Le Corbeau
*****/5
Henri-Georges Clouzot
The French continue to casually make beautiful films with important social messages. I guess not "continue" since this film is from the '40s, but "consistently".
The story is of an anonymous informant who sends exposing letters to every person in a small town. The infrastructure and relationships crumble as treachery and secrets come to light. The mystery of "Who is 'Le Corbeau'?" is not nearly as thrilling as the human drama, which explores how easily people can be swayed to keep themselves safe. It was made as a response to the occupation of France, and therefore the comments are rather subtle, but not easy to miss.
I first thought of recommending The Exterminating Angel, which is one of my favorite films ever, but I'm not sure if that is the strongest connection I can make. Apparently, Godard's Weekend was inspired by The Exterminating Angel, so maybe I'll save the recommendation for that.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Passion of Joan of Arc
The Passion of Joan of Arc
****/5
Carl Theodor Dreyer
I feel like Dreyer should have waited like 2 years to make this movie. It was really dialogue heavy, which is not necessarily a problem itself. But the fact that the actor's performances were interrupted by long intertitles was somewhat of a detriment to their intense performances. Had this picture been in sound, it could have been distracting to actually hear their words, though.
Even so, this movie is intense. It is an unyeilding portrait of suffering, specifically religious suffering, which is the most extreme.
As far as that goes, though, I have to admit, I liked Day of Wrath a whole lot better. The scenes of religious persecution obviously owe a lot to Joan of Arc, but the themes of suffering, religiosity, and human urges are better expresseed, I feel. There is also the advantage of Day of Wrath telling a story you don't know the end to.
Dreyer's trademark spare sets, atmospheric lighting, and haunting imagery are pervasive. He is one of my favorite filmmakers and consistently succeeds to bring chilling, deep stories to the screen.
Recommendations:
Day of Wrath
****/5
Carl Theodor Dreyer
I feel like Dreyer should have waited like 2 years to make this movie. It was really dialogue heavy, which is not necessarily a problem itself. But the fact that the actor's performances were interrupted by long intertitles was somewhat of a detriment to their intense performances. Had this picture been in sound, it could have been distracting to actually hear their words, though.
Even so, this movie is intense. It is an unyeilding portrait of suffering, specifically religious suffering, which is the most extreme.
As far as that goes, though, I have to admit, I liked Day of Wrath a whole lot better. The scenes of religious persecution obviously owe a lot to Joan of Arc, but the themes of suffering, religiosity, and human urges are better expresseed, I feel. There is also the advantage of Day of Wrath telling a story you don't know the end to.
Dreyer's trademark spare sets, atmospheric lighting, and haunting imagery are pervasive. He is one of my favorite filmmakers and consistently succeeds to bring chilling, deep stories to the screen.
Recommendations:
Day of Wrath
I Bury The Living
I Bury the Living
***/5
********SPOILERS********
This was a very strange low budget horror flick. A prominent guy, Kraft, is newly appointed as chairman to run the cemetery in a small town. He accidentally mixes up the colored pins used to mark on a map whether a plot is purchased or full. The people he places the black pin for then show up dead. He soon descends into a madness where he becomes convinced that he has a power to kill anyone whose pin he has access to. In the end, it turns out the elderly cemetery keeper (McKee) killed them all because he didn't want to retire.
There are a lot of plot holes here. Firstly, every person died in a different way, as pointed out by the police. There is a line at the end that indicated the people all died of fright before he could strangle them, but then why did one have a cerebral hemorrhage and another have heart failure? Another question that arises is why didn't McKee commit similarly motivated murders when Kraft's predecessors made the same mistake in placing the pins? It wasn't entirely clear why he committed the murders in the first place. Also, how did McKee even end up dying? Are we to consider that perhaps Kraft does have some kind of power?
Despite this, there is a lot to like in this film. The distorted sequences are surreal and creative, very similar to the dreams in The Elephant Man. They are well thought out and avoid seeming like other “weird” dream sequences, which often have a very rigid way of being. My favorite detail of this film is the “killer” map itself. At times when Kraft feels he is most out of control, the map glows and is larger than in reality. At one point it takes up the whole wall, backlit. The glow becomes brighter and brighter until Kraft is standing silhouetted against a white screen as he puts a gun to his head. The moment is intense. The next time you see the map, someone else is in the room, and it returns to its normal proportions. All this is handled smoothly and skillfully, not unlike the first shot in the film. Credits roll over a general texture, much like in an Ozu film. Only, in this film, once the credits are done, the camera pulls back and you realize the texture is that of a wall, the wall around the cemetery. The shot is paced well and not excessive or overly dramatized. It is smooth and engaging, showing you the space that the film will take place in.
Overall I liked the film, but I feel like there was a real missed opportunity in explaining why McKee did anything. What I think they were getting at, with all the comments on his devotion to the cemetery, was that when he saw the pins marking the grave as full, he took it upon himself to make sure the map was correct. If the map could be wrong, what good was the map, and therefore the cemetery? At least, this is the answer I like. In the end, when Kraft tries to make up for his deeds by switching the black pins for white, McKee goes about making the corrections, digging up the bodies.
This obsession with consistency and a perceived truth is an idea I find myself liking more and more. Perhaps it has something to do with my own obsessive tendencies. I like the idea that he is so obsessed with this map that he would rather murder someone to fill their grave than change the pin to its proper white. It is a similar idea to one touched on in a comic called Rip Hunter: Time Master. It's a fun 60s comic with some unintentionally fascinating aspects. Much like McKee in this film, Rip Hunter is obsessed with the truth of history. His job is to go back in time and document important events on film. Constantly he screws up and has to defy the apparent course of things to make sure history is the way he “knows” it is. A good example is an issue where Rip realizes that Caesar is supposed to be in Egypt the next day, but according to reports, he is in India. Rip uses his ship to remove Caesar from what he was doing and bring him to the “proper” place. Because of his obsession with keeping history correct, he creates situations that never could have taken place naturally, creating the history he knows and loves. What would happen if Rip were ever to realize his folly, could be potentially crushing to him. But one of the interesting things about a character like this is the inability to see it any way but theirs.
Recommendations:
Diary of a Madman
***/5
********SPOILERS********
This was a very strange low budget horror flick. A prominent guy, Kraft, is newly appointed as chairman to run the cemetery in a small town. He accidentally mixes up the colored pins used to mark on a map whether a plot is purchased or full. The people he places the black pin for then show up dead. He soon descends into a madness where he becomes convinced that he has a power to kill anyone whose pin he has access to. In the end, it turns out the elderly cemetery keeper (McKee) killed them all because he didn't want to retire.
There are a lot of plot holes here. Firstly, every person died in a different way, as pointed out by the police. There is a line at the end that indicated the people all died of fright before he could strangle them, but then why did one have a cerebral hemorrhage and another have heart failure? Another question that arises is why didn't McKee commit similarly motivated murders when Kraft's predecessors made the same mistake in placing the pins? It wasn't entirely clear why he committed the murders in the first place. Also, how did McKee even end up dying? Are we to consider that perhaps Kraft does have some kind of power?
Despite this, there is a lot to like in this film. The distorted sequences are surreal and creative, very similar to the dreams in The Elephant Man. They are well thought out and avoid seeming like other “weird” dream sequences, which often have a very rigid way of being. My favorite detail of this film is the “killer” map itself. At times when Kraft feels he is most out of control, the map glows and is larger than in reality. At one point it takes up the whole wall, backlit. The glow becomes brighter and brighter until Kraft is standing silhouetted against a white screen as he puts a gun to his head. The moment is intense. The next time you see the map, someone else is in the room, and it returns to its normal proportions. All this is handled smoothly and skillfully, not unlike the first shot in the film. Credits roll over a general texture, much like in an Ozu film. Only, in this film, once the credits are done, the camera pulls back and you realize the texture is that of a wall, the wall around the cemetery. The shot is paced well and not excessive or overly dramatized. It is smooth and engaging, showing you the space that the film will take place in.
Overall I liked the film, but I feel like there was a real missed opportunity in explaining why McKee did anything. What I think they were getting at, with all the comments on his devotion to the cemetery, was that when he saw the pins marking the grave as full, he took it upon himself to make sure the map was correct. If the map could be wrong, what good was the map, and therefore the cemetery? At least, this is the answer I like. In the end, when Kraft tries to make up for his deeds by switching the black pins for white, McKee goes about making the corrections, digging up the bodies.
This obsession with consistency and a perceived truth is an idea I find myself liking more and more. Perhaps it has something to do with my own obsessive tendencies. I like the idea that he is so obsessed with this map that he would rather murder someone to fill their grave than change the pin to its proper white. It is a similar idea to one touched on in a comic called Rip Hunter: Time Master. It's a fun 60s comic with some unintentionally fascinating aspects. Much like McKee in this film, Rip Hunter is obsessed with the truth of history. His job is to go back in time and document important events on film. Constantly he screws up and has to defy the apparent course of things to make sure history is the way he “knows” it is. A good example is an issue where Rip realizes that Caesar is supposed to be in Egypt the next day, but according to reports, he is in India. Rip uses his ship to remove Caesar from what he was doing and bring him to the “proper” place. Because of his obsession with keeping history correct, he creates situations that never could have taken place naturally, creating the history he knows and loves. What would happen if Rip were ever to realize his folly, could be potentially crushing to him. But one of the interesting things about a character like this is the inability to see it any way but theirs.
Recommendations:
Diary of a Madman
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Ring, In All Its Forms
********SPOILERS (like there's anyone who hasn't seen The Ring)********
So I have this friend who is obsessed with The Ring. He's a big Japanese horror nut in general, but his specialty is The Ring Series. He's seen pretty much everything, and, little by little, Stu and I are catching up. There's a lot more in the series than you know, and he is the sole possessor of some of it.
I had been a longtime fan of The Ring when it came out in theaters. I had not seen the Japanese version yet, but I have to say that I think the American one is scarier. Number one, it makes more sense. I think the weakest thing about Japanese horror is the seemingly pervasive idea that "It doesn't have to make sense...it's creepy!" And definitely Ringu falls prey to that. The introduction of the psychic plotline an hour or more into the movie threw me for a loop. In The Ring, the writers added a lot of things that weren't in the original, but it was mostly for the purpose of having more things make sense. The video is scarier in the first movie partly because more of its images come back. One of the best moments in the film is when the lid of the well is closing down on Naomi Watts and you "see the ring". It gives "The Ring" a less metaphorical meaning than just the cycle of this curse. Which I approve of. Another thing that makes the American film scarier is the detail of the girl's hand coming out of the well. They hold back on that moment longer than in Ringu, making it a better surprise. Also, in The Ring, when she comes out of the tv, she has VHS tracking lines all over her, which is pretty freaking sweet. It's a nice touch.
Just this week, though, I saw Ringu 2. Not only does it clear up nearly every unanswered question in Ringu, it makes a ton of sense, explaining things that you had already conceded to, like how the tape was created in the first place. That answer made me really happy, and I'll hold back just in case someone wants to see it. It has its share of senselessness, but in general made more sense and stayed on track better than a lot of Japanese horror films I've seen. It starts up 10 days after the first film, and they revisit most of the locations and bring back all the actors excluding the little boy. Even with years between the filming of the two, the details are all there. Lesser characters from the first film have to explore its consequences and dig deeper than the other characters could. It is fascinating and works almost like a second half. You could watch the two films back to back with an "Intermission" title, and I think it could work. I saw the two within a couple weeks of each other, and it didn't seem too redundant. As Stu said, "That was one of the most necessary sequels ever."
Good job.
This does not entirely document the films of The Ring. First there was a book with a very different storyline. Then there was a made-for-tv movie referred to as Ring: Kanzen-ban. My friend Jared tracked down a tv recording of this film, had it translated and subtitled. He is one of the only people to own a non-Japanese viewable version of this film. Anyone else who has it bought it from Jared. This movie is a pleasant surprise, more of a mystery than a horror flick. It goes in some weird places and is a nice comparison to the later versions.
There is also a Japanese sequel, Rasen, that was so bad they pretended it didn't exist and made another sequel. There's also a Korean remake called The Ring Virus, a television series, Ringu: Saishûshô, and a prequel, Ringu 0. I have yet to see any of these or the American sequel.
All in all an interesting franchise, although I think I prefer the American movie, simply because it's scarier. They're horror movies, after all.
So I have this friend who is obsessed with The Ring. He's a big Japanese horror nut in general, but his specialty is The Ring Series. He's seen pretty much everything, and, little by little, Stu and I are catching up. There's a lot more in the series than you know, and he is the sole possessor of some of it.
I had been a longtime fan of The Ring when it came out in theaters. I had not seen the Japanese version yet, but I have to say that I think the American one is scarier. Number one, it makes more sense. I think the weakest thing about Japanese horror is the seemingly pervasive idea that "It doesn't have to make sense...it's creepy!" And definitely Ringu falls prey to that. The introduction of the psychic plotline an hour or more into the movie threw me for a loop. In The Ring, the writers added a lot of things that weren't in the original, but it was mostly for the purpose of having more things make sense. The video is scarier in the first movie partly because more of its images come back. One of the best moments in the film is when the lid of the well is closing down on Naomi Watts and you "see the ring". It gives "The Ring" a less metaphorical meaning than just the cycle of this curse. Which I approve of. Another thing that makes the American film scarier is the detail of the girl's hand coming out of the well. They hold back on that moment longer than in Ringu, making it a better surprise. Also, in The Ring, when she comes out of the tv, she has VHS tracking lines all over her, which is pretty freaking sweet. It's a nice touch.
Just this week, though, I saw Ringu 2. Not only does it clear up nearly every unanswered question in Ringu, it makes a ton of sense, explaining things that you had already conceded to, like how the tape was created in the first place. That answer made me really happy, and I'll hold back just in case someone wants to see it. It has its share of senselessness, but in general made more sense and stayed on track better than a lot of Japanese horror films I've seen. It starts up 10 days after the first film, and they revisit most of the locations and bring back all the actors excluding the little boy. Even with years between the filming of the two, the details are all there. Lesser characters from the first film have to explore its consequences and dig deeper than the other characters could. It is fascinating and works almost like a second half. You could watch the two films back to back with an "Intermission" title, and I think it could work. I saw the two within a couple weeks of each other, and it didn't seem too redundant. As Stu said, "That was one of the most necessary sequels ever."
Good job.
This does not entirely document the films of The Ring. First there was a book with a very different storyline. Then there was a made-for-tv movie referred to as Ring: Kanzen-ban. My friend Jared tracked down a tv recording of this film, had it translated and subtitled. He is one of the only people to own a non-Japanese viewable version of this film. Anyone else who has it bought it from Jared. This movie is a pleasant surprise, more of a mystery than a horror flick. It goes in some weird places and is a nice comparison to the later versions.
There is also a Japanese sequel, Rasen, that was so bad they pretended it didn't exist and made another sequel. There's also a Korean remake called The Ring Virus, a television series, Ringu: Saishûshô, and a prequel, Ringu 0. I have yet to see any of these or the American sequel.
All in all an interesting franchise, although I think I prefer the American movie, simply because it's scarier. They're horror movies, after all.
Friday, September 11, 2009
The Kid Brother/First week of school
The Kid Brother
*****/5
with Harold Lloyd
It is a testament to the intelligence of my film history teacher that this was the first film he showed us. Knowing that many of his students had either not seen silent films before or did not think they liked them, he chose one of the most accessible silent films he could think of.
I think now would be a good time to point out that my school recently came into possession of an actual movie theater. So all of my film history screenings will be taking place on a 40 ft wide screen with stadium seating and the best quality print available. This being said, it was nearly overwhelming to sit in the dark theater, the projector turning on, and red velvet curtains drawing open to reveal a pristine print of this 1927 film (actually the DVD version). It was nostalgia for something I've never experienced. I think the curtains did it.
The Kid Brother is totally hilarious. It was the first Harold Lloyd film I'd seen. It had a great sensibility and a lot of impressive visuals, although I wasn't nearly as surprised by its quality as many of my classmates. One of the first comments from the class was that although it was harder to focus on at first, by the end of the movie, he was totally absorbed and into the film. So far, most of the students in my year seem to be a lot less pretentious than the ones in Stu's year. He was surprised when I told him that student's comment, saying that no one in his film history class would ever admitted to not having a full comprehensive knowledge and appreciation of silent films.
But this class greatly enjoyed the picture, and its final frames were met with compulsive applause from everyone.
The teacher, Gene Stavis, says that the entire first semester of the class will be devoted to silent films, and by using this one to warm the class up, I think it might go easier.
As far as The Kid Brother goes, it was a great comedy with inventive jokes (although by the end, some of the sight gags were a little predictable) and a compelling story. One of my favorite things about it is how basic the story was. In fact, it was almost a hackneyed idea, but it served the comedy very well. I was pretty amused after the film when another student described the plot as "substantive" because it was a very very typical plot. But all of the characters were carefully developed, so it seemed complex. The film also is a great "first" film for students of film history because it contradicts so many of the things that people assume about silent film, as Stavis said. The acting is subtle, the slapstick is believable, the plot is compelling and easy to follow.
Recommendations:
The Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection
*****/5
with Harold Lloyd
It is a testament to the intelligence of my film history teacher that this was the first film he showed us. Knowing that many of his students had either not seen silent films before or did not think they liked them, he chose one of the most accessible silent films he could think of.
I think now would be a good time to point out that my school recently came into possession of an actual movie theater. So all of my film history screenings will be taking place on a 40 ft wide screen with stadium seating and the best quality print available. This being said, it was nearly overwhelming to sit in the dark theater, the projector turning on, and red velvet curtains drawing open to reveal a pristine print of this 1927 film (actually the DVD version). It was nostalgia for something I've never experienced. I think the curtains did it.
The Kid Brother is totally hilarious. It was the first Harold Lloyd film I'd seen. It had a great sensibility and a lot of impressive visuals, although I wasn't nearly as surprised by its quality as many of my classmates. One of the first comments from the class was that although it was harder to focus on at first, by the end of the movie, he was totally absorbed and into the film. So far, most of the students in my year seem to be a lot less pretentious than the ones in Stu's year. He was surprised when I told him that student's comment, saying that no one in his film history class would ever admitted to not having a full comprehensive knowledge and appreciation of silent films.
But this class greatly enjoyed the picture, and its final frames were met with compulsive applause from everyone.
The teacher, Gene Stavis, says that the entire first semester of the class will be devoted to silent films, and by using this one to warm the class up, I think it might go easier.
As far as The Kid Brother goes, it was a great comedy with inventive jokes (although by the end, some of the sight gags were a little predictable) and a compelling story. One of my favorite things about it is how basic the story was. In fact, it was almost a hackneyed idea, but it served the comedy very well. I was pretty amused after the film when another student described the plot as "substantive" because it was a very very typical plot. But all of the characters were carefully developed, so it seemed complex. The film also is a great "first" film for students of film history because it contradicts so many of the things that people assume about silent film, as Stavis said. The acting is subtle, the slapstick is believable, the plot is compelling and easy to follow.
Recommendations:
The Harold Lloyd Comedy Collection
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Le Samouraï
Le Samouraï
*****/5
Jean-Pierre Melville
*******SPOILERS********
This is certainly one of my favorite films that I have seen this year. Meticulously crafted by Melville to exemplify his concept of the gangster, this film has an amazing sense of depth. The camera work is beyond compare. Watch for the camera as Jef's eyes in the first nightclub scene. Also watch for the continuity of the workman's light in the garage reflecting off Jef's car.
Alain Delon is very powerful in this role, conveying emotions with the slightest flinch of his face (see the 2nd car stealing scene - the disappointment on his face when the first key doesn't work.) He is the very model of Melville's gangster - cool, controlled, wearing a pale raincoat, and having a sixth sense for danger and plots. Beyond this facade, we get a view into Jef's personal life. He has nothing except for a bird, a place to sleep, and the materials to dress a wound. His kitchen is in his bathroom, his drawers are empty. In order to become a staunch contract killer, one must relinquish everything. This is an idea reflected in Melville's Army of Shadows, which I had the pleasure of seeing during its 2006 first American theatrical release. In that film, Mathilde is warned that her connection to her family will be her downfall, and it is. That is another film for review, although, considering how emotional I'm getting just thinking about it, I might not be up to the challenge.
One problem I have with this film is not with the film itself, but how people will describe it. "A hitman, Jef Costello..." "A contract killer..."
The fact that Jef is a contract killer is not something the audience knows for about 30 minutes. He gets out of bed. He puts on his hat. He steals a car. He sets up his alibi. He kills a man. He is seen. He is questioned, questioned, questioned. He is released. He evades the police tail. He goes to an elevated train station. Only at this point do we find out why he even did it. It's part of the genius of the film. Taking tips from Hitchcock (as Melville often did), the film gives us our murderer as our sympathetic character. We know he did it, but we don't know why. Once we find out, it seems so natural - we've seen him try to avoid capture the entire movie. So people don't even remember there was a point at which the audience did not know Jef's nature. It spoils the surprise.
My production teacher, Zoran, gave a talk about Melville's films last year. He made an interesting observation. In Melville, the relationship between the criminal and police is always stronger than the relationships shared with women. It is a much different approach than American pictures. Even in a noir crime film, the man takes the case for the girl.
Another thing that makes this film incredible is its tightness. Every location is revisited, allowing the audience to comfortably observe and be drawn in by the characters, instead of trying to figure out how close this place is to another, etc. The metro chase scene was another revisitation, this time from a film I can't remember the name of. But a man is taking various buses along the countryside, the signposts visible behind him in every shot. The flaw with this is you have to already be familiar with France's geography to understand. Melville learned from this, and in Le Samourai, provides a map. Even the cars that Jef steals are echoed, only the second one is black, indicating that he is without hope. With Melville, nothing is accidental. Zoran points out that Melville often includes a "mark of death" in his films - the point at which the audience can be certain the character will not succeed. After stealing the black car, Jef agrees that he will not come back to the garage anymore. He knows and we know that his time is up. This is precision that one does not find in many other filmmakers' work.
The last thing I will say about Le Samourai (besides WATCH IT) is a comment and theory on the opening shot. The camera is still, distant, and objective as the credits roll over the shot. It is a bedroom. Not until the man in the bed takes a drag on his cigarette do you even notice he was there. You wonder how you could have missed him. The credits end. Suddenly, the camera starts rocking back and forth in a dolly zoom (commonly called the "Psycho Shot", even though it actually was invented for Vertigo). The frame appears to widen and deepen all at once. Then it stops, leaving you with an optical illusion of a stretched room. Then, the man gets off the bed.
Now this is the strangest shot in the film. It doesn't seem to have a clear motivation or explanation. I was thinking about the nature of the dolly zoom. Typically it is employed to be the cinematic equivalent of a sinking feeling in your stomach. In Vertigo, it is used when Scottie looks down the staircase, and becomes terrified at the height. In Jaws, it is used when Chief Brody realizes the entire beach is in immediate danger. Perhaps, in Le Samourai, this shot is the same, although its purpose is obscured by the distant, objective camera. As Jef lays on the bed, he gets a sinking in his stomach. It is his criminal's sixth sense telling him that today something will go wrong.
Just my thoughts on that opening shot.
Although it does pose the question of turning objective and subjective shots into each other. I would say going from subjective to objective is much easier. In Lost, it happens all the time. A character turns his head to see something, cut to a shot that pans to match his head movement and show what he sees, character enters the frame at the end of the pan. It's interesting. It is also done in Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors, which is one of my favorite movies ever. I also saw that in the theater, with a nice new film print.
But how do you go from objective to subjective? I suppose you could move the camera like it's someone walking, but that's awfully corny. Perhaps the realization of subjectivity can come in the following shot, but I feel it would be easy to miss that. (Example: Wide shot down a narrow hallway. Cut to a man looking around the corner of the hallway. Wouldn't it just seem like the shot of the man was a shot of the man? This is an interesting question about film grammar.)
Perhaps I will experiment with this idea a little and see where it takes me.
Recommendations:
Army of Shadows
Le Circe Rouge
*****/5
Jean-Pierre Melville
*******SPOILERS********
This is certainly one of my favorite films that I have seen this year. Meticulously crafted by Melville to exemplify his concept of the gangster, this film has an amazing sense of depth. The camera work is beyond compare. Watch for the camera as Jef's eyes in the first nightclub scene. Also watch for the continuity of the workman's light in the garage reflecting off Jef's car.
Alain Delon is very powerful in this role, conveying emotions with the slightest flinch of his face (see the 2nd car stealing scene - the disappointment on his face when the first key doesn't work.) He is the very model of Melville's gangster - cool, controlled, wearing a pale raincoat, and having a sixth sense for danger and plots. Beyond this facade, we get a view into Jef's personal life. He has nothing except for a bird, a place to sleep, and the materials to dress a wound. His kitchen is in his bathroom, his drawers are empty. In order to become a staunch contract killer, one must relinquish everything. This is an idea reflected in Melville's Army of Shadows, which I had the pleasure of seeing during its 2006 first American theatrical release. In that film, Mathilde is warned that her connection to her family will be her downfall, and it is. That is another film for review, although, considering how emotional I'm getting just thinking about it, I might not be up to the challenge.
One problem I have with this film is not with the film itself, but how people will describe it. "A hitman, Jef Costello..." "A contract killer..."
The fact that Jef is a contract killer is not something the audience knows for about 30 minutes. He gets out of bed. He puts on his hat. He steals a car. He sets up his alibi. He kills a man. He is seen. He is questioned, questioned, questioned. He is released. He evades the police tail. He goes to an elevated train station. Only at this point do we find out why he even did it. It's part of the genius of the film. Taking tips from Hitchcock (as Melville often did), the film gives us our murderer as our sympathetic character. We know he did it, but we don't know why. Once we find out, it seems so natural - we've seen him try to avoid capture the entire movie. So people don't even remember there was a point at which the audience did not know Jef's nature. It spoils the surprise.
My production teacher, Zoran, gave a talk about Melville's films last year. He made an interesting observation. In Melville, the relationship between the criminal and police is always stronger than the relationships shared with women. It is a much different approach than American pictures. Even in a noir crime film, the man takes the case for the girl.
Another thing that makes this film incredible is its tightness. Every location is revisited, allowing the audience to comfortably observe and be drawn in by the characters, instead of trying to figure out how close this place is to another, etc. The metro chase scene was another revisitation, this time from a film I can't remember the name of. But a man is taking various buses along the countryside, the signposts visible behind him in every shot. The flaw with this is you have to already be familiar with France's geography to understand. Melville learned from this, and in Le Samourai, provides a map. Even the cars that Jef steals are echoed, only the second one is black, indicating that he is without hope. With Melville, nothing is accidental. Zoran points out that Melville often includes a "mark of death" in his films - the point at which the audience can be certain the character will not succeed. After stealing the black car, Jef agrees that he will not come back to the garage anymore. He knows and we know that his time is up. This is precision that one does not find in many other filmmakers' work.
The last thing I will say about Le Samourai (besides WATCH IT) is a comment and theory on the opening shot. The camera is still, distant, and objective as the credits roll over the shot. It is a bedroom. Not until the man in the bed takes a drag on his cigarette do you even notice he was there. You wonder how you could have missed him. The credits end. Suddenly, the camera starts rocking back and forth in a dolly zoom (commonly called the "Psycho Shot", even though it actually was invented for Vertigo). The frame appears to widen and deepen all at once. Then it stops, leaving you with an optical illusion of a stretched room. Then, the man gets off the bed.
Now this is the strangest shot in the film. It doesn't seem to have a clear motivation or explanation. I was thinking about the nature of the dolly zoom. Typically it is employed to be the cinematic equivalent of a sinking feeling in your stomach. In Vertigo, it is used when Scottie looks down the staircase, and becomes terrified at the height. In Jaws, it is used when Chief Brody realizes the entire beach is in immediate danger. Perhaps, in Le Samourai, this shot is the same, although its purpose is obscured by the distant, objective camera. As Jef lays on the bed, he gets a sinking in his stomach. It is his criminal's sixth sense telling him that today something will go wrong.
Just my thoughts on that opening shot.
Although it does pose the question of turning objective and subjective shots into each other. I would say going from subjective to objective is much easier. In Lost, it happens all the time. A character turns his head to see something, cut to a shot that pans to match his head movement and show what he sees, character enters the frame at the end of the pan. It's interesting. It is also done in Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors, which is one of my favorite movies ever. I also saw that in the theater, with a nice new film print.
But how do you go from objective to subjective? I suppose you could move the camera like it's someone walking, but that's awfully corny. Perhaps the realization of subjectivity can come in the following shot, but I feel it would be easy to miss that. (Example: Wide shot down a narrow hallway. Cut to a man looking around the corner of the hallway. Wouldn't it just seem like the shot of the man was a shot of the man? This is an interesting question about film grammar.)
Perhaps I will experiment with this idea a little and see where it takes me.
Recommendations:
Army of Shadows
Le Circe Rouge
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hiroshima Mon Amour
Hiroshima Mon Amour
*****/5
Alain Resnais
Clearly this film influenced Breathless in the editing and other aspects, although they are two vastly different movies. As Stu put it, the French "get away with murder" when it comes to dialogue. This film amounted to a conversation that was circular and poetic, splashed with images that support or contrast the statements. It gave me such a strange feeling, and I think that was intended. The filmmaker bombards you with opinion and at the same time says nothing to prove one reality over another. At the end, you feel a crushing realization that works as deeply whether you take it metaphorically or not.
I was speaking with Maher this afternoon and was laying out some of my feelings towards films, what I appreciate in contrast to what turns me off. I came to some sort of point about the difference between films that affect your mind, your heart, and your gut. I think I tend to put the mind last when prioritizing these things for myself. Perhaps words affect the mind, images affect the heart, and connotations affect the gut.
Of course this made me think of Werner Herzog, who is probably one of the best filmmakers ever, and certainly one of the best working today. Herzog's films affect your gut first with situations and deep, deep emotions. Even if you watched his films on mute, you feel them in your gut. From your gut they work up and grab your heart. And from there they move to your brain, which tries to make sense of your feelings.
Hiroshima Mon Amour works along these lines as well. Even as dialogue heavy as it is, the story is told through images. The dialogue is almost like a soundtrack for connotations. Less than leaning on for story purposes, the French use voiceover as sort of a mood setter, to capture your attention by insisting on too much information or statements that are vague and poetic. But they never distract, which American voiceovers do. Perhaps French voiceovers are less expository than they seem.
All in all, I think I prefer Hiroshima Mon Amour's ambitions to that of Breathless, but perhaps this will change with time.
Recommendations:
Breathless
*****/5
Alain Resnais
Clearly this film influenced Breathless in the editing and other aspects, although they are two vastly different movies. As Stu put it, the French "get away with murder" when it comes to dialogue. This film amounted to a conversation that was circular and poetic, splashed with images that support or contrast the statements. It gave me such a strange feeling, and I think that was intended. The filmmaker bombards you with opinion and at the same time says nothing to prove one reality over another. At the end, you feel a crushing realization that works as deeply whether you take it metaphorically or not.
I was speaking with Maher this afternoon and was laying out some of my feelings towards films, what I appreciate in contrast to what turns me off. I came to some sort of point about the difference between films that affect your mind, your heart, and your gut. I think I tend to put the mind last when prioritizing these things for myself. Perhaps words affect the mind, images affect the heart, and connotations affect the gut.
Of course this made me think of Werner Herzog, who is probably one of the best filmmakers ever, and certainly one of the best working today. Herzog's films affect your gut first with situations and deep, deep emotions. Even if you watched his films on mute, you feel them in your gut. From your gut they work up and grab your heart. And from there they move to your brain, which tries to make sense of your feelings.
Hiroshima Mon Amour works along these lines as well. Even as dialogue heavy as it is, the story is told through images. The dialogue is almost like a soundtrack for connotations. Less than leaning on for story purposes, the French use voiceover as sort of a mood setter, to capture your attention by insisting on too much information or statements that are vague and poetic. But they never distract, which American voiceovers do. Perhaps French voiceovers are less expository than they seem.
All in all, I think I prefer Hiroshima Mon Amour's ambitions to that of Breathless, but perhaps this will change with time.
Recommendations:
Breathless
Serpico
Serpico
*****/5
Sidney Lumet
On reports that my new editing teacher loves this movie so much he shows about 5 random minutes of it every class, I decided to see it before Wednesday (my first class - editing).
I'm not even sure where to start. It was intense. It went on for a long time, but did not seem lengthy. By the time he got anywhere with his struggles, you didn't feel like it was a victory, you were just exhausted with a hint of relief. Anyone wanting to know what people mean by "realism" should view this film. The realism is so strong, you can't help but feel everything the characters feel. When Serpico does something you don't think yourself capable of, it's surprising. You're with him every step of the way. The best example of this is when he jumps across the gap between rooftops. I know I would not be confident to make it, but when he does, I had to stop and remind myself that he is in the prime physical condition to make a jump like that, that this person on screen is not the same as me.
Also, the direction is very good. Lumet manages to not be heavy handed even when every character save Serpico himself delivers lines of such obvious moral degeneration. It's the kind of blatant statement you are supposed to disagree with, but the ease (and realism) it is presented in makes it not so much like everyone is a bad guy. Excellent.
Perhaps I'll revisit this review in a couple weeks with input from Pepperman, my editing teacher.
*****/5
Sidney Lumet
On reports that my new editing teacher loves this movie so much he shows about 5 random minutes of it every class, I decided to see it before Wednesday (my first class - editing).
I'm not even sure where to start. It was intense. It went on for a long time, but did not seem lengthy. By the time he got anywhere with his struggles, you didn't feel like it was a victory, you were just exhausted with a hint of relief. Anyone wanting to know what people mean by "realism" should view this film. The realism is so strong, you can't help but feel everything the characters feel. When Serpico does something you don't think yourself capable of, it's surprising. You're with him every step of the way. The best example of this is when he jumps across the gap between rooftops. I know I would not be confident to make it, but when he does, I had to stop and remind myself that he is in the prime physical condition to make a jump like that, that this person on screen is not the same as me.
Also, the direction is very good. Lumet manages to not be heavy handed even when every character save Serpico himself delivers lines of such obvious moral degeneration. It's the kind of blatant statement you are supposed to disagree with, but the ease (and realism) it is presented in makes it not so much like everyone is a bad guy. Excellent.
Perhaps I'll revisit this review in a couple weeks with input from Pepperman, my editing teacher.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Public Enemies
Public Enemies
*/5
Michael Mann
This was, to say the least, not so great. I had been excited by the posters featuring Johnny Depp looking just like a 30s gangster. I was drawn in by Depp's ability to blend into a character even when there is not 10 layers of makeup on him.
Unfortunately, thanks to HD technology, it was plain to see that Johnny Depp was under makeup in this role, too. Could the filmmakers have made corrections for this? Probably not. They were too worried about the fact that their sound was unusable and their lead actress switched accents every day. Oh wait, they didn't seem worried about that, either.
This movie was a complete failure. I was actually shocked to learn that Michael Mann had even made a movie before (remember my ignorance of anything after 1959). This one was so poorly slopped together I left the theater thinking, "Maybe Johnny Depp will be in my student film." If Michael Mann is so Oscar-worthy than how come this movie looked worse than stuff at dinky film festivals?
The sound was a horrible problem, peaking all the time, and characters often "spoke" while turned from the camera. Thanks to editing, you can pretend you know what you're doing! Gunshots were painfully loud and the intermingling of Billie Holiday and electric guitar soundtrack was so preposterous I laughed out loud.
HD was the wrong choice, especially when your actor is notoriously covered in tattoos. If you're going to still use HD, please try not to use extreme closeups on parts of his body that have cover-ups. It confuses the audience as to whether they're supposed to notice it or not.
The acting was bewildering and pathetic from everyone buy Johnny Depp, and even he struggled with the unreasonable dialogue he had been given.
Aside from technical concerns, the movie just didn't make any gosh darn sense. In trying to create an artistic spin on a film noir type story, the writers/director just stole the sex scene from Breathless. I just scanned 20 pages of threads for this film on IMDb, and no one seems to have noticed.
I have never seen a movie in a theater that shows such incompetence.
Recommendations:
White Heat
Public Enemy
*/5
Michael Mann
This was, to say the least, not so great. I had been excited by the posters featuring Johnny Depp looking just like a 30s gangster. I was drawn in by Depp's ability to blend into a character even when there is not 10 layers of makeup on him.
Unfortunately, thanks to HD technology, it was plain to see that Johnny Depp was under makeup in this role, too. Could the filmmakers have made corrections for this? Probably not. They were too worried about the fact that their sound was unusable and their lead actress switched accents every day. Oh wait, they didn't seem worried about that, either.
This movie was a complete failure. I was actually shocked to learn that Michael Mann had even made a movie before (remember my ignorance of anything after 1959). This one was so poorly slopped together I left the theater thinking, "Maybe Johnny Depp will be in my student film." If Michael Mann is so Oscar-worthy than how come this movie looked worse than stuff at dinky film festivals?
The sound was a horrible problem, peaking all the time, and characters often "spoke" while turned from the camera. Thanks to editing, you can pretend you know what you're doing! Gunshots were painfully loud and the intermingling of Billie Holiday and electric guitar soundtrack was so preposterous I laughed out loud.
HD was the wrong choice, especially when your actor is notoriously covered in tattoos. If you're going to still use HD, please try not to use extreme closeups on parts of his body that have cover-ups. It confuses the audience as to whether they're supposed to notice it or not.
The acting was bewildering and pathetic from everyone buy Johnny Depp, and even he struggled with the unreasonable dialogue he had been given.
Aside from technical concerns, the movie just didn't make any gosh darn sense. In trying to create an artistic spin on a film noir type story, the writers/director just stole the sex scene from Breathless. I just scanned 20 pages of threads for this film on IMDb, and no one seems to have noticed.
I have never seen a movie in a theater that shows such incompetence.
Recommendations:
White Heat
Public Enemy
La Bête Humaine
La Bête Humaine
*****/5
Jean Renoir
*****SPOILERS*****
Update: I apologize for my total blabbering about how good this movie is. I was rendered completely inarticulate and sound like a total moron.
Amazing amazing. There is a lot to be loved in this film. Starting with the writing which is so good. The wad of cash is established so early, but returns so many times. The murder is preceded by a failed attempt, forcing the audience to feel the buildup and tension twice for the same thing. Actions and motivations are established so, so clearly that you only need to see them once to understand your character at every turn. The beginning is a little rushed and a lot of characters are named before they are introduced, but not enough to be played as a reveal when they show up. But once it is all there, it builds into something so intense and beautiful that anything awkward in the beginning is likely to be deepened upon a second or third viewing.
Also of note are the visual juxtapositions. A photograph of Severine's godfather is used in contrast to his presence several times, his arm around her implying more and more each occurrence. The scene near the end which features the singer performing a song about a wily, fickle temptress with no attachments is an interesting predecessor to Kenneth Anger's use of pop music.
Being familiar with Hitchcock's oeuvre, it amazes me how much it seems ideas were being passed back and forth between him and those involved in (and before) the French New Wave. They loved him as a shining example of both their auteur theory and what was wrong with films. This film features a murder in the first act (on a moving train, no less!), scenes in a crowded ballroom, a femme fatale, shots along train tracks, stylized sound, expressionistic lighting, and extreme tension, both visually and plot-wise. Some of these ideas were not present in Hitchcock's work until after this film was made. Others were present earlier with greater execution. Others were present earlier and much weaker. Others were present earlier, made stronger in France, and returned to Hitchcock's control later.
Recommendations:
Young and Innocent
Blackmail
Scorpio Rising
*****/5
Jean Renoir
*****SPOILERS*****
Update: I apologize for my total blabbering about how good this movie is. I was rendered completely inarticulate and sound like a total moron.
Amazing amazing. There is a lot to be loved in this film. Starting with the writing which is so good. The wad of cash is established so early, but returns so many times. The murder is preceded by a failed attempt, forcing the audience to feel the buildup and tension twice for the same thing. Actions and motivations are established so, so clearly that you only need to see them once to understand your character at every turn. The beginning is a little rushed and a lot of characters are named before they are introduced, but not enough to be played as a reveal when they show up. But once it is all there, it builds into something so intense and beautiful that anything awkward in the beginning is likely to be deepened upon a second or third viewing.
Also of note are the visual juxtapositions. A photograph of Severine's godfather is used in contrast to his presence several times, his arm around her implying more and more each occurrence. The scene near the end which features the singer performing a song about a wily, fickle temptress with no attachments is an interesting predecessor to Kenneth Anger's use of pop music.
Being familiar with Hitchcock's oeuvre, it amazes me how much it seems ideas were being passed back and forth between him and those involved in (and before) the French New Wave. They loved him as a shining example of both their auteur theory and what was wrong with films. This film features a murder in the first act (on a moving train, no less!), scenes in a crowded ballroom, a femme fatale, shots along train tracks, stylized sound, expressionistic lighting, and extreme tension, both visually and plot-wise. Some of these ideas were not present in Hitchcock's work until after this film was made. Others were present earlier with greater execution. Others were present earlier and much weaker. Others were present earlier, made stronger in France, and returned to Hitchcock's control later.
Recommendations:
Young and Innocent
Blackmail
Scorpio Rising
Port of Shadows
Port of Shadows
****/5
Marcel Carne
The handling of multiple characters is astoundingly accomplished. Each character with dialogue is somehow tenderly developed within minutes, and as a result, no characters blend together. They can even leave the screen for large chunks of time and drop back in easily. Important events are all preceded by a small setup that allows you to recognize the action, no matter how small, at the point it is important (eg: Lucien picking off the hats of others in the bumper car ride). Even with this skilled storytelling, the writing is what falls short the most (apart from the acting from Pierre Brasseur), with characters announcing things the audience has already figured out. Zabel declares his motivations long after they were implied; the painter explains his entire character to people who already know him. The dialogue is often corny and sometimes I wonder if I would like certain foreign films as much if they were in English.
****/5
Marcel Carne
The handling of multiple characters is astoundingly accomplished. Each character with dialogue is somehow tenderly developed within minutes, and as a result, no characters blend together. They can even leave the screen for large chunks of time and drop back in easily. Important events are all preceded by a small setup that allows you to recognize the action, no matter how small, at the point it is important (eg: Lucien picking off the hats of others in the bumper car ride). Even with this skilled storytelling, the writing is what falls short the most (apart from the acting from Pierre Brasseur), with characters announcing things the audience has already figured out. Zabel declares his motivations long after they were implied; the painter explains his entire character to people who already know him. The dialogue is often corny and sometimes I wonder if I would like certain foreign films as much if they were in English.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Summer Reading
As I mentioned in my last post, I have been doing a lot of reading on film this summer.
The first one was Shot by Shot by Steven Katz which is an excellent text on planning a shoot and the key considerations in taking things from page to frame. Mostly it focuses on the basics of camera technique, but is outstanding in explaining storyboarding. It shows various ways of planning a dolly move or the types of cranes you might run into. This book is beyond practical and highly recommended for anyone who thinks they can make a movie. My favorite part was when he points out that Citizen Kane itself breaks the "rule" that a low angle makes your character seem big. The book is lavish with graphics to make the points clear. I'm very glad I read it before school. Not only because I'll probably have an easier time trying to shoot than if I hadn't read it, but also because it solidified my choice to focus on cinematography. Katz's description of the difference in lenses will be nothing compared to the familiarity using them will provide, and the better I can communicate with a camera person, the quicker things can get done.
Making A Good Script Great by Linda Seger was slightly less useful than it was infuriating. She made some good points about certain story devices and it includes very helpful questions at the end of each chapter that can prod you in the right direction during a rewrite. However her axiomatic approach to what you can and can't do to a story made me really mad. For weeks I watched foreign films for the sake of proving the structure theory wrong. This also helped to make up for her revolting suggestions of good "watch and learn" movies. Both widely popular and generally unoffensive, Cocoon and Witness were two of the most boring and confounding films I had ever seen (thanks to Seger's suggestion), and worst of all, they don't even truly fit the mold that the book claims they do. If anyone reads this book trying to come up with an idea for a story, the best that they will end up with is a formulaic made for TV movie. Although, given the commercial approach of the book, some readers might not find this a problem.
In reaction to this, I read a couple scripts by Jean Cocteau. If there ever were scripts to prove there is no formula for scripts, it's these. Although a lot of people will say "you never put camera angles in a script" or "never write in direction unless it's important", I would have to say this advice is mostly applicable to people looking to sell the screenplay they write. For Cocteau, the scripts were for him alone, and they offer some beautiful insight into his thought process. Although for Testament of Orpheus, penetrating the dialogue of the late middle still seems to be a task that eludes me.
I then attempted to read Cocteau's most famous book The Difficulty of Being, but every page was as devastatingly poetic as the aforementioned dialogue. It was like trying to read another language or trying to read Scandinavian skaldic poetry. It's in English prose, but is so dense with meaning, connotation, and intention that is mostly serves to make your head feel like it's underwater. Although I felt like I was scratching the surface of his words, I did not feel ready to read the next 100 pages. To be continued.
Next I read How To Read A Film by James Monaco. Like Shot by Shot, the book is dense with images, but also with information of a widely varying nature. It gives a very comprehensive history of just about everything you can think of. To give a history of film, he starts with Daguerreotypes. To give a history of media he starts with the printing press. Although this might seem excessive, for the most part it is helpful in giving some context, at least for the film aspect. The book makes some very interesting comparisons and connections that I was delighted to consider. In addition, it shows a vast knowledge of film from all countries and in general provides a rough equivalent of a first year film student's education. He even tackles the large (and, in my opinion, irrelevant) topic of film theory in a way that is very helpful. The chapter is organized chronologically with competing theories (expressionism vs. realism) grouped together. It lays out the names of theorists and the gist of important theories in a straightforward manner without applying one or the other to any other part of the book. Much appreciated. The sections on media are rather outdated in the 3rd edition, but a 4th edition just came out this year. From my skimmings, it seems that Monaco has become even more cantankerous and embittered about the state of films since the 3rd edition. Poor guy. All in all, a very good read.
The last thing I read was Fifty Years of Serial Thrills by Roy Kinnard. Although not really a book about filmmaking, I am working on an idea for a serial-inspired short film about a turbaned mystic. The book was a delight giving plot and production summaries for the most notable serials, be they good or bad. At times hilarious, it was fascinating to learn about the turmoil of the Tarzan property and the psychotically economic ways in which studios filmed these things. It also provided an astonishingly complete index of serials; a real treasure considering how few of these films are left. It was a great read, clocking in under 200 pages. I read it all in one day. It also has wonderful interviews with the stars of Flash Gordon, one of whom died shortly before the book was printed. Highly recommended for people who have a hard on for the '30s and things that suck.
I like to think this has been a productive summer.
The first one was Shot by Shot by Steven Katz which is an excellent text on planning a shoot and the key considerations in taking things from page to frame. Mostly it focuses on the basics of camera technique, but is outstanding in explaining storyboarding. It shows various ways of planning a dolly move or the types of cranes you might run into. This book is beyond practical and highly recommended for anyone who thinks they can make a movie. My favorite part was when he points out that Citizen Kane itself breaks the "rule" that a low angle makes your character seem big. The book is lavish with graphics to make the points clear. I'm very glad I read it before school. Not only because I'll probably have an easier time trying to shoot than if I hadn't read it, but also because it solidified my choice to focus on cinematography. Katz's description of the difference in lenses will be nothing compared to the familiarity using them will provide, and the better I can communicate with a camera person, the quicker things can get done.
Making A Good Script Great by Linda Seger was slightly less useful than it was infuriating. She made some good points about certain story devices and it includes very helpful questions at the end of each chapter that can prod you in the right direction during a rewrite. However her axiomatic approach to what you can and can't do to a story made me really mad. For weeks I watched foreign films for the sake of proving the structure theory wrong. This also helped to make up for her revolting suggestions of good "watch and learn" movies. Both widely popular and generally unoffensive, Cocoon and Witness were two of the most boring and confounding films I had ever seen (thanks to Seger's suggestion), and worst of all, they don't even truly fit the mold that the book claims they do. If anyone reads this book trying to come up with an idea for a story, the best that they will end up with is a formulaic made for TV movie. Although, given the commercial approach of the book, some readers might not find this a problem.
In reaction to this, I read a couple scripts by Jean Cocteau. If there ever were scripts to prove there is no formula for scripts, it's these. Although a lot of people will say "you never put camera angles in a script" or "never write in direction unless it's important", I would have to say this advice is mostly applicable to people looking to sell the screenplay they write. For Cocteau, the scripts were for him alone, and they offer some beautiful insight into his thought process. Although for Testament of Orpheus, penetrating the dialogue of the late middle still seems to be a task that eludes me.
I then attempted to read Cocteau's most famous book The Difficulty of Being, but every page was as devastatingly poetic as the aforementioned dialogue. It was like trying to read another language or trying to read Scandinavian skaldic poetry. It's in English prose, but is so dense with meaning, connotation, and intention that is mostly serves to make your head feel like it's underwater. Although I felt like I was scratching the surface of his words, I did not feel ready to read the next 100 pages. To be continued.
Next I read How To Read A Film by James Monaco. Like Shot by Shot, the book is dense with images, but also with information of a widely varying nature. It gives a very comprehensive history of just about everything you can think of. To give a history of film, he starts with Daguerreotypes. To give a history of media he starts with the printing press. Although this might seem excessive, for the most part it is helpful in giving some context, at least for the film aspect. The book makes some very interesting comparisons and connections that I was delighted to consider. In addition, it shows a vast knowledge of film from all countries and in general provides a rough equivalent of a first year film student's education. He even tackles the large (and, in my opinion, irrelevant) topic of film theory in a way that is very helpful. The chapter is organized chronologically with competing theories (expressionism vs. realism) grouped together. It lays out the names of theorists and the gist of important theories in a straightforward manner without applying one or the other to any other part of the book. Much appreciated. The sections on media are rather outdated in the 3rd edition, but a 4th edition just came out this year. From my skimmings, it seems that Monaco has become even more cantankerous and embittered about the state of films since the 3rd edition. Poor guy. All in all, a very good read.
The last thing I read was Fifty Years of Serial Thrills by Roy Kinnard. Although not really a book about filmmaking, I am working on an idea for a serial-inspired short film about a turbaned mystic. The book was a delight giving plot and production summaries for the most notable serials, be they good or bad. At times hilarious, it was fascinating to learn about the turmoil of the Tarzan property and the psychotically economic ways in which studios filmed these things. It also provided an astonishingly complete index of serials; a real treasure considering how few of these films are left. It was a great read, clocking in under 200 pages. I read it all in one day. It also has wonderful interviews with the stars of Flash Gordon, one of whom died shortly before the book was printed. Highly recommended for people who have a hard on for the '30s and things that suck.
I like to think this has been a productive summer.
Shameful Neglect and A New Chapter
I'm pretty pathetic when it comes to updating.
Since the last time I've posted, I have been trying to fill some of the holes in my film knowledge. The New Wave, on either side of the Atlantic, has been pretty neglected, so I dug into that and others. I don't think it's possible to really document the volumes of films I've watched, but I can rattle off some big ones that I had not already seen.
Bonnie and Clyde
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Serpico
The 400 Blows
nearly all of Jean-Pierre Melville's catalog (Le Samourai being the most outstanding)
nearly all of Terry Gilliam's catalog (Brazil and 12 Monkeys being the ones not to avoid entirely)
about 7 or 8 Ingmar Bergman films
Cocteau's Orphic Trilogy
Late Spring
Le Bete Humaine
I'll spare you a recitation of my Netflix account history, and I will probably make separate entries for the ones that affected me most deeply.
I also saw some bad movies, Public Enemies, and Christopher Nolan's first film Following come to mind. Perhaps they deserve their own entries as well.
I have also been reading up on different facets of filmmaking. I think for the interest of cohesion, I will give that its own post also. Who would have thought all these posts! But as I enter into my first year of film school (next week) I think it will be beneficial to keep a record of my thoughts on films and other things. I will be seeing a lot of films and be given a lot of information. Perhaps I can use this newfangled blog thing to keep my head straight.
Last, but not least, I have been watching tons and tons of anime. There are some very strange trends in anime right now. Definitely my current favorite is Fight Ippatsu! Juuden-Chan!! It's a bizzare parody that borders on pornagraphic but with the most biting humor I've ever seen. It plays on expectations ("Maybe it's because Mom's watching over me from above. Just kidding!") and gives gratuitous fan-service, and still manages to dish out one of the most compelling plots a short series has offered in a long time. Not recommended for people unfamiliar with anime stereotypes or without a working knowledge of Sailor Moon or La Blue Girl. Ohhhh man, I can't wait til next week.
Since the last time I've posted, I have been trying to fill some of the holes in my film knowledge. The New Wave, on either side of the Atlantic, has been pretty neglected, so I dug into that and others. I don't think it's possible to really document the volumes of films I've watched, but I can rattle off some big ones that I had not already seen.
Bonnie and Clyde
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
Serpico
The 400 Blows
nearly all of Jean-Pierre Melville's catalog (Le Samourai being the most outstanding)
nearly all of Terry Gilliam's catalog (Brazil and 12 Monkeys being the ones not to avoid entirely)
about 7 or 8 Ingmar Bergman films
Cocteau's Orphic Trilogy
Late Spring
Le Bete Humaine
I'll spare you a recitation of my Netflix account history, and I will probably make separate entries for the ones that affected me most deeply.
I also saw some bad movies, Public Enemies, and Christopher Nolan's first film Following come to mind. Perhaps they deserve their own entries as well.
I have also been reading up on different facets of filmmaking. I think for the interest of cohesion, I will give that its own post also. Who would have thought all these posts! But as I enter into my first year of film school (next week) I think it will be beneficial to keep a record of my thoughts on films and other things. I will be seeing a lot of films and be given a lot of information. Perhaps I can use this newfangled blog thing to keep my head straight.
Last, but not least, I have been watching tons and tons of anime. There are some very strange trends in anime right now. Definitely my current favorite is Fight Ippatsu! Juuden-Chan!! It's a bizzare parody that borders on pornagraphic but with the most biting humor I've ever seen. It plays on expectations ("Maybe it's because Mom's watching over me from above. Just kidding!") and gives gratuitous fan-service, and still manages to dish out one of the most compelling plots a short series has offered in a long time. Not recommended for people unfamiliar with anime stereotypes or without a working knowledge of Sailor Moon or La Blue Girl. Ohhhh man, I can't wait til next week.
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