Criterion Sunday 229: Scener ur ett äktenskap (Scenes from a Marriage, 1973)

A quintessential Bergman-esque chamber drama of a couple dealing with their slow break-up and rapprochement over a period of about a decade, told in six chapters (six hour-long episodes in the TV version, but I watched the film version at half that length). There is barely anyone else on screen for the running time, and that’s really not much of an issue, because this is about these two people and the particular way they seem so happy together but, actually, aren’t. The acting is excellent, but I’m not sure I can summon enthusiasm for Bergman’s dramatics at this point in my life. However, I certainly wouldn’t wish to discount it: I was all ready to be very cynical early on, but I concede that the drama did eventually reel me in somewhat (even if I don’t accept this is necessarily how all marriages are).


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Ingmar Bergman | Cinematographer Sven Nykvist | Starring Liv Ullmann, Erland Josephson | Length 167 minutes || Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Sunday 14 October 2018

Advertisements

Criterion Sunday 223: Maîtresse (1973)

I think there are some interesting things going on in this film, primarily in the way in which power dynamics are worked out, but behind it all there’s a very familiar, very masculine 1970s French way of looking at the world which reminds me a lot of Godard and his fellow travellers. Essentially, it’s about a semi-criminal young man (Gérard Depardieu) who finds himself drawn into the world of a professional dominatrix (Bulle Ogier). He has no money and comes to rely on her, while she makes her money by dominating submissive men, but he finds himself needing to express his own dominance in their power relationship. In some sense, he is enacting familiar patriarchal pattern of behaviour; I’m just not sure that the film is interested in exploring both their subjectivities, so much as wanting to find some compromise whereby she becomes more submissive to his will. That said, there’s a lot of interesting interplay between the two, and I at least don’t get the feeling that her sex work itself is being criticised. Ultimately, it feels very much like a period piece.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Barbet Schroeder | Writers Schroeder and Paul Voujargol | Cinematographer Néstor Almendros | Starring Bulle Ogier, Gérard Depardieu | Length 112 minutes || Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Monday 20 August 2018

Criterion Sunday 89: Sisters (1973)

Another Hitchcockian genre exercise from his greatest directorial fan Brian De Palma (he even uses Bernard Herrmann for the score), this is an enjoyable story of a French-Canadian woman, Danielle (Margot Kidder), with a Siamese twin sister Dominique who appears to be guilty of murdering a man Danielle has brought home. Danielle’s ex-husband/doctor (William Finley) is involved in the intrigue also — he loiters around, keeping an eye on her at all times — and the unravelling of this twisted scenario provides the bulk of the film’s running time. The split identity of Margot Kidder’s character (possibility a split personality, too) is formally invoked by the periodic use of split screen to advance the action, but the truth is never quite clear. The film’s mental health themes are a little heavy-handed for modern audiences but if you see this as a filmic hommage rather than an exploration of personality disorders, it makes more sense, and even allows for an absurdist supporting role for Charles Durning as a PI who seems to be eternally doomed to keep watch on an abandoned couch (I can’t really explain). Still, if it’s hommage, it’s all capably done and executed with flair.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Brian De Palma | Writers Brian De Palma and Louisa Rose | Cinematographer Gregory Sandor | Starring Margot Kidder, Jennifer Salt, William Finley | Length 92 minutes || Seen at home (DVD), London, Sunday 10 April 2016

Criterion Sunday 27: Flesh for Frankenstein (aka Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein, 1973)

The Criterion Collection may be a boutique label founded on presenting pristine prints of the classics of world cinema, but it’s also happy to take detours down roads less travelled, and in some ways those can be the most rewarding films. This 1974 camp Euro horror-exploitation film, made in Italy with a northern European cast, seems to embody few of the qualities you’d expect this label to trade in, and yet it’s a little bit more than just an excuse for lots of gore. Though there is, as it happens, lots of gore, as Doctor Frankenstein (an angular Udo Kier) experiments with stitching together his zombie-like creatures. When he decides he needs someone particularly virile, it so happens that oversexed stableboy Nicholas (Joe Dallesandro) is about and would fit the bill precisely, except that due to a confusion, Frankenstein and his assistant Otto grab Nicholas’s sexless friend Sacha instead. The US title is a bit misleading, for though director Paul Morrissey did work with Andy Warhol in the 1960s (notably on The Chelsea Girls), Warhol’s involvement by this point was little more than just marketing. Flesh for Frankenstein (along with next week’s film Blood for Dracula) were Morrissey productions through and through, and betray his interest in messing around with these determinedly European legends. Thus the reimagining here reflects somewhat on contemporary counter-cultural movements, though it would have helped if Dallesandro had the acting chops that Kier exhibits, and his European peasant is somewhat difficult to take.

Criterion Extras: Aside from the brief essay inside the booklet, there are two significant extras here: a photo gallery, which is just an 18 minute video with a musical backing, not an ideal way to see the photos; and a commentary track, mostly critic Maurice Yacowar talking about the film, as well as some additional words from director Paul Morrissey and lead actor Udo Kier.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Paul Morrissey | Cinematographer Luigi Kuveiller | Starring Udo Kier, Joe Dallesandro, Monique van Vooren | Length 95 minutes || Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Sunday 15 March 2015

Criterion Sunday 4: Amarcord (1973)

Try as I might, I have to concede that there’s a certain temperament of Italian (if not wider Mediterranean-rim) filmmaking that I just don’t enjoy. That said, this extrovert cinema of big boisterous emotions, vibrant music, saturated sun-dappled colours and boyish sexual crudity can sometimes be fitted well to the themes of a film. This at least is the case with Amarcord, a film from later in Fellini’s well-awarded career (this film won an Oscar, in fact). It’s a coming of age film (another less favoured genre of mine), but being set against the backdrop of Fascist 1930s Italy, the aforementioned stylistic traits — with all their effervescence and constant flow of motion and chatter — seem to suggest something cruel and reactionary just beneath the surface, as if people are trying just a little too hard to maintain that facade. It tracks Bruno Zanin’s Titta, growing up in a small Italian town, but you could easily miss his presence, as the film unspools in a series of only loosely-connected vignettes, with an occasional commentator popping up to be pranked and mocked by unseen offscreen townsfolk. There are restagings of local traditions, wistful nostalgic reflections, busty local women (including Magali Noël’s town beauty Gradisca, lusted after by Titta and his fellow schoolboys) and plenty of the usual kind of incident you get with these films, but with uniformed officers flitting through the background and suggesting what is to come. All of this is expertly shot in sumptuous colour by Giuseppe Rotunno, making for a beautiful spectacle. Whether you enjoy it quite as much or not, however, may be down to your taste as it is to mine.

Criterion Extras: There’s a 45 minute documentary called Fellini’s Homecoming which deals with his complicated relationship to his hometown of Rimini. It’s made clear along the way that Amarcord is not intended to be set in Rimini (it’s more supposed to be an any-small-town of Europe), but that many of the characters are based on real childhood figures Fellini grew up with. There’s a series of interviews with childhood friends (include the real ‘Titta’), colleagues and biographers, and it becomes evident that Fellini had no particular fondness for Rimini, though the two patched things up later in his life, and after death.

Aside from this, there’s a short interview with the French star of the film Magali Noël, who talks about what she knew about the real Gradisca and about working with Fellini (he called her to fly into Rome literally hours before the start of filming), and a soundless deleted scene presenting another character in the town. There’s a demonstration of the restoration of the film for the new edition, with old and cleaned-up images side-by-side for comparison, and the American trailer. Plus there are lots of images of drawings and photos, as well as posters and marketing ephemera for the film, which are of passing interest.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Federico Fellini | Writers Federico Fellini and Tonino Guerra | Cinematographer Giuseppe Rotunno | Starring Bruno Zanin, Magali Noël | Length 124 minutes || Seen at home (DVD), London, Monday 1 December 2014