"So say goodbye, it's Independence Day"
Films viewed recently
Heights (Torri, 2005): 6.5
Blue (Kieslowski, 1993): 10
Dummy (Pritikin, 2002): 6.5
War of the Worlds (Spielberg, 2005): 6.5
Saving Face (Wu, 2005): 7
Trauma (Evans, 2004): 3
Jules et Jim (Truffaut, 1961): 10
My Summer of Love (Pawlikowski, 2005): 7
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The excessive amount of fireworks that are usually on display at dusk on the fourth (or, as my misinformed town would have it -- the third) of July has been bothering me. It is a patriotic ritual, not just because it is aesthetically pleasing (your eyes will rejoice and your ears will bleed), but because of its symbolic value. Of course, over the years it has adopted (or "devolved" into having) a different, yet perhaps even more apt, meaning. countless times, I have heard my broken-record-ish parents exclaim, "When I was a kid, there was one firework per 5 minute period!" Every holiday has become embellished, overly extravagent and decadent. Nearly every holiday has become particularly unauthentic and unspecial. America has overindulged itself so much that, ultimately, the firework extravaganza becomes tedious before the grand finale.
I felt ill tonight, so I stayed home to avoid the crowds. I arose from my bed due to the loud booms being emitted from three miles down the road, and as I opened the front door to my house, my nostrils quickly detected a fiery residue. As I stood on my front lawn, all my senses told me that we are at war.
Damnit, and I promised myself I would not scribble a whiny treatise in this journal.
-+-There are really only two films I feel like postings elaborate thoughts on-+-
The inital shock after discovering that Heights is a Merchant Ivory production soon wore off once the film began. It's frequent Shakesparean quotes, esoteric allusions and witty dialogue (which is refreshingly contemporary for a M-I production) are just as revealing as the opening credits. Although the constant citing of Shakespeare can be precieved as pretentious, Heights still manages to attain a certain honesty. Much to its credit, the film feels like a play without being stagy. That is not to say it isn't cinematic, and it attempts to be. Unfortunately, one cinematic technique (the split screen) particularly contradicts one of the omnipresent motifs of this film: voyeurism. How, exactly, can the spectator simultaneously peek at two different individuals? Regardless of this, the themes of the film (adapted from a short play) are evident and slightly thoughtful -- and the acting is rather good. The film has presence, and perfectly captures the city (Manhattan, in this case) atmosphere. However, it ultimately is a whiny-artsy-upper-class character study where lives interweave and everything ends up feeling a bit ho-hum. Also, in Heights, a character suggests that Ingmar Begman's Persona should be turned into a Julie Taymor-directed musical with a puppet as Liv Ullman's character. I wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended by this absurd (and bastardizing) suggestion.
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In order to cope with the death of her husband and daughter, Julie follows her constant craving to destroy -- not herself (well, not after a single impulsive attempt) or other humans, but the memories and paraphernalia of her life (with the exception of a few blue objects). Blue primarily focuses on the ostensibly impenetrable Julie's attempt to isolate herself from her former existence, and the anguish and grief she perpetually battles. With this brilliant film, which follows a somewhat visual narrative, the director (Kieslowski) attempts to make the viewer empathetic by employing imagery, an occasionally subjective point-of-view, and various symbols. This unique approach would normally alienate, but the unforced pathos and Binoche's flawless performance (she exudes liberation with only a tear drop) create a truly introspective film.
Similar to her metaphorical placement in the vast, but empty, pool she frequently swims in (and hides under) -- everything in this film is under the surface. Julie's inner turmoil is alternatively manifested by music, sound effects, or some of the struggling people who surround her. Kieslowski is a master of guiding the viewer, which he does so without seeming condescending; if he wants us to focus on the music -- he is not afraid to blur the camera to denote the subordination of visuals at that moment. As one character imparts to Julie, "You gotta hang onto something". This 'something' is a beautiful piece of music that her composer husband (and herself) worked on. The irresistible and liberating music is the key to her feelings; when it plays, she can no longer detach herself from her previous life, or the rest of the world (which is evident in a cathartic final sequence).
"You can't destroy a beautiful thing like that"
Blue is an art film in the truest sense of the genre and, aside from being a complex and analytical character piece, it also bears extreme emotional resonance - which makes it one of the finest films I have viewed in quite some time.
And, on a less dense note -- yeeesh, I nearly got a toothache watching Binoche devour her daughter's lollipop like that.
Heights (Torri, 2005): 6.5
Blue (Kieslowski, 1993): 10
Dummy (Pritikin, 2002): 6.5
War of the Worlds (Spielberg, 2005): 6.5
Saving Face (Wu, 2005): 7
Trauma (Evans, 2004): 3
Jules et Jim (Truffaut, 1961): 10
My Summer of Love (Pawlikowski, 2005): 7
---
The excessive amount of fireworks that are usually on display at dusk on the fourth (or, as my misinformed town would have it -- the third) of July has been bothering me. It is a patriotic ritual, not just because it is aesthetically pleasing (your eyes will rejoice and your ears will bleed), but because of its symbolic value. Of course, over the years it has adopted (or "devolved" into having) a different, yet perhaps even more apt, meaning. countless times, I have heard my broken-record-ish parents exclaim, "When I was a kid, there was one firework per 5 minute period!" Every holiday has become embellished, overly extravagent and decadent. Nearly every holiday has become particularly unauthentic and unspecial. America has overindulged itself so much that, ultimately, the firework extravaganza becomes tedious before the grand finale.
I felt ill tonight, so I stayed home to avoid the crowds. I arose from my bed due to the loud booms being emitted from three miles down the road, and as I opened the front door to my house, my nostrils quickly detected a fiery residue. As I stood on my front lawn, all my senses told me that we are at war.
Damnit, and I promised myself I would not scribble a whiny treatise in this journal.
-+-There are really only two films I feel like postings elaborate thoughts on-+-
The inital shock after discovering that Heights is a Merchant Ivory production soon wore off once the film began. It's frequent Shakesparean quotes, esoteric allusions and witty dialogue (which is refreshingly contemporary for a M-I production) are just as revealing as the opening credits. Although the constant citing of Shakespeare can be precieved as pretentious, Heights still manages to attain a certain honesty. Much to its credit, the film feels like a play without being stagy. That is not to say it isn't cinematic, and it attempts to be. Unfortunately, one cinematic technique (the split screen) particularly contradicts one of the omnipresent motifs of this film: voyeurism. How, exactly, can the spectator simultaneously peek at two different individuals? Regardless of this, the themes of the film (adapted from a short play) are evident and slightly thoughtful -- and the acting is rather good. The film has presence, and perfectly captures the city (Manhattan, in this case) atmosphere. However, it ultimately is a whiny-artsy-upper-class character study where lives interweave and everything ends up feeling a bit ho-hum. Also, in Heights, a character suggests that Ingmar Begman's Persona should be turned into a Julie Taymor-directed musical with a puppet as Liv Ullman's character. I wasn't sure whether to be amused or offended by this absurd (and bastardizing) suggestion.
---
In order to cope with the death of her husband and daughter, Julie follows her constant craving to destroy -- not herself (well, not after a single impulsive attempt) or other humans, but the memories and paraphernalia of her life (with the exception of a few blue objects). Blue primarily focuses on the ostensibly impenetrable Julie's attempt to isolate herself from her former existence, and the anguish and grief she perpetually battles. With this brilliant film, which follows a somewhat visual narrative, the director (Kieslowski) attempts to make the viewer empathetic by employing imagery, an occasionally subjective point-of-view, and various symbols. This unique approach would normally alienate, but the unforced pathos and Binoche's flawless performance (she exudes liberation with only a tear drop) create a truly introspective film.
Similar to her metaphorical placement in the vast, but empty, pool she frequently swims in (and hides under) -- everything in this film is under the surface. Julie's inner turmoil is alternatively manifested by music, sound effects, or some of the struggling people who surround her. Kieslowski is a master of guiding the viewer, which he does so without seeming condescending; if he wants us to focus on the music -- he is not afraid to blur the camera to denote the subordination of visuals at that moment. As one character imparts to Julie, "You gotta hang onto something". This 'something' is a beautiful piece of music that her composer husband (and herself) worked on. The irresistible and liberating music is the key to her feelings; when it plays, she can no longer detach herself from her previous life, or the rest of the world (which is evident in a cathartic final sequence).
"You can't destroy a beautiful thing like that"
Blue is an art film in the truest sense of the genre and, aside from being a complex and analytical character piece, it also bears extreme emotional resonance - which makes it one of the finest films I have viewed in quite some time.
And, on a less dense note -- yeeesh, I nearly got a toothache watching Binoche devour her daughter's lollipop like that.