The quote on the movie poster to the right raves “Possibly the sexiest movie ever made!” I think that I have a completely contrasting view of sexy to the person who said that. In Romance, Marie and Paul have the definition of a broken relationship in this film, and I wasn’t given any reason to understand why either of them can’t just move on and find someone that they are at least interested in having a normal conversation with. They do eat dinner, though, Marie convinced that Paul ‘only loves her when there is a dinner table between them,’ and then they go home where Marie attempts to have some sort of sexual activity with Paul, but he won’t have it, and pushes Marie away and rolls over to sleep. LIke other Breillat films, I’m not sure what she wants the viewer to get out of her films, not in the sense that they are ambiguous and have many possible interpretations, but in that she seems to throw everything she knows about sexuality into her film, and then tries to tie it all up with a big final scene, usually violent. Her films are easy to watch, though. Most of them are filled with anecdotes about relationships and sex, and then a sex scene, and then repeat, but more extreme the next time. The ideas about relationships are interesting, some accurate, and some seem like she is reaching. But I always have a feeling that I am in a fantasy world when I am watching one of Breillat’s films. Her characters live and breathe their sexuality, and aren’t interested in anything else. It is all they speak about and contemplate. Marie is a teacher currently teaching French grammar, even though she is dyslexic? Oh well, her job is good for something though, as she gets intense bondage sessions about of the principal. I haven’t seen a film by Breillat that I have liked yet, and I don’t anticipate that happening.

I watched this with the score by the Cinematic Orchestra. I thought that the score sounded amazing and accompanied the images really well, but it did feel a little bit too modern for the film.  I think that it could have been stripped down to get rid of the electric instruments and the mixing (like vinyl scratching) to only instruments that were used in the 1920s.  I did like the arrangement, though.  I’m sure that once I hear the other, more traditional scores that this one will become a guilty pleasure.

The film, though, is amazing.  Beside the camera tricks and editing innovations, this is just a really solid hour of filmmaking. The film is about filmmaking, and ends up portraying the world as a kind of giant movie camera.  Factory machines and city rhythms mimic the mechanics of the film camera.  The gears and forward and backward motions mirrors the editing of the film.  I often couldn’t tell if I was watching Vertov’s film, or the film that the ‘man’ is shooting.  Maybe everything is both.  The film kept an incredible pace throughout without feeling rushed.  Most shots are less than 2 seconds long I would guess.  The film has many shots of trains that I thought were both evocative of and better than the early Lumiere film.  The camera takes all positions, and is placed under the moving trains as well as above.  The editing splits two or more shots of trains into one to create a whirling and bustling city.  With so much motion throughout the film, it made Vertov’s world feel more crowded and populated than the world is in the 21th century.

This is the earliest film that i have seen that I would put into the ‘just footage with music’ category that Koyaanisqatsi and Baraka fall into.  I like this more for several reasons.  One, it has obvious nostalgic value.  It was great watching this on a flat, widescreen display and thinking how far everything has come since this film, and how this film still has better things in it than most of what is made now.  Also, this film isn’t as cynical as those more recent films are.  Instead of being interested in the destruction of humanity and the earth, Man With a Movie Camera celebrates the growth and the life of the city and boldly anticipates the motion picture revolution that it knows is going to come in the next several decades.  This is an optimistic and energetic film that I will try to watch with every score that has been written for it.

A strange follow up to Summer Hours in my Assayas double feature, Boarding Gate, which was released the year before Summer Hours, feels like it was made decades apart from Assayas’ next film. While I didn’t come close to liking this as much as Summer Hours, I did appreciate it, and thought it was good for its genre(s). There are two, centerpiece conversations between Asia Argento and Michael Madsen that are great to watch, mainly because Argento is so good in the scenes, and Madsen is able to prevent himself from distracting from her. A couple of times during the first scene between the two, when the Argento first appears, I thought of the audition scene from Mulholland Dr. ‘Acting is reacting’ I said to myself. Argento reacts amazingly. Madsen is Madsen. spoiler I was glad when his brains got blown out..end spoiler.

I am catching on that Assayas thinks globally in his work. Characters escape trouble, hopping from country to country, and there are characters in the film that flip flop from speaking one language to another who I couldn’t believe spoke the languages they were speaking (and some should’ve stuck to one language). The film also seems to flip flop from genre to genre, and it seems divided into very distinct chunks that are nothing like the rest of the film. The film is worst when it felt like I was watching an episode of CSI and best when Argento speaks for a long time. I look forward to Late August, Early September for more delicious seasonal studies.

After two viewings it’s still great, and certainly one of the best films to come out last year. Predictably, I picked up on more details this time, and it was fun watching the characters’ behaviors knowing that they were going to make an important announcement in a few minutes. I didn’t appreciate the ending quite as much this time, I thought that the girls’ dancing was a little too staged, and I thought it was a little unbelievable that this large gathering of teens would be given free reign in that house so shortly after Sylvie was caught shoplifting. But, the overall tone of this film is brilliant, as is the plot. With the decade winding down, this is going to be a defining film for me of these first ten years of the 2000s.

Posted on 12/21/08 at 3:41 AM:

This is the first thing that I have seen by Assayas other than his short in the Paris, Je T’aime compilation, and it almost completely blew me away. Somehow managing to be about everything without being ‘a movie about life,’ the focuses on the three children of a recently deceased parent who try to decide what to do with the deceased belongings, many of it incredibly valuable and sought-after artworks that the Musee D’Orsay and Christie’s have interest in. Most of the film is spent discussing these works and following them as they find their new homes, and it’s all fascinating and gut-wrenching. The film has an energy that reminded me a lot of the last two Desplechin films, dizzyingly energetic displays of family interacting, arguing but still loving each other in a very real and pure way.

The Ozu-esque title seems to refer to the characters who are in the peak of their lives, the middle season of the year. Warm weather, long days. The only problem I had with any of the characters was with Juliette Binoche. Usually she is perfect, and I think that she did her best here, but I think she was miscast. I can buy Binoche as many things, but there was something about her as a money-hungry New York artist that didn’t sit well with me. She wasn’t even all that troublesome. But her make-up was too heavy, and her hair too fake. Maybe it’s because I usually think of her as a mother. She seems like an ideal mother. I’m happy with my mother, but if I could have a new one it might be her, but not in this film. She’s not a big problem, though. Her character, like all of the other major characters, are all pretty complex characters that were constantly on the verge of being unlikable but then charm me in some way.

I also feel like this makes a decent companion piece to Rachel Getting Married, which I also really liked a lot. The ending of this evoked the wedding after-party in Rachel, and is perfect, just like most everything else. This really crept up on me, and I look forward to seeing it again very soon. For now, it shoots right near the top of the year, for me.

Elephant trunks, short shorts, bare chests, and phallic objects flood this homoerotic thriller. This film was gorgeously shot (lots of nice over-the-shoulder shots with infinite depth of field) and well-paced; it easily kept my attention. The film is an intense study of male competition that evoked the rivalry in There Will Be Blood. Andrej and the boy have it out for each other before they even formally meet when the boy jokingly strolls into oncoming traffic. Andrej responds to the childishness by almost running him over, which initiates a back and forth anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better bonding between the two. The men are so focused on each other that Andrej’s wife, Krystyna, completely becomes a non-factor until late in the film. The men, usually shirtless, show off each other’s knowledge and skills, attempting to counter one another’s quality as a man. Unlike what I would have expected, they aren’t showing off for the lady on board, but are genuinely trying to impress and conquer the other. Andrej knows the waters, while the boy stresses his familiarity with the land, carrying a knife that he is skilled with, but admits its uselessness in the sea. Meanwhile, the boy also can’t make use of a paddle, steering the boat in circles while Andrej and Krystyna laugh condescendingly.

Of course, the film is titled Knife in the Water, and the tension between the two males is clear, which, to me, suggested that I would be watching a murder thriller of some kind. Halfway through the film, though, I stopped looking for this. The men form a relationship that makes it seem impossible that one will kill the other, nor the woman. The film is more focused on these men one-upping each other, but it never becomes absurd. They play simple games of ‘pick up sticks’ and demonstrate who is a better sailor and display their physiques. The boy angers Andrej at one point by climbing the mast of the boat as if it were a tree, showing that even though they are not on land, he can still accomplish things and escape things that Andrej cannot, if only because the boy is youthful and strong, and the man, while not in bad shape, is older and less fit. There is also much comparison of class and wisdom between the two based on their ages, all carrying advantages and disadvantages. The competition does boil over eventually, in an unpredictable, almost anticlimactic way. In the end, I got the sense that all of the events and quarrels in the film took place because these men needed to let out frustration that they wanted to fuck a man, but didn’t know how to say it. The boy, like Andrej, has to settle for Krystyna.

Also notable is the Christian imagery: the boy stretched out like Jesus while relaxing, the mast is a series of crosses, the boy climbs it, he even walks on water in I think the most stunning shot in the film.

There is something about Pedro Almodóvar that just works, and it seems like the most effortless thing in the world. The first frame of the opening credits told me all I needed to know about whether or not I would like this film, and I loved it, almost as much as his masterpieces. There is a great balance of Spanish soap opera and classic cinema and film noir in all of his films, the counter cialis and this one certainly leans more toward the soap opera. Pepa is impeccably acted by Carmen Maura, who has an eerie resemblance to Frances McDormand, which added to the absurdity of the performance for me. The women in Almodóvar’s films not only seem to always be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but also on the verge of a period. The film is overflowing with bitchiness, betrayal, overreacting, and is the funniest film by Almodóvar that I have seen yet. No big analysis needed.

Yumurta means ‘Egg’ and is the first in Semih Kaplanoglu’s Honey, Milk, and Egg trilogy. I saw the middle film, Süt (Milk), at the Toronto film festival last September and liked it very much. Kaplanoglu is going through this trilogy about poet Yusuf in reverse. Yumurta tells Yusuf’s story as he is approaching middle age, while Süt focuses on his adolescence. I can only imagine that his ‘Honey’ film will show Yusuf as a little boy. The two films so far make a big deal that Yusuf is a poet, in the sense that characters frequently ask about his poetry and the accolades he received when he was younger, but it really has nothing to do with any ideas in either film, which focus more on broader life experiences that one can experience in the respective stages of life. In Yumurta, the plot is centered around Yusuf’s return to his home town for his mother’s funeral (having seen Süt first, I was bummed to learn that his mother passed between the two films, she seemed nice, and young at heart). Both films in the trilogy so far are similarly paced, shot, and acted, and could easily connect to form a single, three-hour film. This film is less surreal than Süt, though; something that I think Kaplanoglu does well and am glad that he is developing in this trilogy. He is also taking more risks in the middle film, ending it with an inversion of Syndromes and a Century‘s ominous black hole. The glaring white light seemed to propel Yusuf through time to approach the future world of Yumurta (or is it the past world, since this one came first?).

The acting is pretty standard. Nothing great and nothing offensive. If it weren’t for a few abstract bits, liking the opening shot of Yusuf’s mother wandering through a foggy field, or Yusuf waking up near a fantasy forest, I think that the film would have not had anything to say. There are pretty cliche metaphors here (the egg the most obvious one as Yusuf mourns the one who hatched him) and trite contemplations of a middle-aged man observing a young couple in the peak of their lives. I take back what I said about the acting being standard, too. The dog at the end of the film displays the worst dog acting I have seen (granted I haven’t seen the superhero dog movie that came out last year). The film is pretty, though, and the pacing is very nice. Nothing offensive, either. I’m just glad that Kaplanoglu is showing some ambition with this project, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing how he ties up the beginning of the story.

As visceral an experience as I could have hoped for, this film has lingered with me more than any of the other Antonioni films I’ve seen (I admit that I have some catching up to do, as I’ve so far limited myself to L’Eclisse, Blowup, and now Red Desert). I’m finding that most of the films that get lodged in my mind are films that are made up of good stretches of material that are spread out with segments that completely go off my radar. The opening 15 minutes and the gathering in the hut in the red room are separated in my memory by hazy recollections of Giuliana being pursued by Corrado. I can clearly remember scenes like the foggy disease scare, the ‘ill’ son, the story of the girl on the beach (perhaps my favorite scene in any Antonioni I’ve seen yet), the lovemaking scene, and the yellow finale, while what comes between them is completely missing. Like many of my favorite films, I get the sense that it was created intuitively, perhaps built simultaneously to its conception.

The acting in the film is strange, but I was taken in by the spastic and paranoid Monica Vitti much more than her wistful and languid role in L’Eclisse. Here she seems to be on the verge of a seizure for most of the time, and I got the sense that she was possessed by something that I couldn’t identify. It could be the ghostly ships, the factory fumes, or mother nature herself. Her character must have been some sort of inspiration for Todd Haynes’s Safe, featuring a role that left Julianne Moore comparably displaced by her environment and sickly. Vitti stumbles around for most of the film, giggles at nothing, and refuses to answer questions. Her psychological state, and the oft placement of her figure into an out-of-focus landscape also brought to mind Lucrecia Martel’s recent The Headless Woman, which shows a woman who could be out of touch with her environment, but could also just be attuned to a completely alien psychological structure. I’ve been meaning to watch Almodovar’s Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown for months, but I don’t see how I can’t watch that next.

The acting in this film is indeed excellent (with the exception of Evan Rachel Wood, whose character is terribly written and poorly acted), which really elevates the film above a simple, weepy nostalgia piece. The fact that Darren Aronofsky is behind this, whose only good film before this was Pi, which I still have reservations about, is impressive, and puts him back as someone that I will pay attention to. I just wish that he could find a really good writer, because the writing is what brings his films down, and almost brings this one down. The ‘broken down piece of meat’ monologue was weak, forced, and cliched, but Mickey Rourke made it tolerable. Rourke couldn’t save, though, the scenes with his daughter Stephanie, an entire mistake of a character in this film. This film didn’t need a screaming brat crying about her father missing her birthdays and shouting that she never wants to see him again because he forgot that they were to supposed to have dinner together after they have a tender, loving moment a couple of days before. There are certainly more creative ways that the writer could have come up with to make Stephanie get pulled in by ‘The Ram’ again and then have her hopes shattered, but instead he shows this in the most boring and embarrassing way possible.

But, there are plenty of good things to say about the film, even besides the great job by Rourke and Tomei. The film made me think of professional wrestling as something entertaining and watchable for the first time in my life. The wrestling scenes are well shot and often brutal (though maybe a little over the top with the staples). I also liked how gentle all of the wrestlers seemed outside of the ring. One would expect macho men making fag jokes in the locker room, but they are presented as a well-knit community of guys who look out for each other and aren’t afraid to hug after a match. The ending of the film is a tearjerker, and it works, I was choked up. Seeing The Ram make his last Ram Jam is supremely sad.

This is definitely more accessible than Colossal Youth, with its shorter length and hints of a plot, while still feeling like it is part of the same universe. Pedro Costa certainly gives it his all in showing these individuals who are real, but still live in an ominous, cave-live community. Clotilde and her sisters, with the exception of Tina (pictured in the poster) all look like variations of Bob from Twin Peaks; very masculine and straggly. The door motif is very present here, like in Colossal Youth, where the viewer can learn everything he needs to know about a character or a location based on the style or quality of a door in the frame. The poor lurk around in grimy dwellings that are either doorless or are hinged with doors that have been cut into pieces. Many of the women earn money as maids, and when they walk through metallic elevator doors to visit the homes that they are to clean, and that are sealed with fully intact doors with peep holes and doorbells and knocking devices, the women couldn’t feel more out of place.

The plot centers around a new born baby. It took me a while to figure out whose baby it is. I’m pretty sure that I know who the father is, as well as the mother, but I have doubts. The baby adds tension and plays a similar role as the baby in L’Enfant. There are pathetic attempts at feeding the baby, and nursing him, and selling him, and I always have the feeling that when he is not in the frame that he is lost rotting in a sewer somewhere. This film is plagued with just as much grief and hopelessness as Colossal Youth, but feels less monumental, granted it has much smaller goals. Ossos feels like a small movie in the vain of Battle in Heaven or Maria Full of Grace that shows the details of an unfortunate circumstance hounding a collection of unfortunate people. There is much less to digest here than Colossal Youth, but the roots of that film are clearly forming in this one.