Criterion Sunday 128: Carl Th. Dreyer: Min metier (Carl Th. Dreyer: My Metier, 1995)

Dreyer is an interesting director and had a fascinating life after a fashion, but he’s never really been cool and this documentary does little to remedy that. It’s informative, it has interviews with surviving collaborators, and its formal strategy appears to consist of filming them in high-contrast black-and-white to fit in with the film footage. Hardly deserving of its own Criterion spine number, one feels.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Torben Skjødt Jensen | Writers/Cinematographers Torben Skjødt Jensen and Prami Larsen | Length 94 minutes || Seen at Filmhouse, Edinburgh, Friday 20 June 2003 (and most recently on DVD at home, London, Saturday 3 December 2016)

Criterion Sunday 118: Sullivan’s Travels (1941)

Of all Preston Sturges’ output — he had a glorious run in the 1940s, in particular — this is the film that tends to get most often featured as his pinnacle. And yet, and yet. I assume I’d be missing the point to say this is a film about an absurdly privileged paternalistic condescending white man, a film director no less, who learns a Truth about poor folk: that comedy films are what the people want and that he’s been wrong to speak down to his audience. I mean, as far as Lessons go, it’s a good one, but it does rather require sitting through a lot of Joel McCrea being a pampered, pompous cretin. After all, he’s been wanting to make a serious work of Art, a disquisition on the plight of Man: O Brother, Where Art Thou? (it was left to the Coen brothers many years later to imagine just how this director character might have fused drama and comedy). Of course, yes, Sullivan’s Travels is a commentary on the operation of class privilege, but yet there’s plenty in the film that still irks me (as just one example, that he showed no contrition whatsoever for assaulting a railway worker with a rock). The ending suggests Sturges’ intentions are good — and the scene in the church with the black pastor is beautifully moving — but as a comedy it has a streak of meanness to it that makes it a frustrating film for me at least. Veronica Lake as “the girl” (nice work with that name) doesn’t impress as a great actor on this outing, but I love her character’s attitude for much of the film, at least, and could have stood to see more of it. I don’t wish to dispute the film’s Great-ness overly, but it just impresses me less than Sturges’ other films upon rewatching.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director/Writer Preston Sturges | Cinematographer John Seitz | Starring Joel McCrea, Veronica Lake | Length 90 minutes || Seen at a friend’s home (DVD), London, Sunday 4 September 2016 (and earlier on VHS at university, Wellington, March 1998)

I Don’t Belong Anywhere: Le Cinéma de Chantal Akerman (I Don’t Belong Anywhere: The Cinema of Chantal Akerman, 2015)

This is a documentary about a great filmmaker, one who sadly died shortly after its completion, presenting interviews with her contextualising her films and work, as well as clips of the films, and fragments of her working on her latest (and as it turns out, last) film, the brilliant No Home Movie. It doesn’t slavishly copy Akerman’s own style but it imparts a sense of it (heightened obviously by the clips), staying grounded in Akerman’s own words and experiences. Luckily, she’s a voluble speaker and a fascinating screen presence. It may not itself dig deep into Akerman’s oeuvre but it allows plenty of jumping-off points for further discussion and research, and that itself has some value.


SPECIAL SCREENING FILM REVIEW
Director Marianne Lambert | Writers Luc Jabon and Marianne Lambert | Cinematographer Rémon Fromont | Length 67 minutes || Seen at JW3, London, Wednesday 14 December 2016

Richard Linklater: Dream Is Destiny (2016)

After his most recent films, I don’t really think it’s the time to try and write about my fondness for the cinema of Richard Linklater. For a start, his 2014 film Boyhood has already elicited all the hagiographic column inches any person could ever want (including from me, I must confess), and it’s in this adulatory vein that this documentary proceeds, anchored around interviews with Linklater by Louis Black (an old Austin, Texas colleague).

I like Linklater’s films, I do, but they are pitched pretty firmly at me — white male, middle-class, educated, straight, able-bodied — and so don’t really open me up to anything new exactly, aside from an appreciation of the amiable jock (a mythical creature, surely) in the American psyche. This documentary, likewise, doesn’t exactly get under his skin so much as marshal a bunch of clips of his movies (except subUrbia for some reason), interview him and some of his collaborators, and show him directing Everybody Wants Some!! (2016). I don’t know if it adds much, but Linklater seems like a thoroughly nice guy, his films are largely pleasant enough (even when, as in EWS, they elide significant issues of representation), and I do still like them. I expect this to end up as a bonus feature on a Criterion blu-ray, and that’s fine.


NEW RELEASE FILM REVIEW
Directors Louis Black and Karen Bernstein | Cinematographer David Layton | Starring Richard Linklater | Length 90 minutes || Seen at Curzon Soho, London, Wednesday 26 October 2016

LFF 2016 Day Eleven

Saturday 15 October, the penultimate day of the London Film Festival, and another heavy one for me, with four films. Two of them were archival restorations, so a bit of guaranteed classic status in amongst the new works.


Daughters of the Dust (1991)Daughters of the Dust (1991, USA, dir./wr. Julie Dash, DOP Arthur Jafa)
It’s quite an achievement this film, but it’s not one that goes in for a straightforward narrative or overt central character. It’s about a whole family, if not an extended community, who are — at length — preparing to leave their home on an island in South Carolina in 1902. And it’s about their stories, and memories, and inherited customs. But none of this is presented in a particularly linear way; instead there’s a flow of characters and images (strikingly beautiful at times), and an accretion of scenes illustrating their lives. It’s not perfect either — the score sadly hasn’t dated very well at all, a wash of post-80s synths that doesn’t always add to the drama — but for the most part it’s excellent and singular. [****]


Park (2016)

Park (2016, Greece/Poland, dir./wr. Sofia Exarchou, DOP Monika Lenczewska)
I can already see the reviews of a few people calling this film “boring” and “overlong” and… well, it would be disingenuous to claim I don’t know what they’re talking about, but as far as I’m concerned films that get those labels — or at least films which aren’t superhero movies — tend to be just my kind of thing (see also: “self-indulgent”). It’s a film about a bunch of disaffected young people congregating amidst the detritus of Athens’ Olympic Park; their lives are going nowhere, so yeah, it’s fair to say there’s plenty of boredom and entropy. The two characters who come to be central, Dimitri and Anna, just mooch around, fight, fuck, dance, nothing special. But I thought it was compelling in its atmosphere of dereliction and dead-ends, a clarion call from a certain precarious position in a decaying society. [***½]


Born in Flames (1983)

Born in Flames (1983, USA, dir./wr. Lizzie Borden)
This is a film that comes from a specific time and place (New York in the early-80s) and perhaps some choices might not have been made today — bombing the WTC seems most obvious — but there’s still an enormous amount that retains both relevance and power 35 years on. Most notably this is an expression of intersectionality in practice avant la lettre, giving strong central roles to women of colour and criticising some of the viewpoints and privilege expressed by white feminists. That’s just one aspect; I liked also the way that its imagined socialist revolution (shades of Bernie brocialism?) hasn’t materially altered the patriarchal power structure, leading to calls for continued feminist insurrection. It’s all made in a sort of pseudo-documentary collagist agitprop style that is perhaps born of its extended genesis (filmed over five years) but works admirably. A lo-fi no-wave independent feminist masterpiece of sorts. [****]


Moderation (2016)

Moderation (2016, UK/Greece, dir. Anja Kirschner, wr. Kirschner/Maya Lubinsky/Anna De Filippi, DOP Mostafa El Kashef/Dimitris Kasimatis)
There’s a certain category of experimental filmmaking whose films seem more tailored to an academic appreciation, by which I mean that they are clearly carefully thought out in terms of thematics and ideas, but express themselves visually in ways that don’t always hold the casual viewer’s attention. Or maybe I was just coming down off three other films, because there was plenty in it to like, intellectually speaking. It’s a disquisition of sorts into horror cinema, without ever quite being a horror film — though it certainly flirts with generic elements both in its film-within-a-film story of strange sand-spewing pods, as well as in some of the apartment-bound scenes with actors encountering creepy poltergeist-like activity. The film is structured around a woman director and her screenwriter (Maya Lubinsky and Anna De Filippi), who are in a relationship, talking to prospective actors for their mooted horror film, and these extended scenes form a key part of the film. Indeed, storytelling, whether in dialogue by the actors or as an exercise of artistic creation dramatised between the two women, is very much the film’s most sustained theme, with horror just a heightened form of that basic need to tell stories. Also, there’s one scene where the Egyptian actor Aida’s pink hair and turquoise eye shadow perfectly matches her floral print dress, and it’s gorgeous to behold. [**½]

The Neon Demon (2016)

There is no shortage of films that deal with the subject of the artificiality of Los Angeles (one of them even features this movie’s star Elle Fanning), or the nasty insidiousness attendant on the objectification of women within the creative industries (think Showgirls). And then there are films that go for a heightened atmosphere, with dialogue which would be almost risible were it not for the acting being pitched at such an icily aloof plateau, and the images being so artful and gorgeously composed that it all seems of a piece with the allegorical (perhaps Orphic) subject matter (frankly, Refn’s last film Only God Forgives went for that register too). Oh, and there are even horror films about vampiric sexuality (in a sense most vampire movies are about sex, though Claire Denis’s Trouble Every Day was sort of working in a similar place).

Needless to say, I was thinking about lots of films while watching The Neon Demon, because it’s very much a film about making films — photographers do not come out at all well here and that’s surely a directorial self-critique. However, it works too as a further development of the lushly misanthropic style of Refn’s previous film, married to a throbbing Cliff Martinez electronic score that only further emphasises the strangeness of the many liminal, blank spaces the film sets itself in. By the end, Jena Malone’s make-up artist Ruby has more or less taken over the film from Fanning’s ingenue model Jesse, a narrative shift the film marks with a sort of Crowley-like magickal ritual transference involving much neon and mirrors (the demon of the title, one presumes), but then much of the film works more at an allegorical level (even Malick’s Knight of Cups seems naturalistic compared to this). It’s unsettling, certainly, not least for what it says about Refn’s view of women’s relationships with one another (there’s a disturbing lesbian/necrophiliac theme to emphasise this), but then everyone in this world is a parasite (not least the characters briefly essayed by Keanu Reeves and Christina Hendricks), and all sexuality is violent, it seems to posit.

I’m almost willing to talk myself out of liking it but for the sustained atmosphere and excellent performances — if heightened hyperstylised camp is your thing that is.


The Neon Demon (2016)

ADVANCE SCREENING FILM REVIEW
Director Nicolas Winding Refn | Writers Nicolas Winding Refn, Polly Stenham and Mary Laws | Cinematographer Natasha Braier | Starring Elle Fanning, Jena Malone, Bella Heathcote, Abbey Lee | Length 117 minutes || Seen at Soho Hotel, London, Wednesday 1 June 2016

The Watermelon Woman (1996)

Undoubtedly filmmaking outside the mainstream has always looked different, and as a film which presents itself as a documentary, lo-fi technology and a lack of budget is practically flaunted here. The lead character (played by director Cheryl Dunye) works in a video rental shop, using its resources to research and film a piece about a mysterious 1930s actor known only to her as ‘The Watermelon Woman’, so we see her recording equipment, not to mention shelves and shelves of antiquated VHS tapes (although these may not have seemed so at the time, I suppose). But it would be wrong to write the film off because of the way it looks, just as it would be disingenuous to say its greatest value is in representing a black lesbian point of view. Certainly it was and remains interesting for that reason, but 20 years on it still has an energy to its underlying message that goes beyond simply testifying to the presence of black and lesbian women in history. At a wider level, it’s a film about the erasure of identities within history as a whole, as Cheryl picks through various archives and libraries, not to mention the testimonies and personal mementoes of an older generation, in order to find something out about her subject. Yet all this is presented within a broadly comedic framework (even romcom, with the appearance of Guinevere Turner’s video shop customer) that makes its political force effortlessly palatable, and hardly diluted by the fact that the black lesbian actor of the title is a fictional recreation — not existing may be the ultimate erasure of historical identity.


SPECIAL SCREENING FILM REVIEW
Director/Writer Cheryl Dunye | Cinematographer Michelle Crenshaw | Starring Cheryl Dunye, Valarie Walker, Guinevere Turner | Length 90 minutes || Seen at BFI Southbank (NFT2), London, Sunday 10 December 2016

Criterion Sunday 58: Peeping Tom (1960)

© The Criterion Collection

Peeping Tom is famous for ruining Michael Powell’s career due to the venomous rage with which it was received on its release, yet there’s a lot now to say about it. Certainly you can see elements within it that might not have endeared it to a filmgoing public (or critics) brought up in an era before this film and Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho of a few months later had such a profound effect on what it meant to do film horror. It’s a tortured allegory about the role of the filmmaker, as Michael Powell’s stand-in Mark Lewis (played by German actor Carl Boehm, later to star in a number of Fassbinder movies) is obsessed with filming women while he kills them, one of his victims being The Red Shoes star Moira Shearer. Powell himself shows up in cameos as Lewis’s sadistic father, an academic whose specialism was the concept of fear, so clearly this story of filmmaker-as-torturer was one that appealed to him personally (whether or not Powell himself was a particularly tyrannical director, though surely he was no Hitchcock in that regard). In any case, the result is a beautifully-crafted film, filled with rich saturated colours, and largely taking place in the London rooming house that Mark owns and partially lets out to a family, whose daughter (Anna Massey) strikes up a friendship with Mark. (For connoisseurs of London, there are also some fetching street corner scenes in Soho and Fitzrovia.) It may have inspired no end of graduate essays for its deconstruction of the wall between filmmaker, actors and audience, it’s also a fascinating film to watch and one which exerts a real psychological hold.


FILM REVIEW: Criterion Collection
Director Michael Powell | Writer Leo Marks | Cinematographer Otto Heller | Starring Karlheinz Böhm [as “Carl Boehm”], Anna Massey, Moira Shearer | Length 101 minutes || Seen at Paramount, Wellington, Thursday 28 June 2001 (and more recently on DVD at a friend’s home, London, Sunday 18 October 2015)

Mia madre (2015)

For all my filmgoing, I’d never seen a film by feted Italian director Nanni Moretti, though this seems like a good one to start with. As far as I can tell, his style is to make personal, often autobiographical films, and Mia madre (“my mother”) is little different, except that the director stand-in is played by Margherita Buy rather than Moretti himself. She’s making a film that reflects a certain crisis in capitalism, as workers protest lay offs by an unfeeling corporate boss (it’s not dissimilar to Godard and Gorin’s Tout va bien in some ways). However, it’s a difficult shoot, not helped by the American actor playing the boss (John Turturro) having a terrible time remembering his lines, and having only a patchy grasp of Italian. But more troubling even than this is that Margherita’s mother is dying. Moretti is still in there as an actor, as Margherita’s brother Giovanni, but the focus remains on Margherita, and Buy does excellent work in finding the right tone, a sort of detached malaise emphasised by the camerawork and aspects of the style that seem to isolate her even amongst other people. For all that’s going wrong, though, it’s not a depressing film exactly. Turturro as the inept actor Barry, who is fond of retailing a fictitious anecdote about working with Kubrick, is a comic highlight, and his energetic mugging contrasts with the scenes of the mother ailing in a hospital.


© 01 Distribution

NEW RELEASE FILM REVIEW
Director Nanni Moretti | Writers Nanni Moretti, Valia Santella and Francesco Piccolo | Cinematographer Arnaldo Catinari | Starring Margherita Buy, Nanni Moretti, John Turturro | Length 107 minutes || Seen at ICA, London, Tuesday 29 September 2015

Films about Filmmaking: Top 5 List


Films About FilmmakingAs ever, I’ve let my month of focusing on films about filmmaking peter out somewhat, but hello! Still here! I promised you a list and so a list I shall provide. (Thankfully, Wikipedia has its own useful list to jog my ever ineffectual memory.)

Of course, I should say a few words about the category. First off, these aren’t just films set in the world of filmmaking, of which there are plenty. In fact, at least one of the below isn’t even set in that world. No, these are films that engage with the issues around filmmaking, whether at the technical level or at a deeper more inchoate level of what it is to create a work of art, and all the moral and ethical issues this may involve, when you’re collaborating with and manipulating characters and lives (whether real or fictional).

What are your favourites? Do feel free to let me know!

The eyes have it in Irma Vep (1996)
The eyes have it in Irma Vep (1996)

In any case, here are mine:

Continue reading “Films about Filmmaking: Top 5 List”