Thursday, September 29, 2011

My Week of Movie Watching

In Bruges – Liked this a lot. Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson are a pair of mismatched hit men forced to cool their heels in Bruges, Belgium, whilst awaiting further instructions. Farrell is deeply depressed due to botched hit, which resulted in the death of a child. Gleeson is introspective and philosophical, and finds himself given the job of offing his friend. Ralph Fiennes has a show-stealing role as their nasty, nasty boss. This is a "black comedy" in the very best tradition of the both words. The subject matter is bleak, but the film has some big, big laughs. The dialogue between the two killers is some of the best I’ve heard in a long time. A final point – If you watch this film, you WILL want to visit Bruges. Highly recommended.

Captain Newman, MD – Not bad comedy from 1963 is set in an Army psyche ward, and actually has something to say about post-combat mental illness. Gregory Peck is the title MD, and Tony Curtis is his assistant – a kind of cross between Radar O’Reilly and Milo Minderbinder. Eddie Albert and Robert Duvall have roles as two of Newman’s more challenging cases. Like I said, it’s an OK movie, but I wish it taken a more serious path, because the comedic portions get in the way a bit. A lukewarm recommendation for this one.

The Marquee

Room at the Top

Cool

Gary Cooper

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Moments of Distinction

No commentary really necessary - The great final passages of Five Easy Pieces.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

My Week of Movie Watching

Sleeping Dogs – This early effort from Kiwi director Roger Donaldson is a fantasy detailing the imposition of martial law in New Zealand. Sam Neill stars as a troubled writer who finds himself radicalized against his intentions. The great Warren Oates has a small role as the leader of a gang of American mercenaries. This one starts from an interesting premise, but falls short for me. The film’s plot – About how the government brutally cracks down on pro-union forces is presented with all the subtlety of a jackhammer pulverizing a walnut. Not really recommended.

Smash Palace – Another early Donaldson film, this one about an obsessive race driver who manages to drive his wife into the arms of his best friend. The performances are mostly good, especially Bruno Lawrence as the racer, but this film didn’t quite pull itself over the hump. The payoff at the end looks promising, but doesn’t quite deliver.

The Postman Always Rings Twice – This was the John Garfield / Lana Turner one from 1946. I know this is considered the definitive version (At least the definitive Hollywood version – The great Obsessione from Luchino Visconti is the best), but I consider the Jack Nicholson / Jessica Lange version to be better. Nothing against Lana - She sexy here, but the 1981 film is better able to illustrate the primal lust which this story requires. Due to the period, the ‘46 version couldn’t really go there. Still, I recommend it as one of the pillars of the film Noir era.

Le Plaisir – This was my second encounter with the work of Max Ophuls, and there will be more to follow. The title translates as “The Pleasure”, and the film consists of three stories built around the concepts of pleasure – The lengths people will go to achieve it, and the things that keep then separate from it. The bulk of the film is taken by the middle portion, in which the denizens of a respectable brothel venture into the country to attend a first communion. This chapter contrasts the women of the night encountering the holy ceremony of the communion and the so-called respectable men of the city turning on each other without the calming influence of the women. The real strengths of the film however, are the short opening and closing chapters. In the first, a stricken gala attendee is revealed to be an elderly man in disguise, who cannot bear the fact that his life is passing him by. In the conclusion, a seemingly idyllic marriage between an artist and his model turns to mistrust, violence, and attempted suicide. This is a great film, and Ophuls’ use of costume, music, and sweeping camera shots is masterful. Highly recommended.

Sex

Lauren Hutton

The Newsstand

March 4, 1963

Monday, August 29, 2011

Red Road

Director Andrea Arnolds’ Red Road is the story of a woman who carries a crushing pain inside her, and because of a random encounter feels a compulsion to confront it. It’s a slow movie – There isn’t one instance of what film scholars call exposition: Having one character say something so that WE can understand something is going on. No, Red Road leaks its story out slowly, and then it lowers the boom on us.

When one watches watch Jackie (Kate Dickey) at work, you quietly note that this is lonely way to make a living. Manning a desk in front of a large bank of TV screens, she spies daily on the people of Glasgow as part of Britains vast web of closed circuit cameras. She picks out certain people, like the man who walks his bulldog every day and the cleaning lady rocking out with her headphones. Her little familiar smile makes it s evident that she is familiar with them. She watches them from habit, and always from a distance. That seems to be by choice.

Jackie starts to emerge as a person who is somehow disengaged from everyday life. It’s hard to know why, there’s just something about her that says “loner.” Her apartment doesn’t look like it ever sees company. She has a male co-worker that she has sex with, but it is passionless and abrupt. There is no indication of any real affection between the two.

One day she receives an invitation in the mail to a wedding, and we see the first clues as to what makes her tick. The wedding is of a sister-in-law, and Jackie is plainly uncomfortable here. There’s a little conversation with an older man, who says “We only want to say goodbye to him proper.” It’s not spelled out, but we can guess who this is – Her ex-father in law. So she was married to his son, who is now dead. The threads start to come together a bit.

Then, one evening at work, Jackie spies Clyde (Tony Curran) on her video screen, and everything changes. It’s evident that this is someone that she knows, but from where? Taking advantage of the cameras, she is able to essentially track this man everywhere, including to his home: The scuzzy high-rise apartments that give the film its name. Although the film makes the CC cameras a mere plot device, it also makes a quiet little statement about their existence and use. The Brits have made the decision to forego essential human freedoms in exchange for the appearance of safety. Red Road lays open this idea, and exposes it for all to see, without making judgments about right or wrong.

The melancholy Jackie that we saw at the film’s open is now replaced by one driven by an obsession – The man in the video. No longer content to merely observe, she begins to take an active role. She uses the cameras to establish that the man works for a locksmith, and goes as far as to call his workplace, and ask if they have done a background check on him.

The film only very sparingly doles out clues as to the relationship between Jackie and Clyde, and they are easy to miss. Jackie pulls out a newspaper with his picture on the front page that announces that he has been sentenced to 10 years in jail. She pulls out baby clothes, stuffs then with socks, and hugs them. She gets into bed with 2 cremation urns. These tiny little scenes fill in a lot of the back-story for us.

Jackies pursuit of Clyde takes her right up close, and she eventually meets him. Clyde is an intriguing figure. Our exposure to him has only been through Jackie, and we assume the worst, based on the signals she has given us. To be sure, he is no angel – he’s crude, and profane, but Jackies’ early encounters with him give us a whiff of a human being, as well. We learn that he has a daughter who thinks he is dead. “That’s what her Mom told her.”

Red Road’s cat and mouse game leads to a scene of immense, unsettling power, as Jackie has sex with Clyde. The scene is explicit, and is frankly uncomfortable to watch, knowing what we know about the relationship between the two. On the face of it, it doesn’t make sense that she is there, but the immediate aftermath indicates what her real game is, and suddenly we are forced to re-evaluate what we have just watched. There are at least 2 or 3 agendas happening in this one sequence. She is using the sex against Clyde, yes. She is probably also punishing herself for what she sees as her sins. Is it possible that she enjoys it, as well? Perhaps, at some subterranean level, this is also true. There have been a couple of hints in that direction. This remarkable sequence takes the loyalties that we have built up with these characters, and pulls them apart. We are left without moral bearings.

The film looks to be heading down a road of despair, but it is rescued by another unexpected appearance on Jackies video screen. In one tiny instant, she realizes that she has a piece of common ground with this man who she considered the distillation of evil. The resolution finally comes in a beautifully done encounter between Jackie and Clyde, as they revisit the site where their fates came together. Clyde tells his story of how he made a tragic error, and Jackie about how her last words to her daughter were to “Get out of my sight.” It’s a gorgeous, heart-wrenching scene.

At its root, Red Road is a story about catharsis. Clyde knows that he was responsible for the destruction of a family. Jackie feels that it was because if her that they were put in a position to die. In a perverse way, they are lucky that their paths crossed again. As we see Jackie in the films closing moments, she is different – better. Instead of sitting in front of a screen, she is down on the street with the people. She finally seems at peace. That’s the thing about cauterizing a wound. It’s painful, but in the end, the wound heals.

IMDb

Amazon

Friday, August 26, 2011

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Sex

Monica Vitti smokes.

Monday, July 25, 2011

My Week of Movie Watching

Pale Flower – I consider a bit of an aficionado of Japanese cinema, so I was taken aback when this one showed up as one of Roger Ebert’s “Great Movies”. I had never heard of it. Ebert invokes both Film Noir and the new wave in his review, and as contradictory as those influences sound, he hits the nail on the head. If Antonioni had gone to Japan and made a Noir, this is what he would have come up with. The film revolves around a hit man just out of a spell in prison for a murder. He falls under the spell of a mysterious gambling woman who seems to only be engaged by danger. There’s little dialogue, and you have to be a little patient with the film, as it settles into its tale of two people whose sexual circuitry is all messed up. The pay-off is worth it.

Prime Cut – Lee Marvin as a Chicago leg-breaker sent to collect money from a crooked meat packer/sex slave dealer played by Gene Hackman. I’m not really sure why this one went so wrong for me. Marvin is a mobster, but if you entered the movie 15 minutes in, you might never deduce that. Hackman, as great an actor as he is, never really convinces as a heavy (Hell, his characters’ name is Mary Ann!) I liked the way the action all occurs in sunny Kansas farm country, instead of a city, and there is a well-staged shoot-out in a field of sunflowers, but overall this one disappointed me.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Thursday, July 07, 2011

Sex

Linda Darnell

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Saturday, June 04, 2011

Sex

Gloria Grahame and Cyd Charisse

Thursday, June 02, 2011

Between the Covers

Xavier and Elijah are a couple of young Cree from the forests of Northern Ontario. They’ve grown up together in a life of hunting and fishing – Living off the land. Xavier is shy and backwards. He is a ‘bush” Indian, and barely speaks English. Elijah is worldlier – He went to an English school, and is cheeky and talkative. Despite their differences, they share a seemingly unbreakable bond. When these two enlist to fight in World War I, it’s an adventure- a lark. How little they realize…

I’ve not read or seen much that does justice to capturing the numbing, sick-in-the-pit-of the stomach fear of being in the middle of combat, but Three Day Road captures it perfectly. It’s all here: The mud and trenches, the blood and entrails…and the fact that the guy trying to kill you is right over there.

The two boys turn out to be natural snipers, and Elijah quickly evolves from an outcast to a kind of mythical killing machine. As his kill total skyrockets, so does his fascination with the hunt of his quarry. His obsession begins to take on dark overtones, as he begins to collect the scalps of his victims. I was reminded of Cormac McCarthy’s great novel Blood Meridian in this book, as both novels deal with characters that are adrift in a world where mercy is absent and brutality is celebrated.

Xavier, on the other hand, struggles hard to maintain his humanity in this inferno. His love for Elijah is tempered with sadness and disgust at his friends’ transformation into a monster. Xavier grows to hate the war, and ultimately the one he loves. The novels' conclusion may be somewhat inevitable, but it's the journey that's the thing, not the destination.

Note of interest: The story is influenced by the career of real-life Ojibwe sniper Francis Pegahmagabow, who was credited with over 300 kills in WWI. He is actually mentioned in this book as “Peggy.”

I watch the beast pull up and give one last great sigh, as if it is very tired from the long journey, smoke pouring from its sides. People wave from the windows and people on the ground wave back, just as I have watched them do for days. Then men and women and children who have arrived start stepping down into the arms of others. I see a few soldiers and search among them for Elijah's face with his sly grin. The crowd begins to thin, and once again I do not see an Indian soldier with one leg.

I am turning to leave when I see through one of the windows the silhouette of a man inside. He walks slowly along the aisle, on crutches, in a uniform, a small bag slung over his shoulder. I step away from the shadow of the wall. He wears a hat, just like the wemistikoshiw do, but this one is of their army and I cannot see his face for his looking down as he slowly makes his way down the steps on his crutches. He is an old man, I think. So skinny. This cannot be the Elijah I know. One leg of his pants is pinned up and hangs down a little way, empty.

When he is off the steps I begin to back away, thinking it is not him. He looks up and I see his face, thin and pale, high cheekbones, and ears sticking out from beneath his hat. I stumble a little, the blood rushing away from my head. The ghost of my nephew Xavier looks at me.

He sees me at the same moment, and I watch as his eyes take a long time to register what they see, but when they do he begins to rock back and forth on his crutches. He falls to the ground. I rush up to him, kneel beside him, grab his warm hands. He is no ghost. I hold him to me. His heart beats weakly. I am struck suddenly that he is very ill.

"Nephew," I whisper. "You are home. You are home."

Sunday, May 22, 2011