La Cérémonie (1995)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

La Cérémonie (1995) – C. Chabrol

At their best, Claude Chabrol’s movies can be very Hitchcockian – after all, the man wrote a classic book about Hitch (with Eric Rohmer). He knows how to set up situations in which even simple actions seem to create suspense – it just takes a few unusual (and unexplained) decisions by a central character to get one’s brain turning. Here, the set-up is straightforward: a bourgeois family in rural Brittany, the Lelievres (Jacqueline Bisset and Jean-Pierre Cassel with respective stepchildren, Virginie Ledoyen and Valentin Merlet), hire a maid, Sophie (Sandrine Bonnaire). We are immediately encouraged to think about the social class divide between these characters but there are also signs that the family is respectful and concerned about Sophie’s well-being (they discuss whether helping her to get a driver’s licence is patronising or not). Yet, soon Sophie starts to act in ways that suggest that she is not as subservient and docile as she seems. She falls under the influence of the chaotic local post office clerk, Jeanne (Isabelle Huppert), who clearly has a chip on her shoulder about the Lelievres. We also learn that Jeanne was previously charged with the death of her own 3-year-old daughter, which naturally adds some suspense. Other secrets emerge as the film progresses. However, it is the shocking ending that really ties the picture together, moving it beyond a simple (although engaging) thriller and into something more complex, a film that tries to understand how class differences may feel from multiple perspectives, each with their own undeniable logic.  

 

Wife of a Spy (2020)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Wife of a Spy (2020) – K. Kurosawa

Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa may be best known for his J-Horror films (such as Cure, 1997, or Pulse, 2001) but he has also won the Un Certain Regard jury prize at Cannes for Tokyo Sonata, 2008 (still on my watchlist).  Here, in his first period film, he brings us back to World War II circa 1940. The “spy” in question (played by Issey Takahashi) is an upper-class businessman who dabbles in film-making – after visiting Manchuria (controlled by the invading Japanese army), he returns passionately devoted to exposing the biological warfare being practiced by his own country’s troops there. (I can’t think of too many other Japanese films that highlight civilian opposition to the country’s wartime aggression and human rights abuses right now).  His wife (played by Yû Aoi) is kept mostly in the dark but becomes suspicious, thinking perhaps that her husband is having an affair.  Her investigations ultimately bring them closer together. Although the advertising for the film calls it Hitchcockian, I would say that, despite any twists or suspense, the film veers closer to a romantic melodrama. For example, I was reminded of Mikio Naruse’s Floating Clouds (Ukigumo, 1955) which also takes place in wartime (perhaps it is the period hairstyles and clothes). However, in that film, the love affair involves a married man who won’t leave his wife, thus leaving Hideko Takamine stranded. Here instead, the husband is faithful and thoughtful and, although they are up against the Japanese government and therefore potentially doomed, his love shines through.  An engaging film of muted intensity.    

 

New Tales of the Taira Clan (1955)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

New Tales of the Taira Clan (1955) – K. Mizoguchi

At its conclusion, Mizoguchi’s penultimate film (and final jidaigeki) feels very much like one of Shakespeare’s history plays rather than the stock-standard samurai epic it may at first have seemed. For one thing, there is precious little action – we see our heroes wearily returning from battle or waving their weapons to scare enemies away, but hardly any fighting itself. Instead, Mizoguchi seems more interested in the political intrigues of 12^th century Japan that saw conflict between the nobility (led by the current emperor), the religious class (led by the recently retired “monk-emperor”), and the samurai (here represented by the Taira Clan). To personalise this historical moment, we are encouraged to identify with Kiyomori Taira (Raizô Ichikawa), the son of a heroic samurai (Narutoshi Hayashi) who, despite winning many battles, is not rewarded by the emperor because his advisors (noble courtiers) believe this would empower the samurai too much. At the same time, Kiyomori learns that he may actually be the son of the monk-emperor (his mother was a courtesan who was given away to the Taira leader after becoming pregnant). He is encouraged/tempted to betray the samurai class. More political machinations follow, including a marriage for love that also works to advance certain interests.  Mizoguchi once again proves his mastery in storytelling but also in his use of colour (only his second film using Dalei’s process). What differs from most of his oeuvre is the lack of strong women characters and the deep sense of tragedy that often pervades them. Instead, we are left feeling optimistic about the onset of the era of the samurai (which lasted seven centuries).

 

About Endlessness (2019)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

About Endlessness (2019) – R. Andersson

If you haven’t seen a Roy Andersson film, you are really missing something – no one else makes movies like he does. Each shot is a set-piece, an anecdote (if you will) or simply a moment drawn from existence. His previous film was called A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence (2014); if this sounds like a Far Side cartoon, then you are not far wrong -- Andersson’s sense of humour is ironic too. These shots are immaculately presented in perfectly designed environments using only muted pastel colours (this film is all white with greys, tans, blues, and greens). The camera is static, taking in the scene, which could be a panoramic landscape or just a room. I think of Jeff Wall’s photographs but Andersson adds movement (within the shot), dialogue, and music (and this time, a narrator who offers a single comment on each scene). The effect of each shot-scene is akin to the detonation of a “thought-bomb” with rippling waves of implications. This film may be about things that never end (such as the emotional states of grief or hurt) or perhaps about endings soon to come (death as the most obvious). This does give the film a dark tone but there are also joyous moments – Andersson is nothing if not an existentialist who wants us to really experience the moments in our lives, the downs as well as the ups, for these are the only things that matter. This film has one key recurring character: a priest who has lost his faith (Andersson is Swedish like Bergman). The priest visits a psychiatrist who tells him that maybe God really doesn’t exist and it would be better just to enjoy his life. This, then, is Andersson’s modus operandi in a nutshell: he offers us the opportunity to observe the poignant, gently ironic, telling, and simply mundane scenes of our shared existence and to reflect on them. And perhaps there is no better time than today, on New Year’s Eve during a pandemic, to contemplate our common humanity, our mutual capacity to experience joy and sorrow, and the perpetual events that cause them to be. 

 

First Cow (2019)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

First Cow (2019) – K. Reichardt

Kelly Reichardt’s latest film is a mesmerising masterpiece.  Set in early 19^th century Oregon, she’s managed an authentic feel for the time and place (not unlike Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man, 1995 – and whoa! Gary Farmer has a cameo here, speaking only in an Indigenous tongue) which really transported me. An opening quote suggests that the film will be about friendship and indeed we soon witness the first meeting of Cookie Figowitz (John Magaro) from Maryland and King-Lu (Orion Lee) from northern China; Cookie’s just arrived with a party of trappers (who seem to hate his guts) and King-Lu is naked, on the run from his enemies.  Together, they decide to strike up a business selling “oily cakes” using Cookie’s baking skill and King-Lu’s business acumen – however, their cakes rely on milk which needs to be illegally procured from the one cow in the territory, brought up by raft by Chief Factor (Toby Jones), a wealthy British local with pretentious airs. And thus, Reichardt’s film also turns out to be about capitalism and the difficulty that those without capital might have in getting a leg up. It isn’t a surprise that they try to leech off the wealthy and powerful nor that the wealthy and powerful might eventually decide to squash them (foreshadowed by the film’s very first sequence). The film is filled with delicious little moments (by an extended cast) and the gentle soundtrack is by William Tyler (with Stephen Malkmus showing up briefly as a busking fiddler). Highly recommended!

 

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) – F. Capra

I guess I am an old softie because tears still well up in my eyes when I watch this old classic. Something about the disappointment that George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) feels when he sacrifices his own desires in favour of helping the community (again and again) combined with everything coming horribly unstuck when the old Building and Loan is finally going to be destroyed by evil old man Potter (Lionel Barrymore) that then sets the stage for that incredible ending when that same community comes together to save the day.  They are happy tears or perhaps something similar but different (seems as though there could/should be research on this). Of course, as a film noir fan, I’m always impressed that the scenes where George’s guardian angel Clarence (Henry Travers) shows him what Bedford Falls would be like if George had never been born are as dark as many noirs (although Amon pointed out that some of the plot seems stolen from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol – a person has a sort of awakening after a spirit shows him an alternate reality). Of course, there’s also a heavy dose of sentimentality (a Frank Capra speciality) and perhaps more time than is necessary spent on George’s romance with Mary (Donna Reed) even if we never do get to know their kids.  Yet, the film somehow never seems to descend into true sappiness -- at least not for me (and the millions of other people who watch this at Christmas) – and I feel more optimistic about life having watched it.  

Judas and the Black Messiah (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Judas and the Black Messiah (2021) – S. King

A history lesson masquerading as a bio-pic masquerading as a political thriller, Shaka King teaches us about the Black Panthers’ role in the civil rights movement via the short incendiary life of Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) and the car thief (LaKeith Stanfield) blackmailed by the feds into betraying him. (Thus, that title is a bit too “on the nose”). Not being as familiar as I should be with these events, I found the plot turns hard to predict (a good thing) and the re-creation of late ‘60s Chicago felt about right. Although Kaluuya is persuasive as Hampton (a community-focused collaborative leader calling for revolution), the real center of the film sits with Stanfield who needed to portray the guilt and fear that Bill O’Neal must have felt as he became more and more entrenched in the Panthers’ hierarchy even while he was meeting regularly with his handler (Jesse Plemons) who himself seems sometimes more sympathetic to the movement than to his nefarious bosses, including J. Edgar Hoover (Martin Sheen). Real footage of O’Neal and Hampton and Hampton’s girlfriend Deborah Johnson bring home the reality of the events – knowing that she sued the federal government for his murder and won means this story can’t be brooked. Of course, there’s a reason this film appeared now, as the number of Black Americans dying at the hands of the police has not decreased and a revolution may be all that turns the tide. Black lives (and stories) matter indeed.