Films seen in 2006: The reviews: March
Submitted by 1922 on Sat, 03/11/2006 - 08:03
Tags:
March
- mar-01:
Gegen die Wand (Akin, 2004)
- mar-02:
The Skeleton Key (Softley, 2005)
- mar-04:
The Dreamers (Bertolucci, 2003)
- Surprisingly slammed by many European critics at its release, Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Dreamers remains nevertheless (or therefore even more?) an interesting and unusual film. The story is fairly easy, and it goes like this: During the students manifestations in Paris in 1968, the young American Matthew (Michael Pitt) meets the siblings, Theo (Louis Garrel) and Isabelle (the new Bond-girl Eva Green). Together they isolate themselves from the outside world in an apartment. They live days full of alcohol, debates, sex and...movies. While the content is still easy to tell, the movie’s theme is however more difficult to define. What is it finally about? About love, as the press states? Partly this is true, but there is still much more under the surface. Other possible, but not definite topics include obsession, twins, Siamese through their minds, youth, sexuality, ideals, the alienation between parents and offspring, generation gap, and last, but not least, a portrait of the 1968-generation. The atmosphere transmitted is generally a mood of revolution and obstreperousness. Briefly, lets stick to the title: It is about “Dreamers”. As difficult as the search for an accurate theme description, is also the genre characterization. The point is that it does not stick to one single genre, but it unites the various elements from erotic and youth films, but it is at the same time a highly intelligent intimate play. But eventually it is also an art-film and a film about art. Through the protagonists’ discussions, it gives some potential definitions of cinema, of a revolt against the enrooted principles and concepts in arts (reflected by riots in the Parisian streets), etc. Art is shown as a part of life, or rather as a life style, which leads in this case however to reclusion and isolation. Already at a first sight, the so-called “intertextuality” is very interesting and delightful. The intersection of scenes from film classics such as A bout de souffle, Bande à part, Freaks or Queen Christina are perfectly introduced into the film’s actual scenes. The transition between these sequences is so well-done that even a rhythmical movement is created through this. Another strong point of the film is clearly the acting. Even though Michael Pitt is at times a little pale, his two co-stars fully deploy and go up in passionate flames. Especially Louis Garrel is a revelation, a new talent on whom we should keep an eye in future. Due to this first-class acting, the character drawing is profound, complex and shaded. Even though Theo and Isabelle are often difficult or even impossible to understand in their behaviour (and that is certainly the film’s intention), they always remain appealing which excludes any boredom. From an artistic point of view, The Dreamers is highly interesting. The camera work is perfectly done, and catches in a very aesthetic manner the erotic and sexually vibrating scenes. The way Bertolucci films the naked skin is unique, and never voyeuristic or ending in itself. The rhythm that wiggles through the 110 minutes the movie runs is rather slow, but in its consequent disposition remarkable. Furthermore, the way the film deals with sexuality and sensuality in the Jules et Jim-like triangle relationship is refreshingly unpretentious and honest. Therefore The Dreamers is probably not a movie to everyone’s taste, but one thing is sure: It will gain a lot of importance in the years and decades to come, and the critics will eventually recognize it as the great work of art it actually is. At the end of the movie, the wonderful chanson “Je ne regrette rien”, by Edith Piaf seems like a perfect conclusion to the entire film, underlining once more the movie’s characteristic consequence and the given description of the protagonists. Personally, I can say that I certainly do not regret having seen this amazing oeuvre.****
- mar-04:
Shaun of the Dead (Wright, 2004)
- mar-07:
Irréversible (Noé, 2002)
- This review contains some minor or major spoilers! Gaspar Noé is a French director known for his provocative films. When his most famous work Irréversible was shown on the Festival of Cannes in 2002, a large part of the audience left the room, and among those who stayed, were some who actually vomited. As regards content, Irréversible tells about three people (Cassel, Bellucci, Dupontel) who are confronted with violence and rape during one night in Paris. From this point of view, the film is pretty unspectacular and ordinary. What makes it however so poignant is how it reports these happenings. The formal aspect of the movie is the major point of interest here. The most striking formal element is of course the narrative structure. The film begins with the end credits, and the entire story is told in the reverse order. This technique sounds familiar? Yes, the best-known example is certainly Christopher Nolan’s great thriller Memento. Yet, Noé’s approach is somehow different. He is more consequent, and the various sequences are shorter than in Memento so that the film is probably a little easier to follow. Yet, both directors, Nolan and Noé, probably tell their story in that order to focus the spectator’s attention into another part of the film. It is no longer particularly interesting to see what happens (as you know it, by seeing the story’s end immediately at the beginning), but how it happens. From then on, you are rather concerned with the process, and not exclusively with the final result, the dénouement. In an extreme comparison, one might find the theatrical technique of playwrights such as Bertolt Brecht or Max Frisch who did it in a similar way. Moreover, the movie’s chronology is “irreversible”, because otherwise you would deprive it of its pivotal interest. From a thematic angle, the central subject is given right at the beginning of the movie, and is repeated at the end. It is about time that destroys everything. I will not engross this now, because the topic of time as the destroyer of joy and life is not very original, as numerous poets, directors and other artists have already covered it before. I just precise that it is visualized in an impressive way at the end of the film, by the oscillating white screen which is especially intense when you watch it in a completely dark room as I did. Another relevant formal facet is the innovative camera work. This is a masterful example of a symbiotic relation between form and content. It is constantly moving, never fixed, always mobile. You feel uncomfortable and the insecurity of the film’s characters is transmitted on the spectator. Some may find the hectic camera bothering (and there are certainly some other, more subtle techniques of making the spectator feel queasy, as Martin Scorsese’s Cape Fear proves), but it is a necessary part of the prevailing intensity. The beginning of the film takes place in a dubious club (Sado-Maso) called “Rectum” (the name should tell enough), and is among the most frightening things you may ever experience. Along with the nervous camera, the gritty and aggressive sounds you hear and the unpleasant colours create a sombre atmosphere that is visually and acoustically almost unbearable. The film’s most shocking scene is certainly where Pierre beats down a guy with a fire extinguisher, and smashes his head so long until there is only purée left of it. With this excess of brutality, you dunk into a strange, but somehow fascinating universe of violence, orgies and sexual abuse. Another intense moment is of course the nine minute-long rape scene in a subterranean corridor. This evokes the crucial question in cinema history about how much you should show in your film. Where is the balance between showing too much and not enough? Noé does not manage to hold this balance, and glides into voyeurism and maybe a little sadism too. But that is clearly his attention. And, from that point of view, the spectator is not completely innocent either. No matter how repugnant and repulsive he finds it, he still has to look. The film probably satisfies the voyeuristic drives that inhabit us all. That is also why the second, less violent half of the flick might be less interesting. Therefore the film is morally challenging too. At the same time, these infamous scenes are also the two best instances for the film’s great craft. With sophisticated directorial methods, Noé creates these unbearable moments in a completely different way than Mel Gibson did it in his cheaply and poorly done Passion of the Christ which only had gory and exaggerated effects in its violent scenes. This film that offers no point of orientation in this world devoid of real human warmth for the spectator is a very interesting succession of visually impressive scenes. It is the “ultimate trip” as is said in the tagline on the poster of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey you can see towards the end of the film. Talking of 2001 leads to another remarkable formal aspect of Irréversible, and that is the editing. The transitions between the different sequences indicating time leaps are just great. Furthermore, they perfectly fit the film’s consequent colouring, creating a certain aestheticism like this. The characters themselves are only of secondary importance. Dupontel’s character, Pierre, is for a very long time the only moral instance in the film. It is only at the end of the story (= beginning of the film!) that he gets guilty by brutally killing someone. The other male protagonist, portrayed by Vincent Cassel goes throughout the story from an exceeding party fever over to excessive violence. Both of them are psychologically believable, but it is Monica Bellucci who reveals a fantastic acting talent during the rape scene which makes it even more painful. Simultaneously the film also gives an interesting insight into the Parisian nightlife. Personally, I only know a little about the nights in Paris. I only experienced it once at 2 AM, and probably in less dubious neighbourhoods. One question remains at the end of the film: What was Noé’s intention? Did he want to draw the portrait of Paris during night? Or did he “just” want to shock? Did he want to show the reality? Or did he want to shock by showing the reality? All of these points remain unanswered at the end, and it is left to every spectator to judge himself/herself. This is also why I say now as a conclusion. It is up to you to watch this film (in the case you haven’t already), because the experience is “irreversible”.****
- mar-09:
Cursed (Craven, 2005)
- mar-10:
Diabolique (Chechik, 1996)
- mar-11:
Faces (Cassavetes, 1968)
- This review contains some minor or major spoilers! This is now the seventh film I have seen by John Cassavetes, and it has confirmed my opinion on this genius. He is an incredibly skilled filmmaker whose huge impact on the world of cinema will only be recognized in the years and decades to come. As usual, I first give a quick summary about the reviewed movie’s story. For Faces, there really is not much to tell. Basically the film is about faces, as the title already indicates it. It gives a brief insight into the life of a middle-aged couple who are fed up with each other, and want to seek compensation with other, younger people. This is the film’s story, but not its content which is much more complex. Cassavetes’ films can easily be compared to icebergs. On the surface, you only see a sober top, but it is below the surface where the main interest resides. Faces also delivers a highly interesting insight into the characters’ psychology, much like Mike Nichols’ adaptation of Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. The central people is a middle-aged, rather wealthy couple who have rusted in, and where now all the during many years ruled out feelings and struggles emerge. But unlike Martha and George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Richard and Maria Frost (so, a frozen couple) do not confront, but, at least for the major part of the film, prefer to avoid each other. They try to find excitement from their tedious and monotonous daily life by getting drunk or by having banal talks, as if they expected to give some depth to their lives through such potty things. Due to this, they want to conceal their real feelings, but the camera that films in huge close-ups reveals their faces in details, and therefore at the same time their inner feelings. Their general behaviour through the approximately 110 minutes of the film can best be described as “fake”. This should make sense to everybody by considering their laughing. Even though some people may be convinced that it is impossible to simulate laughter, the characters in Faces are often laughing, and not because they are happy, but because they are sad and frustrated. They try to hide what they really feel. This actually reminds of Franz Kafka’s “Give It Up!” where the policeman “turned with a sudden jerk, like someone who wants to be alone with his laughter”. Granted, Richard and Maria do not want to be alone with their laughter, because they only laugh when they are with others. Yet, in both cases, the real motivation behind their laughs are the same than the Kafkaesque policeman’s. The film’s main concern are the characters of course, as this is primarily a 130 minutes-long character analysis. The male characters are possibly the most interesting ones in the film, or, at least, the easiest to rumble. Richard and his acquaintance (I do not dare to call him a friend) Freddy are both in the infamous mid-life crisis. But Faces does not stick to such a flat conclusion; it goes further. They wish both their youth back, which is impossible. However, this is not due to their physical, but rather to their moral age. When Freddy says to Richard: “You’re getting old and gray, and I’m getting fat and gray.”, then it is clear that these physical changes are only an exterior mirror of their inner decay. Albert Schweitzer said that you do not recognize an old man by the number of years, but by the fact that he has given up his ideals. The same is true for the males in this film. Richard and Freddy have given up their ideals, and, for a long time, they have accepted the routine in their daily life. Now, all of a sudden, they want excitement or apparent thrill in their lives back. Whether it is too late for that or not, is difficult to conclude. What is sure on the other hand is that it is above all Richard who has lost orientation and is confused. Yet, at the same time, there is still more hope for him than for Freddy. Chet is still younger, and he wants alternation in his life. But through his superficial behavior, he is already on the best way to become an integrated part of that society. It is only at the end that he reveals another side. He says to Maria that “nobody has the time to be vulnerable.” This brief, but poignant analysis of a society that does not admit nor tolerate feelings gives him additional depth. Faces is actually also a portrait of a humanly cold and rudimentary society. Through these few examples (Maria, Richard, Freddy, McCarthy, etc.), Cassavetes holds a mirror to his social environment. McCarthy, the 190 lbs.-guy, is the supreme example for this. He is cold, and wants to fuck Jeannie, only to show off in front of his acquaintance. He is a sexually frustrated man. The character constellation is in fact interesting too. Most of the male characters have female equivalents, and vice-versa. For McCarthy, it is the fat old lady who wants to be kissed by Chet. Of all the characters in the film, she is probably the closest to death. Woody Allen said that one day, you look into the mirror, and you notice that something is lacking. And then you understand that it is your future. For her, “time’s wingèd chariot [is] hurrying near” (Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress). She and McCarthy are therefore not only similar in stature and sexual frustration. Jeannie is Chet’s female pendant, and therefore one of the most interesting characters. At times, she seems less fake than the people around her and you cannot get rid of the impression that she understand what is going on. Her eyelashes are probably fake, but often you feel that it is the only thing about her that is not real. Just like Chet (they both have the same age?, and are both blond), she is afraid of becoming completely a part of the society Richard represents. She is obviously unhappy with her current life. At the same time, she has got identity problems. Apparently, she does not want to admit her age. At the beginning of the film, she unintentionally reveals her real age, which is twenty-eight, even though she always pretended to be twenty-three. Maybe she feels that the older she becomes, the more she approaches that society. By taking off five years, she hopes to escape it. Rowlands’ character is similar to the woman she portrayed in Opening Night where she did not want to admit her real age either. In one conversation, Jeannie also says “down with friendship”. This is not a declaration of war against friendship. Through the example of Richard and Freddy, she has probably recognized that there are no real friendships in society, and that, therefore, they do not value very much. In this (our) world, there are obvious communication problems. Most of the conversations are as shallow as the superfluous jokes Richard tells. (An example? “What is white and black, and red all over? A zebra’s ass.”) or as the tongue-twisters he and Jeannie practice at the end. Richard’s equivalent is his wife, Maria. She is confused too, and she completes her husband’s joke through her constant laughs. Like most characters in the film, she wants to escape the obvious problems and also any kind of confrontation. When there is a tense moment announcing itself, she turns away, and has a drink, or wants to go to the movies. Other short-sighted “solutions” are Richard’s jokes, but also their smoking. Due to this accumulation of tensions, many characters are irascible. A shallow discussion between Richard and McCarthy therefore ends in a small fight. But there are still other instances for the lack of communication in their marriage. One poignant example is the scene where Rick says to his wife that “there is no place like home”. Maria has not heard him, and asks what he said (another obvious communication problem). Rick then asks: “Have you ever been to Rome?” And she just answers: “In Italy?”, and the “conversation” is over. Their talk is expendable, and senseless. Another instance is when Richard and Maria both lie in bed, and Rick tells his jokes. Both laugh, but all of a sudden, they are silent, and the camera films their sad faces, both turned to their side. This clearly shows that something is definitely wrong. It is only at the film’s end that there is a real confrontation between Richard and his wife. For the spectator (who has become through the close-ups an intimate participant of their marriage) and also for the characters themselves, this is a relief. On a dramatic level, this is of interest, because the protagonists reveal positive aspects. Cassavetes does not want the spectator to disdain the characters, but to understand them. Contempt only makes blind, which is fatal for a film like Faces. Maria’s make-up smudged, and they now show their real faces. Now there is no possibility of flight (no television, no music, no jokes), and they understand that they have to face each other. She says that she hates her life. This is the perfect example for the typical short sentences the characters use, that have however a huge impact. These few words are more important and richer in content than the whole rest she has said in the film. After their conversation (this time, it was a real one), they both smoke. Not to escape, but to conclude and to sober. In the last take, Richard goes upstairs, and Maria downstairs. They take separate ways, but you feel that there is still some hope, as so often in Cassavetes’ films. On a qualitative basis, Cassavetes uses a blurred Black-and-White-cinematography (as he already did in Shadows). Once you are used to the naturalistic and unspectacular style of the film, you can fully concentrate on the characters. Therefore, I’d recommend to start with another Cassavetes-film (Shadows or A Woman Under the Influence for example), because Faces is too much character-based to miss anything about them. The acting performances are powerful. Throughout the entire movie, each face that is shown tells a story and each movement could fill pages. Cassavetes confirms himself as an excellent psychologist of daily life who is able to see behind the façade and therefore adds a subtle criticism to his film. The lightning is very interesting, and the screenplay outstanding. All in all is Faces an intense movie experience that will make you see your environment with different eyes. Therefore it is not easy to watch, but essential nevertheless.*****
Cloned From:
/rewatch/
*****
- Masterpiece
****
- great
***
- above average, good
**
- average or even below
*
- bad
0
- recommended if urge for nausea
The list
January, February