Eyes Wide Shut (1999)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) – S. Kubrick

I decided to rewatch Kubrick’s last film to see if there was something that I missed on first viewing 15 to 20 years ago. I think, in fact, that there wasn’t.  Which is not to say that the film doesn’t plumb some depths – it has a fair bit to say about sexual desire and jealousy and how these might be expressed in relationships.  Then married couple, Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise, describe their fantasies, acted on or not, to each other and witness the pain they inflict.  Based on the source novel by Arthur Schnitzler (Traumnovelle, 1926), sexual desire has a Freudian feel, consciously repressed (or just lied about?) and/or sublimated into dreams.  In fact, we don’t quite know whether the majority of the film is one of Tom Cruise’s dreams.  It certainly is an outlandish story (he discovers a secret meeting of the high and mighty, all dressed in masks and robes, and engaged in an orgy) and there are threats all around for anyone, Cruise in particular, who seeks to be unfaithful (the superego battling the id, no doubt).  As a cinematic experience, the film certainly is dreamlike, rambling from episode to episode (often in Kubrick’s studio-recreated version of Greenwich Village), filled with great chunks of emotionally laden speech and, yes, sexually suggestive moments. The colour template is warm oranges and chilly blues (often set against each other in the same shot), perhaps representing closeness and distance and the easy way we can slip between them. However, despite all the nudity and sex, it isn’t a particularly erotic film – there is too much anxiety for that, too much fear and jealousy.  The use of sex for domination by the powerful (i.e., the wealthy; such as Sydney Pollack’s evil host) or to control one’s spouse is too overt here and too uncomfortable. Of course, if you haven’t seen it, this is well worth investigating – I wouldn’t see it on a first date, however.    

Green Book (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Green Book (2018) – P. Farrelly

I appreciate the critiques of this film that argue that we don’t need yet another look at Black Lives as told through the eyes of a white character (and also written and directed by white guys).  We need to listen to black voices telling their own stories. I hope we are ready to listen and that we have reached a point where white audiences don’t need a surrogate, a version of themselves in the story, in order to listen, learn, and, yes, identify.  However, for those who need it, Green Book shows us the horrors of racism in the Deep South (circa early 1960s) through the experiences of Tony Lip (Viggo Mortensen), a bouncer from Brooklyn hired to drive Dr Don Shirley (Mahershala Ali), a renowned pianist, on his trio’s concert tour (an “ironic” status reversal from, uh, Driving Miss Daisy). The arc of the plot sees a casually racist Tony change his views through his growing friendship with Don and his witnessing of Don’s harrowing experiences.  And, yes, it seems we do need to hear yet again about the horrors of racism, although again safely half a century in the past, because some lessons aren’t being learned.  Director Peter Farrelly (Dumb and Dumber) infuses a little bit of comedy in the film and some nicely rendered period settings but this is mainstream filmmaking (of the most nonthreatening kind).  Both Mortensen (who gained a lot of weight) and Ali bring the acting acumen that elevates the film beyond its origins (although not methinks to Best Picture level, which it surprisingly won).

  

The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (1978)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (1978) – F. Schepisi

No time like the present (and in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement) to watch this key film of the Australian New Wave.  Although it was directed by a white Australian (Fred Schepisi) from a book by another white Australian (Thomas Keneally), the film examines the impact of racism on Aboriginal/Indigenous Australians (First Peoples), albeit at the time of Federation (turn of the 20^th century), a “comfortable” distance away (or not!).  Jimmie Blacksmith, a so-called half-caste boy raised in a Christian missionary settlement, earnestly tries to live by the white society’s rules.  He makes his living by putting up log fences for farmers – which seems symbolic of their theft of native land and subsequent barriers to access for the original owners.  Of course, Jimmie is complicit in this crime (he builds the fences!) but he is invariably mistreated and swindled by his white bosses. Even when he marries a white woman (assumed to be pregnant with his child), he isn’t accepted -- and strangers are ready to undermine his marriage at every turn.  An early turn as a police officer, involving beating other Indigenous people as commanded, also gives us a view of how badly Blackfellas were treated and how much Jimmie was able to separate himself (with encouragement) from his roots. But, but, but, eventually all this harsh treatment and the pernicious racist attitudes of the whites around him finally gets to Jimmie and he explodes in violence.  Undoubtedly, reactions to his acts are complicated – can violence ever be sanctioned as a result of persistent mistreatment? When is enough finally enough?  The other Indigenous characters in the film condemn the violence – but Jimmie is at war.  However, this is a war (righteous though it is) that Jimmie cannot win on his own.  The film explores these events with an unblinking eye, nuanced characterisations, and some beautiful images of the land/natural environment. However, we must ask ourselves have things changed and how complicit are we in the continuing negative treatment of people of colour, in Australia and beyond?

Ace in the Hole (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Ace in the Hole (1951) – B. Wilder

To say that Billy Wilder’s follow-up to Sunset Blvd (1950) is bleaker and even more cynical is really saying something (and I’m saying it).  Humans can be despicable.  Moreover, this 1951 film is positively prescient about a number of things: 1) the way that the news media would seek out lurid stories to attract more eyeballs; 2) the temptation to manufacture such stories to increase circulation; 3) the public’s willingness to consume such stories regardless of their truth; and 4) the easy deals the media would make with politicians to gain access to stories in exchange for favourable coverage (which people consume despite its palpable falseness).  There’s probably even more.  Kirk Douglas plays Chuck Tatum, a reporter who has burned bridges at most big city newspapers and now finds himself stuck in Albuquerque, New Mexico, waiting for a break.  It comes when a local man is trapped in a cave-in when looting a Native American burial site.  Tatum convinces others (the sheriff, the engineer) to leave the man underground while the story builds, attracting national attention.  A circus results.  Wilder doesn’t pull any punches depicting Tatum and also the man’s wife (Jan Sterling) as callous and unfeeling, seeking only a buck or fame –- some thought Wilder a misanthrope but he might have just been telling it as it is (or would be). It’s interesting to reimagine the film with social media thrown into the mix – likely it would be worse with all those selfies taken at the spot and you-tubers giving a play-by-play.  Wilder couldn’t envision the chaos we have in the “media” today, but he had a good handle on the sickness in human nature that is cause and consequence.