March 28, 2017
San ren xing
Johnnie To - 2016
Well Go USA Entertainment BD Region A
Three is an exercise in formalism by Johnnie To. Until the inevitable shoot out near the end, there is very little action as such. The pacing is deliberately slow compared to To's other films. Most of the film takes place on the floor of a hospital where all of the patients are separated by curtains. This would make sense if these were all emergency patients, but that's not the case here. The setting is essentially there to allow To to design most of the action within a confined space.
The three of the title are Chen, the Hong Kong cop who has brought the gangster, Shun, to the hospital. Shun has a bullet in his head, yet otherwise is able to function. The neurosurgeon, Tong, is to operate on Shun, adding to a stressful day. In addition to one patient paralyzed following surgery, Dr. Tong finds herself unable to save another patient, resulting in leaving him in a coma. Refusing the surgery that would save his life, Shun taunts Chen, who is hoping to capture the other members of Shun's gang. As Chen, Louis Koo has to keep a straight face, while Wallace Chung, as Shun, gets to show off, whether flopping manically in the gurney while have a seizure, or spouting off the Hippocratic oath in English to Dr. Tong.
This is a film where almost everything goes wrong for most of the characters. That's obvious from the moment when Shun is brought in, handcuffed to a gurney, and the cop called Fatty, played by To regular Lam Suet, has lost the keys to the handcuffs. Even when it looks like Fatty will finally redeem himself in pursuit of a gang member, he almost loses what little dignity he has left. Vickie Zhao takes a pratfall as Dr. Tong, tripping down a flight of stairs. To even has the paralyzed patient rolling and tumbling down a staircase with his wheelchair. There is also a mysterious phone number that seems to lead to a dead end, an unexplained switching of medicine, and characters whistling Mozart. Of course, Johnnie To has his own ideas about what constitutes a little night music.
Shun's gang goes to elaborate lengths to rescue their leader, as seen in the set piece, a series of tableaux of explosions and gunfire within the hospital floor. The action is rendered in extreme slo-mo, with the camera surveying the action with traveling shots circling the floor. On a technical level, this is spectacular, the artistry involved can not be denied. It's not a stretch to see this scene as To's claustrophobic version of the climactic massacre at the end of The Wild Bunch. The difference is that nihilism is integral to The Wild Bunch and Sam Peckinpah.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:32 AM
March 26, 2017
Isabelle Huppert in Elle (Paul Verhoeven - 2016)
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 10:17 AM
March 23, 2017
Keith Maitland - 2016
Kino Lorber BD Region A
I originally saw Tower last November or December as one of the end of the year screeners I receive for awards consideration. The emotional impact was wrenching, enough so that I could not bring myself to view the film a second time. But I did see all of the extras. For those unfamiliar, the title refers to the tower at the University of Texas in Austin, where a sniper, Charles Whitman, shot fourteen people and wounding thirty-one others, on August 1, 1966. Seeing several of the survivors from add to the testimony is still a moving experience. The other reason for seeing the extras is for the Q & A session that followed the screening of Tower at the SXSW Festival in Austin.
Tower has been acclaimed as a documentary. The inspiration was from a magazine article from several witnesses and survivors. But the work brings up questions regarding what qualifies this as a documentary. Similar to Ari Folman's Waltz with Bashir from 2008, Maitland has chosen to recreate the past with animation. One of the extras in Tower shows this process, with staged, film re-enactments based on witness narratives, redone as animated images. Maitland states that he chose this method of presentation so that the film would connect better with a younger audience. What may be disputed is whether a film might still be considered a documentary if what is viewed are recreations of events, either by actors, or by animation, or a combination of the two techniques?
What also could be a point of contention is that Charles Whitman remains virtually unknown here, a killer with no known motivation. What Tower does not mention is that prior to planting himself on the tower, Whitman had murdered his wife and mother, grew up learning how to shoot, and had been cited for his marksmanship as a Marine. An autopsy of Whitman also indicated that he had a brain tumor, although whether that contributed to his emotional state at the time is only speculative. Even though the victims were people who were at the wrong place at the wrong time, Whitman's presence on the campus was not a random event. Also not mentioned is that Whitman was a student at the university.
What can not be denied is the power of Maitland's film, irrespective of some of the questions it may bring up. This was for me, one of the best film of last year, and very much worth seeing. I can't imagine anyone viewing Tower and not in some way being unmoved.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:17 AM
March 21, 2017
Mondo Weirdo / Jungfrau am Abgrund
Carl Andersen - 1990
Cult Epics BD Regions ABC
Vampiros Sexos / I was a Teenage Zabbadoing
Carl Andersen - 1988
Cult Epics DVD
There isn't much written about Carl Andersen, and virtually nothing substantial in English. It turns out that the Austrian born filmmaker was originally named Karl Brazda. As indicated by the titles, Andersen's work has been inspired by the less critically reputable films from Hollywood and Europe. Mondo Weirdo carries a dedication to Jean-Luc Godard and Jesus Franco. Anyone who finds that odd is forgetting that Godard dedicated Breathless to Monogram Pictures, and that Godard and Franco have a few collaborators in common, including screen writer Jean-Claude Carriere and actor Howard Vernon. I would place Andersen as part of a list of so-called experimental filmmakers like the Kuchar Brothers and Ron Rice, whose films would serve as homages and parodies of the kind of films frequently dismissed as schlock. This is a subject may be in need of some deeper research, as the relationship to commercial cinema was not entirely one way: Ron Rice was able to make his film, The Flower Thief with 16mm film cartridges contributed by Monogram alumni, schlockmeister Sam Katzmann.
Neither of these films are truly narrative, but more of series of images of transgressive sex and violence, no budget cinema in 16mm black and white. Andersen even reveals that prior to making Vampiros Sexos, he was supporting himself working in an insurance office, while keeping his dream of making films alive. And the film themselves might be described best as dream-like, in that dreams are made up of a continuity of images that connect with each other even when there is no other logic to those images.
Vampiros Sexos benefits from having English subtitles, so there is some sense of what people are saying to each other. It's starting off point is that there is some contaminated olive oil that turns people into vampires. The title is clearly taken from Franco's Vampiros Lesbos, but the sex here gets even raunchier and more explicit. Unlike Franco, it's not just a combination of women or men and women, but also two guys very much together. The ending is quite funny and self-referential with the cast and crew declaring the filmmaking concluded.
I would think that what Andersen took from Godard was the sense of permission to shoot film out on the street of Vienna, at least that's what struck me a mostly Godardian. Mondo Weirdo might also be dubbed "Alice in Sappholand as a young woman, Odile, falls down a rabbit hole featuring a lesbian couple performing in a bar, and encounters with Elizabeth Bathory. Odile is played by an actress billed as Jessica Franco Manera, one of several creative pseudonyms used by some of Andersen's cast, although my favorite is the actor known as Pal-Secam. Andersen makes interesting use of dividing the screen into three parts with three different images simultaneously.
The most substantial writing on Andersen that I found was from a German retrospective. The Cult Epic collection, which includes an Andersen short, What's so Dirty about It?, also has parts of filmed interviews Andersen made with Anneliese Holles in 2012, prior to his death. Also included here is a CD of music by Modell Doo, the band contributing most of the soundtrack to the two films. While some of the music is quite melodic, there are also industrial sounds. The band's website has this wonderful cartoon of a couple dancing on the street to the sound of jackhammers, which says it all.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:23 AM
March 19, 2017
Denis Podalydes in The Conquest (Xavier Derringer - 2011)
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 10:57 AM
March 14, 2017
The Lovers on the Bridge
Les Amants du Pont-Neuf
Leos Carax - 1991
Kino Classics BD Region A
At one point in The Lovers on the Bridge, Michele, a painter suffering from a degenerative eye disease describes what she sees as flashing blurry light. Sometimes I feel like I'm only seeing the surface of a movie, the images, the basic narrative, but I'm missing the deeper meanings.
For some, it may be enough that Leos Carax's film in available as a blu-ray disc, it the correct aspect ratio. But it's helpful also to read Ignatiy Vishnevetsky's essay, and the video essay by Adrian Martin and Cristina Alvarez Lopez. The video essay opens with a quote from Jean Vigo's L'Atalante about seeing the face of one's true love in the water. The quote refers to the moment of mutual recognition of the feelings that Alex and Michele have for each other, almost drowning while gazing in each others' eyes in the Seine, and rescued by a passing barge, similar to that of Vigo's film. The association with Vigo's film was so strong for me that I kept thinking that Michel Simon should be making a cameo appearance.
Somehow, not mentioned by anyone is that the eye doctor who cures Michele is named Destouches. Maybe any discussion of Louis-Ferdinand Celine is likely to open a particularly messy can of worms. But the final shots in The Lovers on the Bridge do evoke the last lines from Journey to the End of the Night especially - Far away, the tugboat hooted; calling across the bridge, the arches one by one, a lock, another bridge, further, further away.
The last name of Michele also happens to be Stalens, the last name of Juliette Binoche's mother.
Not much is known about Alex, the shambling mess of a young man, addicted to drugs and alcohol, who calls the aged Pont-Neuf bridge in Paris his home. Michele is an artist, plagued by memories of a lost love, rapidly losing her eyesight. These two are more battered and injured than the bridge, itself due for repairs. The story of the making of the film might be an even greater example of l'amour fou, with Carax first envisioning an intimate film shot in 8mm, only to take almost three years with star Denis Lavant injuring himself, filming taking place both on the real bridge and on an elaborate set, and production held up by uncertain financing.
What might be remembered most about The Lovers on the Bridge are some of the striking images - a lateral tracking shot of Binoche and Levant racing down the street against the soundtrack of David Bowie's "Time will Crawl", Levant's breathing fire while performing a cartwheel, and Lavant and Binoche and a sky full of fireworks.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 07:10 AM
March 12, 2017
Yonit Tobi and Nelly Tagar in Zero Motivation (Talya Lavie - 2014)
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 11:28 AM
March 07, 2017
Robert Aldrich - 1954
MGM Home Video BD Region A
Several cinephile friends and acquaintances have been discussing the television series, Feud, based on the rivalry of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford during production of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. While also a character in the series, the director of that film, Robert Aldrich, seems to have been pushed to the background. I haven't seen any episodes of Feud yet, but it is important to note that it was Aldrich who had the idea of getting Davis and Crawford together. Not only did Aldrich have to persuade the two actresses, but also studio head Jack Warner, as well. Aldrich had worked with Crawford previously on Autumn Leaves, in which we are to believe that mentally fragile Cliff Robertson finds happiness with Joan, after his previous wife has been seduced by Robertson's father, played by the older by eight years Lorne Greene. And keep in mind that Joan Crawford was older than both men. Jack Warner had a much longer history with Davis and Crawford when both were contract stars at Warner Brothers, and had doubts about any box office potential of two "old broads".
While several critics have pointed out to several classic films starring Davis and Crawford to get a better sense of what the actresses were like during the years that cemented their respective stardom, I propose that Robert Aldrich should be given is due. In thinking about his career, well before Baby Jane, Aldrich had also worked with several demanding male stars who also made a point of throwing their weight around. And the first was Burt Lancaster, for whom Aldrich directed two films, that Lancaster produced.
I had seen Vera Cruz once, quite a while ago on a black and white telecast. My interest in seeing it again was piqued by Alex Cox's book on Italian westerns, citing Aldrich's film as an inspiration with a plot that involved a series of double crosses, and Burt Lancaster, often seen dressed completely in black, as the charismatic mercenary, first seen selling Gary Cooper a stolen horse. Lancaster did make a point of making a couple of films with older actors he admired, Cooper here, and Clark Gable in Run Silent, Run Deep. And according to accounts, Cooper also made some demands known to Aldrich regarding what his character would or would not do. I'm not aware of Cooper and Lancaster having problems working together, unlike Gable and Lancaster four years later. What is also notable that Gable and Cooper were still considered viable movie stars well into their fifties, unlike Davis and Crawford.
While a widescreen Technicolor western that takes place largely in the rough terrain of Mexico is in terms of genre a world away from a black and white film taking place within an old mansion, Aldrich has several films with either a pair of characters, or a group, that may be at odds with each other, but more frequently will set aside their own agendas, at least temporarily, for a common goal. Baby Jane is about a relationship too severed to be overcome, with a feeling of regret for the sibling rivalry at the end, suggesting what have been had there been no automobile accident that defined the remaining lives of the Hudson sisters.
More than sixty years later, Vera Cruz will probably be of more interest to contemporary viewers for anticipating some the changes to be seen in future westerns, as well as glimpsing early performances by two actors who became iconic later in life. Certainly, Gary Cooper mowing down a Mexican army anticipates, among other films, a similar scene in The Wild Bunch. The plot of Americans loose in Mexico, hired to take sides in a revolution, has been visited several times. While historically correct, but an anomaly for a big budget western, Lancaster's gang includes the black actor-dancer, Archie Savage, a talent certainly underutilized on the big screen. When not blinded by the sight of Burt Lancaster flashing his famous, toothy smile, Ernest Borgnine and the actor formerly known as Charles Buchinsky can also be seen as part of Lancaster's gang. Aldrich uses his signature overhead shot to catch a glimpse of Denise Darcel's cleavage. That Aldrich later explored lesbian relationships in Killing of Sister George seems less surprising with a scene of Borgnine and Jack Elam dancing together, as well as a later scene with the seemingly most sophisticated, and well-dressed gang member dancing with someone wearing a full mask, only to be revealed as a short, gap toothed man. Hopefully, interest in Feud will generate renewed interest in Robert Aldrich and his films. Andrew Sarris describes the relationship between Joan Crawford and Bette Davis as combustible. I would say that this describes what goes on in almost every Robert Aldrich film.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:08 AM
March 05, 2017
Mamie Gummer and Meryl Streep in Ricki and the Flash (Jonathan Demme - 2015)
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:16 AM
March 01, 2017
Bridge to the Sun
Etienne Perier - 1961
Warner Archives DVD
Not that there are exact parallels to be found, but it struck me as somewhat timely to see what was a mainstream movie of the time tackling interracial romance and concepts of patriotism and nationalism over fifty years later. The film is based on the autobiography of Gwen Terasaki nee Harold, a young woman from Johnson City, Tennessee, who married Japanese diplomat Hidenari Terasaki, in 1931. Rather than staying in the United States, Gwen chooses to stay with her husband in Japan during World War II. Gwen Terasaki returned to the U.S. with her daughter in 1949, while her husband remained in Japan due to ill health. Gwen Terasaki's book was reportedly a best seller at the time of publication in 1957.
Since Hollywood was still jittery about anything to do with interracial romance, it would appear that MGM got around the still active production code with what is essentially a French production of an English language film. For Hollywood, it would also be radical to have the leading man played by an actor of Asian descent, rather than a white actor in yellow-face. For those who have recently proclaimed the absurdity of an Asian man as a romantic lead in a Hollywood film, Bridge to the Sun is a reminder that it's been done, albeit very briefly, at a time when "Jim Crow" laws were still enforced.
James Shigeta's first screen role was as a detective, partnered with Glenn Corbett, in Sam Fuller's Los Angeles based mystery, The Crimson Kimono. Both men are in love with Victoria Shaw, but it is Shigeta who wins the girl at the end. If you know Sam Fuller, that ending should not be a surprise. Two years later, we have Shigeta winning the heart of Carroll Baker. And it's not that these two are in love with each other, but they are demonstrably in love with each other, getting kissy face several times throughout the film. Maybe no big deal now, but certainly one at the time that the film takes place, and even at the time when Bridge to the Sun was released. I was hoping to find some reviews of the film from 1961, but came up empty handed except for the New York Times, with Bosley Crowther's at his wisest, concluding, "Obviously, this is not a picture to be compared with Hiroshima, Mon Amour".
Director Etienne Perier would never be confused with Alain Resnais. Bridge to the Sun was the first of several English language films helmed by the Belgian born Perier, probably best remembered, if at all, for When Eight Bells Toll, a failed attempt to launch a spy franchise with Anthony Hopkins. Charles Kaufman's script greatly abridges Terasaki's life which included her husband being assigned posts in Cuba and China prior to World War II, as well as acting as a liaison between the Japanese government and U.S. forces after the war. Too often, James Shigeta and the other Japanese actors, including Tetsuro Tamba, have English language dialogue that is more like Hollywood's idea of how Japanese speak. Compared to other films of the time, the orientalism is not as heavy-handed.
The single best moment requires no dialogue with a scene of Baker and her young daughter traveling by train to the countryside to avoid the bombings of Tokyo. The train briefly stops en route while a group of men are working on some tracks. The men are white, possibly American soldiers doing forced labor. Baker shares an extended look outside her rain speckled window at one of the men. There is a sense of mutual helplessness, that both are prisoners of war.
Posted by Peter Nellhaus at 08:11 AM