#239 The Double Life of Veronique (1991)

***

Director: Krysztof Kieslowski

Cast: Iréne Jacob, Halina Gryglaszewska, Kalina Jedrusik, Aleksander Bardini, Wladyslaw Kowalski, Jerzy Gudjeko, Janusz Sterninski, Philippe Volter

The Doube Life of Veronique is the tale of two women, both played by Iréne Jacob, although two separate people, in two separate parts of Europe, living two separate lives. One woman is Weronika, a Polish singer, and the other is Veronique, a French music teacher. When Weronika has an unfortunate, unexpected death, Veronique feels an unexplainable and irreconcilable grief, as the two women--whom we know have never met, share an inexplicable strong emotional bond.

The film then follows the life of Veronique as she is courted by a unique stranger, a puppeteer living near her home. The dreamlike, elusive character of Alexandre serves as a jumping point for a series of quiet meditations on many of the things about life we cannot explain nor express. Dreams, hallucination, imagination, superstition, intuition... all realms of the personal which each human experiences entirely alone in their lifetime.

The film's feel reminded a lot of Amélie without the cheeky humor (and yes, I realize this one came first). The unusual romance is whimsical and fantasy, and the movie as a whole is a clever expression on some of the hardest things to capture about human nature. Very beautiful. Slow. Contemplative. This is what I consider to be a worthy-of-your-time romance. I wish more people were still making movies like this.

#230 Narayama Bushi-Ko [The Ballad of Narayama] (1983)

****

Director: Shohei Imamura

Cast: Ken Ogata, Sumiko Sakamoto, Takejo Aki, Tonpei Hidari, Seiji Kurasaki, Kaoru Shimamori, Ryutaro Tatsumi, Junko Takada, Nijiko Kiyokawa, Mitsuko Baisho

In a remote mountain village in 19th century Japan, all inhabitants face an unusual and unfortunate destiny: at the age of 70 they all must be carried up Mt. Narayama to be left to die. In a primitive, hand-to-mouth existence, the natives of this village live out surreal and horrific scenarios on a daily basis (the local second-born sons take out their sexual frustrations on the neighborhood dog, a family is buried alive for taking too many potatoes...), making the unstoppable approach of each of their mountain-journeys far too ordinary.

The film chronicles one particular family, the Nekkos, who are anticipating the matriarch's, Orin's, 70th birthday. Her eldest son bares the task of taking her up the mountain, and her peaceful, dreamlike acceptance of her own mortality is astounding. What is so unexpected, however, is that we soon find that this useless ritual is the quality that gives their characters their humanity.

The film is slow, but illusorily so. The feelings of normalcy that this film injects into such unbelievable circumstances enables the mountain journey of Orin and her son Tatsuhei to feel impactful in a surprising, unexpected way. An interesting and unsparing examination of societal evolutions--left unchecked will develop in a direction that prove irreversible and unexplainable, yet nevertheless unstoppable.

#225 Novecento [1900] (1976)

**

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci

Cast: Robert De Niro, Gérard Depardieu, Dominique Sanda, Francesca Bertini, Laura Betti, Werner Bruhns, Stefania Casini, Sterling Hayden, Anna Henkel

I've been working on this epic, historical political drama for a few nights now. Viewed in its original cut at a whopping run-time of 5.25 hours (with poorly dubbed-in voices instead of subtitles mind you), the film required more than the standard dosage of patience.

So what defines "epic" in this case? Masterful... or simply really, really long? Honestly, it's hard to say. Even the director himself seems not to know, as the film exists in many versions-- some even cut down by 90 minutes. Supposedly, Bertolucci says in these cases, 'Nothing important was cut.'

Well, that really summarizes my feelings about this film, and it's not stemming from a shallow place. In fact, my favorite film of all time (Gone With the Wind) is a long one too-- I have no time limit for films! But 1900 truly lacked relationship, momentum, and defining moments. The importance of this film is in the passage of time–politically and in the specific relationship of the two star-crossed friends: the landowner and the worker during fascist Italy. Over the course of five hours, the director is OF COURSE enabled to show the gradual and radical changes. He is presented with a unique opportunity to pace in what can feel almost like real time... (Isn't that incredible by the way? Films allow us to believe in years passing in hours. We are truly transported!) And while I understand that this film was never, on any level intended to be any shape or form of entertaining, but rather, was intended to live amongst the great political dramas, I stand my ground in saying that this film lacks Glue. It lacks cohesive qualities that make it feel seamless with direction.

Instead, we are jolted uncomfortably along with characters we don't quite understand. We watch history unfold (and without a good understanding of Italian history.. GOOD LUCK!) without any vehicle for emotion.

This films packs a lot of events into 5 hours, but it doesn't pack much heat. The fire and emotional impact only arise when there is extreme violence or sexual crudeness on screen. Moments. Never by plot or character.

For me, although it is always a great experience to invest yourself more deeply in stories (ie. I always prefer long, epic novels to short books), in this case, I could've done without 3 hours of this film.

And on a completely separate note, I also could've done without seeing young Robert De Niro's full frontal.

#220 Ba Wang Bie Ji [Farewell My Concubine] (1993)

***

Director: Kaige Chen

Cast: Leslie Cheung, Fengyi Zhang, Li Gong, Qi Lu, Da Ying, You Ge, Chun Li, Han Lei, Di Tong, Mingwei Ma, Yang Fei, Zhi Yin, Hailong Zao, Dan Li, Wenli Jiang

The story of two friends presents itself here in one of the most fascinating relationships on film, and perhaps one of the most original in the genre of historical fiction. This epic drama is the story of two Beijing opera performers bonded together at a young age through their own personal hardships as well as the daily brutal torture of operatic training.

Cheng Dieyi (Cheung), as a boy was given to the theatre troupe by his prostitute mother who was unable to care for him. Understandably sexually confused and abused, he was trained to play female roles. His close mate and 'stage brother, Xiaolou (Zhang), trained as a painted-face male lead. Later in life, when the two received stardom for their leading roles in the famous play "Farewell My Concubine," their relationship as friends became cemented as one of true brotherhood. Dieyi's love for his castmate, however, was romantic and sexual, and despite the genuinity of their relationship, those feelings were never reciprocated.

As Xiaolou courted and married an up-scale prostitute lover, Dieyi found solace in a wealthy patron by the name of Master Yuan. While the complexity of these relationships changed and melded with the many changes of the political climate of 1940-1960s China, the drama climaxes when Xiaolou is given the opportunity to save his own skin or stick up for one or both of his closest friends–his wife and Dieyi.

Critically acclaimed for being, along with The Blue Kite, one of the greatest records of China's recent history, this film speaks volumes to the heat and disparity that touched every population of China during this time. Even in the arenas of that which we often consider untouchable and glamorous, we are awakened to the brutality and betrayal within and outside these small societies.

While I could, again, not follow all of the intense political drama, I was indeed captivated and alarmed by much of the sexual and relationship complications this film offered. A sincere explosion of stimuli for both vision and sound, Farewell My Concubine is nothing short of a scrumptious spectacle.

#218 Spoorloos [The Vanishing] (1988)

****

Director: George Sluizer

Cast: Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu, Gene Bervoets, Johanna ter Steege, Gwen Eckhaus, Bernadette Le Saché, Tania Latarget

What is worse than death? For Rex Hofman, it is living a life shrouded in the torturous mystery of his girlfriend's disappearance. While vacationing together, Rex and Saskia stop at a gas station in France. When Saskia never returns to the car, Rex launches a full investigation of her disappearance. Years later when the case goes cold and the police have long-since shut the file, Rex remains plagued by the mystery and his sorrow.

Having taken over his life completely, the campaign to find Saskia expends all of his time, money, and energies. When he finally comes face to face with her abductor, Raymond, he is met with an unexpected proposition. Raymond–a normal man by any other definition: a professor, husband, father– offers Rex the opportunity to find out how Saskia died, but only by experiencing it himself. Otherwise, he will never know.

Thus, the film reaches the ultimate psychological climax. And while I refuse to spoil the ending, I will say it is one of the most disturbing things I've seen in a long, long time.

While this film by no means follows the standard "horror" genre formula, it supplies enough suspense and fright to indeed go beyond a mere 'crime film' into the classification of horror/suspense. A shocking and frightening foreign film, whose later remake I suggest could not possibly compare. Unique in that it follows the mind/life of the criminal in more detail than that of the victims, we get a fascinating view of Raymond practicing for his crime (without ever really seeing the actual full thing). And in what we can only assume are Saskia's last moments alive, we are plagued with the unfortunate experience of watching her vitality and innocence as she interacts with who will soon facilitate her unfair and inhumane demise.

Worth seeing, but come prepared. This one is not going to leave you with a good feeling in your stomach.

#215 La Passion de Jeanne D'Arc [The Passion of Joan of Arc] (1928)

***

Director: Carl Theodor Dreyer

Cast: Renée Falconetti, Eugene Silvain, André Berley, Maurice Schutz, Atonin Artaud, Michel Simon, Jean d'Yd, Louis Ravet, Armand Lurville, Jacques Arnna

Passion of Joan of Arc is said to be the greatest of all Joan of Arc films, and perhaps even one of the greatest silent films of all time. On both of these claims, I have little to compare it to within my own experience, but I don't find it hard to imagine it all being true.

Filmed in France in 1928, just eight years after Joan of Arc was canonized, the film is a spectacular nonfiction (albeit highly abbreviated) account of the trials of Joan of Arcs, derived from official court documents. The film is indeed a bizarre affair, using almost no film-maker tricks to help with continuity– ie., no match-on-action, no eyesight leads, no camera angle consistencies. The jumping, motion-happy shots seem to land in dramatic angle after dramatic angle, typically far below the subject's line of vision. Joan is often viewed from below, towering over the camera with her eyes always wide and lifted as if only addressing God.

As with so many other martyr films (forgive me but only Passion of the Christ is really coming to mind at the moment), we are flung into whirls of violence and empathy. We are often asked to place ourselves into the martyr's shoes. We are asked to imagine making such a sacrifice. And often in these movie-going experiences, we are consoled by an omniscient feeling that we know more or understand our matyr better than the torturers and executioners. In this film, however, we are not given that comfort. We are not asked to identify. In fact, to the end, Joan remains a mystery. Perhaps this was artistic intent, or perhaps the director himself had not quite made up his mind about her either.

While I would say this certainly isn't one of the easiest films to get through, it is surprisingly easy to follow despite my lack of knowledge to the real historical significance of the real Joan of Arc. An obviously significant film that I am happy to have seen and look forward to learning more about.

#209 Les parapluies de Cherbourg [The Umbrellas of Cherbourg] (1964)

***

Director: Jacques Demy

Cast: Catherine Deneuve, Nino Casteinuovo, Anne Vernon, Marc Michel, Ellen Farner, Mireille Perrey, Jean Champion, Pierre Caden, Jean-Pierre Dorat

On a day like today where it literally has not stopped raining for even a moment since I woke this morning, I found it only fitting to finally get to The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. This having been a personal recommendation of a good friend of mine, I was quite excited to see it. Actually, perhaps rather than excited, the word would be 'interested.' I walked into this film knowing that it would be unusually pleasant–even if perhaps at first it stylistically offends. I popped the dvd in, and was not-so-surprised to find the forecast to be true.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg is entirely a musical, but not in the usual sense. Instead of random outbreaks of song, every single phrase of dialogue is sung in the movie. And even further, there is no repeating melody, no chorus, no predictability. The entire movie rolls along with a symphonic (and sometimes jazzy snazzy) score, and the characters seem to sing out their lines with whatever little melody they please. For the first 30 minutes at least... I have to wholly admit that this is not only alarming, but extremely uncomfortable.

Soon enough, however, you become interested in the 'mood changes' brought on by the background music, and in some ways, the singing makes the French subtitles easier to follow.

The story is of Geneviéve (Deneuve– aka Belle de Jour!), 17-year-old daughter who lives with her widowed umbrella-saleswoman mother (Vernon) in Cherbourg. She falls hopelessly and secretly in love with a 20-year-old mechanic named Guy (Casteinuovo), and when the two make plans to marry, Geneviéve's mother strictly forbids it. When Guy gets drafted and sent to the war in Algeria for two years, the two lovers consummate their relationship, and in the process, Geneviéve conceives. The two lovers promise to wait for one another.

But just three months after Guy's departure, Geneviéve finds herself weak–physically and emotionally. With only discouragement from her mother, she struggles to think about Guy at all. When a wealthy jewel salesman (Michel) claims love-at-first-sight and asks for her hand in marriage, she follows her mother's advice and accepts. She is married only a month or so later–just a short few months after Guy's initial leave!

When he is injured and comes back to Cherbourg early, he is devastated to find the truth about Geneviéve's decisions. In depression, he takes to drinking, sleeping with prostitutes, quits his job, and mourns the death of his Aunt. With the help of his Aunt's former nurse, he comes back to life through successfully starting his own gas station. After marrying her, Geneviéve and Guy find each other for the first time in an unexpected place on an unexpected evening.

The film is separated into three parts: the departure, the absence, and the return. And while the plot doesn't boast anything new, it's all in the presentation that sets Umbrellas apart. The first French musical ever to be shot in color, it's a splendor of a film, albeit one that requires patience and an open-mind. If you have any heart for musicals, guaranteed that you'll catch yourself smiling a few times at the very least... if not secretly captivated by the end.

#206 The Spirit of the Beehive (1973)

**

Director: Víctor Erice

Cast: Ana Torrent, Fernando Fernán Gómez, Teresa Gimpera, Isabel Telleria, Ketty de la Camara

In a remote, rural 1940s Spanish village, a young girl named Ana is growing up with her father, mother, older sister, and housekeeper. Her father is a beekeeper who spends most of his time writing about his bees. Her mother is distant, preoccupied in a self-absorption of writing long letters to her secret lover. Her sister Isabel is her only friend, albeit a somewhat mischievous one, always playing tricks on Ana and taking full advantage of her youthful and gullible nature.

Perhaps the only thing the people of this village really have to look forward to is when the new movie reel comes to the local cinema–children jump around the truck, and everyone in the town crowds in the door, having brought their own chairs. When James Whales' 1931 Frankenstein comes to town, Ana is nothing short of traumatized by the monster; however, her ferocious curiosity is not to be confused with fear.

Ana begins a solitary journey to find the monster, to summon his spirit, to find out if and why he killed the little girl in the film. Her obsession leads her into dangerous situations–journeying far away from home to a remote abandoned farmhouse, feeding vagabonds, and long, lost walks in dark forests. Her dysfunctional family hardly notices until the father's coat and pocket-watch go missing, as a result of one of Ana's schemes.

The film is extremely slow-moving with dry, rolling landscapes. The homes feel as abandoned as the land, and the characters within Ana's family are never shown together on screen–always separated, always isolated– even when at the dinner table. Ana's adventure is one purely on her own, and her wide eyes are wide open windows into her emotions. Without much dialogue (and often when there is, it is in a whisper), we are able to imagine all of the overwhelming feelings and wonderings of small Ana.

The film is often cited as being a grand inspiration for Pan's Labyrinth, a modern day Spanish fantasy film. After seeing both, I can really see the similarities in the use of the young girl, but the pacing and use of violence in Pan's Labyrinth make it almost unrelatable to the quiet, contemplative Spirit of the Beehive.

#197 Ostre Sledované Vlaky [Closely Watched Trains] (1967)

***

Director: Jirí Menzel

Cast: Václav Nekár, Josef Somr, Vlastimil Brodsky, Vladimír Valenta, Alois Vachek, Ferdinand Kruta, Jitka Bendová

Milo (Nekár) is a wide-eyed Czech boy who has just inherited his father's position as train dispatcher at the local train station. He enjoys the job because it means he doesn't have to do "any real hard work." He is quiet, nervous, and skinny, and he tries his best to take after his superior Hubika (Somr), a ladies' man and rule-breaker.

Milo finds himself sweet on a young female conductor, and the two begin a bit of an innocent romance. When she prompts Milo to become physical, Milo's nervousness gets in the way. Depressed and embarrassed, he acts out with self-mutilation and telling anyone who has a pair of ears about his problem. He is determined to find an older woman to give him experience, so he can make love to his girlfriend.

All of this happens amidst World War II, but unlike other films, this one in no way glorifies it-- it is incidental and not center-stage, though it does play an important part in the conclusion of the film. When Milo and Hubika agree to take part in a plan to destroy one of the enemy's ammunition trains, things go a bit awry.

Though quiet, black and white, and in subtitles-- the slowness of this film was neither agitating or daunting. Milo's innocence was endearing and relatable, and the tragic end of the film was not changed from the original novel's.

#193 Au Revoir Les Enfants (1987)

***

Director: Louis Malle

Cast: Gaspard Manesse, Raphael Fejt ö, Francine Racette, Stanislas Carre de Malberg, Philippe Morier-Genoud, Francois Berléand, Francois Négret

In the midst of World War II, two Catholic boarding school students in France find unexpected friendship. Julien Quentin (Manesse) is a sensitive, momma's boy who despite his hatred for school has a decent amount of popularity amongst the other boys. Jean Bonnet (Fetjö) is a newcomer to the school and is finding it hard to adjust.

When Julien learns that Jean is actually a Jew in hiding, he stops taunting him with the other boys and slowly develops a friendship with him. When Gestapo receive word that the school is hiding Jews and come for Jean, Julien faces one of the hardest days of his life.

Based on the actual events of his childhood at a wartime boarding school, director Louis Malle is careful to depict the film entirely from the child's view. No omniscient understanding of the war-- only what the priests and teachers tell the children (practically nothing). This view allows for a true innocence in perspective that makes the emotions of the children completely within our empathetic grasp as viewers. In addition, the film is shot in a dark, snowy, damp setting that chills you in just watching. The title translated to English ("Goodbye, Children") refers to both the climactic departing at the film's conclusion as well as the unavoidable end of childhood innocence.

The film uses a series of interesting motifs to highlight the unusual unification of these two characters, ie. continually reminding you of their separation, even when shown together. One of the strongest motifs I noticed is the visual of the "looking glass." The character Bonnet is consistently viewed through glass, in reflection, or in a window-like frame-- and more often than not, we find that it is Quentin who views him through this frame. (Think of the piano lesson window, the mirror in Bonnet's locker, the doorway of Bonnet's exit, the framed soldier who comes for confession.) Also remember the opening scene of the movie where we watch Quentin look out through the train window, trapped and isolated, with a distinct naive view of the world. It is when viewing Bonnet through these frames that illuminates the importance difference between the two friends--it reminds us that even though they are mates, they are still very isolated, coming from two very different worlds.

Another beautiful and tragic perspective on World War II--refreshing and endearing for its unique vantage point on the happenings of the Holocaust. Of course, this film is only minutely in documentation of the war-- and more about the climax and denouement of friendship as a result of persecution. A microcosm scope.

#188 M. Hulot's Holiday (1953)

**

Director: Jacques Tati

Cast: Jacques Tati, Nathalie Pascaud, Michele Rolla, Valentine Carmax, Louis Perrault, Andre Dubois Lucien Fregis, Rayond Carl, Suzy Willy

M. Hulot's Holiday is a feel-good, screwball comedic glance at vacation. Hulot heads to spend his holiday at a seaside resort, wreaking accidental and good-natured havoc all over the town and his fellow vacationers. The scene, the people, the music-- all a very gentle, too-true satire on the concept of going on holiday.

The film is virtually silent, as Hulot's slapstick comedy is nearly all physical/situational. The character is charming and innocent, and the plotless jokes roll on for nearly 1.5 hours. While humorous and gentle-- I have to be honest and say I did find myself drifting off in thought at some points aka... getting quite bored. Although the movie was adorable, and I might even be brave enough to say that I think I now see where the character Mr. Bean was stolen from... I just can't say that I found the movie to be anything too memorable. Definitely a movie suited for a lazy afternoon-- casual, light-hearted viewing.

#187 Hitlerjunge Salomon [Europa Europa] (1990)

****

Director: Agnieszka Holland

Cast: Solomon Perel, Marco Hofschneider, Julie Delpy, Rene Hofschneider, Piotr Kozlowski, Klaus Abramowsky, Michele Gleizer, Marta Sandrowicz

Europa Europa is the harrowing true story of Solomon Perel, a Jewish Holocaust survivor and Nazi war hero. Yep, you read that correctly. Discovered at a Polish orphanage after being separated from his family, he haphazardly climbs Nazi ranks as a model Hitler Youth and German citizen to avoid termination. In the face of the choice of becoming a Jewish martyr or survive-- he chooses survival. Along the way, he faces countless challenges to his faith, his body, and his true identity.

Though understandingly tragic and graphic, Europa Europa manages to remain a deeply personal narrative. In Perel's story, we examine the alternative to an honest death: the price of survival. Overwhelmed with fear, confusion, and guilt, Perel faces some of the most unique challenges imaginable-- even for WWII.

This film proves not to be the easiest in the world to form an opinion on...

On one hand, I am beyond captivated at the remarkable nature of this man's story-- and I want to go running to the bookshelves to uncover what parts of this story are true (and which were embellished for the film-- though not hard to imagine most of the horrors being true). I also believe the film finds itself a stable and respected place amongst other World War II and Holocaust films-- a subject matter that we have no right to forget.

I do have some minor gripes with the film however. One being the classic European flashback/fantasy sequences. The second being the unlikely, jolting savior-like ending. What really happened?

I wish to be more present in the protagonist's consciousness as well. I see his fear, I feel his guilt-- but what is he thinking? I want to hear some of these complicated emotions verbalized....

But I guess that's where Perel's book would be helpful...

Regardless of the details and minor gripes-- this film electrifies and humbles. Overwhelms and frightens. Pays tribute and honors. Definitely a valuable view.

#185 Fa yeung nin wa [In the Mood for Love] (2001)

****

Director: Kar Wai Wong

Cast: Tony Leung Chiu Wai, Maggie Cheung, Lai Chen, Rebecca Pan, Paulyn Sun, Kelly Lai Chen, Man-Lei Chan, Tsi-Ang Chin, Roy Cheung

In the way that Lost in Translation remains my favorite film-- this movie captures and moves me somewhere deep below the surface. It doesn't always have to be said. It doesn't always have to be shown. We don't always have to rip each other's clothes off, cry, fight, or even talk to express the complications of our relationships. Sometimes we just keep secrets. We just look at one another. We just know.

Some call this film the greatest romance of 2001, and while I'm not entirely sure who that'd be up against-- I am still not afraid to agree.

The film takes you to a picture-perfect 1960s Hong Kong where two neighbors befriend one another once they realize their spouses are involved in an affair with one another. Leaning on each other for consolation, advice, and even supportive "rehearsals" for the various coping and confrontations involved with being the victims of infidelity, the two form a bond that blossoms into restricted, careful romance. Vowing not to be like their unfaithful spouses, the two waltz around each other carefully, creating one of the most beautiful and forbidden romances ever on screen.

The soundtrack, cinematography, and improvised script give the film a haunting and quiet feel that leaves you aching for resolution-- so much like real life that you forgot you're in a movie for long periods of time. While some might find these moments optimum for taking a bathroom break, certain movie-goers (myself included) found my eyes locked on the screen-- barely blinking, barely breathing!

A beautiful love story. Slowly unfolding.

Highly Recommended for the patient and romantic spirit.

#178 Belle de Jour (1967)

****

Director: Luis Buñuel

Cast: Catherine Deneuve, Jean Sorel, Michel Piccoli, Geneviéve Page, Pierre Clémenti, Francoise Fabian

Séverine Serizy (Deneuve) is a beautiful, elegant upperclass Parisian housewife who is happily married to a handsome surgeon named Pierre (Sorel). The problem, however, (and there always is some problem, isn't there?) is that she cannot bring herself to be intimate with him. They sleep in separate beds even after a year of being married--Séverine is cold, but not cruel.

In her mind, she drifts off into violent, fetishtic sexual fantasies to satisfy her needs and urges, and the unknowing, patient Pierre just politely kisses her and awaits the day he will get to be intimate with his wife. Séverine's fantasies, however, become real when she begins to gain an interest in the happenings of the local brothels after she hears a woman that she knows has begun working for one.

Séverine begins slipping away to the house of Madame Anais to work as a prostitute under the name Belle de Jour (Beautiful Day), named for the fact that she only works afternoons while her husband is at his job. She begins to feel satisfaction, and her confidence blossoms. She begins to see and understand Pierre's "man-urges" after dealing with bizarre and sexually aggressive clientele. It's only after one of her clients begins to step into her married life that things start getting messy.

One of the great things about this film is the way we get to wander in and out of surreal interludes into Séverine's fantasies without warning or explanation. We hear cats meowing in the distance or see the child version of Séverine moving throughout scenes where the main character experiences these day dreams. The transitions are smooth, but easy to follow, and they enlighten a lot of what Séverine is going through in her sexually-complicated emotional sphere--things that would be hard to explain on screen other than through dialogue.

I think Belle de Jour stands as a bit of a cultural landmark as well in the realm of erotic film-making. Despite the extremely steamy subject matter, the director didn't need to show nudity OR sex to make us understand how much of it was actually happening. Half of the titillation, of course, is experienced through suggestion or what is left unsaid. By letting the viewer fill in the gaps, we are able to experience the eroticism while still getting a sense of the subversive nature of the plot.

An amazingly interesting theory about this subtle surrealist masterpiece is... what if the prostitution situation was all just fantasy and day dream as well? What if it was another erotic vision of Séverine's, complete with her aggressive, I'd-die-for-you client lover? Without giving too much of the film away, I'd also think that the final state of Pierre gives support to this interesting theory-- in the end, he is stripped of the ability to act on his 'man-urges', isnt' he? While part of me thinks this is an interesting final place for him to end up in a Séverine fantasy (she is able to have her true love but is also free from the pressure of intimacy!), I also think this disproves the same theory! I do, on some level, think that Séverine uses prostitution as a way of understanding her husband and bringing herself closer to him. The two ideas conflict greatly, and so I'd be interested in knowing what other people think about all this.

At any rate, a very interesting and approachable film, even with its somewhat saucy subject matter.

#177 Ultimo Tango a Parigi [Last Tango in Paris] (1972)

****

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci

Cast: Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider, Maria Michi, Giovanna Galietti, Gitt Magrini

"Go get the butter."

Last Tango in Paris is the story of Paul (Brando), an American businessman living in Paris whose wife has just committed suicide. Those are the facts. But the truth about this character is that he has been reduced so greatly by his sorrow that all that remains left of his ability to express himself are the banest, cruelest, and most animalistic urges.

When Jeanne (Schneider) goes apartment-hunting for herself and her fiance, she walks into an empty, dingy apartment and finds Paul sitting in the dark. When he begins to rape her, she casually accepts, and soon the two have made a deal to continue to meet there regularly-- no names, no feelings, no questions.

The brutal, anonymous love-making of Paul and Jeanne is sensual but cruel, and it could be argued that it is one of the most raw portrayals of emotion ever on screen. How appropriate was Brando's casting in this role-- I can't even begin to express. The ferocity of his method acting makes Paul's character undeniably (and frighteningly) real. Whether Brando was an obnoxious person doesn't change my opinion about his ability to bring a character to life. When he acts, you can actually sense his character's thoughts and emotions boiling right behind his face. I felt this was so necessary for Paul-- after all, he's the hero of a movie with the only moving plotline being his slowly growing grief.

A lot of controversy was stirred up by the amount sex in this film at the time of its release, and even more criticism was thrown at the director for showing Schneider naked many, many times but never Brando. It's true, it can feel a bit debasing or humiliating to the female, but that's exactly the point of this film-- that was their relationship. She was an object, a vessel, and she allowed herself to be that outlet for the volcanic, hungry needs of Paul.

The greatness of this on-screen relationship is the honesty that is presented through what they choose not to say. The way two people can be using each other simultaneously for very different things. Or the way that one person can allow another work something out through them.

This isn't one of my favorite films, I can tell, and it never will be. I can say, however, that I have tremendous respect for it. This is one of those films where the portrayed emotions are so overwhelming that you almost bow down to the film-maker for just finally getting it all out into the open. A little bit less weight is on our shoulders. Or at least that's how I felt.

#173 Lan Feng Zheng [The Blue Kite] (1993)

***

Director: Zhuangzhuang Tian

Cast: Wenyao Zhang, Xiaoman Chen, Liping Lü, Quanxin Pu, Xuejian Li, Ping Zong, Hong Zhang

Let me prequel my writing here by first stating that I don't really feel comfortable and/or qualified enough to be making any sort of judgments on a film like this.

The Blue Kite is a monumental film, packed with history-- not only in the portrayed narrative, but the story of the film itself. Banned from China even before it was finished, the film was smuggled to Japan to be sold on other foreign markets. It remains today as one of the most honest outstanding films to tackle the difficult political atmosphere of 1960s Beijing.

On Dry Well Lane in 1953, a young Chinese couple marries with much celebration, family, and food. A year later, their son, Tietou, is born. The boy flies his blue kite in the lane, and the family lives a simple life where to know the happenings of the neighborhood, all they had to do was look out the window.

But as the political climate in China changes, so does the family. The film is broken into three sections: father, uncle, and stepfather-- in representation of the Hundred Flowers Campaign, The Great Leap Forward, and the Cultural Revolution. Each change of the familial patriarch marks the change in China under Chairman Mao.

I thought the film was extremely thoughtful, and even though I studied these Chinese history topics extensively in school, I still found the film very hard to follow. A lot of events were shown in the film that the fresh-eyed viewer would need further explained, ie. the sparrow-killing leading to famine. I can see, however, to the more-educated eye how impactful this film is not only as a piece of art but also as a historical document.

I also think a lot of my confusion with this film comes with my complete naivety when it comes to Chinese film-making. This is something I look forward to remedying though, and I did like the film despite some of my inability to follow all of it.

#171 Die Büchse Der Pandora [Pandora's Box] (1929)

****

Director: Georg Wilhelm Pabst

Cast: Louise Brooks, Fritz Kortner, Francis Lederer, Carl Goetz, Krafft-Raschig, Alice Roberts

All hail the dark lady: the innocent temptress who brings disaster and demise to everyone she meets. She is perhaps the most infamous femme-fatale in all of Hollywood history, both unaware and acutely in-tune with her sultry sexuality as she destroys all within her path. Lulu (Louise Brooks) is an unstoppable force, comparable only to Pandora of Greek mythology-- a charming beauty, who through innocent curiosity unleashes hell on the world.

Lulu is a dancer. Or a prostitute. Or both. But most notably, however, she is the mistress of a highly esteemed newspaper editor, Dr. Schön. He, along with everyone else, is wrapped around her little finger, and despite his plans for marriage to another, he continues to see Lulu. She famously claims, "You'll have to kill me to get rid of me!" To which Dr. Schön will explain to his son Alwa as, "Beware of that woman. She is not the kind of woman you marry. It would be suicide."

When Schön is caught cheating on his fiance with Lulu, he is forced to marry Lulu instead. When an argument between the just-married couple (over Lulu's flirtation) ends in murder, Lulu begins an adventure with his son Alwa that leads only to more disaster. The film also features one of the first hints of lesbian love in Hollywood through the character of Countess Anna Geschwitz, who just like all the others, is infatuated with Lulu. Just as well, this is also Hollywood's first attempt into the mind of a serial killer, as the end of the film features Jack the Ripper in foggy London who encounters Lulu's charm on a cold holiday night in December.

This film is particularly special to me as it is the inspiration for my all-time favorite musician's latest album: Rufus Wainwright's "All Days Are Night: Songs for Lulu." On his album and on his tour, he pays homage to the dark lady within us all (appropriately named Lulu and based off of this character), and his live stage performance for the album includes a dramatic interpretation of the album through visuals, costume, and music.

Needless to say, my expectations for this film were beyond high, and I was not disappointed. Louise Brooks was an extremely intense screen-presence which surprised me greatly. Being one of my first full-length silent films, I was settling in for a long, tedious watching-experience, but instead was actually quite surprised to find it so captivating and visually-stunning. I appreciated not only the amazingly dark story, but I found the form of acting in this German expressionist film to be refreshing and new. (Yes I realize those are strange words to describe something so old!)

It seems that Lulu is destined to repeat this doomed fate over and over again for eternity in some other dimension-- her story is so timeless. Perhaps it is because there is so much Lulu in each of us, especially amongst today's sexual-culture.

We love Lulu but cannot deny her hand in the always-present downfall.

Salacious and naughty and erotic and heart-breaking.

#162 Dancer in the Dark (2000)

*****

Director: Lars Von Trier

Cast: Bjork, Catherine Deneuve, David Morse, Peter Stormare, Joel Grey, Cara Seymour, Vladica Kostic, Jean-Marc Barr

Bjork plays Selma, a Czech immigrant mother working in an American basin factory-- secretly hoarding away money to pay for an operation for her son's eyes. Selma is going blind, but she doesn't want anyone to know. Her friend helps her at the factory, explains what happens in the movies when they go, and she walks along the railroad tracks to get home from her job at night. Her son is destined to the same fate unless she gathers enough money-- and she is so close to doing so.

Finally, she confides her secrets to her landlord and friend who has a secret of his own: he is broke, and he can't tell his spending-happy wife. Stealing the money from Selma, he forces her to kill him to get the money back. A trial, more lies, uplifting moments, and capsizing hope.

The film is a musical, full of self-aware interludes of Bjork performances. The film gains almost a technicolor brightness in fantasy-- the only world where Selma can find refuge from the physical and emotional darkness of her life. The story was so suspenseful that when a song came, I nearly crawled out of my skin with impatience to get back to the film's reality. I wept through the last 45 minutes of the film, quite inconsolably.

Although low budget, shaky, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes even TOO MUCH-- the film moved me in a big way. Not just through story but through artistry as well.

I found it to be brilliant.

#161 Neco Z Alenky [Alice] (1988)

****

Director: Jan Svankmajer

Cast: Kristyna Kohoutova

Czech-filmmaker, animator, and puppeteer, Jan Svankmajer, creates one of the most bizarre and hyper-imaginative adaptations of Lewis Carroll's Alice In Wonderland perhaps ever made. The film is a gothic and dark examination of the story, and through the use of only one actress (Kohoutova) and loads of handmade puppets, he examines dark themes such as the danger of routine, overeating, and materialism.

The imagery and characters are more creepy than charming, constructed from household objects that seem to be glazed in rot and formaldehyde, it is definitely not a children's movie. The animation and editing are in themselves a disturbing and choppy production--their movements in addition to the jarring, sharp sound effects make this film seem absolutely twisted.

For anyone who is interested in stop motion, animation, puppets, gothic stories, fairy tales, and/or experimental film-making... this is a must-see. There were too many strange and jolting things about this film to be anything but spectacular. Definitely disturbing though. I was impressed.

#160 2 Ou 3 Choses Que Je Sais D'elle (1967)

*

Director: Jean-Luc Godard

Cast: Joseph Gehrard, Marina Vlady, Anny Duperey, Roger Montsoret, Raoul Levy, Jean Narboni


In my opinion, this film is borderline unwatchable. The title translates to "Two or Three Things I Know About Her," 'her' being Paris, not the main protagonist of the film, Juliette Jeanson played by Marina Vlady. Godard uses Juliette as a metaphor for materialism in 1967 Parisian society. Juliette is a wife and mother of a middle-class suburban family, and twice a week, she prostitutes herself for money in hopes of getting beyond her stale life. Godard believed this was very much so a metaphor for the way the people of Paris prostitute themselves for money and possessions. The film is splattered with bits of anti-American sentiment vs. worship/fascination of Hollywood.

The reason, however, I find this film practically intolerable is not the subject matter. The message of this film is unreachable through the format. The film cuts back and forth between scenes of a construction site and scenes of slow-moving Vlady, talking in monotone about her feelings and ending every sentence with "I don't know." You can tell that she has lost something valuable. A personality, a vigor-- something is wrong. But her words might as well have been singing "three little monkeys jumping on a bed." The significance of her speech was so convoluted with flowerly philosophy that it was truly senseless.

I barely made it through this film, even after breaking it into two sittings. I enjoyed Breathless by Godard, so I was very unhappy to hate this film so much. The message isn't important, but as a graduate of a communications degree, I can't help but be turned off by works of art that fail to clearly speak.