31 January 2012

3D...

Notes on my first 3D experience (the film I saw was Hugo):

The first (unexpected part of the experience) - starts as early as the concession stand, where to my surprise after purchasing my ticket they hand me a pair of glasses. Of course I'm aware that you need glasses for 3D but I've never been given a pair of glasses after buying tickets so it didn't feel right.

The second - I'm commanded to put on my glasses during a preview, which I do. As soon as the preview starts I have to immediately take them off. I thought there was a smudge or something on my glasses. It didn't look right. So I take them off until the film.

The whole film - Is this 3D? It simply looks like a bad digital copy. Exactly like pirated screeners or cam versions that roam the internet. I can't believe people are buying into this gimmick. In no less than 20 years we'll be looking back at this moment in cinema history laughing. It'll sound as ridiculous to us then as the 50s gags (e.g. Smell-O-Vision) sound to us now.

Three dimensions - How is this even 3 dimension? Everything is still seen completely within the frame. The 3D effect simply produces somewhat more of an awareness of depth. Something accomplished, somewhat ironically, in The Mill and the Cross. Yet this film isn't in '3D'. I don't understand what is considered 3-dimensional about the effect produced.

30 January 2012

Essential Killing (Jerzy Skolimowski, 2010)

"I knew about the CIA planes landing in a nearby military airport from the press, and that prisoners from the Middle East were allegedly being brought into this secret base not very far away from my house. Instinctively, I refused to think of this as a subject of my next film because of its political context, as I don’t consider myself a political activist. Until one night in the winter, when I was driving back home on a forest road—very slippery—and I nearly fell into a kind of ravine. I stopped at the very last moment, and I realized that I was right next to the airport, and on the only road connecting the airport with the secret base. And I thought, “Damn, this is the road! If the prisoners were really here, they would’ve been traveling this exact way.” And since I nearly fell into the ravine, it could just as well happen to a vehicle in the convoy. And if that happened, there would be a great possibility that a prisoner could have escaped. At that moment, I thought, “This is it. This is the story I want to tell.” A man who has no idea which part of the world he’s been thrown into, who is facing the snow for the first time in his life, handcuffed and shackled, wearing a thin orange uniform fit for the desert, trying to escape into this wild, desolate landscape which he doesn’t know anything about. So everything that’s before that moment, the political context which is compressed to about 10 minutes in the film, I treat as a background for the story. It doesn’t matter if it’s this or that war, if it takes place in Afghanistan or Iraq or on the border of Pakistan. And it doesn’t even matter if this guy is a terrorist or a completely innocent man, because if you watch carefully [at] the beginning of the film, you will find a possibility that he is just a wrong man in a wrong place at the wrong time. What interests me is that this guy gets caught in these dramatic circumstances and is brought into this snowy landscape that is as far away from all he’s known as possible. By a strange turn of luck—or rather ultimate misfortune, as he will soon find out—he manages to escape. The film is about his struggle to survive."
- Jerzy Skolimowski on Essential Killing

This whole interview is actually quite amazing, I encourage all to read (it's not long for those with short attention span).

I just recently viewed Essential Killing and it is now at sitting somewhere up top in my Best of 2010 list; available on Instant Netflix.

29 January 2012

Brian Henderson's "Towards a Non-Bourgeois Camera Style"

Notes on Brian Henderson's article Towards a Non-Bourgeois Camera Style:

Everyone that lived through the 1960s experienced one of the most tumultuous times in political ideology. Finally leading to May 1968 in France when the country was virtually shut down because of two-thirds of the French workforce going on strike after many student and worker led protests. These events had major influence on film practice and theory, especially in France. While many of the nouvelle vague and left bank directors had made films with political connotations prior to 1967, e.g., Alain Resnais’s Nuit et brouillard (1955) and Hiroshima mon amour (1959), Jean-Luc Godard’s Le petit soldat (made in 1960 but released in 1963) and Les carabineers (1963), Agnès Varda’s photomontage Salut les Cubains (1963) and in Italy Bernardo Bertolucci’s Prima della Rivoluzione (1964), in late 1967 and early 1968 a shift occurred to more overtly political films. Robert Stam characterizes this shift by stating that film culture moved towards a “politicization of aesthetics” (Stam, 133). Godard’s films from 1967 to the mid-1970s can exemplify the shift in films. The theoretical shift can be represented by Cahiers du cinéma changing of editors during the time. In 1963 Éric Rohmer was replaced by Jacques Rivette, who tried to extend the cultural base of Cahiers but it was not until 1966, when Jean-Luc Comolli and Jean Narboni print an editorial manifesto for Cahiers advocating a ‘new cinema,’ that the shift officially started and became more radical after 1968 and through the early 1970s (Hillier, 13-14). In the United States around the early 1970s Brian Henderson wrote a few essays that helped bring a theoretical approach to film analysis for Film Quarterly (Henderson, 54). His most influential work was his segment “Toward a Non-Bourgeois Camera Style” that he wrote for a critical study of Godard’s 1967 film Weekend, titled “Weekend and History.” While the article serves as a great introduction to this phase of Godard’s career, it falls short in explaining the implications of this new style, especially in a post-May 1968 context.

Henderson begins his article by claiming that Godard developed a new camera style, roughly beginning with in 1967. Henderson is primarily interested in the “long, slow tracking shot that moves purely laterally” displayed in these films (54). He begins by briefly explaining the shot, and then contrasts it against the tracking shots of other celebrated directors in order to explain how Godard’s shot is ‘new’. He then differentiates how the shot is utilized in Godard’s own films and how Weekend seems to be the only one completely structured around that shot. He continues the article by talking about the flatness of Godard’s shot and his use of planes of action. In order to further prove that Godard’s style is new he compares it to the two prominent schools of film aesthetics: Bazinian composition-in-depth and Eisensteinian montage. Concluding, he provides implications of this new style.

This new camera style can be understood best when juxtaposed with Murnau, Ophüls, and Fellini’s tracking shot, as Henderson does. Murnau uses the tracking shot in order to prove depth of space by moving the camera back and forth, diagonally or in an arc, or any other movement that creates depth. Godard’s shot moves strictly on a 0°/180° track that matches the subjects in the shots. The shot is also unlike Ophüls’s because his tracking shots are “essentially following shots”, which only serve to follow characters, creating an “individualist conception of the bourgeois hero” (55). Godard’s camera never prefers a certain individual to another, leaving no room for heroes or special alignment with any one subject. Lastly, it is different from Fellini’s shot in two main ways. First, Fellini’s shot interacts with the reality of the film world unlike Godard’s that is unaffected by the reality of the film world, i.e., it exists simply for itself. Secondly, Fellini’s tracks are mostly subjective where as Godard’s never are.

Henderson then turns to analyzing the use of depth Godard employs in his shot. His shots are almost always long takes yet adhere to none of the uses of the long take that André Bazin praised. Most importantly, Godard is not interested in the realism that was Bazin’s main purpose for the utilization of the long shot and take. Godard is simply presenting a “single-layered construct” for the audience to engage more critically in and take a stand for or against it (56). Henderson also mentions how the term “flatness,” in cinema studies, has negative connotations and that is one of the reasons Godard employs it. Godard’s subject in Weekend is the bourgeois, so he uses the flatness as a way of displaying them negatively, as well as to deviate from the “depth” so prominent in bourgeois cinema. Another reason Godard refuses depth is in order to open up new subject matter instead of embellishing on the same subject matter, e.g., showing different sides of the same subject, as is done in traditional use of depth. Henderson continues his explanation of the importance of flatness in this style as he discusses the organization of Weekend.

He begins explaining the organization by stating that the flatness is part of the whole, not the part, in terms of the overall construction of the film. The flatness is part of the whole because it is not until the film is finished that the flatness can be revealed, because a film can appear flat but in the last ten minutes it can utilize depth. Thus, Godard’s use of flatness is revealed as part of the whole when at the end of Weekend no depth has been displayed on any subject. Godard’s tracking shot is also particular in the sense that he always films his subjects in the long shot, achieving a “converse flatness” (61). Elaborating further, Henderson states how even when Godard employs several planes of action, they are always parallel, never intersecting; maintaining their flatness.

This flatness, or “single-plane construction”, departs from both prominent schools of film aesthetics. According to Henderson, both the montage and depth-in-composition schools advance action by “a way of the alteration and interaction of planes”; in montage it is done by editing and in depth-in-composition by movement (62). As mentioned previously, Godard’s style refuses interaction of planes, it exists in a “single-lateral plane”, suggestive of infinite length (63).

In concluding his article, Henderson spends the last paragraph explaining the implications of this new style. In simplest terms, this new style has direct ideological implications. As opposed to the world of depth offered by other cinema, “Godard’s flat frames collapse this world into two-dimensional actuality; [implying] a demystification, an assault on the bourgeois world-view and self-image” (63). Godard does not need depth to criticize the simplistic world of the bourgeois. As previously mentioned, this two-dimensionality and flatness also forces the viewer to critically contemplate Godard’s subjects.

While Henderson’s article serves as a perfect complement to Godard’s film of the period, Henderson does not focus enough in the implications of the style. He also fails to contextualize this style in view of the May 1968 events. He also does not place enough importance in Godard’s ability to foreshadow the explosion that would happen in May 1968. La chinoise was released in France on August 30, 1967, the film dealt with a group of Maoist students who are applying the tenets of Maoism to their daily life. Less than three months later, on November 20, Nanterre, the same university of La chinoise, witnessed the largest student strike in France to date (Birchall and Cliff, 160). While implying that Godard’s film actually aided in the strike actualizing might be a stretch, stating that Godard, more so than other people, knew something was about to happen. Weekend premiered less than four months after La chinoise on December 29, 1967. Premiering only five months before the May events, the film clearly anticipates many of the tensions that would explode in May. While the events in May did not originate over night and many of these tensions had been on the brink of exploding since before Weekend, the proximity of the film’s release date and the events should not go overlooked. Another characteristic of Godard’s style that Henderson completely overlooks is the Brechtian influence. In Weekend Brecht’s presence can be detected, even with the minutest understanding of Brecth’s aesthetic. For example, the notion of an active spectator, the breaking of the “fourth-wall”, contradictions in characters, etc., all these notions and more are clearly found throughout Weekend.

In writing “Towards a Non-Bourgeois Camera Style”, Brian Henderson crafts a highly accessible and informative article on Godard’s inaccessible cinema from 1967 to the mid-1970s. The problem with the article is that he understates the implications of the style and does not contextualize it. It is safe to say that this cinema would have not happened without the turmoil of France at the time or the influence of Brecht and the absence of these aspects leave the reader with the sense of an incomplete article.

Citations
Birchall, Ian and Tony Cliff. "France - the Struggles Goes on." International Struggle and the Marxist Tradition. London: Bookmarks, 2001. 159-217. Print.
Henderson, Brian. "Towards a Non-Bourgeois Camera Style." Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. 7th ed. New York: Oxford UP, 2009. 54-64. Print.
Hillier, Jim, and David Wilson. "Introduction: Cahiers Du Cinéma in the 1960s." 1960-1968: New Wave, New Cinema, Re-evaluating Hollywood. London: Routledge, 2001. 1-24. Print.
Stam, Robert. "1968 and the Leftist Turn." Film Theory an Introduction. Malden, Mass.:
Blackwell, 2001. 130-40. Print.

28 January 2012

Robert Bresson

“You can’t show everything. If you do, it’s no longer art. Art lies in suggestion. The great difficulty for filmmakers is precisely not to show things. Ideally, nothing should be shown, but that’s impossible.”

- Robert Bresson

With the new retrospective just ending at Film Forum last Thursday, there's been quite the incoming flow of new takes on Bresson over at MUBI (Robert Bresson: The Over-Plenty of Live). Hopefully when the retrospective is having its run at Belcourt I might be able to catch some screenings.

27 January 2012

Netflix Instant Gems: Theo Angelopoulos (1935 - 2012)

(from The Travelling Players, one of my favorite films)

3 days ago Theo Angelopoulos, one of the most distinctive and greatest filmmakers of all-time, died in the middle of shooting what might've been his last film, The Other Sea. It seems like I was reading two current interviews (here and here) with the director one day and the next reading about his death. In his memory, everyone that has Instant Netflix should add the following films to their queue and watch them. I myself have some catching up to do with Angelopoulos, not having seen Ulysses' Gaze, Alexander the Great or even the Palme d'Or winner Eternity and a Day. I will come back with some comments after watching Eternity and a Day on Instant this weekend.

The three Angelopoulos films available on Instant:

Topio Stin Omichli aka Landscape in the Mist
(For some reason this film is not under its English translation but its original Greek name, making it almost impossible to find unless you search under the director)

26 January 2012

Erotikon (Mauritz Stiller, 1920)


Mauritz Stiller pokes fun at a stereotype, still quite apparent in Hollywood today, in the incredibly ahead of its time film Erotikon. After the incredible play within the film, which is the most stunning section of the film, Professor Leo Charpentier (Anders de Wahl) responds to the unhappy ending:

25 January 2012

The Ward (John Carpenter, 2010)


John Carpenter's return after a nine-year absence to the big screen is one of the most playful films of 2010. A throwback to the basics of the horror genre the film is concerned with cheap frights (the startle effect is employed more times than one can count), good-looking girls (all the patients in this ward look like models) and, of course, showing some blood, though not much because the film is much more concerned in making people jump than grossing them out.


(Spoilers below)

The ending is also quite interesting, especially if we consider the very last image we see. The monster (Alice?) coming out of the mirror and attacking our main character. If we accept that as truth than that means that Kristen (Amber Heard) wasn't crazy at all but made insane due to the experimental methods practiced by the doctors at the psychiatric ward. They even managed to warp her psyche and make her believe their version of the story, as has been done in the past through torture which is basically what they are employing. This wouldn't be the first time Carpenter brought up political critique through incredible cheesy films (ex: They Live).


Fernando F. Croce on the film (article here):

"... an institutional building becomes a ghastly dungeon in The Ward. Where Villeneuve photographs zones of endangered normalcy, however, the much-missed John Carpenter plays with them until the very notion of "normalcy" bends like one of Caligari's painted shadows. Pondering the current state of the horror genre following a decade-long absence from the big screen (alleviated by strong work on cable), Carpenter must decide, like Frost, "what to make of a diminished thing." So, like the survivalists and bruisers of his earlier films, he sticks to his guns and forges ahead into battle. Other than a quicker tempo, this tale of an amnesiac arsonist (Amber Heard) trapped in a sinister 1960s mental asylum with assorted kooks and one prowling ghoul displays little indication of a rusty veteran trying to keep up with contemporary fright tropes. Rather than throwing his hat into the Saw-Hostel splatter arena, the filmmaker whips up frenzies both more modest and punchier, using resourceful characters to question order and reality, drawing on elements from Prince of Darkness and In the Mouth of Madness, and tempering the screenplay's unreliable-narrator clichés with a scrupulous attention to low-key dread, ensemble interaction and unerring camera placement that's downright classical. The result is a trim, scrubbed work, as strange and distilled as a mid-1930s Tod Browning chiller, where the smallest hint of sentimentality or whimsy (say, the girls dancing to a pop song) is literally short-circuited and the mirror the heroine stares into in the final, closure-denying shot might have been pieced together from the same glass shards seen in the unnerving opening credits."

24 January 2012

Class Relations (Danièle Huillet and Jean-Marie Straub, 1984)

Empty spaces in Straub and Huillet's Class Relations:


Preference is definitely given to spaces over characters. People enter and empty spaces and leave them again, the emphasis always on the place. Dave McDougall points out (here) that "Straub is as averse to 'protagonists' as to individual conceptions of history." This reliance on spaces clearly de-emphasizes the notion of a protagonist.

23 January 2012

Carnage (Roman Polanski, 2011)


Quick Observation: Polanski, no foreigner to films mostly set in single locations, perfectly choreographs and frames Carnage to portray the inescapability of the characters from this setting, in this case a posh Brooklyn apartment. Usually split in pairs of two, Penelope (Jodie Foster) Michael (John C. Reilly) Alan (Christoph Waltz) and Nancy (Kate Winslet) are constantly in the edges of the frame, not being able to escape one another, trapped by the frame. It adds reasoning for Alan and Nancy's refusal to leave. It also brings all the characters together spatially even when they are tearing themselves apart emotionally; showcasing their similarities, especially when boiled down to their primal instincts. Polanski's wonderfully composed comedy of manners is a great follow-up to The Ghost Writer but doesn't quite surpass the former's brilliant nostalgia for great entertainment films from the old days. Polanski doesn't seem to be losing any grace in his aging and any future projects will surely be intriguing.

22 January 2012

Most Anticipated films of 2012



Not only will this be my first visit to San Francisco but I'll be attending of the greatest cinematic spectacles of all-time in its full glory. This will also be the first time I see anything in 70mm. My expectations couldn't be higher, I wouldn't be surprise if it was a life changing experience.


The fact that this is Léos Carax's first film in thirteen years is reason enough to make this the film event of the year.


With Afterschool and Martha Marcy May Marlene Antonio Campos and Sean Durkin have established themselves as one of the most intriguing, innovative and important contemporary American auteurs. Easily the most exciting new movement, in we can call it that this soon, to emerge in American filmmaking in the last decade or two. Both films show signs incredibly competent and skillful filmmakers creating important works that raise many questions about present American society. The films clearly struggle on two-fronts (as Jean-Luc Comolli and Jean Paul Narboni would say). Simon Killer seems like the perfect direction in which Campos would take; progressing from high schooler to college graduate, from boarding school to foreign city (Paris) and dealing with many of the same themes of alienated youth. After glancing at the first round of reviews just in from Sundance (a wonderful round-up can be found here), I definitely don't think this one will disappoint.

21 January 2012

Kill List (Ben Wheatley, 2011)



Quick observation: One of the many brilliant aspects of Ben Wheatley's sophomore feature Kill List is in its narrative construction. In the first half of the film we are introduced to our characters, which seem to inhabit a very contemporaneous and real world plagued with the same problems as everyone else. The failing marriage, mainly due to monetary problems, of our protagonists seem the main concern of the narrative. Once our main character Jay (Neil Maskell) is forced to solve the monetary situation events begin turning surreal and horrific, exemplified in Kill List's first draw of blood that seals Jay's fate for the rest of the film. This narrative construction of realistic leading towards the surreal and horrific is perfect for a horror film. The audience clinging to that sense of believability established in the beginning marking the events to follow, no matter how terryfying they get, and making them that much more horrific.


That's why the first half is so long and we spend so much time with them. In horror movies, you usually don't know the people very well, of they're kids, and they get slaughtered by somebody who is much more charismatic than they are, some thing in a mask. The hero of the film is a monster. I wanted the viewer to like these people, even if they have a sort of shouty relationship. I think Jay and Shel's marriage is pretty good. I like Gal a lot. What they do is reprehensible, but by then, the are scenes are like money in the bank. It gets you through the madder stuff, and it also makes you feel the madder stuff more.
Ben Wheatley on Kill List, From Cinema Scope Winter 2012, Issue 49

20 January 2012

Birth (Jonathan Glazer, 2004) & Robin Wood


The “paradox of horror” is a phenomenon that has been widely discussed from the occasional movie watcher to the serious film scholar. At its most basic level, the paradox can be expressed by the question: Why would anyone want to experience art that might scare or disgust him/her? Robin Wood, a film critic and professor, gave his own answer to this paradox through a psychoanalytic approach. Wood was the first to bring horror films into academia by using Marxist critique and psychoanalysis to explore them. In one of his most influential essays, “An Introduction to the American Horror Film”, he tackled the paradox and claimed that the horror genre endures because it provides a necessary outlet for repressed and abnormal impulses. Birth, a 2004 film directed by Jonathan Glazer, is about Anna (Nicole Kidman) who is a 35-year-old widow who is about to finally marry a man named Joseph (Danny Huston) after ten years, but a ten-year-old boy, Sean (Cameron Bright), enters her life, claiming to be the reincarnation of her dead husband and warns her not to re-marry. Examining Birth in conjunction with Wood’s approach will provide a greater understanding of his theory and how it answers the “paradox of horror.”

Horror films, according to Wood, shed light on the concept of “the Other.” He defines Otherness by stating that it “functions not simply as something external to the culture or to the self, but also as what is repressed (but never destroyed) in the self and projected outwards in order to be hated or disowned” (Wood, 199). There are seven different concepts of Otherness that are thematized in horror films: female sexuality, the proletariat, other cultures, ethnic groups, alternative ideologies, homosexuality/bisexuality, and children. Culture and society strive to keep these in our unconscious, which Wood calls “surplus repression,” but horror films provide an outlet for these repressions to be expressed. To Wood, surplus repression is the process whereby humans are conditioned since childhood with certain preconceptions in order to fit within their culture. In America, this “makes us (if it works) into monogamous heterosexual bourgeois patriarchal capitalists” (197). This link to repression is what makes the horror genre popular since viewers get to experience desires they normally and unconsciously repress, thus it answers the paradox. Ideologically speaking, repressions can be presented with a reactionary or progressive aim.

Reactionary films want to restore the repression of the Other. Progressive films challenge ideology by directly addressing these repressed desires, resulting in political intent. Birth is an example of the progressive type. Reactionary horror films typically feature a monster that is pure evil, non-human and a product of a foreign land, sexual deviancy or the occult. The victims in these films tend to be sympathetic. In contrast, progressive horror films have a sympathetic monster that is partly human and a product of the American family or society. In other words, someone the viewers share similarities with. The victims in these films are also represented as not entirely sympathetic. Birth is set in New York and that is where Sean, the only identifiable monster in the film, comes from; he is not a product of a foreign land. Sean, being a ten-year-old boy who is clearly human, is relatable to audiences. At the end of the film his actions are explained as a “spell”, making Sean himself part victim. The “spell” working as a metaphor for Sean’s upbringing, societal views, and other criteria that led him to make those decisions.


The victims in the film are not entirely sympathetic. Anna, although her role is complicated since she is both protagonist and victim, is not represented as a pure sympathetic character. By actually engaging in Sean’s fantasy, Anna loses sympathy from the viewer. Joseph, the most clear victim of the film, attacks Sean and drags him across a room, with his only explanation to the crowd witnessing it being, “He kicked my chair!”. This attack on a ten-year-old diminishes Joseph’s sympathy. The presentation of Anna’s family is also one of the most progressive aspects of the film. Her family, clearly wealthy and bourgeois, is cold to Anna when she needs their help the most. In the scene when Anna talks to her sister and mother alone about the situation her sister tells her that “it is illegal” and her mother claims that she will call the police unless Anna sends Sean home. Instead of trying to help Anna, they simply want to bring in the strongest enforcer of dominant ideology: the law. The ending would also contribute to the progressive nature of the film. Once the viewer finds out that Anna’s marriage was a façade; the perfect, rich, heterosexual and “normal” life that had been portrayed of Anna’s pre-widow years, is shattered. There is no sense of a return to normalcy, the monster is not completely crushed, the Other does not completely disappear or become fully repressed, all of which creates an ambiguity which Wood would find progressive.


The narrative structure of Birth also coincides with Wood’s basic horror formula. For Wood, horror narratives consist of a monster threatening normality. The monster being anything that is repressed, the Other, or normality’s “shadow”. While normality is the capitalistic structure that is represented by social norms and usually consists of heterosexual relationships and everything else that society accepts, it is not necessarily what is right. Birth clearly follows this: Anna is about to re-marry after ten years of being a widow into a “normal” heterosexual relationship until Sean appears and disrupts all sense of normality. In this sense, Sean is representative of Anna’s repression of the love she still has for her dead husband, of loving someone much younger than her, or to its most extreme, representative of her love of a hypothetical son in an unorthodox manner. This blurry line between familial and romantic love is one of the repressed “Other” that the film expresses. Wood identifies that the most essential part of this formula constitutes the relationship between normality and the monster. He believes that this relationship has one privileged form, which is that of the doppelgänger, double, or alter ego. Birth falls into this privileged form since Sean can be seen as the dead husband’s double. Sean threatens Anna’s normality by telling her not to marry Joseph and trying to break her “normal” heterosexual relationship.

The characterization and narrative structure of the film heavily contribute to the viewer’s unconscious pleasures. In many ways, the film is about the highly taboo subject of loving a person much younger including the possibility of it being your own daughter or son. People constantly repress any feelings that they may have for a much younger significant other since it is deemed unacceptable in American society. Anna’s relationship with the ten-year-old Sean, especially prominent when she kisses him outside her apartment complex and in the bathing scene, is the most explicit sign of this repression. Anna herself wants to repress this desire but after witnessing Sean’s collapse before she goes to the theater everything changes. In a beautiful, highly stylistic sequence that boasts with non-diegetic fierce classical music: Joseph and Anna are seen arriving at a theater and as they walk towards their seats the camera slowly begins to zoom in on Anna’s face; her facial expression automatically signaling the viewer she can no longer repress her desire [captures below]. By setting up this scenario Glazer has provided the viewer with a presentation of a highly repressed desire that can account for the viewer’s unconscious pleasure of the film even if they were frightened or disgusted. This pleasure is derived from the exposition of the repressed desires, allowing viewers to experience these scenarios in a safe format.

19 January 2012

Godard Double Feature: Film Socialisme (2010) & King Lear (1987)


Since I just received King Lear from facetsmovies.com (a real film lover's netflix) and my Blu-Ray copy of Film socialisme from Kino I couldn't help but plan a double feature of these two Jean-Luc Godard works that I haven't yet seen (I've seen 45 of his films). Film socialisme was the film of 2010 that I had most looked forward and ever since it's been on the very top of my watch-list. It never ended up coming to either Atlanta or Athens (GA) so I ended up waiting for the Blu-Ray release. As far King Lear somehow I hadn't yet seen this and I would've never though it would be on DVD from MGM... Hopefully some friends will join me and we will update with some notes, observations, discussions.

18 January 2012

The Lost (& last) Pasolini Interview


Read entire interview here

This interview took place three days before Pasolini was murdered in 1975 and was just recently discovered and published (December). It's a wonderful, and short, read in which Pasolini talks passionately about the destruction that consumerism is causing in Italy. Some that is obviously present in Salò. This interview works as a great companionship to the film. Especially to anyone disregarding as pure dementia, shock value, etc. Both the interview and the film express his extreme, almost religious, dislike of what consumerism is doing to Catholics, Marxists, and all of Italy (one could say everywhere now).

About Salò:

In this new film, sex is nothing but an allegory of the commodification of bodies at the hands of power. I think that consumerism manipulates and violates bodies as much as Nazism did. My film represents this sinister coincidence between Nazism and consumerism. Well, I don't know if audiences will grasp this since the film presents itself in rather enigmatic way, almost like a miracle play, where the sacred word retains its Latin meaning of "cursed."

About consumerism:

I consider consumerism a worse fascism than that the classical one, because clerical-fascism did not transform Italians. It did not get into them. It was totalitarian but not totalizing. I'll give you an example: fascism has tried for twenty years to eliminate dialects and it didn't succeed. Consumerism, which, on the contrary, pretends to be safeguarding dialects, is destroying them.

17 January 2012

Reverse Shot on Vimeo

I can't believe I've just now found these incredible videos by Reverse Shot on Vimeo. The videos have a surprisingly low view count. Not only are these interviews quite insightful but the cinematography and editing make them a lot more pleasurable to watch than most straightforward interviews. Here's a few to get you started:

Catherine Breillat on her relationship with the tale of Bluebeard, the beheading of the duck, and more:


Cool uniform at SXSW and Azazel Jacobs talks about his parents:


Bruno Dumont on religion, mysticism, acting, audience reception, and more:


Apichatpong Weerasethakul talks about the jungle, acting, the fourth wall, audiences, evolving as a filmmaker, and more:


Claire Denis on relationships with collaborators, the creation of a film, and more:


Olivier Assayas on making American films, films as eternal truth, and more:


Many, many more wonderful videos of available at their profile here: vimeo.com/reverseshot

16 January 2012

Elsewhere (Nikolas Geyrhalter, 2001)

One of the most important films of the decade (2000 - 2009) along with Wang Bing's Tie Xi Qu: West of the Tracks (2003) and Liu Jiayin's Oxhide and Oxhide II. These three films clearly justify the importance of cinema in this day and age. The fact that they were all shot digitally, with virtually just the director and his camera, also provide some sort of hope for the digital era. Every segment in Elsewhere left me contemplating some aspect of humanity and life. An incredibly poignant, thought-provoking and immaculately shot film.