Scattered Clouds (Two in Shadow) (1967)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Scattered Clouds (Two in Shadow) (1967) – M. Naruse

Mikio Naruse’s last feature (and one of the few I remember being in colour) is a mature work that stabs its characters deeply with the dagger of death in the first 20 minutes and then never lets them recover.  Yumiko has everything: her husband has just been promoted in his government job and they are moving to Washington DC and about to have their first child.  When he is suddenly struck down and killed by a driver in an out-of-control car, she finds her life shattered.  Her in-laws essentially disown her and she struggles to make ends meet.  Although exonerated from wrongdoing (the car had a flat tire), the driver of the car (Mishima-san) sends her small amounts of money as compensation.  When he is transferred from Tokyo as punishment for his “crime”, he finds himself in her hometown where she has also returned to live with her sister-in-law (also a widow).  Of course, Yumiko and Mishima keep running into each other, which brings pain and then possibly love.  But to contemplate such a relationship also means to contemplate the cruel fate that brought them together – thus everything here is pain, pain, pain.  After setting up the situation quickly, Naruse allows the relationship to develop slowly with many carefully observed moments (and his usual attention to money and the tensions it brings), dwelling on the characters’ suffering and cruelly snatching away any hope.

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (1962) – T. Richardson

One of the key films of the Free Cinema (kitchen sink) movement in Britain, sort of a translation of Italian neorealism to working class English settings.  In this case, Tom Courtenay plays a young lad from Nottingham who finds himself sent to a reform school (borstal).  There he catches the eye of the headmaster (an aging Michael Redgrave) who seeks to capitalize on Colin’s (Courtenay’s) nascent running skill for a big sports challenge with a local public school (i.e. private school in the UK system).  The beautiful B&W cinematography often becomes lyrical on the boy’s runs through the woods around the school, where we are also treated to flashbacks that tell the story of his home life: ailing dad, busy mum, first love, trouble with the law, ambition not to give in.  This latter trait (which in later times would be manifest as punk rock perhaps) sets him up for conflict with the headmaster.  Director Tony Richardson laces the film with jump cuts, jazz, and other touches borrowed from the concurrent French new wave – but these add rather than  distract from the proceedings. 

Birdman (2014)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Birdman (2014) – A. G. Iñárritu

Magical realism, if you will, and at its most visceral, guided by endless tracking shots down backstage corridors, starring a man who can move and destroy items with only his mind.  That man is Riggan Thomas (Michael Keaton), an aging Hollywood star who struck success with a series of superhero films (he was Birdman).  Now, he is trying to redeem himself by writing and directing a version of a Raymond Carver short story for Broadway – but everything is falling apart, himself included.  That’s the plot, briefly, but it is difficult to convey the force with which director Iñárritu and the cast throw everything at the viewer.  As the camera glides along, so too do various ideas and associations get thrust into your stream of consciousness. Sure, we think about Keaton as an ex-superhero whose career is winding down and Norton as a possibly intense and difficult to work with asshole.  But questions of truth, performance, reality, and fantasy (not to mention problematic psychological breaks) are never far from the forefront.  Shot in a month with incredibly long takes and then edited in two weeks (if I’ve got my facts right), the result is nothing short of amazing.  Keaton impresses as a man just barely holding on (to everything) and Norton, Naomi Watts, Emma Stone, Andrea Riseborough, and Zach Galifianakis manage to keep the emotional intensity of the picture at a fever pitch in support.  And just when you thought there was no way to end the picture without copping out, Iñárritu teases the audience with numerous possibilities and manages one that works.  A tour de force.