We never get to know the characters by
name and it is often difficult to discern who is a Bolshevik (Red) and who is
loyal to the Tsar (White). This is Jancsó’s
point. War crimes are committed by those
in power on either side. The film is
largely episodic but the characters that we follow in each episode soon
die. So, this makes war seem futile and
tragic. The use of long shots in
sprawling landscapes further emphasizes the trivial importance of each
life. Yet, the movie can just flow over
you and in 87 minutes it is over. Vaguely,
the role of Hungarians in the conflict (they supported the Communists) can be
noted – but their contribution is even more trivial and they are often told
that they are irrelevant and should leave.
Since this is Jancsó’s putative national affiliation, the pointlessness
of it all is that much greater.
It is a terrible shame that Andrei
Tarkovsky died of lung cancer at 56 (in 1986) because he surely would have made
more magnificent films (beyond the seven features he did make, including
Solaris, The Mirror, and Andrei Rublev).
Stalker is a great example – mysterious, portentous, spiritual, yet
somehow linked to a generic form (sci-fi) that allows viewers entry into his
world. However, this is not an
effects-laden picture but instead Tarkovsky works with his low budget to make simple
actions carry great weight; we are basically treated only to three individuals
(the Writer, the Professor, and the Stalker) crossing through The Zone, an
overgrown meadow filled with decaying structures, fetid water, and apparently a
lot of invisible traps and an ever-changing force that chooses who will live
and who will die. At the center of The
Zone is a room that, when reached, allows a person to have their innermost wish
granted. So, Tarkovsky has created the
opportunity for himself to question, philosophically, the goals of art,
science, and then faith -- represented by The Stalker who sees a need for the
room, as a way to generate hope (it seems).
Of course, Tarkovsky was a famous Christian, not well appreciated by the
Soviet authorities, and eventually he defected to the West and made his final
films there. His films are famous for showing
all four elements (earth, air, fire, and water) in a single shot and the screen
in Stalker has an incredible tactile quality that is aided by sepia tones
outside The Zone and lush greens and spoiled browns inside The Zone. In the end, there are no answers provided by
the film or by Tarkvosky – his films succeed because they are open to interpretation
and because they often remain inscrutable, even after numerous viewings. As such, this is a journey I’m happy to take
more than once, even though my quest may ultimately be quixotic (although
Kierkegaard thinks not).
At first, I thought this was just
another John Ford-esque tale of small town American life in the inner West, but
gradually its folksy charms and dark realities won me over. Joel McCrea is the Parson who comes to
Walsburg after the Civil War to build community; he takes a wife (Ellen Drew)
and together they raise a young orphan (Dean Stockwell) who narrates the
tale. We are treated to numerous
anecdotes from the town’s life but the major plot threads involve 1) the gruff
young doctor who conflicts with the Parson over how to treat the typhoid
epidemic that attacks the town; and 2) the old sharecropper whose property
stands in the way of the town’s mining interests and who is confronted one dark
night by the KKK. Mostly though, this is
a gentle, affectionate picture with human characters who may or may not believe
in God but do believe in having a strong sense of community. Whether or not the world was ever like this,
it does seem a shame when it’s gone.
Although it lacks the intense
socio-political message(s) that director Sam Fuller crammed into his earlier
war picture The Steel Helmet (1951), the Big Red One instead succeeds on the
basis of its sheer epic nature (at least in this 160 minute reconstruction). Across a number of different theatres of
WWII, Lee Marvin and his squad try to stay alive while Germans try to kill
them. Robert Carradine stands in for
Fuller himself (these are his personal anecdotes), a cigar chomping fledgling
author. Mostly the film feels alive
rather than grim or horrifying (although there is that) – maybe we become numb
to all the dead bodies because the characters themselves are numb? Marvin is tough but also warm and the
affection Fuller feels/felt for this sergeant comes through loud and
clear. The rest of the characters
(including Mark Hamil) are somewhat less defined (and all a bit juvenile, as
they probably were). Relentlessly, the
war keeps coming and coming and coming, yet somehow the movie never feels
long. We are alive and focused on the
moment of action.
Imamura’s true crime film is
extrapolated from a book based on authentic transcripts from the case of a
serial killer in 1960s Japan. Yet, it
seems to occupy some other private and personal space that transcripts would
not describe. Not that we get any
insights into the motives of the killer – although a few possibilities are
tossed around: his family’s Catholicism with its strict moral codes and
minority/outcast status in Japan; his father’s inability to stand up to wartime
military transgressions and suspected further hypocrisies; and/or the cultural
void left in Japan after the war, surrender, and imported dominance of
American-styled capitalism. However, these hints are far from clear. Mostly, we see Ken Ogata as the amoral lead
character, both in the present, being interrogated by police, and in the past, travelling
Japan as a con-man who occasionally and inexplicably murders. He also has an insatiable appetite for sex. At one point, he seems to form a bond with a
woman (Mayumi Ogawa) who runs an inn whose mother had been in prison for murder
– maybe they both feel disillusioned with parents/family life. However, it doesn’t end well for her…or
him. Any vengeance is reserved for the
State or God.
Star
Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) – J. J. Abrams
I saw the first Star Wars in the theatre
in 1977 with my dad. Now, 38 years
later, I thought I’d see the new one in the theatre (in 3D) on a whim on the
hottest day of the summer so far. I’m
not a zealous fan, particularly after all of the disappointments and I didn’t
even watch the 6th/3rd film. So, it is a very pleasant surprise to say
that J. J. Abrams and his team have pulled it off and recreated the magic of
the very first Star Wars. They have done
this by essentially making this new film a remake of the first, with enough
plot similarities to cause anyone to raise an eyebrow and, of course, to
delight those fans who know the films inside and out. Let’s call it an emotional remake, if not an
exact replica – the music of John Williams helps on this score. However, the real key to success, I think, is
a generous helping of Harrison Ford; it is great to be back in the presence of
the wisecracking but sentimental Han Solo.
Of course, there is lots more nostalgia to be had, but the new cast,
particularly Daisy Ridley and John Boyega, more than hold their own. That’s another after-image from 1977 – the
feel that a cast of unknowns has been thrust into a blockbuster. Naturally, not everything works perfectly –
the relationship between Han and Leia and their son feels forced (I kept
thinking who is this guy and what part of the story did I miss?). But the schematic plot, the dazzling action,
and the giddy fun of returning to one’s childhood memories make this highly
recommended – if you are in the tribe (more or less).
Here we have brave feats of derring-do
by Robin Hood (Errol Flynn) and his band of merry men (including Alan Hale as
Little John and Eugene Pallette as Friar Tuck).
Their bravery is for a good cause: protecting the poor Saxons from
wicked Prince John (Claude Rains) and Sir Guy of Gisborne (Basil
Rathbone). And even though eyes are
being poked out and ears cut off by the bad guys, this is still exhilarating
and fun, as Robin’s rebelliousness is charismatic and cheeky rather than angry. Of course, the good guys do not always come
out on top, but Maid Marian (played by Flynn’s usual love interest, Olivia de
Havilland) is on hand inside the castle to help them escape. Director Michael Curtiz (stepping in after
William Keighley was let go) keeps things moving at a good clip, such that one
fabled episode after another comes rollicking through. Both the Technicolor and the frequent
swordplay are eye-popping as well and you really cannot go wrong if you are
looking adventuresome thrills. Hollywood
at its best.
It seems almost camp at the start and
one could easily imagine Divine as nurse turned serial killer Martha Beck
(played bluntly by Shirley Stoler). Tony Lo Bianco is smarmy, sleazy, naïve,
and more-or-less perfect as Ray Fernandez, the con man who preys on
“lonelyhearts” for their money. As shot
by Leonard Kastle (after Martin Scorsese was fired), this “true crime” film is purposefully
unpolished, shot in cinema verite styled black and white, not beautiful to look
at, but in ordinary locations (like a grandmother’s cheaply furnished
apartment). So, this viewer was quite
taken aback at the first brutal murder, which unfolds clumsily and naturally,
as you suspect it really may have, with the interpersonal dynamics between the
two killers and the victim embarrassingly personal. The second murder is even more brutal and
suddenly nothing is funny anymore. This
is horror of truly unsettling proportions.
One remembers the film was made in 1969 and not the late ‘40s (when it
took place). Criterion’s DVD offers
pictures of the real protagonists and the electric chair at Sing Sing where
they were ultimately executed.
Emotionally raw look at workers and youth
in a residential treatment facility that is a total downer because the focus is
on the aftermath of abuse they’ve suffered at the hands of their parents.
However, like many downer movies, this is also uplifting in that it highlights
people’s ability to cope with extreme situations. The acting is naturalistic and these people
felt real – only occasionally does the script lead them to be a bit more overt
about their feelings/problems than you might expect. That said, people hurting this bad might
actually cross that line into awkward self-exposure as a cry for help. Brie Larson is the backbone of the film, as
the lead line worker who has a similar background to many of the kids in the
facility and struggles to keep her balance as life keeps happening to her. Not the kind of film I would normally choose
for escapism but I’m glad I did.
With a rhythm all its own, this largely
anecdotal film gathers together human moments, strange and moving, but somehow
real – or real from this alternate universe where the film has occurred. There is a plot of sorts – we follow the
lives of some young kids in North Carolina (probably) and see how they cope
with a tragedy that occurs -- or how they don’t cope. The minimalist music track gets you on its
wavelength and slows down your need for anything other than character
development and empathic feelings. The
kids are great, providing line readings that are naturalistic but not. The adults provide comic relief or alien
behaviour. I haven’t seen anything else by director David Gordon Green (um,
Pineapple Express?) but here, in his debut feature, he showed a poetic sense
and an eye for alternately rusted out and lush landscapes. Worth seeking out.
When Joel McCrea’s Wyatt Earp decides to
ban all guns from Wichita after the accidental shooting of a 5-year old boy,
the resonances with current events in the USA were impossible to ignore. But, despite the ban, the gun-toting ruffians
kept on coming, gunning for Earp because they couldn’t stand being
controlled. Moreover, the town’s
self-appointed chamber of commerce also thinks guns are good for business and
that a little violence is a necessary side effect of a healthy economy. Another random shooting, a contract for
murder, and some shootings in the street (often by Earp, prosecuting the law
his own way) are necessary before the town begins to feel that law and order
are the way to go. How many more deaths
will it take in the US before guns get banned?
True, we might not be able to trust some of those allowed to carry guns
(such as Earp – although McCrea plays him as squeaky clean, if a little too ready
to back up his words with bullets) but the alternative seems to be gunfights in
schools, movie theatres, colleges, and every other damn public place. In Cinemascope with excellent direction by
Jacques Tourneur.
I might be tempted to call this
exhilarating Senegalese film “psychedelic” (because of all the non-diegetic
sound and eclectic music) but probably it is really taking its cues from the
French New Wave. Djibril Diop Mambety
(who wrote and directed) is very free-spirited with the narrative, which sees
two lovers aspiring to escape Dakar for their idealized version of Paris, often
pausing to show us the African backdrop of people, shantytowns, and ocean
vistas. Most likely, there is symbolism
here that I’m missing (the early slaughter of the cow that is related somehow
to the horns on the motorbike that serves ultimately to distract Mory from his
journey to France, for example). But you
do get a feeling that this is what Dakar really was like in 1973 and perhaps
the film makes it seem exotic enough that you wonder why Mory and Anta would
want to leave (except of course for the way they are treated as
outcasts/misfits and the general poverty all around) – but so it goes even
today. Yet somehow the film feels
uplifting.
