The Lighthouse (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Lighthouse (2019) – R. Eggers

Robert Eggers’ follow-up to The Witch (2015) is a must-see just for its incredible craftmanship alone, not to mention the passion and intensity that all involved seem to have put into it.  Whereas The Witch took us very realistically back to the 1630s, The Lighthouse is set in 1890 (and iMDb suggests his next film is a 10^th century Viking revenge film!!!).  Again in impressive black and white (with Oscar nominated cinematography by Jarin Blaschke) using old lenses/equipment that required blazing lights and still resulted in a very dark look -- in line with the dark themes.  Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe play lighthouse keepers (or “wickies”) who serve their time on an isolated off-shore rock in rotating month-long shifts.  Only the seagulls (which Dafoe’s salty old seafarer calls the souls of departed seamen) are there to keep them company or to act as adversaries even.  Whereas Dafoe’s Thomas Wake is used to the job, Pattinson (playing E. Winslow) is a first-timer and we basically take his point-of-view, which may be unreliable, as he learns the ropes and starts to wonder whether Wake is keeping secrets from him.  As could be expected, the isolation starts to have ill effects on Winslow’s mind and his relationship with Wake.  The two actors, basically the only players here, fully commit to their roles which require some extreme actions – and I think we can agree that Pattinson and Dafoe are the right actors for this journey.  Of course, the look of the film is incredible, with its period detail, clothes, sets, and so on, but the dialogue itself is also drawn from period sources and Dafoe in particular dishes up some amazing monologues.  Eggers even fashioned designed some shots after old paintings.  Of course, it all leads up to the mystery of the light itself, which has some Lovecraftian aspects.  Gruelling but humorous and absorbing and highly recommended!

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.