I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang (1932) – M. Le Roy

The title says it all:  Paul Muni is wrongly convicted of a crime and sentenced to the chain gang, an incredibly brutal and unfair form of punishment, from which he subsequently escapes. Using skills he learned in the army during WWI, he builds himself a career as a civil engineer and rises to prominence – until he is betrayed (as is, of course, inevitable).  After a creaky start, director Mervyn Le Roy keeps things hopping along, laying out the clichés that would mark all future depictions of the chain gang, including musically.  Warner Brothers subsequently built their image on this kind of social problem picture, crusading against injustice, and was sued by the state of Georgia for the effort. A tough and gritty ‘30s prison flick.  

To the Wonder (2012)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

To the Wonder (2012) – T. Malick

Not a perfect film but one of those “minor” works that all great directors have in their oeuvres, works that still demonstrate their talent and individuality, and which may fill in some gaps for auteur theorists, but somehow the films don’t quite succeed.  Terrence Malick’s follow up to The Tree of Life is equally impressionistic and in some ways just as inaccessible.  This is a film of beautiful images and sequences, with an astonishing use of light in all its forms (dappled, streaming, sparkling, taken during the magic hour or not).  There is little dialogue, although we sometimes overhear a phrase or two.  Instead, we are kept at a distance as mere observers of Ben Affleck’s relationship with Olga Kurylenko (and his brief affair with Rachel McAdams).  Nevertheless, we can easily piece together what happens in their lives, from Paris to Oklahoma, on again and off again.  A subplot involving Catholic priest Javier Bardem who is possibly losing his faith (just as Ben and Olga struggle with theirs) doesn’t quite gel with everything else but clues us in to the spiritual themes that Malick is working with (also evoked by his use of light and of nature’s majesty).  So, even though everything doesn’t cohere nicely, the brushstrokes here still paint a picture of beauty and, yes, wonder, at the availability of rich emotional experiences in this life. 

Teorema (1968)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Teorema (1968) – P. P. Pasolini

I haven’t seen too many Pasolini films (The Gospel According to St. Matthew, The Decameron) and this one is certainly a lot more puzzling than the others.  Terence Stamp plays a mysterious “Visitor” who arrives at the bourgeois home of a factory owner and his family and proceeds to seduce each of them (maid, son, mother, daughter, father). Stamp is eroticized by the camera and the scenes unfold with little or no dialogue.  In fact, the film itself is full of heightened but plain images and little clear narrative structure.  After Stamp departs, each of the seduced characters changes.  Vincent Canby (of the New York Times) suggests that they each experience a sort of “collapse” (seeking to recreate the sexual experience with others or withdrawing into themselves or into art).  The maid becomes a sort of holy saint herself, which has led other reviewers to suggest that Stamp plays a reincarnation of Jesus or another god-like manifestation.  The factory owner gives away his factory to the workers -- either a Christian or Marxist act (forshadowed in the film’s odd opening).  Since Pasolini himself was a gay Marxist Catholic, interweaving these three themes into a puzzle film seems likely to have been his theorem.  More might be imparted by another viewing.

A Canterbury Tale (1944)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Canterbury Tale (1944) – M. Powell & E. Pressburger

The more I sit down to watch what I think are going to be “minor” works by Powell and Pressburger (creators of The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus), the more I find myself bowled over by masterpieces of wonderment. Although not as amazing as (5 star rated) I Know Where I Am Going (1945), this lyrical wartime idyll follows three young people who find themselves in the tiny village of Chillingbourne, located on the pilgrim’s road to Canterbury Cathedral (made famous by Chaucer, who gets a nod in the opening moments of the film). A mysterious “Glue Man” is putting said substance in women’s hair in startling after dark attacks and the three leads (a “land girl” sent to help production on a local farm, an American GI, and a British soldier) try to solve the mystery.  But Powell and Pressburger are less interested in the Glue Man and more interested in showing us the beauty of the English countryside and its simple pleasures.  As our three pilgrims make their way to Canterbury, we are treated to a wave of cinematic epiphanies, truly glorious moments, and a rather plotless poetic film suddenly gains structure as they each receive the blessings that they had been seeking.  Only the Glue Man’s quest remains.

Night and the City (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Night and the City (1950) – J. Dassin

With Dassin’s talent for film noir to aid him, this is really Richard Widmark’s show.  His nervous energy drives the frantic pace of the film and gives even the quieter moments a tense desperation.  He’s a hustler, trying to make a name for himself by any means possible, clearly because he’s been kicked around so long and is the laughingstock of the London underworld.  In reality, Widmark is working for (one of my faves) Francis L. Sullivan as a “tout” for his sleazy club, the Silver Fox but he does happen upon one plausible scheme – to promote wrestling backed by a famous retired Greek champion.  However, it probably isn’t such a good idea that said champion is really the father of the current wrestling promoter (a mobster played by Herbert Lom) and starting this new venture equates to dirty double-crossing and worse.  So, this is a tale of doom and Widmark’s bad decisions and just plain bad luck makes him an archetypal noir loser, done up in low-key lighting on gritty London streets.

The Black Cat (1934)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Black Cat (1934) – E. G. Ulmer

Karloff meets Lugosi for the first time in this weird tale (that has nothing to do with Poe).  After their carriage turns over, killing the driver, a couple takes refuge in the Eastern European house of a famous architect (Karloff), led there by a doctor (Lugosi) who wants to kill him as revenge for a betrayal years earlier during WWI.  The betrayal resulted in Lugosi being placed in a notorious prison for 15 years during which time Karloff treated his wife to taxidermy and married his daughter.  So, Lugosi isn’t happy. To make matters worse, Karloff is a Satanist (great shot of him reading “the Rites of Lucifer” in bed) and wishes to use the innocent wife of the couple in his next “dark of the moon” rite.  But he agrees to play chess with Lugosi for the fate of the couple.  And all this takes place in a bizarre “modernist” setting, directed adroitly by Edgar G. Ulmer.

I am Cuba (1964)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I am Cuba (1964) – M. Kalatozov

The kind of movie you might see in your head if you’ve been slipped a mickey and unceremoniously dumped on the beach outside of Havana. A woozy coproduction between the Soviets and Cuban teams (directed by Mikhail Kalatozov) that has clear propaganda goals – but which target of such efforts could make it all the way through? There is no clear narrative structure and we don’t follow any particular characters for any length of time.  Basically the film moves from a depiction of Batista era party days with exploitation by crude foreign interests (prostitution, big bands), to poor sugar farmers losing their livelihoods to the United Fruit Company, to an uprising by students and finally, of course, to revolution led by Castro.  The whole thing is shot with the kind of angles and style that were favoured by Orson Welles (after too much Paul Masson). It’s all too much and therefore worth a look.

Young Frankenstein (1974)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Young Frankenstein (1974) -- M. Brooks

Mel Brooks' spoof of the Universal Pictures Frankenstein series is actually a lovingly recreated homage in black and white that is played surprisingly straight despite the ridiculousness that is heaped on in generous portions. Gene Wilder (whose idea this apparently was) plays Frederick Fronkensteen, descendent of the original mad scientist who returns to his ancestral home in Transylvania (as in Son of Frankenstein, 1939). There he meets I-gor (played hysterically by googly-eyed Marty Feldman) and Inga his assistant (played by Teri Garr). Peter Boyle steals the show as the Monster he creates- who could forget his rendition of "Putting on the Ritz"? I don't laugh at most comedies but I laughed at this one (even having seen it many times before). No doubt it holds up because of its affection for the original.

Frances Ha (2013)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Frances Ha (2012) -- N. Baumbach

I liked it.  Sure, it's a highly stylized character study with lots of montage sequences that have quirky musical overlays (and some dialogue too).  Yes, it's shot in black and white but not beautifully so.  Greta Gerwig (co-writer and director Baumbach's paramour) is in every scene and her goofy personality is over the top, yes -- a lovable loser (but never so embarrassing that you cringe). She's 27 and she doesn't have her act together although many of her peers already have careers.  New York City looks fun, especially if you get to hang out in funky circles with artists and creative professionals (she's a modern dancer but not too successful). But is this real life?  Decidedly not (although there are some real-feeling moments). But Wes Anderson's films aren't either and we don't worry about that.

Welfare (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 1/2

Welfare (1975) -- F. Wiseman

As one of the leading progenitors of Direct Cinema still going in his 80s, Frederick Wiseman should be noted as one of our most important historians.  After all, across nearly five decades, he's managed to document our most influential institutions, the ones that control and impact our behaviour, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse.  Here, he points his fly-on-the-wall camera at a busy welfare office in New York City (circa 1974), showing the interactions between clients, welfare workers, social workers, security guards, and other visitors and occupants of the building.  Although seemingly objective (there is no voiceover here and no talking heads), Wiseman has carefully extracted a 3 hour movie from 100's of hours of footage and he has certain points to make.  Primarily, he portrays the welfare system as a certain kind of hell in which both clients and workers are ensnared in endless red tape and bureaucracy with neither always knowing the proper course of action.  The system seems designed to block people from receiving assistance rather than to help them and this is fairly apparent to everyone in the building.  Unfortunately, those who seek to do the right thing by the poor (and this is most of those who we meet) are just as hamstrung by the rules as those who simply turn off their empathy.  Wiseman shows us a range of problems faced by those seeking and receiving welfare, demonstrating clearly that many are in the least position to be able to navigate the confusing paths they are directed to take.  He masterfully controls the pacing and the emotional tenor of the film which rises to a nearly unbearable peak near its end. No doubt this institution has not changed and for that reason this film is a must see for all who care about the human condition.

Watch this video on The Scene.

Kandahar (2001)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Kandahar (2001) - M. Makhmalbaf

At the start of this century, Iranian filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalbaf turned his attention to war-ravaged Afghanistan (soon to be invaded by the USA) and, in defiance of the Taliban, filmed this short feature on the border between the two countries.  Nelofer Pazira, an expatriate Afghan living in Canada, is trying to get to Kandahar because her despondent sister who lives there is going to commit suicide on the night of the eclipse, which is in 3 days time,  Presumably she is despondent due to the anti-woman policies that keep all women hidden behind fall body burqas. So, this is a road movie of sorts and Pazira has a number of experiences that allow Makhmalbaf to offer some political and humanistic statements about war and human rights.  However, the movie is anything but didactic - instead it is fully surreal, as Afghanistan probably is.  Brightly colored burqa wearing women march across the desert, men with limbs blown off by mines hobble on crutches after artificial limbs dropping by parachute from passing aircrafts, a doctor (who turned out to be real life fugitive terrorist David Belfield) treats women who lurk behind a curtain with only an eyehole to peer through. Makhmalbaf's camera makes the strange stranger, allowing us to look in wonder and therefore fully register our horror.