Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000) – A. Lee

First rewatch since it was released.  At the time, Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh were making their first crossover films, from Hong Kong to Hollywood.  Of course, this film was directed in Taiwan by Ang Lee who had already broken through with The Ice Storm and Sense and Sensibility (and would have future success with Brokeback Mountain). This film won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film (check this).  Although epic with beautiful cinematography, it also manages to capture something of the Shaw Brothers and the classic Hong Kong kung fu flick.  The pacing and regular fight scenes (albeit with wires) keep Lee’s interest in relationship drama at bay, although the complicated plot (complete with long flashbacks) does help to maintain viewer interest. Yeoh is great as always but Chow is too reserved, somehow losing his natural charisma (that featured so well in his films for John Woo).  Newcomer Zhang ZiYi holds her own with these two superstars. Worth another look.  

 

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)

 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) – J. & E. Coen 

One of the Coen Brothers’ most accessible films that rises on the strength of its rootsy Depression-era setting and especially music (the soundtrack went platinum).  Ironic, I suppose, because the film takes its title from the film that director Joel McCrea wants to make (in Sullivan’s Travels, 1941) when he decides to give up commercial filmmaking to make something more serious (i.e., about the struggles of the common man).  But I guess that theme is somewhere buried in there along with the Coens’ usual assortment of oddities, anecdotes, references, and jokes!  This time, the plot is also held together by its links to Homer’s The Odyssey and the homeward journey of its hero (and/or to The Wizard of Oz and its similar trek). George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and John Turturro play three convicts who break loose from a chain gang and then aim to head to George Clooney’s home to get their hands on the proceeds from a bank robbery that he has hidden there, before the TVA floods the whole place.  Along the way, they meet various characters who may echo Homer – John Goodman as a one-eyed Bible Salesman, for example – and a variety of time-period relevant events (a KKK rally, for example).  They are always followed by a demonic sheriff in mirror shades. They meet gangster George BabyFace Nelson (Michael Badalucco). They also meet Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King) who may or may not have sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for guitar-playing prowess – which brings us back to the music.  At one point in their journey, the boys stumble into a Sun Records styled recording studio and radio station where they fortuitously record a version of “Man of Constant Sorrow” which becomes an unlikely hit for their pseudonym The Soggy Bottom Boys (a plot device that returns later to salvage, well, everything). Clooney didn’t do his own singing but apart from that his presence here was really a revelation (back in 2000) – he is truly funny as the fast-talking but ridiculous Ulysses Everett McGill (that name!).  Nelson and Turturro are no slouches either and the whole thing ambles along so amiably with its rollicking and wistful accompaniment that it leaves you with a warm feeling that seems rarely the Coens’ goal. I’m glad I revisited it.      

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.  

   

  

Little Otik (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Little Otik (2000) -- J. Svankmajer

Surreal and grotesque fairy tale from Svankmajer -- even the camera angles are sensuously disgusting. Laced with subversive ha-ha's. (2010 Review).

Code Inconnu (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Code Inconnu (2000) – M. Haneke

In Paris, a white teenage boy throws some litter into a panhandling older Romanian woman’s lap and is told off by an older black youth and an altercation begins.  The cops arrive and take everyone away (blaming the black man, a first signal that the film is in some ways about racism and failures of multiculturalism).  Director Michael Haneke uses this incident, filmed in one long shot, as a starting place for a series of glimpses into the lives of those involved in or affected by this short moment in time.  For example, the white teen has run away from his rural home where his father (perhaps lonely, perhaps poor) is hoping to pass the farm down to him because his older brother, a photojournalist currently dating Juliette Binoche, has already moved to the city.  We see Binoche (playing actress Anne Laurent) both “in character” in films and plays and also on the Parisian street or metro – because the various episodes that Haneke shows us begin and end mid-stream, bookended with moments of black screen, it is often difficult to know what we are seeing: moments from the past, present, or future (relative to the key incident) and involving which characters (unknown until they appear)? The stories of the black youth (his family has legally immigrated from Mali and one of his sisters is deaf and mute) and the Romanian woman (she is an illegal immigrant who hopes to send money back to her family) are interwoven to paint a picture of the failures of French society (or any society) to come to terms with the needs for greater understanding that globalisation and multiculturalism require.  This description may make Haneke’s film seem straightforward but it is anything but.  Instead, the purpose of the various moments we see can be elusive, perhaps only providing some background to the very different existences of different people in Paris, perhaps showing us clashes between those people, and hinting only sometimes vaguely at motivations and larger themes (for example, about the reasons for immigration from Romania or Afghanistan).  As a starting place for a meditation on this changing world, at the start of the twenty-first century, it is never less than stimulating.

  

George Washington (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

George Washington (2000) – D. G. Green

With a rhythm all its own, this largely anecdotal film gathers together human moments, strange and moving, but somehow real – or real from this alternate universe where the film has occurred.  There is a plot of sorts – we follow the lives of some young kids in North Carolina (probably) and see how they cope with a tragedy that occurs -- or how they don’t cope.  The minimalist music track gets you on its wavelength and slows down your need for anything other than character development and empathic feelings.  The kids are great, providing line readings that are naturalistic but not.  The adults provide comic relief or alien behaviour. I haven’t seen anything else by director David Gordon Green (um, Pineapple Express?) but here, in his debut feature, he showed a poetic sense and an eye for alternately rusted out and lush landscapes. Worth seeking out.

Songs from the Second Floor (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Songs from the Second Floor (2000) – R. Andersson

After watching Andersson’s second “modern” work, You, the Living (2007) about six years ago (on an airplane), I wrote in my notes “pastel absurdity” and gave it 4.5 stars.  As in that film, this earlier one is a tale told by anecdote: Andersson sets up his frame as a painter would the canvas and then allows the action to unfold in long shot within it, then he sets up the next frame/scene in a different space, and so on.  Extreme care and attention are paid to color (more muted than pastel here, but with the occasional splash of orange or red), lighting, and the balance of characters and objects in the space (some in deeper focus).  However, in Songs from the Second Floor, there is a narrative of sorts, with recurring characters encountering an array of tragicomic situations that document (more or less) the frailty and vulnerability of we humans.  One character even utters the (translated from Swedish) phrase, “It’s tough being human sometimes”.  There are some bloody scenes here (those splashes of red) as people encounter physical peril, but a lot of the pain and suffering is emotional (as in life). However, despite all the woe, Andersson’s film is darkly funny; someone made a reference to The Far Side cartoons, and perhaps that’s not too far wrong.  As with other “existential” films that highlight our shared human concerns, seeing people deal with all this (and then laughing?) somehow makes life feel more invigorating.  I am excited to see Andersson’s newest feature, A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (2014).

Platform (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Platform (2000) – Z. Jia

Spanning from 1979 to 1990, Jia's film tackles the sociocultural changes in China that followed the Open Door policy of the 1980s by tracing the lives of a group of performers in a Cultural Troupe (from peasant songs to breakdance electronic). Although we stick with a few principals, the long shot long take method makes them less the focus than the surrounding context, thereby underscoring the larger theme of cultural change and its impact. Impressively, the effects wrought by time are not highlighted by the director but occur more subtly as outside influences on fashion, music, and lifestyle creep in.

Yi Yi (A One and A Two) (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Yi Yi (A One and A Two) (2000) – E. Yang

There's some kind of alchemy going on in this quiet Taiwanese family melodrama that elevates it to something special. Whether that is the nuanced portrayals of the dad, NJ, and daughter, Ting-Ting, (not to mention Japanese business guy, Ota) or the superb use of off-screen space and stunning camera shots (such as the nighttime window reflections) that are reminiscent of countryman HHH or even Wong Kar Wai, I'm not sure. But this film is never less than moving and insightful.

Werckmeister Harmonies (2000)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) – B. Tarr

Unmistakably a Bela Tarr film, set in a grimy wintry Eastern European town and shot in glorious black and white.  The camera is ever-moving (in extremely long takes), following Janos Valuska as he walks through town, observing what appears to be a fascistic uprising brought about (possibly)  by the visit of a travelling whale exhibit (and a strange Prince who we never see).  The film feels set in the 19^th century, not unlike Tarr’s earlier 7-hour masterwork, Satantango, so the appearance of a tank and then a helicopter to quell the uprising is somewhat jarring and mystical (even though we saw a reel-to-reel player and other examples of technology at different points in the narrative).  The title comes from the quest of one of the characters (mentioned oh so briefly) to over-turn Werckmeister’s tuning system --although much like with Satantango’s supposed tango structure, any musical underpinnings in the film (apart from its drone-like qualities) is pretty much impossible to ferret. Tarr maintains there is no allegorical quality to any of his films, but the film nevertheless feels portentous.