad and created props (using the same design as was used in BBHS's production of "Definitely Eric Geddis") out of cardboard with white paint and black outlines -- guitar, keyboards, etc.  I played David Byrne.  We didn't win but got an honorable mention.  Talking Heads were/became my favorite band in those pre-college years.  Probably they went downhill after this album and watching this again last night, perhaps I wished for a few more early songs and not so much from Speaking in Tongues (but this was after all a film of the tour for that album). Having just read David Byrne's book (How Music Works), I can see more clearly than ever just how much careful thought went into the stage show for that tour and for the movie Stop Making Sense, directed by Jonathan Demme (who went on to Silence of the Lambs and more).   What's more, almost 30 years later, this still sounds great.

The Decalogue (1988)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Decalogue (1988) -- K. Kieslowski

Prior to his later international success (with the Double Life of Veronique and Three Colors: Blue, White, and Red), Krysztof Kieslowski made this 10 part series of short films (50 minutes each) for Polish TV. Each episode, shot by a different cinematographer, focuses on one of the 10 commandments (or perhaps on how people break the commandment and the subsequent implications). But it isn't exactly straightforward which film goes with which commandment (although some internet pundits do make the call) -- instead these might be considered "puzzle films" because we are thrown right into the lives of the characters (mostly all residing in a single housing estate) without any context or back-story.  The plot, or moral dilemma, faced by the characters is only slowly revealed.  Some are doozies and you find yourself thinking "what would I do?" or "what exactly _is_ the right thing to do?" or even "there's no way in hell that I would end up in that predicament".  At times, I felt that I was watching a series of really intriguing "afterschool specials" designed to get me to think about ethics and really that's not a bad thing.  Amazing that Kieslowski and his collaborators are able to sustain curiosity excitement and interest in the viewer (this viewer) across nearly 10 hours.  Highly recommended.

DEKALOG TRAILER from Janus Films on Vimeo.