The Triplets of Belleville (2003)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Triplets of Belleville (2003) – S. Chomet

Not afraid to look ugly, Sylvain Chomet’s debut animated feature is quirky and weird and unpredictable – in other words, great!  Highly stylized with its own look (not the homogenized animation we’re now getting used to) that experiments with mixed media and unusual camera angles (among other directorial flourishes).  The soundtrack, featuring 1920s era jazz plus classical plus diegetic effects (but no dialogue of any consequence) heightens your pleasure.  The plot seems to involve the mafia kidnapping some Tour de France riders and the efforts of one’s grandmother (and faithful dog) to track down and rescue him in a distant city called Belleville; they are aided by a trio of ancient jazz performers (the Triplets of the title).  The result is funky and fresh and also very French.  Highly recommended.

Patterns (1956)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Patterns (1956) – F. Cook

Film version of Rod Serling’s Emmy-winning teleplay targeting the cutthroat world of business and the moral lapses of those at the top (or the lapses necessary to get to the top).  Also known as “Patterns of Power”, as in “behavioural patterns”, we are treated to the machinations that CEO Walter Ramsey (Everett Sloan) goes through in order to force Bill Briggs (Ed Begley Sr.) to resign as Vice President. You see, Briggs is too humane, carrying about people and not just profits, and Ramsey is not.  We follow Fred Staples (Van Heflin) who is brought in from Ohio to the New York City headquarters as he discovers that he is meant to replace Briggs, even though Briggs has not left. This puts Staples into a moral quandary which he tries to solve by befriending Briggs and giving him credit at every opportunity, especially with the boss (although he does catch himself damning Briggs with faint praise at times).  When Ramsey eventually hounds Briggs to the point of nervous breakdown, Staples tries to take a stand but finds himself agreeing to take over as Vice President, telling Ramsey he’ll always speak truth to power.  Since this is Serling, we can’t exactly take Staples at face value; we wonder whether it is even possible not to be influenced by money and power, not to lose one’s focus on people when profits are at stake, not to play politics with coworkers’ lives.  Powerhouse acting by all concerned (particularly Begley) and a sharp script keep things tense and biting, never didactic.  Still relevant today.

Le Trou (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Le Trou (1960) – J. Becker

Extremely tense rendering of a prison escape – the title translates to “The Hole” and that is exactly the focus of the film.  Taking his cues from Robert Bresson’s Un Condamné à Mort s'est Échappé (A Man Escaped, 1956), Jacques Becker keeps us focused on the action with close attention to the methodical details of the escape – lots of shots of hands battering away at cement in real time.  Well, not exactly hands but a makeshift hammer fashioned from a bed frame -- ingenuity is a hallmark of the effort.  But unlike Bresson, Becker is also interested in camaraderie among men and the events that build or diminish it (it’s not hard to see why Jean-Pierre Melville cherished Le Trou); the nonprofessional actors he selected (including one real escapee from the true story being told) deliver the goods.  Trust is the key element then, and the introduction of a 5^th man to the cell creates tension beyond even that already present in the form of the ever watchful guards and warden; as that fifth man is in jail for betraying his wife, his trustworthiness is already in doubt.  To reveal any more would be churlish, this set-up should be enough to entice you into the absorbingly intense world of Le Trou.  A masterpiece of the genre.

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) – V. Minnelli

The film projects a homey (dare I say magical) glow of warmth and nostalgia, even for a time and place that none of us ever knew (St. Louis, MO, 1903, based on a memoir by Sally Benson).  We follow the Smith Family, helmed by Leon Ames and Mary Astor, across an eventful year that culminates with the announcement that they must move to New York City.  Of course, this throws everything into chaos.  After all, daughter Esther (Judy Garland) has just begun a starry-eyed romance with handsome boy-next-door John Truett (Tom Drake).  Things aren’t quite working out for older daughter Rose (Lucille Bremer) and her hoped-for beau but she doesn’t want to leave St. Louis.  Nor do the younger kids, Tootie (Margaret O’Brien) and Agnes (Joan Carroll).  During each season, we see their lives revolve around seasonal events (Halloween, Christmas) and we get a sense of the community spirit that exists amongst kids and families.  Vincente Minnelli masterfully directs film so that the interspersed musical numbers, mainly by Garland (and featuring “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”), seem to further the plot rather than distract from it.  Technicolor works its wonders.  I’m glad I stopped by to spend some time; this is true escapist fare (although perhaps Americans might be more likely to resonate with the major plot dynamic involving a move and that might have positive or negative connotations).

Out of the Past (1947)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Out of the Past (1947) – J. Tourneur

Quintessential noir with as many of the features of the genre as you would hope to find.  Of course, film noir as a genre has been constructed post hoc, so director Jacques Tourneur wasn’t exactly working from a formula – but this wasn’t the first noir, so something was definitely in the water.  Robert Mitchum plays a detective hired by arrogant rich Kirk Douglas to find his girlfriend (Jane Greer) who shot him and absconded with $40K.   Mitchum does catch up with her in Acapulco where they idle away their days until they decide to doublecross Douglas and hole up in San Francisco as lovers.  Ultimately, though, they are tracked down by Mitchum’s ex-partner, now working for Douglas.  All this is shown in flashback a number of years later with a voiceover by Mitchum as he relates his past to new love interest Virginia Huston in the small town where he has escaped to run a gas station.   He’s finally told her the sordid details because Douglas has finally found him again and called him to Lake Tahoe for a meeting.  It turns out that Douglas has another job for him, one that he can’t refuse, one that might be a frame-up.  And that doesn’t begin to detail the complicated plot that ensnares the laid back but fatalistic Mitchum.  Showing the noir protagonist’s true disdain for his own welfare, when the femme fatale starts to reveal some of the ensnaring complications, Mitchum utters the classic line, “Baby, I don’t care…”.  But he should have.  A masterpiece of the genre.

The Adversary (1970)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Adversary (1970) – S. Ray

Satyajit Ray’s oeuvre includes not only lyrical neorealist classics such as Pather Panchali and the other films of the Apu Trilogy but other films that feel a lot more like psychodramas (e.g., Charulata).  Pratidwandi (The Adversary) falls into this latter category, getting us into the mind of the protagonist, Siddhartha Chaudhuri, as he searches rather hopelessly for a job after giving up on medical school.  We see his resistance to those in authority but we don’t gain much insight into its aetiology. His father has died and he needs to take care of his family but many of his friends seem as aimless as he does (although he seems smarter and more thoughtful).  As his empty fruitless days begin to run together, his mind starts to wander – and we are treated to brief inserts of medical school lectures, “negative” images, and other non-realistic interruptions.  When he accidentally meets a young woman who he could be interested in, he seems to get a grip (although she may be losing hers).  In the end, the episode may have passed, and could be a rite of passage (in fact) or Ray may be commenting on the problems of youth in contemporary society more broadly.  As a moody character study, it works.

  

Macario (1960)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Macario (1960) – R. Gavaldón

A fairy tale (possibly from the Brothers Grimm but rewritten by B. Traven of Treasure of the Sierra Madre fame) set in Mexico with poor woodcutter Macario struggling to feed his family and finally vowing not to eat at all until there is enough food so that he can eat a whole turkey himself without sharing.  His sensitive wife steals a turkey from the local rich family and provides it to Macario for lunch.  On his way out to the woods, he is met successively by the Devil, God, and then Death (all looking very human but with enough hints that you know who they are).  Each asks for a bit of the turkey.  Macario rejects the first two and then shares his food with Death who claims not to have eaten for a thousand years.  (The real reason is that Macario thought Death had come for him and he would not have had a chance to eat at all if he didn’t have lunch with the reaper).  As a thank-you, Death gives Macario a flask of water that will heal anyone who is sick, except those who are fated to die on that day.  Death signals this by standing at the head of the bed (can’t be healed) or at the foot of the bed (can be healed) and Macario must be alone in the room with the ill person to see him.  Of course, soon Macario is very rich, receiving money and gifts in exchange for his healing powers.  Eventually this comes to the attention of the Spanish Inquisition (also in power in the New World).  The film was nominated for the Best Foreign Film Oscar (but lost to Bergman’s The Virgin Spring).  There are many beautiful shots and some scary Day of the Dead figurines that invade Macario’s dreams early on.  Director Gavaldón managed to retain the awe and childlike wonder of the fairy tale with a not entirely clear moral – Macario is a nice guy and thus he is saved from torture and being burned at the stake by his friend Death who comes for him first.  But he occasionally seems a bit too greedy…