Film Roundup #2
The Ladykillers [No stars]
The Coen Bros., 2004
I didn't realize the Coen brothers were capable of something this awful. Maybe I just saw it like critics seem to see other of their films, as transparently empty and overly clever exercises in expired genres. What was really reprehensible to me here was not the lack of successful comedy (the only time I actually laughed out loud was at the case full of back issues of Mother Jones magazine, and then only at the object itself and not the situation), but the contempt for humanity. Everyone in the film is either cretinous, dim-witted, or small-minded. And this from a fan of Kubrick and von Trier, and someone who tends to take a rather dim view of humanity more often than not. This felt like an insult to the viewer and to anyone resembling the characters depicted. I do, however, want to see the original UK film from the 50's with Michael Caine.
One [No stars]
Ward Powers, 2005
Interesting comments from Richard Thurman and Thich Nhat Hanh, but really atrocious filmmaking, annoyingly "post-modern" commentary about how amateurish the filmmakers. Really self-congratulatory and way too self-referential. Never start a movie by discussing the project itself. Jerk-offs.
I was supposed to see this Chinese film as part of the Global Lens film festival, to which I'd gotten a free pass, but they sent me to the wrong part of the theater. I could tell something was up by the inane conversation around me and the surprising number of families present. Unfortunately, once I confirmed that I was in the wrong place, I was stuck in the middle of the crowded theater. Fortunately, I had nothing else to do.
Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut **
Richard Kelly, 2001
This is the third time I've seen this (I think), but the first time for the director's cut. I don't mind the information overlay or the extra scenes, but it reminded me of reactions to Mulholland Drive. (Actually several parts of this reminded me of Lynch, though not entirely.) People wanted to know what "the box" meant and all that crap, specifically they wanted to know what Lynch meant, as if their own interpretations were invalid, perhaps even that if there was no specifically intended meaning then there was no point to the film. This mindset annoys me for so many reasons, but I won't detail them. Donnie Darko is similar in that it's a strong enough film to be enjoyable without interpretation, though you're certainly free to read into it as much as you want. Ultimately, of course, there are a number of valid readings and even if Richard Kelly knows exactly how everything fits together, that knowledge is not relevant other than as an interesting sidenote. It's like when people want to know what happened to the characters after the end of a film, and they want the director to tell them, as if the story implies an all-encompassing world, when really it's just sketches that happened to pop into the writer/director's head. To me it demeans both the film as art and the experience of watching the film, asking more than should be required or perhaps is even useful or good.
The Five Obstructions **
Lars von Trier, 2004
Summary: Lars von Trier challenges one of his idols, Danish filmmaker Jorgen Leth, to remake his 1967 short film, The Perfect Human, five times with five different obstructions of von Trier's choosing. The film here includes all five shorts as well as footage of their production and conversations between the filmmakers.
For one, it's interesting to see von Trier in his element, being devious in a film-related fashion. Specifically, it's interesting to see him being devious toward Jorgen Leth, one of his acknowledged heroes and role models, especially as a Danish filmmaker. The key to von Trier here is, as apparent to anyone who's seen the film, the last of the "obstructions," the stipulation of which is that von Trier directs the film, writes the voiceover, but Leth must take the credit. Even better, Leth, as narrator, reads von Trier's observations about him out loud over the last version of The Perfect Human.
It's hard for me to tell how much of my interest in this project is dictated by my interest in the "art of cinema" rather than the more basic enjoyment I take in watching movies. I find the concept of the movie brilliant in that, while perhaps intially seeming snobbish or crazy and experimental, it's really just playful (and productive) fun for two talented filmmakers. Why not, I asked myself, try things like this more often? Why not refuse the path of least resistance that is narrative film and do whatever comes to mind? Steven Soderbergh (Bubble) and R. Kelly (Trapped in the Closet) are two other great examples of well-known artists choosing to seemingly just put out whatever they want because they've got the power. Admittedly endeavors like this often fail either artistically, commercially, or both, but if we're not able to allow artists the possibility of failure, how are we ever to experience anything more than what we've already got?
When a Woman Ascends the Stairs **
Mikio Naruse, 1960
So this is where Neal Hefti got the music for The Odd Couple. It unsettled me for the first few minutes of the movie, mostly since I hadn't been expecting such sound from the Northwest Film Forum's comparisons to Ozu and Mizoguchi. The newly restored print, apparently having played so far only in New York and Boston, looked stunning--nearly three-dimensional at times. DVDs have from time to time sparked this same curiosity in me, but I have to wonder how good this looked back when it was released in Japan. I know I've read Roger Ebert doubting somewhere that certain DVD versions, given newly discovered restoration techniques, may look so unnaturally good that they aren't the same as the original experience in the theater. But that's a point for the 50-and-over crowd to dispute.
While it's tough to judge well without having much knowledge of the geisha culture in Japan, the critics seem correct that this is a great, sharply observed women's film, focused on a strong and put-upon bargirl named Mama. The name throws me a little, too, since it's Japanese and probably not culturally significant. There are a lot of archetypes here, it seems like, but it'd be tough to depict an entire social milieu without them. I found very difficult to read the banker, but still loved his scenes toward the end. It's all predictably tragic but not maudlin.
The Coen Bros., 2004
I didn't realize the Coen brothers were capable of something this awful. Maybe I just saw it like critics seem to see other of their films, as transparently empty and overly clever exercises in expired genres. What was really reprehensible to me here was not the lack of successful comedy (the only time I actually laughed out loud was at the case full of back issues of Mother Jones magazine, and then only at the object itself and not the situation), but the contempt for humanity. Everyone in the film is either cretinous, dim-witted, or small-minded. And this from a fan of Kubrick and von Trier, and someone who tends to take a rather dim view of humanity more often than not. This felt like an insult to the viewer and to anyone resembling the characters depicted. I do, however, want to see the original UK film from the 50's with Michael Caine.
One [No stars]
Ward Powers, 2005
Interesting comments from Richard Thurman and Thich Nhat Hanh, but really atrocious filmmaking, annoyingly "post-modern" commentary about how amateurish the filmmakers. Really self-congratulatory and way too self-referential. Never start a movie by discussing the project itself. Jerk-offs.
I was supposed to see this Chinese film as part of the Global Lens film festival, to which I'd gotten a free pass, but they sent me to the wrong part of the theater. I could tell something was up by the inane conversation around me and the surprising number of families present. Unfortunately, once I confirmed that I was in the wrong place, I was stuck in the middle of the crowded theater. Fortunately, I had nothing else to do.
Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut **
Richard Kelly, 2001
This is the third time I've seen this (I think), but the first time for the director's cut. I don't mind the information overlay or the extra scenes, but it reminded me of reactions to Mulholland Drive. (Actually several parts of this reminded me of Lynch, though not entirely.) People wanted to know what "the box" meant and all that crap, specifically they wanted to know what Lynch meant, as if their own interpretations were invalid, perhaps even that if there was no specifically intended meaning then there was no point to the film. This mindset annoys me for so many reasons, but I won't detail them. Donnie Darko is similar in that it's a strong enough film to be enjoyable without interpretation, though you're certainly free to read into it as much as you want. Ultimately, of course, there are a number of valid readings and even if Richard Kelly knows exactly how everything fits together, that knowledge is not relevant other than as an interesting sidenote. It's like when people want to know what happened to the characters after the end of a film, and they want the director to tell them, as if the story implies an all-encompassing world, when really it's just sketches that happened to pop into the writer/director's head. To me it demeans both the film as art and the experience of watching the film, asking more than should be required or perhaps is even useful or good.
The Five Obstructions **
Lars von Trier, 2004
Summary: Lars von Trier challenges one of his idols, Danish filmmaker Jorgen Leth, to remake his 1967 short film, The Perfect Human, five times with five different obstructions of von Trier's choosing. The film here includes all five shorts as well as footage of their production and conversations between the filmmakers.
For one, it's interesting to see von Trier in his element, being devious in a film-related fashion. Specifically, it's interesting to see him being devious toward Jorgen Leth, one of his acknowledged heroes and role models, especially as a Danish filmmaker. The key to von Trier here is, as apparent to anyone who's seen the film, the last of the "obstructions," the stipulation of which is that von Trier directs the film, writes the voiceover, but Leth must take the credit. Even better, Leth, as narrator, reads von Trier's observations about him out loud over the last version of The Perfect Human.
It's hard for me to tell how much of my interest in this project is dictated by my interest in the "art of cinema" rather than the more basic enjoyment I take in watching movies. I find the concept of the movie brilliant in that, while perhaps intially seeming snobbish or crazy and experimental, it's really just playful (and productive) fun for two talented filmmakers. Why not, I asked myself, try things like this more often? Why not refuse the path of least resistance that is narrative film and do whatever comes to mind? Steven Soderbergh (Bubble) and R. Kelly (Trapped in the Closet) are two other great examples of well-known artists choosing to seemingly just put out whatever they want because they've got the power. Admittedly endeavors like this often fail either artistically, commercially, or both, but if we're not able to allow artists the possibility of failure, how are we ever to experience anything more than what we've already got?
When a Woman Ascends the Stairs **
Mikio Naruse, 1960
So this is where Neal Hefti got the music for The Odd Couple. It unsettled me for the first few minutes of the movie, mostly since I hadn't been expecting such sound from the Northwest Film Forum's comparisons to Ozu and Mizoguchi. The newly restored print, apparently having played so far only in New York and Boston, looked stunning--nearly three-dimensional at times. DVDs have from time to time sparked this same curiosity in me, but I have to wonder how good this looked back when it was released in Japan. I know I've read Roger Ebert doubting somewhere that certain DVD versions, given newly discovered restoration techniques, may look so unnaturally good that they aren't the same as the original experience in the theater. But that's a point for the 50-and-over crowd to dispute.
While it's tough to judge well without having much knowledge of the geisha culture in Japan, the critics seem correct that this is a great, sharply observed women's film, focused on a strong and put-upon bargirl named Mama. The name throws me a little, too, since it's Japanese and probably not culturally significant. There are a lot of archetypes here, it seems like, but it'd be tough to depict an entire social milieu without them. I found very difficult to read the banker, but still loved his scenes toward the end. It's all predictably tragic but not maudlin.
Labels: Film
Posted on Monday, January 23, 2006
4 Comment(s):
I'll have to disagree on the Naruse film. It's great because it's maudlin and melodramatic, just like "Now, Voyager" and other women's pictures. That's what I liked so much about the end. The film could have so easily ended with Mama crying, the bank director having left. Instead, we get another five minutes, the audacity of returning the money he'd given her -- to the wife no less -- and finally the exquisite melodrama of Mama again climbing the stairs.
Not to be pedantic or anything.
Except for the scene with the banker, Mama-san asks for no pity, only strength with which to bear her burdensome lot in life. Even at the scene with the banker, rather than wallowing in the weepy emotion of the moment, Mama is forced to compose herself and respond to a distasteful and hasty marriage proposal. The soundtrack, notably, is very measured and does not tend toward sweeping gestures. The material could have been played for maximum impact, but for the most part Naruse and his actors practice restraint.
Point taken.
Non-maudlin melodrama.
Personally, I liked just how western Naruse's film was. I almost felt like I could understand parts. Oh, and since they're drinking, and it's private, the people actually let go and, you know, talk.
Also, I enjoyed how easily typed everyone was. The film seemed very conscious of Hollywood iconography. Cavell has been teaching me to love typecasting. I hope Naruse uses the same actors over and over again, like Sturges (or Bergman, only I haven't watched much Bergman).
This Slant review suggests that three of the main male actors are Naruse regulars.
I was reading today that Mike Leigh casts his films by choosing one person for a role and then getting them to name a lot of people who might work well in the movie. Weird.
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