At least I was able to finish out on a good movie, Julien Duvivier's 1935 film Un tete d'un homme.
At least I was able to finish out on a good movie, Julien Duvivier's 1935 film Un tete d'un homme.
Sadly, this experiment is coming to an end. The Criterion Channel, acting oddly corporate, has decided that since I'm travelling overseas I can no longer access the website. The lockdown is so complete I couldn't even get into my account to check my status or to send an email asking for assistance, which led to me searching for an email address where I could send them a note - and cancel my subscription. This pains me because I've been a member of the Criterion Channel for years, and I'd hate to think how many thousands of dollars I've spent at the Criterion Collection, but it's hard to justify paying for a subscription that is blocked. I guess the Criterion Channel was to good to be true in a grossly corporatized America. I guess I've have to start conveying my DVDs over on my next trip home.
This is another one of those films that I would have never seen without the good graces of the Criterion Channel: Kyoshi Kurosawa's 2012 Penance. I'm not a huge Kurosawa fan, or maybe it would be better to say that I like his films although I don't like them as much as I think I should. It's not that I want to say I like Kyoshi Kurosawa films because I want people to think that I'm a sophisticated consumer of films, but rather that in some ways I like the idea of Kyoshi Kurosawa more than the reality of his films. They are always creepy and unique, but they're also awfully slow moving (which is almost never a problem for me, obviously). In this case it is especially true because Penance is a series of five interrelated films, each a little over an hour long, which tells the story of a group of girls who witness the disappearance of another young girl, although none of them can remember the face of the man who took her. The murdered girl's mother blames them and curses them all to do penance for their crime in not remembering. I'm in the middle of the five films, so I suppose I should have waited until the end, but I'm so far behind in my posts that I took the opportunity to mention Penance, although it's more of a placeholder at this point. At this point I'd say it's worth checking out, although I don't know if I would give it a glowing recommendation yet. More later.
Here's one of those movies that I had always heard about, but never actually taken the opportunity to watch: Lou Adler's 1982 Ladies and Gentlemen, the Famous Stains. I mainly associate Adler with the music industry, so I guess it's not that strange that he would have directed this effort. It didn't receive much initial love, although critics have been kinder in their criticism over the decades. Mainly, today, it's odd to see how Diane Lane and Laura Dern haven't aged, and how Ray Winstone has aged (although he's, typically very good in this movie). It's the story of Lane's band as she, chameleon-like, searches for the right persona to make it big. I don't think I would recommend it heartily, but there are some nice peculiar moments, and you could do worse things with your time.
And another Carla Simon movie, and I liked this one quite a bit as well. This film, earlier than her recent film Romeria, explores a similar earlier event: the time right after her father and mother died of AIDS. This one, Summer 1993, covers the time when she as a young girl moves to live with her uncle's family. It is very touching, and also gets at the paranoia relating to the early days of the AIDS years. Highly recommended.
I don't know if I'll recapture the film-watching momentum that I had earlier in the year (waiting out the Vermont winter is a great impetus to watch movies, exploring a beautiful new Sicilian world less so), but I'm happy to finally get wifi and access once again to movies. The other day I watched Carla Simon's new film, Romeria, and was very impressed. Carla Simon is a very talented Spanish director, and one of those folks that I would have never discovered without the Criterion Channel. The film is a semi-autobiographical account of a young woman trying to uncover the truth (in an almost Proustian fashion) of the mysteries and family lies surrounding the death of her parents from AIDS. It's very powerful, and highly recommended.
And I'm way behind in my year-long capture of movies watched, not so much in movies recorded, but instead on movies watched. Just recently I started downloading movies from the Criterion Channel, in lieu of streaming (for the last month we've acted as wifi vampires at several local coffeeshops. The first movie I downloaded was Shohei Imamura's essential 1962 film Pigs and Battleships. It's a film I've watched many times, not only because I used it in my Japanese film noir class, but also because it is a wonderful film. Essential viewing.
Last night I once again delved into the Julien Duvivier collection on the Criterion Channel, and once again I was not disappointed. Un Carnet de Bal didn't feel quite like some of Duvivier's classic poetic realism films, but it was still quite good. Marie Bell stars as Christine Surgere, a recent and young widow who fells that life now has no meaning, while also coming to grips with the fact that she'd been lonely her entire married life. She decides to pursue men who had signed her dance card on her first ball when she was sixteen years old, beginning an odyssey populated by old (hopeful) lovers, played by a legion of famous French actors: Harry Baur (as Alain Regnault), Pierre Blanchar (as Thierry Raynal). Fernandel (as Fabien Coutissol), Louis Jouvet (as Pierre Verdier), etc. You see this structure fairly often as told from the male perspective, so it was interesting to see it told from a woman's perspective. Her discovered former dance partners - romanticized in her memory and imagination - are leading very different lifestyles, some quite life-affirming and some quite disturbing. The ending is both redemptive and more than a bit disturbing. Highly recommended.
The other night I rewatched a film that showcased the alpha and omega of French cinematic cool: Jean Gabin and Alain Delon. They starred together (in, I think, for the only time) in the classic heist film Any Number Can Win. The film focuses on Mister Charles (Gabin), a wizened and world weary criminal just out of jail, and his impetuous young partner (Francis Verlot), who try one last big score. It ends badly, mainly because of some bad luck (as had haunted Mister Charles on his two other failed scores) but mainly because of the headstrong carelessness of Francis. The ending is classic, and is the relationship between these two legendary French actors. Highly recommended.
For years I've heard of Albert Lamorisse's The Red Balloon but had somehow never seen it. Thankfully, the Criterion Channel never gives up on the exhausting chore of educating me (again, growing up in Indiana is hard to overcome). Last night I was finally able to watch it, and what a treasure it is. It tells the story of a young boy (played Lamorisse's son Pascal) who discovers a beautiful red balloon, who follows him around Paris. So many adults and other jealous children try to take the balloon away, and in the end finally destroy it. This leads to all the other balloons in Paris arriving and flying Pascal away. It's an extraordinary allegory of a child's innocence and hope and attraction to beauty, in the face of a cold materialistic world. There's also definitely a spiritual theme playing itself out. Essential viewing.
I know I've admitted before that I'm not that huge of a fan of French New Wave, which is probably more of a testament to my total lack of sophistication. The significance of the French New Wave is undeniable, but I simply go back and forth of so many of the films - loving some films from Jean-Luc Godard and Agnes Varda and Francois Truffaut and Jacques Demy and Alain Resnais, but also being left quite cold by others. Essentially, maybe I'll just fall back on the tried and true, I respect their work immense, but I just don't consistently like it. Similarly, I've been slow to come to the works of Eric Rohmer, and he, I think more than the others, is almost a day to day reflection of what kind of mood I'm in. Sometimes I think, "Please, for the love of god, will you just stop talking," and other days I'll think, "He's really sharing some essential truth here." Last night I re-watched his 1983 film Pauline at the Beach, which I liked a lot more than my first viewing. It focuses on fifteen year old Pauline (played by Amanda Langlet) who tries to figure out life and love and sex, and also why all of the actual adults in the film are such assholes. I would definitely recommend it.
I'm definitely enjoying the Criterion Channel's Julien Duvivier collection this month, although I've already seen several of his films. The other night I watched his 1936 film They Were Five, starring Jean Gabin (playing Jeannot), Charles Vanel (as Charlot), and Raymond Aimos (as Tintin). It's a story of five friends, down on their luck, who win some money and decide to open a restaurant on an island, both to make some money but especially as a symbol of their friendship. I think it's a bit too easy to read the film as misogynistic today, mainly because their plans and friendship is torn asunder by the women in their lives, but I think it's more of a statement on the strength and fragility of male friendship - that is, the flaw is within them. Plus, there's a whole deeper allegory going on here abut the rise and fall of the Popular Front, although a failure to take it to that allegorical depth will not damage your enjoyment of the film. Gabin is, as always, fantastic. I didn't know much about Raymond Aimos, who sounds like a very interesting character, who never forgot his friends, organized food drives, and opened up a restaurant to feed hungry children. Nevertheless, he was shot and killed, maybe just accidentally, by a Resistance fighter during the chaos of Paris being liberated. They Were Five is definitely recommended.
I know this is a blasphemous statement, but I'm not really that big of a Martin Scorsese fan. I appreciate his films, but I don't know if I actually love any of them. I've never made a list, but I'm not certain he would make my list of top five greatest American directors. However, this may simply be an issue of a purely personal subjective taste, because I do respect him quite a bit. I especially appreciate his attempts to break away and try different things, such as his adaption of The Age of Innocence. Another example of this was his ambitious attempt to tackle Nikos Kazantzakis's The Last Temptation of Christ. I had not seen it since the year it came out, and my re-watch the other night left me feeling much the same way: it's both an over-criticized but also over-praised film. The people who criticized it for being blasphemous (and probably never saw it, for that matter) clearly missed the point of the film. It's a spiritual reflection on the unique nature of Jesus's nature and also of faith itself. At the same time, I think it misses far more than it hits, and I suspect that a lot of the critical praise was a response to the criticism from religious fanatics. It's worth watching, and it has some lovely moments.
I took a flyer on a film the other night that doesn't have a particularly good reputation (which has never stopped me in the past): Michelangelo Antonioni's Zabriskie Point. I've seen it described as the worst film ever from a director of genius. I don't know if I'd go that far, although it was pretty dreadful, long and mainly pointless. It's hard to reconcile this film with absolute classics like L'Avventura, La Notte, L'Eclisse, Red Desert, and Blowup. It's full of no name actors giving no name performances of uninspired lines. I'd give it a pass if I were you, although it's received a little more love the last few years from critics.
The Criterion Channel is currently featuring a Julien Duvivier collection right now, which gave me a chance to rewatch his brilliant and highly influential 1937 film Pepe le moko, one of the highlights of the French poetic realism movement (several other examples of which were featured earlier this year). It stars the immortal Jean Gabin, which is really all you'd ever need to know if you're deciding whether to watch a film or not. He's a French criminal who would really love to get back to Paris, but he's trapped in the winding backstreets of the Algiers casbah. As long as he's ensconced there he's safe, but if he's drawn out then things get much more dangerous. His life is made much more difficult by Inspector Slimane (Lucas Gridoux), who lives in the casbah, and who Pepe knows he should kill, but who he lets live because of his peculiar code of honor - and also because of the two women competing for his attention, Gaby (played by Mireille Balin, whose real life story would make a great novel about France's complicated relationship to World War II) and Ines (Line Noro). Highly recommended.
The other night I was finally able to convince Janet to watch Craig Gillespie's wonderful 2007 film Lars and the Real Girl. I had been pushing it for a while, but after Janet and her friend Jana watched Project Hail Mary the other night she was in the mood for another Ryan Gosling movie. I am always wont to opine that it was Lars and the Real Girl that convinced me that Ryan Gosling is actually a very good actor, and I'll stick with that. It really is a great movie, and one that I didn't bother to watch in the theaters because I, thankfully incorrectly, thought that it looked like a one note sex comedy. It's actually a layered film about loss and love and community. It's also a film that makes me cry every time. Gosling gives a wonderful performance, totally against type, as the bumbling and painfully introverted Lars. Patricia Clarkson (who I believe knows a good script better than any actor alive today) gives a lovely performance as Dr. Dagmar Berman, who helps hold everything together. Emily Mortimer and Paul Schneider play Lars's sister-in-law Karin and her husband Gus (and in many ways the film is as much about Gus's story arc as it is about Lars's). Kelli Garner is funny and heartbreaking as Lars's would-be girlfriend Margo, and my students (I routinely showed this film in class when we discussed Feminist and Queer theory) rooted for Lars and Margo so hard. It's only sad when I think that Gillespie never came even remotely close to directing a film this good ever again. Highly recommended.
I blew through the Criterion Channel's Rumberas collection (again, that odd, but utterly enjoyable, mishmash of film noir, social commentary, and off the chart musical) when I watched Jose Diaz Morales's 1947 movie Carita de Cielo. It starred Maria Elena Marques and Antonio Badu, although it's mainly, and rightly, known for being Ninon Sevilla's (the greatest star of Rumberas films) first movie. She has two illogical in regards to the plot - but amazing - dance routines. It's amazing how sexually charged her performances were, utterly unlike anything you would have seen in US films at the same time (or for years to come). Beyond her performance the film is forgettable, and it doesn't have any of the social commentary which sparks the other Rumberas films in the collection. Still, it's Ninon Sevilla, FFS, so you might give it a watch.
And the second half of my unexpected horror doubleheader was Damien McCarthy's Hokum. It tells the story of a very skeptical writer, who is also more than a bit of a total jerk, who travels to a town in Ireland to spread his parents ashes. I didn't like it as much as Obsession, but I still liked it quite a bit, and there were some very creepy moments. Adam Scott gives a fine performance as the writer. There are so unlikeable characters in the film that it's difficult to care more about them, but it was still a finely crafted piece. Recommended.
Yesterday I enjoyed a rare movie doubleheader (not in the Criterion Channel universe, obviously) when I was able to watch a movie with my son in the afternoon and another one with Janet in the evening. Plus, they were both recent releases, this was almost unheard-of. Gary had texted me in the morning to ask if I wanted to see a movie, and, like all dads, I jumped at the opportunity to spend time with my son (well, not my dad, naturally, but others). He suggested that we watch last year's huge hit, Curry Barker's Obsession, which I had somehow never seen. I don't know what I need to say about it, since I'm probably the last person in North America to see it. I can say that I definitely liked it. It's not a terribly original story, in that it's about a wish for love that goes terribly awry, but it was beautifully constructed - especially the cinematography. Inde Navarette, as Nikki, was especially good. Highly recommended.
And now, not surprisingly, I'm disappearing down a Khyentse Norbu rabbit hole, the Bhutanese director (and much more) whose film, Travellers & Magicians, I watched the other night. Last night I watched his first film, The Cup (1999). It tells the story, apparently based on actual events, of some monks who come up with a scheme to acquire (temporarily) a TV and satellite dish - and in the process convince the head of their monastery of the brilliance of this plan - so that they could watch the World Cup final match. A very sweet film, and highly recommended.