The Conversation (1974)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Conversation (1974) – F. F. Coppola

Imagine how paranoid Harry Caul (Gene Hackman), a professional wiretapper/surveillance expert worried about his own personal information, would be these days!  Coppola’s film almost seems quaint with its Radio Shack version of technology – but we can all easily imagine the experts who know too much and spend their time making themselves invisible online (and everywhere else).  So, the film is still relevant, perhaps even more so, as we contemplate the minds of those who scrape social media for personal data (a la Cambridge Analytica) and sell it on for personal profit.  Do they ever ruminate about the damage they might cause in other people’s lives?  This is Harry’s predicament.  He’s on a job, recording a conversation between a couple who clearly seem to be having an affair.  He’s proud of his technique, capturing every word even though they are constantly on the move, walking through a crowded city square in San Francisco.  But he begins to suspect that his employers might have sinister plans for these two and he decides to keep the tapes from them, dwelling on them over and over and over.  Sound design and editing was by Walter Murch – I listened in headphones and was suitably impressed.  Was there a “cheat” at the end? Very probably so – but let’s take it as expressionistic (Harry now hears that sentence differently, after he knows more).  Similar to other thrillers of the Watergate era (The Parallax View, All the President’s Men), this could leave you seeing conspiracies everywhere.  But let’s just hope that no one cares enough to find us in the sea of information flowing everywhere…

Ida (2013)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Ida (2013) – P. Pawlikowski

I really enjoyed Pawel Pawlikowski’s Cold War (2018), so I thought I would go back and look at his previous film (also in black and white) to take a better measure of his skill.  And again, there is a gorgeous stylishness to this work – with shots that are so beautifully framed that they might stand alone as photographs.  The story is on a smaller scale, focused on a young woman (Agata Trzebuchowska) about to take her vows as a nun who is encouraged to meet her only living relative, an aunt (Agata Kulesza), before she commits to the sisterhood.  The aunt, Wanda, reveals that the young woman, Anna (but really Ida), is actually Jewish and that her parents were killed during the war.  They travel to find their graves in a rural town in Poland, discovering more than they asked for (although suspected or known by the aunt).  Agata Kulesza gives Wanda a lived-in feeling, portraying a character who has lived beyond her period of true moral engagement and now simply avoids the truth (and the pain).  As Anna, Agata Trzebuchowska is more subdued (repressed even) but much is revealed in the final moments of the film.  The film is brief (80 minutes) but it captures these people and this time (1962) and the choices they have made and must make.  But more than anything, the film looks beautiful.

Lone Star (1996)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Lone Star (1996) – J. Sayles

John Sayles would have likely made a good sociologist, if he weren’t a writer and director.  (Or perhaps a cultural anthropologist, given the range of different sub/cultures he has examined across his career).  His films recognise that reality is complicated and that different vantage points (culturally, historically) may result in different interpretations of the same events.  In Lone Star, for some people in the southern Texas town of Frontera, late Sheriff Buddy Deeds was a hero who managed the political complexities of the town’s ethnic mix well; but for others, Buddy was corrupt and self-serving and perhaps even a murderer.  At least that’s the suspicion of the current sheriff, his son Sam (Chris Cooper), when they unearth a skeleton that turns out to be the long missing and truly evil previous sheriff, Charlie Wade (Kris Kristofferson).  As Sam investigates the murder, he also investigates the history of the town and his own past, including his former relationship with now widowed Pilar Cruz (Elizabeth Peña).  A subplot sees black Colonel Del (Joe Morton) return to Frontera to face his own absentee father and to come to terms with how he has been treating his own adolescent son.  There is a lot more here too, as Sayles crams as much didactic knowledge and perspective as he can into one film.  We visit with local eyewitnesses who offer clues and inspire flashbacks (with Matthew McConaughey briefly as Buddy) that vividly provide more details than we would get verbally.  Across the top, we hear music of the region (steel guitar or Mexican pop). In the end, all the loose ends get tied together, surprisingly so, and I was satisfied with Sayles’ achievement, alchemically blending his (my) lefty political perspective with a mystery plot and (some) real character development. Highly recommended.   

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) – M. Gondry

A “high concept” movie about relationships and memory – and about life, really – but I guess it could be referred to as “sci-fi”.  Charlie Kaufman’s script posits a company that can erase certain people from your memory, such that you wake up and you have completely forgotten about them and the portion of your life that included them.  As directed by Michel Gondry, it is a surreal affair – particularly as most of the film consists of the overnight procedure in which the memories are erased (by a team of technicians: Mark Ruffalo, Toby Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, and boss Tom Wilkinson) and this means we both see the memory and see it coming apart.  The man who is erasing his girlfriend (Kate Winslet), who erased him first, is played by Jim Carrey.  Personally, I’ve never been a fan of his exaggerated broad comedy but thankfully he (mostly) keeps his over-acting to a minimum here.  Still, Winslet feels more real and natural.  That said, the film still manages to hit many emotional high points, reminding us as viewers of our own relationship beginnings and endings – and of the need to get past our petty insecurities and pet peeves in order to acknowledge another person’s humanity and forge a meaningful (ongoing) connection with them.  Yet, the film wouldn’t be nearly so good if it didn’t also raise some of the ethical issues associated with the procedure – making it clear that it is very likely that we humans would just find a new way to muck up the next (or same) relationship after we’ve paid to move on.

The Passion of Anna (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Passion of Anna (1969) – I. Bergman

After a break, I’m back to working my way through the Criterion Blu-Ray box set (in the curated order, rather than chronologically).  Following Shame (1968) with The Passion makes sense because they both star Liv Ullmann and Max von Sydow as a couple under duress and also because a late scene in the latter seems to include outtakes from the former (a nightmare sequence, of course).  Both Anna (Ullmann) and Andreas (von Sydow) are people who are not coping well with their experiences.  She has survived a car accident that killed her husband and child.  He has a less clear past but is separated or divorced and has been in prison for forgery and punching a cop.  They live on a remote island (Bergman’s Faro is the set) that has been experiencing episodes of animal abuse; Andreas has befriended the suspect who is being hounded by the community.  They are also friends with another couple (Bibi Andersson and Erland Josephson) who also have a problematic relationship (he is cold and successful; she is fragile and emotionally unstable).  Bergman himself is likely the model for the male characters and their avoidant behaviour (or so we might want to assume).  The plot is anything but predictable and a certain degree of tension is built up by external events (and a reference to the Vietnam war) in addition to the internal dynamics of the couples.  Having the actors take turns talking about their interpretation of the characters was an interesting experimental addition. This was Bergman’s second film in colour (with Sven Nykvist behind the camera) and his close-ups are even more impactful (on blu-ray).  I did grow a little bit weary with the ruminating and self-absorption on display but I guess this is something you’ve got to expect with this director.
 

The Philadelphia Story (1940)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Philadelphia Story (1940) – G. Cukor

Not quite as screwball as I remembered (or would have hoped) but it is endlessly fascinating to watch the very different comedic work by Cary Grant (droll) and Jimmy Stewart (more exaggerated). Of course, this was the film that Katherine Hepburn used to overcome the label of “box office poison” that she had earned from earlier efforts – she plays an independent high society woman on the rebound from her divorce from socialite Cary Grant and about to marry a self-made businessman (John Howard).  However, Jimmy Stewart’s writer (slumming for a celebrity magazine) falls head over heels for her (despite his photographer girlfriend Ruth Hussey also being there) and she finds herself swooning.  A few suggestions from the menfolk in her life that she doesn’t have enough empathy for them helps to soften her attitude, particularly toward Grant. (This might not actually be politically acceptable these days, although Grant’s only sin was drinking, not cheating).  George Cukor directed and the final 10-15 minutes (and the last shot) bring all the emotions home.  Stewart won the Oscar as did screenwriter Donald Ogden Stewart.  Perhaps all of the stars did their best work elsewhere but this still has star power to spare.

Goodfellas (1990)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Goodfellas (1990) – M. Scorsese

Scorsese pulls out all the stops to dazzle viewers with his cinematic prowess (aided immensely by editor Thelma Schoonmaker and cinematographer Michael Ballhaus).  Tracking shots are everywhere, for example, following Henry (Ray Liotta) and Karen Hill (Lorraine Bracco) as they move through a restaurant or club, meeting wiseguys as they pass.  But it’s the period music, from fifties pop hits to seventies classic rock, that punctuates each scene which really lifts the film.  You know the story:  Hill is a local boy who grows up to be part of the mob, but always on the outside because he is only half Italian.  He falls in with another outsider, Irish Jimmy Conway (Robert De Niro) and hot-head Tommy DeVito (Joe Pesci), and they raise their status in the gang by robbing the airport for big money.  The script from Nicholas Pileggi’s book is based on a true story and we are lead through it (and the decades) via Liotta’s voiceover.  Paul Sorvino plays the local boss.  All of the characters are morally corrupt and dubious -- with stealing, killing, and treating women poorly staples of their repertoire – yet somehow Scorsese has us on their side, as he tells the story from their viewpoint (though he doesn’t seem to implicate us as Hitchcock would).  Even as Hill becomes addicted to the coke he starts dealing (and the voiceover seems to speed up and become paranoid), we are on his side hoping that things don’t come crashing down around him (but of course they do).  Throughout the film Jimmy and Tommy represent a rawer unpredictable force and the violence associated with their actions breaks up the otherwise groovy atmosphere that Scorsese creates.  Perhaps the film contains one subplot or scene too many and Liotta’s acting feels one rung down from that of the others, but these are minor quibbles in an otherwise superb piece of cinema.

My Own Private Idaho (1991)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

My Own Private Idaho (1991) – G. Van Sant

I did not know (but iMDB trivia tells me) that this film was pieced together from three separate scripts that writer-director Gus Van Sant had been working on.  For example, one was focused on transposing Shakespeare’s Henry IV (Parts I and II) and Henry V to the modern day world of street hustlers (using the same strategy that Orson Welles used to excerpt from the Bard to focus on Falstaff in Chimes at Midnight, 1965) – this explains the occasional but not complete use of poetic dialogue at certain moments in the film.  Van Sant also uses other stylistic innovations when and if he feels like it (such as having the gay magazine cover stars come to life and speak to the camera or interspersing Super-8 footage of Mike’s past) rather than consistently. Mike is a young hustler with narcolepsy and a long lost mother (and absent father), played by River Phoenix.  We follow his experiences on the street, on dates, and with the other hustlers, principally Scott, played by Keanu Reeves.  Scott is the son of the mayor, slumming it as Hal once did before he receives his inheritance and takes up his proper place in society.  Both are confederates of Bob, the Falstaff character, played by William Richert.  They love him but they tease him and Scott ultimately abandons him (as Hal does Falstaff).  Mike is along for the ride (as this is a kind of road movie), returning (one supposes) to the street after Bob and Scott depart, perhaps nursing his love for both.  So, there’s a good dramatic arc but also a lot of rawness (emotional and sexual), some comedy (courtesy of Udo Kier’s travelling salesman Hans), and some evocative landscapes in the great Northwest accompanied by steel guitar.  Van Sant’s career subsequently has had its ups and downs but this film is clearly a high water mark in any career.