The Velvet Underground (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Velvet Underground (2021) – T. Haynes

Probably my favourite band – and therefore their history is overly familiar to me (from the Up-Tight book by Malanga/Bockris; the Under Review DVD; and countless other sources). So, what could director Todd Haynes (e.g., Safe, 1995; Dark Waters, 2019; and a bunch of Sonic Youth videos) bring to this tale? For one thing, he adopted Andy Warhol’s split screen technique (used prominently in Chelsea Girls, 1966, which I saw years ago at the Walker Art Center) – often showing one of Warhol’s screen tests (Lou Reed, John Cale, Sterling Morrison, and more but maybe not Maureen Tucker) on one side, while the other includes rare live recordings, an interview subject, or other remarkable found footage and period ephemera. Haynes is clearly more enamoured with the Velvets’ early days, spending much time with denizens of the Factory and the Village more broadly (the film is dedicated to Jonas Mekas). Of course, this is one key to their sound – Tony Conrad, Henry Flynt, and La Monte Young all provide necessary backstory about the drone influence, as does Cale himself. But Pickwick Records and poet Delmore Schwartz are not forgotten, as inspirations or contributing factors in Lou Reed’s development as a songwriter and lyricist. Naturally, we hear some of the early demos and formative noises that accompanied the Exploding Plastic Inevitable and foreshadowed the first album (with most of its songs on the soundtrack). Nico is introduced (with footage from La Dolce Vita) but we move fairly quickly past her, then touch on the California tour (Moe really hated the hippies), and the firing of Warhol. The subsequent albums whiz by, each given progressively less coverage (Cale is given a chance to reflect on his departure but Doug Yule is barely introduced). Then, it is time for the finale at Max’s, where Lou’s walkout is recounted by Danny Fields. No mention of Squeeze but we do get footage from Le Bataclan. A coda offers a scattering of moments for each of the principals in the decades to come (and a glimpse of the 1993 reunion).  This sort of documentary always rises and falls based on the quality of the talking heads and they are pretty good here, particularly Jonathan Richman (who says he saw VU sixty or seventy times!). To Haynes’ credit, there’s precious little gossip here, with the focus primarily on the story of the band at the time it unfolded (and no irrelevant future stars recounting their later influence). As such, two hours seemed too short – I wanted more detail, more depth, longer music clips, more more more!  But as music docs go, this is definitely all killer/no filler, perhaps best particularly for the uninitiated (if any such people exist), as an entrée to the music itself, of course.

Licorice Pizza (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Licorice Pizza (2021) – P. T. Anderson

My first comment about Licorice Pizza was going to be that Paul Thomas Anderson has done a pretty good job of recreating 1973 Los Angeles, considering that he himself was only born in 1970.  But then I read the trivia on IMDb about the film which reveals an amazing number of interconnections between Anderson, the actors in the film, and elements of the plot. As the writer-director, it now seems clear that he’s created this tapestry from his own memories, knowledge, and experiences. No need to be aware of any of this to enjoy the film which follows its own internal logic and feels real in a way that many narratives about young love do not.  But for the record, Alana Haim is from the band Haim and her mother was Anderson’s elementary school art teacher (he later did some music videos for Haim). She plays the 25-year-old object-of-desire for 15-year-old Gary, who is played by Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman, a good mate of Anderson’s and star of many of his films. Apparently, Gary is based on another Hollywood figure from the 70s (Gary Goetzman, a producer now but previously a hustling kid, it seems) and so too are characters played by Sean Penn (channelling William Holden) and Tom Waits (channelling either John Huston or Sam Peckinpah). For some reason, Jon Peters (hairdresser and Hollywood producer, in a relationship with Streisand in ’73), played by Bradley Cooper, isn’t given a pseudonym – perhaps he doesn’t mind being portrayed as something of a psycho!  There are a lot of rabbit holes to follow if you want to: Anderson’s dad was an announcer on the Carol Burnett Show and there are some nods to that show and its cast here, there are references to a Clint Eastwood-directed film called Breezy and probably also to Taxi Driver. But again, none of this really matters because the love story itself feels genuine, full of the kind of wacky anecdotes and incidents that pepper your own life (especially in your teens and twenties). There’s an infectious joie-de-vivre here (sparked by a great use of period music) that makes this one of the best films in recent memory. Highly recommended!

 

No Time to Die (2021)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

No Time to Die (2021) – C. J. Fukunaga

Clearly, I’m not a big enough Bond fan – I had to look at my blog to figure out whether I had actually seen the previous film (Spectre, 2015) a full six years ago (I had and didn’t like it). Poor memory may have put me at a disadvantage because the current film seems to pick up where the last one left off.  Another reviewer has remarked that the Daniel Craig series features a Bond that does not exhibit chronic amnesia, he actually remembers the events of previous films. We shall see what happens next, because this 25^th “official” outing for 007 is seemingly Craig’s last. And despite my own failure to remember either Vesper (lost love) or Madeleine (current love, played by Léa Seydoux), I still enjoyed this film (perhaps splitting it across two nights helped as well). Somehow the yearning melancholic themes – everyone here has lost someone violently (including the villain played by Rami Malek) – rise above the specific details of the plot to provide an emotional impact. Mixed with these poignant moments are the expensive action sequences for which Bond films are renowned and they don’t disappoint. True, most of the characters besides Craig and Seydoux don’t have enough to do and it is hard to feel interested in them (including the villain played by Rami Malek) and this may be why some true Bond fans seem to have felt that this film is a letdown.  In fact, it is more of a downer and there’s a difference.   

 

The Bureau (Season 5, 2020)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Bureau (Season 5, 2020) – E. Rochant

Perhaps I would have enjoyed watching this series as it unfolded rather than 5 years of episodes all in one go. But the suspense may have been excruciating.  Just the conclusion of Series 4 alone would have meant living with shock and uncertainty for an extended period.  Of course, moving straight to Series 5 helped to resolve my anxieties (but not until Episode 2!).  That said, the final season (if it is final) was gripping but opened up a whole new front for the show in Russia, letting our stalwart DGSE spies engage with their counterparts in the FSB.  It is Pacemaker and Petrossian, apparently recruited to the Russian spy agency (but actually double agents…or are they?), who get most of the screentime, in addition to JJA, now the Head of the Bureau who has a particular fixation with Russia (and we learn why). Jeanne-Marie has been relocated to Egypt, doing field work in Cairo.  Her story intersects briefly with that of Jonas (dealing with terrorists) and Raymond (investigating a story leaked to the press, possibly by Jeanne-Marie).  Controversially, Series Creator Eric Rochant decided to let famous auteur Jacques Audiard write and direct the final two episodes in the series.  This takes them in a different (more fantastical and dreamlike) direction and fails to tie up more than a few loose ends (some well-loved characters get short shrift).  Some fans were hostile but I thought the conclusion (including another shock) was apt, if rather sadistic. The arc that started with Malotru’s decision to contact Nadia El-Monsour comes full circle.  That said, I hope for a Series 6 but it feels like it is not to be… 

 

Koyaanisqatsi (1982)/Baraka (1992)

 

Koyaanisqatsi (1982)/Baraka (1992) – G. Reggio/R. Fricke

I first saw Koyaanisqatsi in college, as part of a cultural studies class where we watched films in a small screening room in the library. This was probably 1988 and I don’t think I had really been exposed to the essay film before and certainly not a nonverbal one. The images are designed to wash over you, just so much endless timelapse cinematography (by Ron Fricke) in so many fascinating locations. The themes emerge from these images (the title is in the Hopi indigenous language meaning “life out of balance”), moving from ancient vistas (like the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley) to insanely chaotic scenes of humans and cars overwhelming the planet. The camera also stares at people as well as places, pondering their very souls, wondering how they feel about this crazy existence. Philip Glass’s amazing score (once heard, you can never stop intoning the title word in that Gregorian chant way) really elevates everything – all due credit to Godfrey Reggio for having the dream and pulling this all together (as well as the two sequels which I should really track down).  Fast forward a couple of decades to when blu-ray discs were invented and we had just purchased our first player.  I saw a copy of Ron Fricke’s Baraka in a shop and decided it might be perfect as my first purchase in this format. Advertised as being filmed in 24 countries in the late 80s/early 90s and with the same amazing cinematography (lots of timelapse) that Fricke has perfected (even creating his own cameras), the film delivers on its promise.  It really has some spectacular images in some truly historic and memorable places (Japan, Cambodia, Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, South America, Australia, etc. etc.).  The themes focus on world religions/spirituality but quickly encompass death, war, sex and everything in between, also roping in some of Koyaanisqatsi’s ideas about industrialisation/world destruction. You get to peek into the soul of a snow monkey chilling out in a Japanese hot spring. Some of the scenes from Auschwitz or red light districts are probably the type of thing you might want to save to discuss with your kids when they are of the right age. We watched these both this week and what more is there to say then that they could be called prophetic given the trainwreck that the world is heading into now (likely foreseeable then but impossible to ignore now). It is almost quaint to see the world in the late 70s to early 90s, a world to which we can never return. See it while you can.  

The Bureau (Season 4, 2018)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Bureau (Season 4, 2018) – E. Rochant

At the end of Season 3, Malotru (a.k.a. Paul Lefevbre a.k.a. Guillaume Debailly played by Mathieu Kassovitz) is at loose ends, unable to reconnect with Nadia (his Syrian lover for whom he betrayed his country) or with the DGSE (who will undoubtedly arrest him for being a traitor).  The series could have ended there.  Yet in 2018, Malotru resurfaces in Moscow, the easiest place for a wanted man to hide and not be extradited back to France.  Of course, he is soon targeted for recruitment by the FSB (formerly known as the KGB).  And yet, Jeanne-Marie (now Director of the Bureau) thinks she might be able to use Malotru for their own ends to embed another agent within Centre 21, the hacker arm of the FSB (where Marina Loiseau is also now located in a relationship with a computer security pro). The Bureau is also being investigated by the DGSE’s internal affairs division, led by JJA (Mathieu Amalric) who feels that most staff need to leave due to their involvement with Malotru.  Another plot strand finds Jonas tracking down terrorists in the Middle East.  To me, Season 4 is a step back up from Season 3 (which I thought sometimes included out-of-character decision-making but in retrospect served its purpose).  But shockingly, at the end of Season 4, another major character is dead…  On to Season 5 and 2020!

Gunga Din (1939)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Gunga Din (1939) – G. Stevens

Whoa! To watch Gunga Din (1939) in 2022 is to come face-to-face with both unrepentant imperialism and blatant racism – but the film is such a light-hearted adventure, one is tempted to ignore these things. Cary Grant, Victor McLaglen, and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. play sargeants in the British army stationed in India. Gunga Din is their Indian water-carrier.  The film splits somewhat evenly between hi-jinks involving the three leads (trying to trick Fairbanks into re-enlisting now that his tour of duty is coming to a close) and action-adventure as they encounter the Thugee cult of Kali-worshippers who aim to kill the Brits. This is a riff on the poem by Rudyard Kipling whose Din sacrifices himself for the regiment by warning them of an ambush with his bugle and dying when he attracts the attention of the baddies.  But the film really is problematic in so many ways.  Although there seem to be actual Indians among the cast, the Thugees do feature a number of actors in black-face (particularly their guru played by Eduardo Ciannelli). Mount Whitney and the Sierra Nevada range stand in for India (not surprisingly). Din himself (also played by a white actor, Sam Jaffe) is infantilised throughout – Cary Grant is particularly patronising toward him, although perhaps unconsciously so.  The film probably couldn’t be made today and the only way to watch it is with one’s critical consciousness engaged. But it’s still so damned fun (indeed Spielberg seems to have borrowed some elements for Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom).