The Circle (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Circle (2000) – J. Panahi

Jafar Panahi is an Iranian humanist filmmaker currently serving a 20-year ban on making films and forbidden to leave Iran; despite this he has made several films in guerrilla fashion, often winning international awards.  His first film, The White Balloon (1995), won a prestigious award at Cannes.  However, it was with this film that Panahi caught the attention of the Iranian authorities because it is clearly a protest film, showing the constraints placed on women in that society and the suffering that results.  For example, women are forbidden from travelling or staying in a hotel alone, they have to wear specific articles of clothing in public places and they certainly can’t have an abortion without their husband or father’s permission.  The signs of control are everywhere and Panahi often documents them casually, in passing, even as the overt focus of the plot is on other actions. The film itself turns out to be largely episodic: we follow a series of different women in intersecting but incomplete stories as they suffer a variety of travails (stigma after leaving prison, an unwanted pregnancy, inability to support a (female) child, and finally, prostitution to make ends meet), for which Panahi refuses to blame the victim.  The women we see may vary in their level of understanding of and resignation to the plight of women in Iran but, in any event, what they experience is brutal and upsetting. It is no surprise that the film opens with a family’s disappointment that a baby born to them is a girl.  In the end, this is a masterwork of subtle style and subversive intent from a great director.  

   

  

Embrace of the Serpent (2015)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Embrace of the Serpent (2015) – C. Guerra

Director Ciro Guerra’s film offers an indigenous perspective on colonialism, presenting interactions between Karamakate (played by Nilbio Torres when young and Antonio Bolivar when old; both actual indigenous actors), a Shaman who has survived the eradication of his people and two White researchers, Theo (Jan Bijvoet) in the early 1900s and Evan (Brionne Davis) in the early 1940s.  The film alternates between these two encounters. Although one would expect greater devastation in the later era, it seems pretty bad at both timepoints, as rubber barons have already begun their conquest of the peoples and the land when the film begins.  Religious missionaries (traditional and self-made) seek to “save” the people and convert their beliefs.  Both researchers claim to be searching for the healing plant yakluna but their real motives may be hidden (and what they would do with yakluna, which also has psychedelic properties used in shamanistic ceremonies) is unclear. What is clear is that, for indigenous peoples, the coming of Europeans and their capitalistic ways represented destruction of their culture and their environment. The message for our current world couldn’t be more overt, even though the movie isn’t preachy and keeps things implicit.  Filmed in beautiful B&W in the Amazon rainforest of Colombia, the movie would have been a sight to behold on the big screen. There are some very surrealistic episodes (including a trippy experience in colour).  Of course, the film harkens back to Werner Herzog’s Aguirre (1972) and Fitzcarraldo (1982), but that director only showed us the folly of the colonialists and not the sadness and bewilderment of the people destroyed by them.

If Beale Street Could Talk (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) – B. Jenkins

I really enjoyed Barry Jenkins’ best picture winner, Moonlight (2016), so it comes as no surprise that Beale Street is also extremely cinematic with a sort of hazy glow that places it back in our memories of a time now past.  But it is also as relevant as today’s news, given its explicit discussion of the personal and institutional/systemic racism that Black people face.  It is a deeply romantic movie too, with its main focus on the loving relationship between Tish (KiKi Layne) and Fonny (Stephan James), and the trials they face as he is unjustly accused of rape even as she discovers she is pregnant with their child.  The differing points of view on this situation (the couple is young and not married) from both sets of parents seems to interrogate an internal debate in the Black community.  Of course, all of this is from James Baldwin’s novel (which I haven’t read); Beale Street in New Orleans is suggested (in an opening quote) to represent all of the Black districts in cities around the world, thus staking a claim for universalism in the issues presented in microcosm (in NYC) here. In the end, this probably doesn’t achieve the heights that Moonlight did, as it comes to a rather anti-climactic (but realistic) conclusion, but still very much worth watching.

  

Jaws (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Jaws (1975) – S. Spielberg

It has been a few decades since last I watched Jaws and although it isn’t always scary, it does get rather gruesome at times (vilifying sharks in the process).  The story pits commercialism against safety and, of course, man against nature -- although we are firmly on the side of man here.  Roy Scheider plays the new police captain of Amity Island (somewhere between Long Island and Cape Cod) who deals with a series of shark attacks just before the 4^th of July.  Although he wants to close the beach, the town’s mayor and council block this, leading to more fatalities.  Soon, an oceanographer played by Richard Dreyfuss is assisting Scheider, armed with a lot of shark knowledge.  Together they get the mayor to agree to hire salty old fisherman Quint (Robert Shaw) who promises to track down the shark, which turns out to be a giant Great White, for a large sum of money.  The second half of the film shows us the mission to kill the shark which is adventuresome (even if the shark doesn’t always look real).  Of course, John Williams’ memorable theme music plays at the appropriate moments -- although at other times it reminded me of Spielberg’s tendency toward heavy-handedness.  It’s an enjoyable summer movie – but potentially one of those blockbusters that tilted Hollywood production toward teenage boys and away from more substantive fare.  

Deep Red (1975)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Deep Red (1975) – D. Argento

I’m not usually one for violent slasher pictures but I have made an exception for the work of Dario Argento – at least for his 1970s films (e.g., Suspiria, 1977), because his more recent output does not look good.  Profondo Rosso ranks among his best and has the usual trademarks:  hallucinatory images, prog-rock soundtrack by Goblin, many tracking shots (often from the killer’s viewpoint), nearly incomprehensible plot that rests on psychological foundations (here, rather Freudian).  The film benefits from having David Hemmings (who starred in Antonioni’s Blow Up, 1966) in the lead role, along with Argento’s partner and co-conspirator Daria Nicolodi as a journalist investigating the murders.  Hemmings plays a jazz pianist who is a witness of the first murder (although he doesn’t remember the face of the killer).  Together, they follow an array of clues that leads to a very spooky house.  Of course, this film is not for the squeamish, as there are some very violent and bloody murders (I had to look away from the screen several times).   But despite the content (an Italian genre called giallo, based on the yellow covers of a series of pulp novels), Argento’s artistry is plain – the setpieces with Goblin backing tracks are pretty incredible.  Perhaps the dialogue/translation (sometimes English, sometimes Italian – lots of dubbing) leaves something to be desired and there are occasional dull stretches, but that’s not really Argento’s main interest (nor that of his mentor, Mario Bava).  Worth a look, for the brave? 

  

Roma (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Roma (2018) – A. Cuarón

Alfonso Cuarón’s Mexican memoir is a tour-de-force of B&W cinematography (he shot the film himself, as well as wrote it, edited it, and directed it).  It feels as though we are back in the ‘50s or ‘60s watching the classic arthouse cinema of the time (I thought I caught a nod to Fellini in the traffic jam sequence) where every image is a revelation.  After a slow build that sets the stage, a Mexico City neighbourhood called Colonia Roma, and introduces the central character, a maid named Cleo (newcomer Yalitza Aparicio), it only gradually sinks in what a technical feat the film really is:  this version of Mexico City from 1970-71 no longer exists and has been completely, seamlessly, recreated for the camera (including cars, furniture, etc.).  But this is not really a neorealistic film -- we attain lift-off with the first of many surreal sequences:  on a date, her partner performs full frontal naked martial arts moves complete with Japanese commands.  Later, the camera is awestruck by a pro-wrestler doing yoga, a singing man in a strange costume during a bushfire, a student protest countered by the police, kids in the maid’s charge nearly drowning in huge waves, and countless other incredible sequences.  The camera is mobile throughout, slowly tracking (no shaky cam here), to take it all in, reminding one of the shots in earlier Cuarón films such as Children of Men, 2006 (his previous film, Gravity, 2013, also gets a nod when the family watches a film with two astronauts drifting in space).  The plot shows us a year of the maid’s life with her employer’s family, when certain serious events occur (such as, the father abandons them).  It is hard not to think about gender, race, and class as the episodic plot unfolds, given Cleo’s second class status – she is loved and accepted (especially by the kids) but does she ever truly belong?  A beautiful (and heartfelt) work of art. 

Marriage Story (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Marriage Story (2019) – N. Baumbach

I approached Marriage Story with some trepidation.  I’m not generally keen to evoke memories of my own past failed relationships (nor my parents’ divorce when I was a kid).  Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage (the five-hour version from 1973) was challenging enough and I haven’t returned to Kramer vs. Kramer (1979) since my parents took us to it back then either.  Yet, I am mostly happy to report that I didn’t really identify with the characters in Marriage Story.  Adam Driver plays Charlie, a theatre director about to debut on Broadway and Scarlett Johansson plays Nicole, the lead actress in the theatre troupe, previously in Hollywood movies.  They have an 8-year-old son, Henry (Azhy Robertson).  Their relationship comes apart because Nicole feels that she has lost her identity and that Charlie selfishly dominates all of their decisions (and he also slept with another woman).  She moves with Henry to LA to be with her mother (Julie Hagerty) and family and to star in a TV series.  Charlie and Nicole are apparently based on director Noah Baumbach and Jennifer Jason Leigh who are also divorced. So, it is no surprise that the movie seems to take Charlie’s point-of-view and is somewhat more sympathetic to him – or is that just my “male” perception of the film?  Nicole clearly has some valid points but her decision to hire tough divorce lawyer, Nora (played enthusiastically by Laura Dern), does take their negotiations in an antagonistic direction, even as we know that the couple still loves each other.  Charlie’s mild-mannered lawyer (Alan Alda) is no real match for Nora.  As viewers, we hope that everything turns out OK for everyone, including Henry who is caught in the middle and clearly more of a mother’s boy (perhaps justifiably so), swaying the custody battle.  It’s all very complicated just as reality is; the acting by the principals is strong and nuanced, the screenplay feels mostly authentic with lots of small “moments” (but I’m not that convinced by that one “unfair” fight) – yet, these people are not like people I know.  Something keeps them at a distance (their social status, perhaps? Or have I been away from the US too long?).  In any event, a failure to identify probably protected me from unpleasant emotions.  Thoughtful music plays.   

The Irishman (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Irishman (2019) – M. Scorsese

Although it is hard to escape the feeling that Scorsese is repeating himself, I found The Irishman fully engrossing for most of its 3 ½ hour length (yes, I viewed this in one sitting using a Netflix free trial).  However, the “de-aging” technology created by Industrial Light & Magic (to allow seventy-somethings Robert De Niro and Al Pacino to play younger versions of their characters without make-up) is pretty disconcerting – De Niro (with blue contacts) looks almost like Alec Baldwin.  Nevertheless, if you are ready to return with Scorsese to the Fifties, Sixties, and Seventies (primarily) to see an aging hit-man (De Niro) who comes to work for Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino) negotiating his conflicting loyalties, between the mob (led by Joe Pesci with a cameo by Harvey Keitel) and obstinate Hoffa, then it is a good watch.  Scorsese uses all of the tricks of the trade – especially those that he is known for (travelling shots with music, etc.).  The acting is as good as it could be – Pesci underplays to great effect (especially given his polar opposite portrayal in Goodfellas, 1990).  Pacino tries (but fails) to escape his usual self and De Niro effectively disappears (more or less) into his character, who is rather stunted in any event.  In fact, it is hard to get a good read on De Niro’s Frank Sheeran – he is more an observer than a player, just following orders (whether it be to carry out hits or lead a local union branch – he’s a good soldier).  You can see why De Niro was overlooked when it came to acting award nominations since he isn’t very flashy – but solid as always.  Despite its length, however, it does seem that Scorsese gave short shrift to Sheeran’s family relationships (Anna Paquin has little to do as his estranged daughter) which makes the sad denouement a little less effective.  Still, Scorsese undoubtedly wanted to focus on the Pacino-Pesci-De Niro triumvirate and they are worth the price of admission.  So, think about this as Scorsese’s “greatest hits” album, bringing together all of his friends and past colleagues (including great editing from Thelma Schoonmaker), and you won’t be too far wrong.  Of course, he indulges himself (the film could have been shorter and tighter) but you want him to, don’t you?  

  

Z (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Z (1969) – Costa-Gavras

Even without knowing the details of the Greek political landscape of the 1960s, Costa-Gavras thinly veiled rendering of the assassination of a leftist leader (Yves Montand) by a conspiracy of conservative allies (including those high up in the government) is gripping stuff.  This won an Oscar for editing and it is easy to see why – the film moves along rapidly, showing events (as well as subjective “memories” from key players) as they unfold, from an array of perspectives.  By the time the investigating magistrate (Jean-Louis Trintignant) is appointed and starts to interview suspects, we have a pretty good take on who orchestrated things.  Still, it is thrilling to see the investigation unfold, as a cynical viewer is always ready for the forces of power and corruption to win out.  (This is not to say that they don’t).  Montand may only have a few minutes of screen time but he is perfect as the charismatic but reflective leader of the left – and those aligned against him are the same as those who have always been against progress and peace and his speech is the same kind of speech we hear today from those who are against war and want a more just and tolerant society.  So, yeah, 50 years later, not much has changed (including the use of assassination for political purposes).  For those who enjoy political dramas (the “fictional” kind), look no further.

Withnail and I (1987)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Withnail and I (1987) – B. Robinson

I was prompted to watch this again after seeing Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) where Richard E. Grant plays Jack Hock, a hedonistic but down-and-out hustler who hasn’t aged too well but keeps up the pretence.  There are a number of clues that suggest that Hock could be another version of Withnail, Grant’s first feature role for which he will forever be remembered.  Indeed, Withnail too is a dissolute hedonist, a struggling actor whose best performances are with his friend (“I” or Marwood, played by Paul McGann).  At the end of the Sixties, the two need a break from the crushing reality that is their squalid flat and drug-addled friends (and so apparently did writer-director Bruce Robinson).  So, they trick a gullible gay uncle (Richard Griffiths) into letting them borrow his country villa in Penrith (Lake District, Northern England) to which they travel in a run-down old Jag, perilously.  Things are rustic there, to say the least, and the two have a number of misadventures, particularly once the uncle shows up with designs on Marwood.  Of course, the plot isn’t really the point – instead this is a fine rendering of the last days of youth, as career paths need to be chosen or another less secure path taken (leading to Jack Hock?).  The script is brilliant, full of caustic and quotable one-liners, employed with vigor by Grant especially.  Sure, it’s dank, beyond-the-pale, and not for your parents – but that period in life was never going to be viewer-friendly, was it?  A cult film that will live on in our memories (aside those real memories?). 

The Thief of Bagdad (1940)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Thief of Bagdad (1940) – M. Powell & L. Berger & T. Whelan

This version of the oft-told tale, the one featuring Sabu, is my favourite.  Amon and I watched it last night and, although the plot involves a flashback at the start, he handled it fine and was rapt throughout.  King Ahmad (John Justin) is tricked and imprisoned by evil magician Jaffar (Conrad Veidt) who has been acting as his grand vizier – he escapes with the help of Abu (Sabu), the titular thief, who helps him to meet a beautiful princess (June Duprez) who Jaffar also desires.  When they are again captured, Ahmad is blinded and Abu turned into a dog.  The rest of the story tells how they are transformed back into themselves, rescue the princess, and defeat Jaffar.  Along the way, they encounter a djinni in a bottle, fight a giant spider to steal the all-seeing eye, visit some ancient holy men and steal their magic carpet, and have numerous other adventures.  Having just watched a number of Ray Harryhausen films, I feared that Amon might find the special effects here too primitive (they are all done with models and superimposition, not stop-motion animation) but he was completely engrossed with the story (only remarking that the flying djinni seemed plastic).  I also found the film, with its fast-moving series of episodes and exuberant performance from Sabu, to be completely enjoyable. Highly recommended!

The Silence (1963)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Silence (1963) – I. Bergman

I’ve seen this film several times now and for some reason I always feel a bit of a repulsion to it – this could be a product of its deeply pessimistic view of reality, the fact that Bergman mostly eschews dialogue (leaving the image to tell everything), or because the film is largely static (we start on a train journey which soon leaves us stranded in a hotel in an unknown country where no one speaks our language and we do not understand theirs).  Without much dialogue, viewers might struggle to understand the relationships between the three principals – a young boy (Bergman surrogate Jörgen Lindström), his earthy sensuous but bored mother (Gunnel Lindblom), and her sister, a tense repressed and seriously ill translator (Ingrid Thulin).  The film basically shows the way that each of these three copes with the predicament of being alive (alcohol, sex, and curiosity) – there is no sign of God whatsoever and not even any mention of him (unlike in the previous two films in this supposed trilogy).  In fact, humans are alone in this version of reality, unable to communicate with each other let alone with a deity – as a result, everyone flounders.  Some critics suggest that Bergman has essentially given up on humanity, presenting both intellect (Thulin) and feeling (Lindblom) as separately defective approaches to life – and now relationships no longer hold the promise of salvation. Others see a ray of hope in the young boy’s attitude and the final attempt to communicate made by his aunt (potentially on her deathbed). A travelling band of circus performers, all little people, also staying in the hotel, suggests what? That life shouldn’t be taken seriously? But violence seems to be ever present as well (ominous tanks move through the city outside the window). With its lack of plot and presumed symbolism, the film is largely opaque but the images are beautiful and, sans dialogue, everything is very sensuous.  (Indeed, The Silence was banned in several countries (or edited) due to its very explicit depictions of sexuality).  End result: Your interpretation may vary!