SA-A-ALT!!!!
Apologies for my long long absence from film commentary. I'm going to try my darnedest not to have any more ridiculous lapses in my screening log.
ASIDE:
A few days ago I found this excellent article from Cinema Scope that not only talks about many of the things that make Otar Iosseliani's films so special but also lays out a fascinating theory that his latest film, Gardens in Autumn, is a commentary on the decline of French film culture. I haven't seen the new work (I'd say it's chances at American distribution are zilch) but it's an interesting read anyway. The article contains what would normally be called spoilers (concerning both Gardens and the ending of There Once Was a Singing Blackbird) but the joy of Iosseliani's work is not generally in waiting to see how the plot is going to unfold. Still, the Blackbird revelation might be too much, so if you want to see that film some time I'd recommend that you skip to the next paragraph of the article as soon as you see that title.
___________________________________________
Films Watched June 25 - August 5 (wow, that's awful)
Yeelen (Souleymane Cissé, 1987) - A young sorcerer who has been on the run with his mother finally decides to face his father, who has been trying to kill him all his life. It's a fantastical, entertaining, and fascinating film in every way, at least to someone like me who is entirely unacquainted with African cinema. It's otherworldly, but truly otherworldly -- not really alien, but different as if a parallel culture evolved an entirely unique cinematic language from the ground up. It seems otherworldly but totally naturalistic, exemplified especially in the portrayal of magic, which in this story is as fundamentally organic as any of our five senses.
Pather Panchali (Satyajit Ray, 1955) - Not only is this the first Satyajit Ray film I've seen, I think it's also the first Indian film I've seen. I didn't want to believe that was actually the case, but after wracking my brain I can't think of anything else.
It's easy to see why this film is so beloved, as it's either absolutely joyful or sincerely moving throughout. Everything about it is nearly perfect, from the performances of the children and the respectful realism of the characters to Ravi Shankar's score, which even the waterbugs seem to be dancing to at one point, and to the many gorgeous scenes that feel as though they were revealed to the camera rather than made for it (the train! the storm!). And I loved how much the story seemed structured like real life where things happen just because things happen, as if there's not really a storyteller behind the story trying to make things happen for a reason. Pather Panchali flows like a river through the countryside, turning and shifting where there happens to be a rock or a slope -- there's no contrivance as to where it needs to go, but by no means is it going nowhere. It's a beautiful experience.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (Nelson Pereira dos Santos, 1971) - In 16th-Century Brazil, a Frenchman is captured by a tribe who believe he is one of the invading Portugese. He is set for ritual cannibalization in 8 months, and in the meantime he is given a wife and allowed to live among the tribe, into which he tries to integrate himself, hoping he'll be able to change their plans.
It's a striking, deadpan satire on colonialism, and it has a timeless quality that commands consideration of its continual relevance. Despite it's timeframe, it's a political film, and not just an historically political one. It's also an interesting cultural fish-out-of-water scenario. Once the premise was established I kept thinking of films like Dances with Wolves and The Last Samurai and how shallow and bereft of content they seem in comparison. The issues are not shoehorned into the plot and the characters are never archetypal, i.e., the protagonist isn't seeking redemption and the indigenous people are not all wise, near-mystical sages at one with nature. Their susceptibility to colonial influence is their leader's greatest concern, not only in regards to the Portugese out to conquer them with force, but also to the "friendly" French out to conquer them with combs, mirrors, jewelry, and all the other pretty but utterly useless things they bring with them as gifts.
There's also something undeniably sexy about the film, especially in the scene where the Frenchman makes love to his wife the day before he's scheduled to be eaten and as they bask in each other's sensuality she describes to him exactly how it's going to happen, step-by-step. There's a sublime sort of eroticism to the casual but reverent reflection on this ritual of flesh and the bright, endearing eagerness with which she describes it.
Eraser (Chuck Russell, 1996) - I walked into the living room to tell my mom something. She was watching it. I had a splitting headache at the time. I sat down to talk. I felt too groggy and the chair was too comfortable to get back up. And that's how I saw Arnold Schwarzenegger fight a bunch of crazed and apparently starving alligators and exclaim "You're luggage!" as he punched one of them in the face.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (David Yates, 2007) - An excellent distillation of a very long book and probably the second-best of the series so far (Cuaron's is still my favorite). Daniel Radcliffe is evolving into a truly impressive actor, Alan Rickman, though still underused, gets a couple of really great scenes this time, Emma Watson's eyebrows are a little more sedated, and Evanna Lynch is perfect as Luna Lovegood, who I had the biggest crush on in the book. But Imelda Staunton is the crown jewel of the cast this time; she exerts the sweetest malevolence ever committed to film. It's impressive how much the mood of every scene really reaches out to you and commands every moment's attention, e.g., Harry's detention with Umbridge sends shivers through your hand, the Room of Requirement scenes make you feel like joining up with the cause, and for as long as it's allowed to linger Fred and George's big scene feels totally triumphant. And on that note, I think it's wonderful to have such a widely-embraced film geared towards younger audiences that so openly supports moral and political rebellion, even if the political aspects of the story have been largely streamlined for the film (not that they were especially complex in the book).
A couple of caveats, though. The quality of the editing is weirdly inconsistent. There are several scenes where Yates and his editor get to try some more creative things than in previous films, and these are handled rather well, as are the montages and action sequences. And yet they seem to have worlds of trouble with most basic material, as scenes of dialogue and less complicated action have frequent pacing and continuity problems, eyelines all over the place, characters performing the same action twice or even three times, and in a few cases, wide shots where characters speak while they clearly have their mouths shut. Of course these kinds of things happen all the time in movies without ever affecting my enjoyment, but in this case the problems seemed epidemic to me. It's entirely possible likely that these things will only bother you if you're an editor, though.
My other complaint relates specifically to the IMAX 3D version, which I strongly advise against. The 3D kicks in only for the most dramatic part of the film, and the effect is so glaringly out-of-place that it causes serious distraction. I don't doubt that 3D will eventually be acceptable in dramatic form, but in this case it's still being treated like a novelty and it neutralizes whatever dignity there is in the climax, which really needs to be taken seriously.
Salt for Svanetia (Mikheil Kalatozishvili, 1930) - I saw this screened totally silent in a university theatre while square dancing with a live ensemble was happening in the next room for the first half of the film. That combined with the man a few seats away who was mumbling in (I suspect) Russian to no one but himself made this a somewhat bizarre experience, but it's still a powerful and rather entertaining film, displaying all the seeds of the off-the-wall camera work the director would later perfect with Sergei Urusevsky and riotous editing less refined than his Soviet contemporaries but also freer, more impertinent, maybe even a little more daring in some cases.
Spaceballs (Mel Brooks, 1987) - Hadn't seen this in ages and was pleasantly surprised at how well it held up. It's hit-and-miss, with more misses than I think most people acknowledge, but most of the hits are so great I don't blame anybody for not remembering the jokes that don't work.
Ratatouille (Brad Bird, 2007) - It doesn't seem possible for Pixar to keep making better films that the best work they've already done, but somehow they keep doing it. I'm not surprised that Brad Bird is responsible, though. In short, this film is ludicrously good in every way. The story is well rounded and perfectly paced, the important characters amply fleshed out, the voice casting as with all of Bird's films is spot-on even in the most counter-intuitive cases, and visually he has outdone himself again. The "camera" is incredibly dynamic and expertly employed, every scene focused and yet packed with detail. It was stunning in its own right and even more so because I didn't expect a movie about a rat cooking in a restaurant to yield a richer visual palette for an animated film than, say, an epic superhero adventure, nor for some reason did I expect the story to be so affecting.
ASIDE:
A few days ago I found this excellent article from Cinema Scope that not only talks about many of the things that make Otar Iosseliani's films so special but also lays out a fascinating theory that his latest film, Gardens in Autumn, is a commentary on the decline of French film culture. I haven't seen the new work (I'd say it's chances at American distribution are zilch) but it's an interesting read anyway. The article contains what would normally be called spoilers (concerning both Gardens and the ending of There Once Was a Singing Blackbird) but the joy of Iosseliani's work is not generally in waiting to see how the plot is going to unfold. Still, the Blackbird revelation might be too much, so if you want to see that film some time I'd recommend that you skip to the next paragraph of the article as soon as you see that title.
___________________________________________
Films Watched June 25 - August 5 (wow, that's awful)
Yeelen (Souleymane Cissé, 1987) - A young sorcerer who has been on the run with his mother finally decides to face his father, who has been trying to kill him all his life. It's a fantastical, entertaining, and fascinating film in every way, at least to someone like me who is entirely unacquainted with African cinema. It's otherworldly, but truly otherworldly -- not really alien, but different as if a parallel culture evolved an entirely unique cinematic language from the ground up. It seems otherworldly but totally naturalistic, exemplified especially in the portrayal of magic, which in this story is as fundamentally organic as any of our five senses.
Pather Panchali (Satyajit Ray, 1955) - Not only is this the first Satyajit Ray film I've seen, I think it's also the first Indian film I've seen. I didn't want to believe that was actually the case, but after wracking my brain I can't think of anything else.
It's easy to see why this film is so beloved, as it's either absolutely joyful or sincerely moving throughout. Everything about it is nearly perfect, from the performances of the children and the respectful realism of the characters to Ravi Shankar's score, which even the waterbugs seem to be dancing to at one point, and to the many gorgeous scenes that feel as though they were revealed to the camera rather than made for it (the train! the storm!). And I loved how much the story seemed structured like real life where things happen just because things happen, as if there's not really a storyteller behind the story trying to make things happen for a reason. Pather Panchali flows like a river through the countryside, turning and shifting where there happens to be a rock or a slope -- there's no contrivance as to where it needs to go, but by no means is it going nowhere. It's a beautiful experience.
How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman (Nelson Pereira dos Santos, 1971) - In 16th-Century Brazil, a Frenchman is captured by a tribe who believe he is one of the invading Portugese. He is set for ritual cannibalization in 8 months, and in the meantime he is given a wife and allowed to live among the tribe, into which he tries to integrate himself, hoping he'll be able to change their plans.
It's a striking, deadpan satire on colonialism, and it has a timeless quality that commands consideration of its continual relevance. Despite it's timeframe, it's a political film, and not just an historically political one. It's also an interesting cultural fish-out-of-water scenario. Once the premise was established I kept thinking of films like Dances with Wolves and The Last Samurai and how shallow and bereft of content they seem in comparison. The issues are not shoehorned into the plot and the characters are never archetypal, i.e., the protagonist isn't seeking redemption and the indigenous people are not all wise, near-mystical sages at one with nature. Their susceptibility to colonial influence is their leader's greatest concern, not only in regards to the Portugese out to conquer them with force, but also to the "friendly" French out to conquer them with combs, mirrors, jewelry, and all the other pretty but utterly useless things they bring with them as gifts.
There's also something undeniably sexy about the film, especially in the scene where the Frenchman makes love to his wife the day before he's scheduled to be eaten and as they bask in each other's sensuality she describes to him exactly how it's going to happen, step-by-step. There's a sublime sort of eroticism to the casual but reverent reflection on this ritual of flesh and the bright, endearing eagerness with which she describes it.
Eraser (Chuck Russell, 1996) - I walked into the living room to tell my mom something. She was watching it. I had a splitting headache at the time. I sat down to talk. I felt too groggy and the chair was too comfortable to get back up. And that's how I saw Arnold Schwarzenegger fight a bunch of crazed and apparently starving alligators and exclaim "You're luggage!" as he punched one of them in the face.
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (David Yates, 2007) - An excellent distillation of a very long book and probably the second-best of the series so far (Cuaron's is still my favorite). Daniel Radcliffe is evolving into a truly impressive actor, Alan Rickman, though still underused, gets a couple of really great scenes this time, Emma Watson's eyebrows are a little more sedated, and Evanna Lynch is perfect as Luna Lovegood, who I had the biggest crush on in the book. But Imelda Staunton is the crown jewel of the cast this time; she exerts the sweetest malevolence ever committed to film. It's impressive how much the mood of every scene really reaches out to you and commands every moment's attention, e.g., Harry's detention with Umbridge sends shivers through your hand, the Room of Requirement scenes make you feel like joining up with the cause, and for as long as it's allowed to linger Fred and George's big scene feels totally triumphant. And on that note, I think it's wonderful to have such a widely-embraced film geared towards younger audiences that so openly supports moral and political rebellion, even if the political aspects of the story have been largely streamlined for the film (not that they were especially complex in the book).
A couple of caveats, though. The quality of the editing is weirdly inconsistent. There are several scenes where Yates and his editor get to try some more creative things than in previous films, and these are handled rather well, as are the montages and action sequences. And yet they seem to have worlds of trouble with most basic material, as scenes of dialogue and less complicated action have frequent pacing and continuity problems, eyelines all over the place, characters performing the same action twice or even three times, and in a few cases, wide shots where characters speak while they clearly have their mouths shut. Of course these kinds of things happen all the time in movies without ever affecting my enjoyment, but in this case the problems seemed epidemic to me. It's entirely possible likely that these things will only bother you if you're an editor, though.
My other complaint relates specifically to the IMAX 3D version, which I strongly advise against. The 3D kicks in only for the most dramatic part of the film, and the effect is so glaringly out-of-place that it causes serious distraction. I don't doubt that 3D will eventually be acceptable in dramatic form, but in this case it's still being treated like a novelty and it neutralizes whatever dignity there is in the climax, which really needs to be taken seriously.
Salt for Svanetia (Mikheil Kalatozishvili, 1930) - I saw this screened totally silent in a university theatre while square dancing with a live ensemble was happening in the next room for the first half of the film. That combined with the man a few seats away who was mumbling in (I suspect) Russian to no one but himself made this a somewhat bizarre experience, but it's still a powerful and rather entertaining film, displaying all the seeds of the off-the-wall camera work the director would later perfect with Sergei Urusevsky and riotous editing less refined than his Soviet contemporaries but also freer, more impertinent, maybe even a little more daring in some cases.
Spaceballs (Mel Brooks, 1987) - Hadn't seen this in ages and was pleasantly surprised at how well it held up. It's hit-and-miss, with more misses than I think most people acknowledge, but most of the hits are so great I don't blame anybody for not remembering the jokes that don't work.
Ratatouille (Brad Bird, 2007) - It doesn't seem possible for Pixar to keep making better films that the best work they've already done, but somehow they keep doing it. I'm not surprised that Brad Bird is responsible, though. In short, this film is ludicrously good in every way. The story is well rounded and perfectly paced, the important characters amply fleshed out, the voice casting as with all of Bird's films is spot-on even in the most counter-intuitive cases, and visually he has outdone himself again. The "camera" is incredibly dynamic and expertly employed, every scene focused and yet packed with detail. It was stunning in its own right and even more so because I didn't expect a movie about a rat cooking in a restaurant to yield a richer visual palette for an animated film than, say, an epic superhero adventure, nor for some reason did I expect the story to be so affecting.