Friday Quote: The Innocents

"We lay my love and I, beneath the weeping willow. But now alone I lie and weep beside the tree. Singing "Oh willow waly" by the tree that weeps with me. Singing "Oh willow waly" till my lover return to me. We lay my love and I beneath the weeping willow. A broken heart have I. Oh willow I die, oh willow I die..."

The Innocents (1961)

Margaret (2011)

Having now seen the full, 186-min cut of this film, I absolutely understand why it was so difficult to cut down to the length that the studio requested. Sure there is a subplot or two that could be easily cut out, but the sheer volume of things going on in this film is kind of the point. The messier this film is, the better it is. This is a film about grief and about being young. Both are experiences that are fraught with wild emotional sea changes that you don’t quite understand. With its highs and lows, this film washes over you like a piece of music with movements and interludes. Though one character in the film flat out states that, “This is not an opera!” it kind of is. The emotions are so heightened that even if you are unclear of what triggered them, you cannot help but be struck by them. By the end of this film you have been through the wringer, and you’re grateful for it. The end of this film is literally the definition of, "catharsis".

Sight & Sound Challenge: Persona (1966)

Film: Persona (52/250) 

Critics Poll: 17th 

Directors Poll: 13th 

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch

I pretty much summed up my feelings about this film when I wrote about it for the blog four years ago. So, I'm copy-pasting because it's 9 pm on a Sunday as of this writing, it's 85 degrees, and I don't feel like generating new thoughts. What I will add is that when you watch this while you're very tired and kind of drifting away a little bit, it feels like you're having the most beautifully shot and profound dreams ever.

***

Persona tells the story of two women. One, an actress (Liv Ullmann), has suddenly stopped speaking. The other, her nurse (Bibi Andersson), senses the actress's strength of will and is intimidated by her at first. They stay together in a little house on the beach where they begin to get close and then almost become enemies, and their personalities begin to merge.

The film is sexual, nightmarish, beautiful, tense, puzzling. I set out to watch it expecting to not understand the film, but rather just experience it for what it was. The black and white photography is stunning and there are a couple very memorable monologues spoken by the nurse, who seems to experience every possible emotion in this house.

The film opens and then interjects in the middle with very brief shots that seem to have nothing to do with the story...a sinister face, a nail being driven through a hand, a dead rabbit. Roger Ebert, in his short essay on the film, tells us these images are taking us through film history, an example of what we can find in some of the earliest films. These images, for me, add to the dreamlike quality of the film. Many silent films evoke this feeling for me...the early days of cinema show a world that is nothing like our world today. To watch a film so outside of one's comfort zone has an intoxicating effect on the soul. Or maybe that's just me again.

Sight & Sound Challenge: Videodrome (1983)

Film: Videodrome (51/250)

Critics Poll: 202nd 

Directors Poll: 174th 

First Time/Rewatch: First Time

I knew going into this one that it wasn't going to be my favorite. I'm not the biggest David Cronenberg fan. Of the films of his I've seen, I've only really taken to The Dead Zone, and that's mostly for campy Christopher Walken reasons. I don't have a strong stomach for gross-out imagery, and I'm impatient when films feel like they're just weird for weirdness's sake. Videodrome has interesting themes at its core: physical reactions to technological/visual stimuli, fetishes and obsession, control, violence, etc, but it's clumsily executed. It's trying to be provocative, but I ended the film being quite bored. I understand that Cronenberg and films like his have an audience, it's just not me. I'd be interested in seeing a film exploring these themes without the cheap looking blood and guts, but Cronenberg's not the guy to do it for me.

The Martian (2015)

Just when I was ready to write off Ridley Scott, he went and made this wonderful film. Sure he occasionally makes a classic here or there (Alien and Blade Runner), but overall his filmography is an unending stream of what Andrew Sarris would call, "strained seriousness". This has especially been true of his post-2000 output of stuff like Hannibal, A Good Year, Robin Hood and Exodus: Gods and Kings. Even the lone (debatable) gem in that run of films is the viciously morbid and insane, The Councilor. In light of all of that, The Martian feels like a cinematic rebirth.

Like Martin Scorsese's The Wolf of Wall Street and George Miller's Mad Max: Fury Road, The Martian is alive with an energy most often exclusive to a filmmaker's first feature. The filmmaking is overflowing with energy and most importantly/rare for Scott, it's funny.

Imagine what a slog this film would be without that disco music and Mark's musings! The humor also really helps to temper all of the selfless, "we have to do the right thing" aspects of the story. Without the intentional laughs, this film might have elicited some unintentional ones. With those laughs, this film becomes an inspiring story of human perseverance, cooperation and the importance of science. Well done Sir Ridley!

Friday Quote: The Devil's Backbone

"What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and again? An instant of pain, perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time. Like a blurred photograph. Like an insect trapped in amber."

The Devil's Backbone (2001)

Scream (1996)

With all due respect to the crews that work so hard to make movies, I really cannot stand the cinematography of the 1990's. I'm not sure if it is a variation on how your parents cannot stand to look at photos from their adolescence or what, but I just cannot abide by it. It's all so bright with very little shadow. It's like the high-key look of Old Hollywood in the 50's and 60's, minus the beautiful saturated technicolor that at least made things pop. Quite simply, there isn't really a style to it. Everything is at the exact same level. Yet somehow this lack of photographic style ends up working here. With lighting this evenly employed, you are able to take in all the horrible 90's decor of the suburban houses where all these ghastly things are occurring. It's a very subtle yet effective juxtaposition. You might even recognize some horrendous color pallet or two from your own youth. At least for me, Scream brings horror home.

Sight & Sound Challenge: Blade Runner (1982)

Film: Blade Runner (50/250)

Critics Poll: 69th 

Directors Poll: 67th 

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch

50 films down! Woo! What better for the 50th film than one of the most visually distinctive science fiction films in recent history? And we all know how much I like a good sci-fi movie. I love how much of a completely designed world this is. It's here but it's not here. It's dark, it's neon-lit, gritty, futuristic, multi-cultural, with humans and replicants coexisting, and it's so freaking STYLISH.  The film is beautiful in its harshness. Shoulder pads, ripped nylons, heels, severe hairstyles, black black black. I could happily watch this movie on mute. Harrison Ford's aloof acting leaves a lot to be desired (by the way, DO NOT watch the version with his voiceover!) but it's so strong visually that I can overlook a lot of that. It's not that he's terrible, he just seems so bored. Another actor may have given it a little more something, and maybe could have pulled off the voiceover, too. I also love the themes of mortality and humanity. What makes us human? Who gets to decide who lives and who dies? Aren't we all just complex machines? What separates us, really? Are my memories real?? OMG AM I A ROBOT???? Quibbles aside, this film has a lot going for it. Just please, again, don't watch the version with voiceover. It doesn't need it. It's plenty film-noir without it. 

Sight & Sound Challenge: Don't Look Now (1973)

Film: Don't Look Now (49/250) 

Critics Poll: 127th 

Directors Poll: 91st

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch

Okay, so this makes 4 films made in the 70s in a row. I watched these all in early September, and that's when I watch my 70s films, or as Craig and I lovingly refer to them, "brown movies." I was interested in revisiting this one because I didn't love it the first time I saw it. This viewing, however, was a lot more enjoyable for me even though I still don't like the ending or parts of the score (a weird score can practically ruin a movie for me). For those unfamiliar with the film, Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie play a couple whose daughter has died. They go to Venice after her death and are faced with constant reminders of her there. It's made more interesting by the ominous undertones, Sutherland's character's possibly suppressed psychic abilities, foreshadowing, and the unusual use of time. I was pretty lost the first time I saw it, but the second viewing cleared up a lot of questions I had from the first time. It's a bizarre little thriller, creepy and effective. So, uh, DO LOOK NOW at this movie!

Sorry.

Crimson Peak (2015)

When Martin Scorsese decided to make The Age of Innocence, a lot of people were baffled that a filmmaker so synonymous with violence would be making a costume picture. What they realized upon seeing the final film was, that despite the gorgeous décor and costumes, the elite of 1870’s New York could be just as (if not more) vicious than the mafia. And that film didn’t even bother to try addressing the savagery of unbridled Capitalism which was just coming into full bloom thanks to the Industrial Revolution. Fortunately Guillermo Del Toro exists to address that oversight with the blood red, Gothic Romance of Crimson Peak.

Through lush imagery like moths stained with the soot of factories, and a house that has bled the land so dry that it in turn is bleeding as well, Del Toro is able to make clear what took Charlie Chaplin a whole overwrought monologue to drive home in Monsieur Verdoux. There are few filmmakers working today so in command of purely visual storytelling. Guillermo Del Toro and his collaborators were able to take the inherent violence of capitalism and externalize it in the most sensuous and grisly manner possible. It’s not a ghost story, it’s a story with ghosts in it.

Friday Quote: The Addams Family

"And our credo: "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc." We gladly feast on those who would subdue us. Not just pretty words."

The Addams Family (1991)

The Duke of Burgundy (2015)

There are only so many stories that can be told. I know this might sound weird but: with the gradually shifting power dynamic of the dominant and submissive switching places in this film, I found myself constantly reminded of Annie Hall. And while I can't think of a particular example, I'm 100% certain that many people told this same story long before Woody Allen. Probably Shakespeare and/or the Greeks. So now that we've established that nothing is original, how do we make a story new again? By telling it in a style we have not seen it in before. Take that old skeleton, drape it in lush/fetishistic cinematography, surround it with haunting music, then tie it up and sit on its face. What was once old, is now new again. Gotta do something to keep the romance alive, right?

Sight & Sound Challenge: Annie Hall (1977)

Film: Annie Hall (48/250) 

Critics Poll: 127th 

Directors Poll: 132nd 

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch 

Goddamn this is a great movie. It's probably Woody Allen's best, and that's saying something when it involves such a prolific director. This film is a must-see, it made Diane Keaton a fashion icon (and an unconventional role model to quirky girls everywhere), and its use of subtitles, flashbacks, animation, and fantasy sequences make it one-of-a-kind. It's a love letter to Diane Keaton, who's practically playing herself in all her suit-wearing, tennis-playing, photo-taking, lounge-singing, neurotic and beautiful glory. The supporting cast is a lot of fun too, with appearances by Tony Roberts, Christopher Walken, Carol Kane, Shelley Duvall, Paul Simon, and even Jeff Goldblum. I've seen this movie countless times and I still crack up at the same jokes, or sometimes different ones. Here, I'll let Annie Hall herself show why this film works so well:

Sight & Sound Challenge: Manhattan (1979)

Film: Manhattan (47/250) 

Critics Poll: 202nd 

Directors Poll: 107th 

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch

Black and white photography. George Gershwin's music. Woody Allen's dialogue. Woody and Diane. It's just the best combination, isn't it? I could listen to Woody Allen's movie characters talk about their neuroses and their self-absorbed ramblings all day long. There's just something so appealing about it. Okay, the fact that he's dating a seventeen year old in this film is a little icky for me, but I guess teens dating older guys isn't completely unheard of. And Mariel Hemingway's character is compelling in her own way, as is every character. I love Meryl Streep as Allen's ex-wife, Diane Keaton of course is wonderful, and even the little appearances (Wallace Shawn!) are great. But what I love most is the style of Allen's films. The music, the dialogue...he's contributed so much to the world of cinema. Just look at that shot above...sigh!

The Devils (1971)

I find it fascinating that a film about a man condemned to death for something he did not do, has itself been condemned to death based on erroneous charges. I will certainly grant you that there are many shocking act depicted in The Devils, but they are not there to titillate or defile. Father Grandier is certainly no saint, but he is also not the beast which so many in the film accuse him of being. He’s prideful, petty and engages in numerous affairs, but his crimes are nothing in comparison to the myriad ways Sister Jeanne and her fellow nuns debase themselves for the sake of absolute anarchy.

You simply cannot get this across by soft-peddling the more outrageous moments. If you make the nun's blasphemous cavorting just as chaste as Grandier’s post-coital chats with lovers, you are creating a false equivalency. His is a sin of the flesh, the priest and his partners are human and prone to human folly. Father Grandier is even striving to pull himself together and settle down in a monogamous relationship. The sisters, on the other hand, are allowing themselves to be exploited by a corrupt system that desires only power. Sure this film employs graphic imagery, but it does so in the service of telling an extremely moral story. Hopefully one day Warner Brothers will come to their senses and #ReleaseTheDevils

Friday Quote: The Silence of the Lambs

"You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you, Agent Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed: pure West Virginia. What is your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp? You know how quickly the boys found you... all those tedious sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars... while you could only dream of getting out... getting anywhere... getting all the way to the FBI."

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

I think the first time I saw it I was expecting more. In the years since I've really come to appreciate it for how small it is. All the little details like that moment when David looks to his side and sees the dying man who has just turned him into a werewolf. A frightening glimpse into his future. I also admire how all the abrupt cutaways throughout the film really prepare you aesthetically for that ending. And the way that ending is also perfectly in-keeping with how all the classic Universal horror films favored rapid conclusions. But most of all, I adore this film for how small the whole story is. Simply put, it's the story of the unluckiest motherfucker ever. One day, the universe just suddenly decides to shit on this guy and see what he can take. It's not like more traditional horror where the protagonist is paying for some minor infraction. Werewolf stories are much more Old Testament. It's the story of Job. I'd love to see the Coen Brothers tackle this story like A Serious Man with fur!

Sight & Sound Challenge: Badlands (1973)

Film: Badlands (46/250) 

Critics Poll: 202nd 

Directors Poll: 67th 

First Time/Rewatch: Rewatch

I saw this one for the first time last March, and it really spoke to me. Something about the dreamy photography, the compellingly naive narration by Sissy Spacek as Holly, and Martin Sheen as the cocky, violent, and charismatic Kit. It's romantic, it's dreamy, it's abrupt, it's memorable, and it's interesting. It's kind of like a teenage Bonnie and Clyde...these kids are starry-eyed and ultimately pretty hopeless. It held up just as much on a second viewing; in fact, the little things I was nitpicking about the first time around didn't bother me at all because it's such a strong film overall. It has such a distinct style. The shot above isn't unlike the "magic hour" shots in another Terrence Malick film on this list, Days of Heaven. It really helps elevate a story of a boy and girl in love and acting foolish into something magical. And couldn't we all use a little magic now and then?

Sight & Sound Challenge: Viridiana (1961)

Film: Viridiana (45/250) 

Critics Poll: 110th 

Directors Poll: 37th 

First Time/Rewatch: First Time

Ooh, this one is twisted. Although, coming from Luis Buñuel, I can't say I'm surprised. The only other of his films I've seen is Belle de Jour, which is not for the prudish. I'm also quite ashamed at how little Buñuel I've seen...this challenge will fix that, as there are at least three other of his films on this list! Anyway, Viridiana...the title character is a tightly wound novice about to take her vows when she receives word from her estranged uncle who wants her to visit. She's uncomfortable about it, and for good reason. And man, it's uncomfortable to sit through at certain points too. It's gorgeously shot, full of symbols of religion, childhood, innocence, and the loss of that innocence. A burning crown of thorns. A defiled wedding dress. A parody of the Last Supper. A jump rope tied into a noose. The power of this imagery can't be denied. I'm eager to watch the other Buñuel films on this list if they're half as good as this one. I have a feeling they are.

Behind the Candelabra (2013)

As much as I enjoyed this film when it premiered on HBO, I nearly went insane trying to figure out what had drawn Steven Soderbergh to this material. By all accounts he'd been planning this one since at least the late 90's when he floated the idea to Michael Douglas on set while they were making Traffic. What was it that kept such a simple story (that we all know the beats to) in his head for so long? While only Soderbergh can say for certain, I think I finally figured it out.

From the first actual Liberace scene it hit me. He's up there on stage doing this very simple boogie-woogie number that I'm certain even I could learn...and then he starts upping the tempo. He starts augmenting it with all these little flourishes. In the next scene he tells a story about playing piano in a saloon back in Milwaukee where the audience asks him to play a hit parade song called "Three Little Fishes". Well rather than simply playing the song everyone knew by heart and in the style to which they were accustomed, Liberace opted to do it in the style of Strauss.

And that is what I think drew Soderbergh to this project: The chance to take a story that is the cinematic equivalent of a "standard" and to drench it in gaudy style for style's sake. Why is the camera placed in a certain spot? Because it makes the scene more interesting to look at! Everything is in the interest of giving the audience a good time. And it works! There is no deeper meaning. It's a celebration of surface that I'm sure even Liberace himself would have really admired.

Friday Quote: The Crucible

"Shut up! All of you. We danced. That is all, and mark this, if anyone breathe a word or the edge of a word about the other things, I will come to you in the black of some terrible night, and I will bring with me a pointy reckoning that will shudder you! And you know I can do it. I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine. And I have seen some reddish work done at night. And I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!"

The Crucible (1996)

Short Cuts (1993)

Back in college I was able to get my English professor to let me write a paper comparing Short Cuts to the Raymond Carver stories it adapts. My thesis at the time was centered on the relationship between Robert Altman's propensity for long, wide takes and Carver's unadorned, minimalist prose style. Essentially the idea being that both authors lay it all out there and it's up to us to connect the dots.

Since then, my understanding of Robert Altman's cinema has grown significantly. Sure his camera likes to hang back so you can observe countless characters in the same frame, but he's still showing us what he wants us to see. If something is truly important he will either zoom in on or pan over to it. Sometimes he'll even cut in for emphasis. The same goes for Carver's short, blunt sentences. He might not be using many words, but he picked them carefully. The same also goes for Mark Isham's roaming, jazzy score. It's all building to something.

Minimalism might look easy, but there's a lot more to it than you might think.