Three films a day

There is a beauty to Goodbye, Dragon Inn, don’t get me wrong. All those people, their lives silently left unexplained as they wander through this cavernous building… it’s poetic. More beautiful than anything  American directors tend to do with the medium, that’s for sure. Beyond even the quiet beauty of Ramsay and into something much more along the lines of Tarkovsky (hmmm. TypePad’s spell-check has Tchaikovsky but not Tarkovsky; as much as I enjoy "Capriccio Italien" there’s something downright criminal about that). Unfortunately, the beauty of it all isn’t enough to sustain me for 80 minutes. Long, motionless shots of empty areas which solitary characters move through just can’t hold my attention for that long, I’m sorry. I’m all for seeing great images, and poetry. But there has to be something in there to compel me, too. I don’t even need a plot. Just… something. And I didn’t feel this movie had that.

On rewatching there are little bits of  The Piano which answered my questions about Flora (Anna Paquin) and her will. I’m deeply impressed that what is a fairly minor thread in the film is itself rewarding to watch. That, and the first time through somehow I didn’t appreciate just how surprising it is that Baines get the Piano tuned.  Really, the guy may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he certainly has amazing instincts.

2/26 – Goodbye, Dragon Inn (2004) (dvd)

For the past several years I’ve had two script ideas kicking around in my head. One of them was for a virtually wordless film, something which would show a man as he coped with both a personal loss and a much larger, hard-to-fathom tragedy. It wasn’t going to be a sadistic movie (i.e. it certainly wasn’t about making this man go through as much bad as possible), but it was my attempt to deal with the similarities and differences of loss on those two scales.  There wasn’t going to be much dialogue because there didn’t need to be.

While watching Goodbye Dragon Inn, a movie where the characters have maybe a dozen lines during its eighty minutes, I couldn’t help thinking of that script idea.  I had to wonder, for the first time, really, if the idea would come across much as this film did to me: too quiet, too still. I tried and tried to find ways into the film, but I wasn’t very successful. The loneliness was plain, as was the fleeting togetherness of characters as they wandered through this palace of a movie theater (this is, certainly a movie about the experience of watching movies). But the shots were too long. Too quiet. The whole thing was too detached. It was more like watching a collection of living photos (often beautiful photos, mind) than a living, breathing film.

More than a couple of times it reminded me of another movie I had a hard time flowing with, What Time is It There? (which, it just so happens, comes from the same director. I didn’t know that til just now). The difference between the two was simple, though: With the other movie I found my way into it somehow (don’t ask me how) and enjoyed it, despite its very difficult structure.

I did not find this one nearly so rewarding.

2/24 – The Piano (1993) (dvd)

Such a fascinating and wonderful movie. I know, you’re probably wondering how I’d gone all these years without seeing it.  Well, we all have holes in our movie-watching resume and this was one of my biggest. I can remember when it came out it was the movie I most wanted to see. But I got caught up in the post-college rush of events and it just never happened.

But I look at it this way: If I hadn’t waited this long to see it, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it quite as much. Not only did I like the film itself, but as I watched I saw tiny reflections of someone else’s soul.  It was the most unexpected, beautiful, connected feeling in the world.

2/20 – The Incredibles (2004) (gitn)

My experiences with Pixar movies are fairly uniform. I’m thoroughly entertained when I’m watching. I have a few good chuckles.  Mostly I marvel at the technical aspects—in this, the voice acting was terrific and the animation itself was wonderful—and the cute bits of film language thrown in to let the audience know what to expect (e.g. I loved how Michael Giacchino’s score often sounds quite a lot like something John Barry would have thrown into a Bond movie).

Oddly, as with the other Pixar productions I’ve seen, those technical bits are the things I’m going to remember about the movie. Not particular lines, or the story, or the characters, or any scenes. All I remember about Monsters, Inc, for instance, is one tiny piece of animation at the end; it was a great little touch and it caught my attention (and that of the person I was with). That’s not a lot to remember a film for, though. It’ll be the same with this. Hell, the movie itself (which was my favorite Pixar-watching experience) is already fading from my memory.

This is not a put-down, though I suppose it probably comes off as one. Yes, scenes from my favorite movies stay with me for years after I’ve seen them. But I can enjoy a movie and yet not remember a thing about it even a week later. (I presume everyone can, but I have to say it just in case I’m wrong.) No offense to the movie whatsover: I’m glad I saw it, just as I’m glad after every Pixar movie I’ve seen.  I’m going to keep watching them. And I’m probably going to keep forgetting them right after I see them.

I don’t mind.

I think I’ll occasionally revisit some of the films I’ve written about previously. In some cases, like with  Maria Full of Grace, I want to take the time to expand on what I thought. Other times, I’m pretty sure I’ll need a few days to process my opinions. And in very rare cases, like last night with The Yes Men, I may write something subpar and desperately in need of clarification.

Since The Yes Men is still fresh in my mind, let’s get a few small issues out of the way:

• I actually liked the movie, but I was annoyed with the fact that the filmmakers just stood back and let Andy and Mike run the show. It’s a movie about them, but it felt like it was made by them, as well.
• I admire The Yes Men and think their "identity corrections" are often works of pure genius.
• I completely misrepresented the most important part of my criticism (it takes talent to distract yourself away from your own point): It’s not that I wanted the filmmakers to challenge the Yes Men. It’s that I wanted the filmmakers to examine The Yes Men’s effect within the larger debate. Their pranks are funny, and interesting. But what effect, if any, are they having? And has there been any response to them from the other side, other than expected indignation? That’s not the easiest stuff for a documentary like this to answer, I know that. But they barely even touched it and I find that disappointing. Very.
• My problems with Michael Moore’s latest movie are best summed up in Robert Jensen’s critique.

2/18 – The Yes Men (2003) (dvd)

In my limited experience, I’ve found that while documentaries need to serve two purposes they often only succeed at one.

First off, of course, is the easy target: they need to profile a particular subject, whether it’s a person, a movement, a trend, a time period, an invention, an event, or whatever else.  Just as importantly, though, the documentary has to put its subject in a proper context. And I think that’s where many of these films (especially last year’s most talked-about documentary, with its flimsy arguments and occasional dishonesty) fall short.

The Yes Men does a good job of profiling the pranksters and their acts of "identity correction". But it isn’t very informative and I think that’s a problem.  Soapbox time: It seems like the left keep making documentaries solely for themselves and I think this trend of insularity has hurt my side of the aisle in the last few years.  It seems like we’re so convinced that what we’re saying is right we’ve forgotten, utterly, the act of communicating our points persuasively. Instead these movies don’t even try to sway people, they simply work from the standpoint of "you know what I’m sayin’" and then they play up the pieces that support what they believe.

In the context of the movie the issue is simple. Globalization hurts people. Most of us get that. But how has it helped? Where has it helped? And has it been worth it in those cases? It can’t be all bad. It can’t be all rich vs. poor. If you acknowledge, fully acknowledge, that the situation isn’t ready to be solved on the back of a bumper sticker, you move towards the level of discourse I’m talking about. The Yes Men aren’t about deepening the debate on anything so much as they’re about criticizing power.  It’s an important duty to have and I think they do superbly with it.  But the movie should have, in my opinion, done a better job of putting what The Yes Men say and do into the larger, muckier debate.

2/15 – The Battle of Algiers (1965) (dvd)

I’m pretty sure I’ve never said this before, so you’re watching a little bit of history right here: Everybody should see this film. Absolutely everybody. It paints the most vivid, brutal, politically astute portrayal of occupation and resistance I’ve ever seen. The film understood the roles combatants, the general public (both in the occupied country and out of it), and the press all play in these situations, which was in and of itself quite refreshing.

My politics are pretty obvious and I can’t go without bringing them into this. As I see it, (some of the) citizens in an occupied country will, eventually, resist (which is why I think it’s best to, um, not occupy countries). And they will use whatever means they have available to get their occupiers to relent. Just as importantly, the people with an interest in maintaining the occupation will do whatever they can to rid themselves of the insurgents.  It’s an ugly situation which breeds its own special kinds of ugliness, much of which was on display in this film.

I think that’s probably the most disappointing thing about the coverage of Iraq.Last year people seemed to fixate on the issues of bombs and torture as if we’d never seen such things occurring before.  Of course we have. And we will again. Look at the situation. What else would you expect? They are occupied. And the occupiers aren’t leaving.  Again, what else would you expect?

Or, as the French Colonel put it in this movie, when he was asked directly about whether his troops used torture: "We are soldiers. Our duty is to win. Therefore, to be precise, it’s my turn to ask a question: Should France stay in Algeria? If your answer is still yes then you must accept all the consequences."

Precisely.

2/13 – Helter Skelter (2004) (dvd)

Well. That was fairly uninteresting. My exposure to the Manson circus has always been very limited. I’ve never read the book or seen the first filming of it, so I was pretty much a blank slate.

Seriously, here’s what I knew going in: I knew what the guy looked like. I knew that Squeaky Frome (I have always loved saying that name) was a member of the family. I knew Tex Watson was involved. I knew Manson had somehow interpreted "Helter Skelter" to be a prophetic song about a race war. Oh, and of course I knew Sharon Tate was the most famous victim.  But that was pretty much it.

Here’s what I know coming out of it: Uh, see everything I just listed and add that Marguerite Moreau continues to be one of my favorite recent C-list actresses. 

I’m not sure what the movie wanted to show me. But it seemed kind of a dismal failure no matter how I looked at it. Oh, but Marguerite. She just rocks.

2/12 – Maria Full of Grace (2004) (dvd)

I liked it. What’s not to like? It’s well done, there’s a good emotional center to it, the tensions in it are palpable (and almost jarring).  That said, when it was done I somehow wasn’t entirely satisfied. I’m not sure where I felt the film was lacking, really. I need to think about it some more, I guess. 

2/10 РSon fr̬re (2003) (dvd)

I hate hospitals. And, despite the fact that it’s the chosen profession of some of my favorite people in the world, I don’t much care for doctors, either. 

Son frere is the kind of movie people I know think I’m crazy for watching. It’s about dying. About dealing with dying.  About the constant strain of dealing with the sick and deteriorating.  It’s that simple: we get to watch someone my age fall apart. And that’s where my dislike of doctors comes in. Don’t get me wrong: I commend their commitment to life, their want to reduce pain and suffering. I am proud of every single doctor I know; I’ve seen them choose that profession and their commitment is something amazing to behold. Beyond that, my mother just successfully went through some surgery to relieve some pain she’s been having and I’m thankful to the medical professionals who are trying to help her out. But sometimes it seems like doctors don’t know when to stop.

Some lives don’t need prolonging. 

I got a number of things done today, so—since I don’t have cable —I’m celebrating tonight with DVD goodness. That’s right, at least two movies for me, baby.

2/9 – Anatomy of Hell (2004) (DVD)
I don’t get Catherine Breillat.  That’s probably my defect.  I have no shame in saying it, though: I don’t get Catherine Breillat at all. If her films are supposed to have some emotional resonance, I think they miss the mark.  Or, I’m an unfeeling boob. If they’re supposed to be something other than turgid philosophizing over the nature of the sexes, then clearly I’m just not properly wired. Or, she makes shitty movies.  I don’t know. I don’t care.  I should just stop watching Breillat movies, pretend she does not exist. I get nothing from her work and it doesn’t really matter whether that’s her fault or mine.

But I’m stubborn. I want to understand. I just don’t yet.  I can’t even stand aside from it and say "Oh. I see what you’re doing and it sucks." I don’t see what she’s doing. I am clueless. Maybe some day. Maybe.  But for now I struggle to see what she wants me to take from her hard work.

Hmmm. I just remembered that I gave this Breillat a chance because my favorite critic, Salon’s Stephanie Zacharek, thought it was one of 2004’s worthy films. I just tracked down Zacharek’s piece on the film and I’m more convinced than ever that I’m just not reading the film the way Breillat wants me to. Maybe I’ll get to a point where I can sit back and understand Breillat’s language.  But right now I don’t get it. (My reaction is much closer to Nathan Lee’s, which to be fair, I found out about through Zacharek’s participation in Slate’s Movie Club.)  Zacharek clearly does see something I don’t, for what I found mechanical and bizarre, she found revealing and powerful. For the record, the tampon teabag scene actually didn’t get to me at all.  But, like the rest of the film, I struggled to understand why it was there.

Maybe I should try this movie again in five years.

2/9 – The Village (2004) (gitn)

I wish Hollywood would get over its obsession with twists. Hitchcock was a fine director, but part of his brilliance was that he knew when and how to pull of his little switches. If a director from today were to try make North By Northwest, Roger Thornhill would actually turn out to be a spy—that’s right, an ad man mistaken for a spy who actually is a spy (probably a super-wonderful spy who is under some deep hypnosis; think Hitchcock meets Ludlum), as we’d find out during the hectic South Dakota action sequence, where Thornhill kills seventeen armed guards super Hong Kong badass style. Yawn.

That’s the irony of the twist as it’s used today. They’ve made "thrillers" far more predictable than ever.  If you didn’t anticipate the twist at the end of The Bank (a terrible film, which has exactly the same script as the godawful Runaway Jury) you simply weren’t paying attention.  These films tell you how they’re going to end fifteen minutes in.  I understand the want to keep audiences engaged but I think filmmakers are doing everyone a disservice with their over-reliance on this device. Watch Hitchcock again, people. His twists were controlled, contained, and compelling.  Not so with these new guys. I blame De Palma.

Here’s the twist in my piece; watch my restraint. Although I thought the reveal in The Village was forced and lousy, I also think it’s completely forgivable.  Of the M. Night Shyamalan films I’ve seen, this one was, by far, the strongest.  The Sixth Sense was an interesting stylistic piece, but it never really overcame the very problems Adrian Lyne’s similar—and surprisingly off-repertoire, since it’s the only movie he’s done since Nine 1/2 Weeks which isn’t, in some way, about the toxicity of going against sexual norms—Jacob’s Ladder had. And Signs was pure garbage. This, at least, was compelling.

In fact, I’d put it this way: It was a brilliantly-shot fairy tale inside a lousy context. I can live with that. Forget the twist entirely because it’s actually not very relevant. You have here the tale of a blind girl setting off into the unknown to find something which might help cure her wounded lover. The initial context of this journey is satisfying enough and if you view the film simply on that level, it works. The greater context revealed by the ubiquitous twist is silly, and a sign that Shyamalan and his cohorts still don’t have confidence enough in his films to let them simply be.  They can work on that. I’ll just forgive the end because it’s completely within my power as viewer to do so.

2/8 – Notre Musique (2004) (tofw)

"Killing a man to defend an idea isn’t defending an idea. It’s killing a man."

I grew up when the danger of desensitizing people to violence was becoming a big media topic. Advocacy groups got out their calculators and projected how many times we’ll each see cartoon creatures getting bonked on the noggin. Witness such things too many times, we’re told, and eventually violence starts to lose its weight; and we are a violent society, some would argue, because of this devaluation. Hmm, perhaps. But the whole discussion misses a very obvious point. These same groups never counted the number of times our department of defense used the phrase "collateral damage".

See, no matter the effects fictional representations of violence may have on us, our world is also full of actual violence which authorities routinely play down. And, if you ask me, there’s no violence worse than state-sponsored killing (simply because the state can kill far more efficiently than can, say, a guy who’d seen one too many Tom & Jerry episodes). But if the state gives a worthy enough idea to justify its violence, we let them get away with it. For example, as the death estimates related to December’s earthquakes and tsunami climbed above 100,000 some commentators noted that roughly the same number of Iraqis had been killed since the U.S.-led invasion/occupation started. But the usual portrayal of two similar images is vastly different. The deaths in Southeast Asia and East Africa are an unqualified tragedy. Not so in Iraq. Shot/Reserve-shot.

Yes, yes, I hear you saying, but what did I think of the movie? The person I saw it with said it best: It was bigger than me. I need time to process exactly what I think of it, but I definitely liked it. Godard still sees the contradictions in how we as deal with each other. I admire him for that. Very much so.  But did I love the movie? I don’t think I’d go that far. My mind might change, though.  It’s been known to do that.

[@ the Music Box Theatre, ~5:30pm]

Update: This was my ever first trip to the Music Box. How wonderful a place.

• 2/4 – Sideways (2004) (tofw)
  
  What a mistake.

  Things aren’t particularly rosy here, so I figured I’d take in a movie. A mild escape—that’s what everybody tells me movies are good for—seemed like the right thing. Now, I know you’ll say "but, jeez, doofus, Sideways is not a ‘light escape’ movie." Actually, it is. It’s terribly trivial but what I didn’t realize was just how much I would dislike it. I’ve heard many, many people praise it ("good", "funny", etc) and I just want to know one thing: what are you people on?!

  OK, I’ll admit I was one of the few people in the theater who wasn’t tittering at the basic jokes and poorly-sketched characters. This just isn’t my kind of movie. Or rather, it’s like a bad parody of the kind of movie I do like. It was too busy being cute and clever to be honest, or interesting. It pretends (Ooh, look, what he’s doing. That’s not nice. Well, gee, this is an honest movie) but it’s being exploitative, not honest. We don’t need directors looking down at their characters. And I have no idea why audiences put up with it. I get that things under the lovely flag of satire get to be insulting, but there’s a fine line between being satirical and being downright unfair. Guess which side of the line this movie is on?

  I really should have known. Alexander Payne’s Election, while watchable, bordered on ugly. Again, it sat on the side and simply mocked its characters for their flaws. Yes, again, that’s satire for you, but he’s aiming for really easy targets and revealing absolutely nothing in the process. Still, I gave it the benefit of the doubt, because it definitely had little moments worth recommending. I refused to watch About Schmidt, though, because it looked trite and superficial and as smug as, say, Arteta & White’s The Good Girl. After last night I’m more positive than ever that the previews of About Schmidt are all I ever need to see.

  Are things like The Good Girl and Sideways the kinds of movie American "indie" movie-makers want to make? Empty, cute mini-Hollywood films with absolutely no insight and no adventure and filled with sophomoric jokes and easily mockable characters? Fuck that. These aren’t satires. They’re shit.
  
  [@Century 12 Evanston]