Weir/Pakula/Von Trier/Hardin

Films:

Gallipolli (Peter Weir, 1981)

Weir makes tripe, but a special kind of tripe that’s recognized by some as mysterious or distinctive. To me, the guy’s incapable of locating anything of interest in his material—I was thinking about looking up whether he had a hand in his screenplays, before realizing I didn’t give a shit. Hearing peers talk about the film’s portrayal of the depth of “mateship” was a particularly bitter laugh: it’s as if they actually believe Australians were born with some neurological mechanism that allows men to, y’know, just be closer with each other than we yanks could ever manage.

All the President’s Men (Alan J. Pakula, 1976)

A good rejoinder to any who claim that recreating reality results in dramatic inertia, and a tightrope act of dramatic tension, eschewing the lapses into convention of Klute for investigational rigor. The journalists are a little insecure, a little inarticulate, a little sadistic, but they’re also different: Redford is sincere (to a fault), and Hoffman is conniving (to a fault). One is never sure whether to want them to stop hounding witnesses, or root for something explosive: both ends are kept so hushed and omnipresent.

Dancer in the Dark (Lars von Trier, 2000)

Bipolar cinema. I’d seen this before, several times, so as I tried to explain my problems with it to a professor with an uber-placid facial expression, it was painful in an I’m-vicariously-disillusioning-my-14-year-old-self type of way. But I did enjoy the unenjoyability of the experience of watching it. (It’s complicated, but the sensation of boredom is actually kind of therapeutic at the moment.) Strangest of all to think that I once found Bjork attractive. Or did I? I probably did.

Song:

"It'll Never Happen Again" (Tim Hardin)

Wouldn't feel out of place on After the Gold Rush. And AtGR is one of my favorite albums--Hardin is no Young c. 1970, for me, but his best work is on that level. Other faves: "Reason to Believe," "Black Sheep Boy."

Recent viewings, meaning more recent than last month.

In light of some recent personal troubles—in short, the title of my website came disturbingly close to having an unintended double meaning—I’m trying to write more, but the old 100-point system having become arbitrary to the point of meaninglessness, all I can bring myself to do is, y’know, write about the movies. I’m not trying particularly hard here—hell, I don’t have time to—but we’ll see if I can manage something verging on coherence.

Deep End (Jerzy Skolimowski, 1970)

Mike is at once reasonable and freakishly immature in his attitudes towards sex. The high point is the initial encounter with a woman in the bathhouse, in which he flails like a maniac but obviously tries to keep his composure all the while, and the woman makes a subtle shift from trying to seduce him to not caring whether he enjoys the experience. Skolimowski is the rare comic director who explores the possibilities of a scene rather than relying on behavioral exaggeration: when he watches the policeman accept a drink from the porn theater operator, it’s less an indication that the operator is screwed or that the police force is corrupt than that even bad-guy cops like G&Ts.

Klute (Alan Pakula, 1971)

Like how Bree’s attitude—she’s okay, because the guys are nervous, and she isn’t—runs counter to the very conventions the film is built upon, viz. perverse killer gradually succumbs to preying on prostitutes. Also like how Sutherland’s nice guy is also a little weird and withdrawn. But I’m disappointed that that weirdness is divorced from his sexuality, which seems utterly conventional, but that’s a perhaps necessary sop to audiences expecting an ordinary romance. Worse as it goes along, collapsing under the weight of romance and thriller conventions, but even the final villain speech is a surprisingly low-key and contemplative rumination on mistakes made and mistakes to follow.

Lola Montes (Max Ophuls, 1955)

A contradiction: a garish, romantic study of utter emotional isolation. Lola seems as incapable of finding strength in the wisdom of an older man as she does in finding joy in the free spirit of a younger man–and even when she seems close to a psychic match, e.g. Liszt, there’s a constant sense of up-and-down. We’re there with her, wistfully observing the barriers of incompatibility and trying our best to break through them.

Night and Day (Hong Sang-soo, 2008)

For some reason this made me think of Candide—maybe in the protagonist’s persistent, delusional belief that he can suddenly overcome his faults. But Hong doesn’t exactly let it become a running gag: sometimes, the contrast between intention and follow-through is blatant enough to funny, and at other times his dissipation seems to mirror Hong’s. Inchoate and rambling alongside Hong’s features, but I’d like to see it again—maybe there’s more here.

Gomorrah (Matteo Garrone, 2008)

Liked it, esp. the way Garrone blunts a sense of resolution—the final scene is like if Rossellini took on a gangster movie, at least in terms of pacing. I’m with the detractors who are confused as to how the various storylines overlap—I’d imagine that reading the book would be helpful.

Going home early...

Will try to write something substantive when I get back. Here were my faves:

1. Lorna's Silence
2. Happy-Go-Lucky
3. Revanche
4. Synecdoche, New York
5. Treeless Mountain
6. Acne
7. All Around Us
8. A Christmas Tale

Days 5-6

pro

Synecdoche, New York

mixed

Suspension

con

When It Was Blue
Tokyo Sonata
Summer Hours

CON

Hunger

Day 4

PRO:

Lorna's Silence (Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne)

pro:

Treeless Mountain (So Yong Kim)
All Around Us (Ryosuke Hashiguchi)

con:

Daytime Drinking (Noh Young-seok)

Days 1-3

What I've made it to so far:

PRO:

Revanche (Gotz Spielmann) [I've heard Spielmann compared to Haneke and Seidl, but he's clearly more interested in thriller conventions than either. He's also an expert at undermining them.]

pro:

Acne (Federico Veiroj) [Light and nostalgic, but there's something willfully unconventional about the protag's coming of age, and Veiroj's approach to characterization.]

mixed:

It's Not Me, I Swear! (Philippe Falardeau) [Sort of "Hal Ashby does Home Alone," but not quite as subversive as one would like.]
Le Dernier Maquis (Rabah Ameur-Zaimeche) [I'm a bit baffled by this one.]

con:

Me and Orson Welles (Richard Linklater) [I'm a bit non-plussed by this one.]
Wendy and Lucy (Kelly Reichardt) [De Sica-esque. Some people will think that's a good thing.]
Delta (Kornel Mundruczo) [Mundruczo has a good eye, but is terminally adverse to humor.]

2008 Preliminary Schedule

Here's how it's looking, with some wishful thinking:

4th
Acne

5th
Revanche
Delta
It’s Not Me, I Swear!
Wendy and Lucy

6th
Appaloosa
Dioses
Me and Orson Welles
Dernier Maquis
Pontypool

7th
Serbis
Treeless Mountain
All Around Us
Silence of Lorna
Daytime Drinking

8th
Hunger
New York, I Love You
Summer Hours
The Terence Davies Trilogy
When It Was Blue

9th
Voy a explotar
Two-Legged Horse
24 City
Tokyo Sonata
Synecdoche, New York

10th
Happy-Go-Lucky
Conte de noel
Four Nights With Anna
Je veux voir
Birdsong

11th
Gomorrah
Brothers Bloom
Barrage contre la pacifique
35 Rhums

12th
Che
Liverpool
Hooked
Sut

13th
Perfect Day
Adela
Under the Tree
Miracle at St. Anna