Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) – G. R. Hill

After finishing the movie, I contemplated what it might have been like if shot by Sam Peckinpah rather than George Roy Hill.  After all, The Wild Bunch was released in the same year (and forced screenwriter William Goldman to change the name of Butch’s outfit to The Hole in the Wall Gang when historically it really was The Wild Bunch). I guess it was the ending that made me think about this – a violent ending to our outlaw heroes (an ending that made Amon cry: perhaps PG really did require more guidance on my part -- oops) not unlike what might have been offered by Peckinpah. Hill, in contrast, likes things light-hearted, even when our protagonists are bank robbers; I did find the “Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head” sequence rather unsufferable though. In fact, early on, I was ready to be disappointed by the film (not having seen it in decades) but very gradually, it grew on me, probably when the “super posse” started trailing Cassidy (Paul Newman) and the Sundance Kid (Robert Redford) for an extended amount of time. This gave the actors a chance to develop their characters and camaraderie. When the action switched to Bolivia, even better. What sort of strange Western was this? Another one playing with the form and examining the dying days of the Wild West (similar to what Peckinpah was doing, even more violently and bleakly). To his credit, Hill fills the screen with some beautiful scenic vistas, along with handsome actors, and it’s no surprise that it became a huge hit.

Cremator (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

Cremator (1969) – J. Herz

This Czech New Wave film is definitely weird, although perhaps not quite as weird as I was expecting (I didn’t expect a character study).  Rudolf Hrusínský plays the title character, a family man who proudly works at the local crematorium, setting souls free from their worries (as inspired by a book about the Dalai Lama).  However, the film is set in the 1930s and soon Kopfrkingl the Cremator is being encouraged by an old friend, and now Fascist with Nazi sympathies, to think about the purity of races and using his crematorium for cleansing in the Holocaust sense.  So, yeah, it’s dark and often discussed as a horror film.  But Kopfrkingl is seemingly not an evil guy – he’s avuncular and pretty much a dupe who is willing to change his behaviour to be part of the in-crowd (evil is banal, then).  Somehow director Juraj Herz manages to connect this will to power with sexual desire, implying that Kopfrkingl’s motives are anything but clear.  Add to this his morbid obsession with death and disease and it’s positively psychodynamic.  Where the film is definitely weird is that we can’t always be sure whether what we see is reality or Kopfrkingl’s fantasies/dreams/fears.  There are a lot of really strange scenes and shots in beautiful B&W (and impossible edits between them) – which makes the film impressive despite its content matter, which to be honest grows darker and darker as it goes along.  At the same time, it is impossible to escape the feeling that much of what is happening could be very very black comedy.  Wow.

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.

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.

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.
 

Double Suicide (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Double Suicide (1969) – M. Shinoda

This is Masahiro Shinoda’s high concept staging of a bunraku puppet show with actors instead of dolls (but retaining the figures in black who control everything).  The result is as highly stylized as you would imagine and starkly shot in high contrast black and white with Toru Takemitsu’s minimalist score aiding in the effect.  Based on a tale of doomed lovers by Chikamatsu (also a favourite of Mizoguchi’s), the plot sees Jihei the paper merchant and Koharu the courtesan drawn inexorably to the fate announced in the title of the film.  Even knowing what will happen, it is impossible to look away.  Jihei’s wife and two children are also dragged into the drama (as are his brother and her father).  Everybody is so wrong-headed but erotic compulsion cannot be denied.  The poor puppeteers in black can only look on in sympathy and horror (even as they occasionally assist the players); this adds another odd layer to the proceedings. The only other Shinoda film I’ve seen is Pale Flower (1964), a striking yakuza drama that is well worth your time.

 

  
Double Suicide (1969) [Trailer] from Art Theatre Guild on Vimeo.

The Honeymoon Killers (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Honeymoon Killers (1969) – L. Kastle

It seems almost camp at the start and one could easily imagine Divine as nurse turned serial killer Martha Beck (played bluntly by Shirley Stoler). Tony Lo Bianco is smarmy, sleazy, naïve, and more-or-less perfect as Ray Fernandez, the con man who preys on “lonelyhearts” for their money.  As shot by Leonard Kastle (after Martin Scorsese was fired), this “true crime” film is purposefully unpolished, shot in cinema verite styled black and white, not beautiful to look at, but in ordinary locations (like a  grandmother’s cheaply furnished apartment).  So, this viewer was quite taken aback at the first brutal murder, which unfolds clumsily and naturally, as you suspect it really may have, with the interpersonal dynamics between the two killers and the victim embarrassingly personal.  The second murder is even more brutal and suddenly nothing is funny anymore.  This is horror of truly unsettling proportions.  One remembers the film was made in 1969 and not the late ‘40s (when it took place).  Criterion’s DVD offers pictures of the real protagonists and the electric chair at Sing Sing where they were ultimately executed. 

  

La Femme Infidele (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Femme Infidele (1969) – C. Chabrol

Of course, Rohmer and Chabrol wrote a classic book about Hitchcock, so it should come as no surprise that this thriller by the latter contains an extended homage to Psycho.  Chabrol has also adopted the Master’s wicked wit and, more than once, the audience is teased and tormented because they have been led to identify with a guilty party.  Indeed, who wouldn’t identify with Michel Bouquet, the possibly cuckolded husband who hires a private detective to discover whether his wife, Stephane Audran, is cheating on him.  As with Hitch, the little moments matter, as each unfolding situation involves tensions and dynamics beneath the surface action that only those privy to each character’s secret knowledge can fully comprehend – and in this case, both husband and wife have secrets.  Their marriage may be strained but when they become complicit in each other’s secrets, perhaps this bolsters it?  Not a particularly deep movie, but a wicked, witty, absorbing thriller for those who like the screws tightened.

Al-Mummia (The Mummy/The Night of Counting the Years) (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Al-Mummia (The Mummy/The Night of Counting the Years) (1969) – C. A. Salam

Hypnotic and eerie but true tale from Egypt detailing how a remote tribe was caught plundering a hidden mountain tomb where dozens of mummies (including those of important pharaohs) had been secured 3000 years ago after their official tombs in the Valley of the Kings had been desecrated. Taking place in the late 1880’s, the film also contains an apparent conflict between the city people and the mountain people, the modern versus the traditional culture. However, all is not what it seems, as the young people of the mountain tribe show that they have more respect for their ancestors than do their elders who have been beset by greed, aided by a malevolent antiquities dealer.  The day is won by those who wish to preserve and safeguard the past. The actual landscapes and relics of Egypt and some spooky electronic music give this a quality of dreamlike otherworldliness. 

  

Army in the Shadows (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Army in the Shadows (1969) – J.-P. Melville

Another blue-hued film from Melville about the mechanics of plotting. However, this time the team is not plotting a heist but instead are leaders of the French Resistance during WWII, engaged in numerous heroic and tragic escapades (told in sequential anecdotes). Lino Ventura's efficient bureaucrat is a sympathetic standout among the charismatic cast.

Burn! (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Burn! (1969) – G. Pontecorvo

Location shooting, raw editing, mostly unknown cast (plus Brando with colourful scarves), Ennio Morricone, and a revolutionary ethos from the man who made Battle of Algiers. Brando plays the slaves (and former slaves) and the sugar companies off each other but his cynicism is his undoing.

Boy (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Boy (1969) – N. Oshima

Oshima’s Boy feels a bit like a slap in the face.  Here we see, from the boy’s point of view, a few months in his life.  His Dad and Stepmom have trained him to jump out in front of cars so they can demand money from the unlucky drivers.  He may really get hurt upon occasion.  He often escapes to wander on his own and perhaps into a fantasy land filled with people from outer space.  He’s only 10.  Oshima fills the frame with geometrical shapes and often pushes the boy to the edges.  Some shots feel ugly and unbalanced but others are beautiful in their way.  The family travels all around Japan.  We worry about the boy and his younger brother (only 3) – how will they turn out?  Possibly not good.  Very disconcerting as a film (and worth your time).

Katzelmacher (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Katzelmacher (1969) -- R. W. Fassbinder

Fassbinder's second feature sees his career-long themes already in full-bloom.  These characters are inhumanely cruel to each other, even as they maintain a posture of friendship.  Of course, outsiders are treated especially inhumanely -- as demonstrated here in the way that the several couples that populate the film (and apartment block) react hostilely to the Greek immigrant (referred to by the slang word, Katzelmacher, which seems to refer to sexual behaviour as well as foreign worker status).  Fassbinder implies that money drives all human relationships and shows us this in a number of prostitution-like relationships.  To get us to focus on such themes, everyone is using emotionless Brechtian delivery here and the cinematography suggests a translated play (everyone faces the audience).  But there are also purely cinematic devices (a recurring tracking shot involving pairs of characters strolling arm in arm) in use. I like Fassbinder, so I might find this more engaging than the average viewer -- but if you like this one, there are further masterpieces to discover.

Andrei Rublev (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Andrei Rublev (1969) -- A. Tarkvosky

Scenes from the life of a fabled Russian icon painter in the early 15th century as projected into mud, rain, fire, and even up into the air (in the opening sequence) by Andrei Tarkovsky.  The short squalid lives of those living in this time seem authentically depicted and their horror and sadness undoubtedly influence the monk/artist (or this is what we are meant to believe).  Rublev even gives up making art (and speaking) because it seems pointless in a world so tragic, but he has his faith (in art, not religion -- although the two are intertwined, presumably for both Andrei's) restored through witnessing the fantastic rendering of a huge silver bell, another piece of creative achievement.  I saw a cut of about 180 minutes but longer versions do exist; they all assuredly include scenes of a Tartar/Mongol invasion, a pagan mayday-like nighttime ritual, an early balloon flight, a minstrel's shenanigans, and lots of trudging trudging trudging and querying querying querying.  Tarkovsky is deeply serious but his focus on detail and the intensity of his scrutiny are transcendental indeed.  It must have been a magnificent campaign to mount it.  This may not be my favorite of his films but I give it 5 stars.   

High School (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

High School (1969) -- F. Wiseman

Without narration, titles, or any other explicit way to direct the viewer's thinking, Frederick Wiseman edits footage from a Philadelphia high school filmed in 1968 to create a withering portrait of heavy-handed socialization to a certain set of conservative values. Students are shown in their low-powered positions, confronting (or simply submitting to) teachers and administrators who preach to them right from wrong. The camera zooms in on important details (an authoritarian's big ring, nervous fingers of parents or students) that the subjects surely didn't know were under observation and which reveal much (of Wiseman's point of view). As a 21st century viewer (who went to high school in the 80s), I found myself a) thinking that this high school's techniques had only somewhat softened by my time; and b) wondering what sorts of power and control techniques are used in schools today. Perhaps the more things change, the more they stay the same?

My Night at Maud's (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

My Night at Maud's (1969) -- E. Rohmer

My first Rohmer. This is a scintillating treatise on religion, sex, chance, and fate that is, admittedly, mostly talk. The unnamed central character (Trintignant) spends an absorbing night with a totally disarming woman (Fabian) who might be his perfect match, alleviating his normal reserve, but she is an atheist and he wants to be a practicing Catholic (though his actions do not always conform with the faith's principles). What is most interesting here is trying to figure out how the various philosophical points mesh or do not mesh with the character's decisions -- he does seem more willing to force circumstances to conform to his will than to rely on chance and grace (as he claims). The luminescent cinematography aids and abets Rohmer's focus on naturalistic and conversational detail.