The Firemen’s Ball (1967)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Firemen’s Ball (1967) – M. Forman

You don’t have to be an overly sensitive Communist official to grasp the gist of Milos Forman’s comedy or to see its body blows hit the target.  The leaders of the local fire brigade organise an annual ball that is a showcase for all the failings of Iron Curtain communism.  The committee running things can’t agree on anything. For example, they plan to present a gift to their aging former leader (portrayed as completely out-of-it) and to hold a beauty contest to find someone to award it to him, but every member of the committee has a different view.  The parents are shown as either sucking up to the committee or avoiding them completely. The girls themselves are vulnerable and exploited (one strips while the others flee to hide in the bathroom).  A table of raffle prizes is slowly depleted before the raffle is even held, with the committee at pains to argue that they themselves are not stealing, despite it being obvious that their family members are guilty.  In the end, even the present for the leader has gone missing.  When a real fire breaks out at a nearby house, of course, the firefighters are unable to stop it being completely demolished and they offer only verbal support to the victim who has lost his house.  Fifty years later, this could be seen as “merely” a ridiculous rollicking comedy (successful on its own merits) but just before the Prague Spring you can see how its acute not-very-veiled criticism is a prelude to the brutal crackdown by the Soviets (and Forman’s escape to the USA to ultimately direct One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and other hits).  Brave and lacerating.

Matewan (1987)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Matewan (1987) – J. Sayles

Director John Sayles and his ensemble present a nuanced look at the union movement’s struggles in the 1920s, focusing specifically on a coal mining town in West Virginia.  Chris Cooper (in his first leading role) plays the organiser who arrives to support the miners who are being completely taken advantage of by the Company (they owe their souls to the company store).  The workers are divided and swiftly being replaced by scabs, drawn from the black and Italian communities – but Cooper is able to convince the entire group to strike together.  His main goal is a peaceful strike but the men are ready to fight back violently, particularly when the Company sends a few head breakers in.  Of course, this is exactly what the Company wants – to complete decimate the Union and frighten the men.  Moreover, a Company mole inside the movement threatens to destroy all that Cooper has worked for.  Will Oldham (Bonnie Prince Billy) and Mary McDonnell run the boarding house where Cooper first stays – before everyone is moved to a camp when the Company evicts them.  Sayles captures the feel of rural America in the 20s with its mix of evangelical religion, hillbillies, cultural divides, and poverty.  But most of all he shows us how the working rights we enjoy today were secured by the sacrifices of men and women who unionised.

  

Through A Glass Darkly (1961)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Through A Glass Darkly (1961) – I. Bergman

At first glance, this appears to be a simple (sad) story, simply told, from Ingmar Bergman and his team:  A young woman (Harriet Andersson) slips back into psychosis after returning home from the mental hospital.  Andersson is truly impressive as her character Karin begins to lose her grip on reality and, in a lucid moment, declares that she must choose which world to live in -- but the only choice seems to be the world of voices where God (or a horrifying spider?) might open a door to grace us at any moment.  But the film is richer than just a straightforward detailing of a descent into madness – we also see the ramifications for her immediately family (husband Max von Sydow, father Gunnar Björnstrand, and brother Lars Passgård).  Her father is the Bergman surrogate, a writer who has been utilising his daughter’s trauma for his own work, feeling guilty about it, avoidant of the situation (but perhaps drained by having to confront similar issues with his late wife).  Bergman hints at his typical theme of the artist’s role in society (and their burdens) – but he may be ashamed of his own mining of his close relationships for film and theatre scripts.  The husband is portrayed as fatalistic and helpless, supportive but unable to cope – he offers one angry outburst at the father’s neglect and selfishness but otherwise accepts affairs as they are.  The brother is the most vulnerable, unable to escape his sister’s orbit, already full of self-loathing and shyness, and possibly harmed psychologically by his sister’s actions and his father’s absence and avoidance.  Sven Nykvist’s cinematography uses lots of natural light -- the outdoor scenes on Fårö can be beautiful, the indoor scenes occasionally surreal and haunting. The end result is horror, played out as a chamber piece, where the question hanging in the air is “why?” Why does God let this happen? Why do we continue with life in the face of such horror? The father’s suggestion that the existence of love is the reason for us to persist does not feel entirely convincing (or at least Bergman does not seem entirely convinced).  But perhaps it is genuinely true that we are sustained in this life by our friends, family, and loved ones, and thus we fight on.  But the darkness can be pretty dark.

Barton Fink (1991)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Barton Fink (1991) – J. Coen & E. Coen

The Coen Brothers fourth feature is certainly passing strange – but like much of their work, it also contains affectionate references to the past.  Here, we follow Barton Fink (John Turturro) who is a playwright in the late ‘30s/early ‘40s, focused on the “common man” but nevertheless enticed to Hollywood.  Once there, we meet well-known archetypes: the studio head (Michael Lerner channelling Louis B. Mayer) and the drunken novelist turned screenwriter (John Mahoney channelling William Faulkner).  Fink is asked to draft a script for the latest Wallace Beery wrestling picture but he immediately faces writer’s block.  His next-door neighbour in the flea-bitten hotel he’s chosen to call home, Charlie Meadows (John Goodman), an insurance salesman, tries to help out -- but Fink basically ignores his input (critic Jonathan Rosenbaum sees in this a sneering attitude toward the high brow artist by the Coens).  And then, and then, and then, we watch Barton suffer as he tries to write and things grow darker in his head (and around him).  Some believe that the events that transpire are symbolic (are they only in Baron’s head?) but it is just as easy to read this (black comedy) straight, if not a little bit ironic.  I hadn’t seen Barton Fink since the ‘90s and I recalled it only as “claustrophobic” but it is better than that description, with stellar acting (including from Judy Davis and Tony Shalhoub) and cool art direction (not to mention Turturro’s hair) that maintain one’s attention. 

  

Army of Shadows (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Army of Shadows (1969) – J.-P. Melville

It is interesting to ponder whether Melville’s memory of the French Resistance (he sometimes said “nostalgia”) helped him to design the expert gangster noirs he is famous for -- or whether his love of American film noir enabled him to make this classic Resistance film with protagonists who act like gangsters.  Surely, the undercover operatives of the Resistance share similarities to the denizens of the criminal underworld, having to avoid those in power who would otherwise imprison them or worse.  Interestingly, not much is shown of the actual work of the heroes in this film, which focuses instead on the ever-present possibility of betrayal (and what is done with the betrayers), the endless series of captures and occasional daring escapes.  Melville was criticized for briefly including a shot in the film of De Gaulle, leader of the Free French during the Occupation but reviled by the Left in 1968 and when the film was released (Melville’s own politics were decidedly right-wing which might have contributed to his authoritarian control on the set and conflict with actors as a result).  Yet there is not denying Melville’s style which involves an unblinking and compelling depiction of action(s) – simple actions such as passing a packet of cigarettes around a group of prisoners awaiting execution and more complicated actions involved in an escape from German headquarters.  In this way, Melville is very much like the Bresson (of A Man Escaped, particularly), as a feeling of transcendence can arise from the silence and extreme absorption in these moments.  The austere style of the images, often in half-light with studio sets painted in shades of grey, increases the effect.  The actors, Lino Ventura, Simone Signoret, Jean-Pierre Cassel, Paul Crauchet, Paul Meurisse, among others, are all stoic, hard-boiled, devoted to the cause above everything else, and ready to die either through torture when captured or at the hands of their comrades if they succumb to the torture and name names.  A tough unforgiving world, but one where honour prevails, and potentially a source of nostalgia in a modern world where things are not nearly as black and white.

Parasite (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Parasite (2019) – J.-H. Bong

Like many Korean films (by Bong Joon-ha, Park Chan-wook, and their contemporaries), Parasite is somewhat unclassifiable – is it a thriller, a black comedy, or something more sui generis? Certainly, it is undeniably about social class, making it hugely relevant for this moment in time.  The Kim family (led by Bong regular Song Kang-ho) are down-and-out but pragmatic and scrappy, they make ends meet through a variety of part-time jobs and little scams, suffering various indignities as a result of their low status (customers from a nearby pub literally piss on their sub-basement flat).  However, things change when son Ki-woo (Choi Woo-sik) is recommended to be a tutor to a rich high school girl by his friend who is leaving the position to study abroad; although he hasn’t gone to university himself, he is quick-thinking enough to fake his way into the role. This is easier because the mother of the rich Park family (Jo Yeo-jeong) is fragile and gullible, easily convinced to make changes to her family’s situation to ward off various threats.  And, thus, rather comically, the entire Kim family is soon employed in a variety of positions by the Parks who do not know their “servants” are all related and conning them.  Or are they?  The Kims might actually be providing genuine services to the Parks, parasitic though they might be (a kinder word would be symbiotic).  Nevertheless, the Parks (particularly father Lee Sun-kyun) do look down on the Kims (making their position dependent on continually pleasing the rather capricious bosses); as a result, the Kims resent and take advantage of the Parks whenever they can.   Things get weirder when competition among the lower class erupts and the Kims need to fight to maintain their cushy position, living off the Parks’ largesse. If this sounds like reality, then Bong has done his job, although the final reel might need more analysis then I can commit without spoilers.  Parasite won the Palme D’or this year at Cannes but it isn’t always an easy or satisfying watch – but ultimately thought-provoking and pessimistic.