Thursday, December 31, 2020

10 Favorite New-to-Me Films from 2020

Since the birth of the blog earlier this year, I'd be disingenuous to not reveal that one of my great hidden pleasures for starting it was the long-awaited opportunity of finally sharing my year end favorites lists in proper written form in a similar vein of all the critics and writers I passionately look up to most. Maybe it's some kind of egotism needing to be scratched or a self fulfilling compulsive exercise, but getting to publicly reflect on and share my most treasured findings brings me a many unbridled joy. Now, I'm also aware that my influence (if that's even a thing) is incredibly minimal to the endless sea of minds in the online cinephile community, but I'd like to think that by sharing these, that it pushes the needle on some of these more unknown titles, even if just by one account. There still remains a vast frontier of cinema to be discovered and canonized, so I hope to be a part of that collective reappraisal. With my introduction out of the way, here is the first of two year end lists, covering films I watched for the first time in 2020, that premiered in 2018 and prior. Hope you find something new.



10) BROUILLARD - PASSAGE 14 (2013) (Dir. Alexandre Larose)

The sole avant-garde/video installation piece on this list, Canadian filmmaker Alexandre Larose's 10 minute long environmental spectacle is a scattershot traversal through a lush patch of land situated in and around a family cottage nestled in the Quebecoise region. Utilizing layering manipulation from multiple in-camera documents, Larose presents a hypnotic dreamscape that reimagines the notion of the actualite' as a metaphysical manifestation of space, time, and memory. A binded passage outside the limitations of our bodies' sensory reception. It related to me as a hypothetical illustration of the afterlife (based on more scientifically backed abstraction of what that'd even be like). Removed of the organic shell, energy and consciousness fade into a harmonious gradient of existence with the natural world that once only teased its senses. A special emotional comfort permeates the frame at a heightened level, that I feel I haven't received yet from any narrative driven film to date. Looked with my mind. Felt with my eyes.



9) DARK DAYS (2000) (Dir. Marc Singer)


Easily ringing as the most economically pertinent film in the bleakest sense, English documentarian Marc Singer's sole directorial effort Dark Days is as much a damning time capsule of the homeless crisis in NYC circa the late 90s as it is a humbling portrait of the depths of human perseverance in the face of a deeply flawed housing system. Adopting a near Wiseman-eqsue approach, the film structures together numerous interviews and verite-like candids to document the unfortunate living situation of New Yorkers who for a few years, called the makeshift shelters tucked deep within the shadows of Freedom Tunnel their home. Originally befriending the main bunch of subjects prior to the making of the film, this foundation of trust ultimately allows for a complete photographic transparency as the subjects let Singer and his camera in on every facet of their day to day existences from rummaging through freshly disposed waste bags for food and showing off DIY housing appliances made from scavenged materials to eventually bearing their vulnerabilities and demons that tragically lead them to their current point. Though, fret not as this isn't some journalistic poverty porn either. Simultaneous to the harsh doldrums is a rather lively character study brought forth by the colorful personalities of the affected, often finding great distraction through supportive friendships and comical banter that beautifully outdo anything that might've been emulated with this topic through fictive means. While as to not spoil, the reasonable questions of motive and ethics that may arise from Singer's rather artful shaping of his one of a kind footage (the film is notably shot on b&w film stock, conveniently bathing the film's topicality in a stylized, gritty filter) is ultimately revealed for reasons that not only reveal a commendable act of character, but take activist filmmaking in literal, productive steps. A frustrating rarity for films of this breed.




8) SUPERSTAR: THE KAREN CARPENTER STORY (1988) (Dir. Todd Haynes)

A longtime recommendation by a close buddy of mine, the banned film of American luminary Todd Haynes left me irrevocably diminished upon first watching, not necessarily out of its obvious tragedy, but from its pitch black commentary on the harrowing consumerist hellscape well integrated into life as a common US citizen. Those familiar with The Carpenters are likely to know the grim fate of vocalist Karen Carpenter, but it is Haynes' on screen materialization of her struggle with and eventual downward spiral due to anorexia via the use of Barbie dolls that reduces the notion of Karen's (and every other consumer's) being as just another material product of society, helplessly pit feeding and consuming until ready to be disposed of. Its didactic use of text cards laid over stock footage of suburbs and supermarkets while the famed hits of Karen & Richard play over hauntingly paint a brutal reality of inorganic complications brought forth by manufactured forces. The instructional mode almost gives off the presentation of a government film or PSA. Haynes ingeniously retextures the narrative of a rise to starry-eyed Hollywood fame as a vehicle to pick at the gruesome toxicity bubbling just beneath the surface of a seemingly stable but heavily processed society. Perhaps "body horror" may be a tad bit insensitive in describing the film, but it's the only label I can think of that even remotely validates what Haynes has singularly achieved here. There are few things more ideologically nightmarish to me as bastard biological threats to one's health that'd otherwise cease to exist in the natural, organic world.



7) OTHON (1970) (Dir. Jean-Marie Straub & Danielle Huillet)

The first of three major director discoveries on this list, the films of French duo Jean-Marie Straub and Danielle Huillet may offer the most daunting challenge in the extreme rigor of their film practice, but for those even slightly interested in literary theory or modernist takes on historical or period texts will find much indulgence in the couple's unmatched filmography. While I could easily just have gone with The Chronicle of Anna Magdalena Bach (1968) or Class Relations (1984), both of which also nearly as strong, Othon adapts the play by Pierre Corneille about a Roman nobleman in search of power through politics and love with a pronounced abstraction in chronological representation. Though the diegetic sphere containing the actors as they appropriately dress and play the part of the text's 69 A.D., Straub & Huillet make a deliberate point photographing their locations to reveal a modern society amongst the backdrop of their classical text. Othon's insular narrative never draws attention to this period agnosticism, but in its very fictive document highlights the timelessness of Corneille's text, its contents being as much a contemporary narrative as it was penned to comment at an earlier period. This fracturing of chronology is achieved so straightforwardly, yet its significance speaks volumes. If more period films tackled their subject with even the slightest iota of transgression as Straub & Huillet display here, this tepid corner of cinema would bore me less than where I currently find it. No more Masterpiece theater type attempts, I beg you.



6) PASSING SUMMER (2001) (Dir. Angela Schanelec)

The second of three directorial revelations is the work of German and noted "Berlin school" luminary Angela Schanelec, represented here by her warm drama of exteriors Passing Summer. Following a shared asceticism in the similar vein of Ozu and Bresson, Schanelec's film rides on hard exteriors opposed to motivated dynamism, birthing a stylized realism scrubbed clean of narrative didacticism (unlike former realist traditions). Composed of a series of long static shots in the loosely plotted but still eventful summer of aspiring writer Valerie and best friend Sophie, Schanelec, with a hidden meticulous groove, observes as the women meander through the sunny season in their own distinctive arcs. Each scene is candid in nature. At many points Schanelec's compositions play more like live action still photos than a cinema that is fully kinetic. But it is at this level where my observations struck as profound. Schanelec isn't vying for any documentation of realist expression. Rather, she merely uses the mimesis of reality to construct a fiction that subconsciously plays for the frame, treating mise en scene as a richly textured film stage for focused performance. Each image does not ask for anything more other than what can be seen and felt. When composed together, the film plays like a recollection of events in one's memory. Minimalism of the highest order.



5) BATTLE IN HEAVEN (2005) (Dir. Carlos Reygadas)

Due to me having already written semi-lengthy summaries for some of the following in recent previous entries, I will remain short for the sake of brevity. Still reeling from the exploitative enigma that is Mexican filmmaker Carlos Reygadas' deeply polarizing follow-up to his more embraced Japon (2002), the suggestively titled Battle in Heaven plays like a bastard child of the best of Andrei Tarkovsky & the worst of Lars von Trier. At once a startlingly bizarre meditation of government worker Marcos' perverse sexual longing for his longtime and marginally younger client Ana (memorably portrayed by Anapola Mushkadiz), Reygadas' adulterous drama succumbs to a violent swerve into explicit nihilism and later desperate spirituality whose unexpected turn is so visceral that I believe one can only bare witness to fully comprehend. In my short time writing, Battle in Heaven remains the most difficult film to internalize and squeeze out into prose. Its power simply resists linguistic communication. Like prayer, what is being mouthed over and over can only scratch the surface of how its gospel is actively processing and signaling out. Interestingly, despite its love and hate response amongst his admirers, Reygadas considers this film to be his personal favorite.



4) THE MOUTH AGAPE (1974) (Dir. Maurice Pialat)

The final of my three major director introductions, the cheekily named The Mouth Agape by French director Maurice Pialat is the one film on this list whose construction fascinates me most. To even possess the tenacity to write a dual narrative of a mother's tragic succumb to terminal illness, confrontation of mortality, and the dreaded grieving process with a despicably comical sex romp is surely deserving of raised surveillance from its source, but Pialat somehow pulls it off with disarming aplomb. I'll be attaching my full observation on it in the links below, but this manipulative command of naturalism is something I still can't wrap my head around. An imminent rewatch may just cement it as a personal favorite, more than it already has for me. 



3) COME & SEE (1985) (Dir. Elem Klimov)

Arguably the most well known film on this list, Soviet filmmaker Elem Klimov's definitive mark on the war genre expels just about everything that typically makes me loathe the type of movie in the first place. Simply put, I dislike the advent of war depictions in film. Regardless of the many contexts they may play under, it almost always breaks down to one of two conclusive ends of functionality: barbarism or exploitation. Either war is in some form endorsed as a necessary evil (which it isn't) or its grand scope of violence is visualized as high stakes spectacle. There are of course exceptions to this, but they are incredibly far and few between. Klimov's brutal damnation of the act as the greatest self-inflicting atrocity to humankind by way of unadulterated horror seals the purpose of directly portraying this conflict in the first place. We must never let it occur again, a resounding statement Klimov pleas for, but acknowledges in his film's final moments that as with everything else in the world, endures an imminent cycle.



2) BEAU TRAVAIL (1999) (Dir. Claire Denis)

A self-fulfilling prophecy is how I'd label my now established relationship with French iconoclast Claire Denis' Beau Travail. When first assembling my written list of films to see in high school, Denis' elusive (speaking both to its narrative contents and availability) drama was one of the first few to be added to a roster that has since grown functionally out of hand. At the time having fallen in love with listening to director interviews, Denis and her film engaged a collective mythologizing from their many references as inspiration from filmmakers ranging from Barry Jenkins to Joachim Trier. Waiting for a chance to finally see it, that opportunity wouldn't come until the first day of November 2020 (a lot of firsts here) where finally upon viewing, naturally latched itself onto me, regardless of any prior bias. Mostly wordless in dialogue and actively exiling clear narration, the kaleidoscopic images of French legionnaires in drill routine and eventual combat against the elemental backdrop of Djibouti reverberated a language I am familiar with most. A visual and auditory one. Denis and noted DP Agnes Godard's channeling of the medium's most bare components results in formal validation reaffirming why it is I am drawn to cinema in the first place. Moving images and sounds that matter in sequential composition. What better way to celebrate that than the document of bare bodies moving in all their anatomical beauty and power as they clash with the earthly forces around them. Or better, Denis Lavant losing his shit as the logical conclusion to all that sophisticated rawness.



1) A MOMENT OF INNOCENCE (1996) (Dir. Mohsen Makhmalbaf)

While not a hard truth for me, a strong indicator for myself to know when I've stumbled upon something special is my own immediate submission to its artistry and the subsequent realization of it that follows. For Iranian auteur Mohsen Makhmalbaf's A Moment of Innocence, a delay in that process saw me held so dearly in its graces that I failed to even let its art identify to me until much later during an emotional reprieve. Following a similar interrogation for "truth" in cinema like his close colleague Abbas Kiarostami in this period, Makhmalbaf's search of it is achieved the closest (as of this writing) by realizing early on that such thing is a pretentious idea anyways but still allows for his premise of reenactment to take its natural course, leading to a supremely poetic work of naturalism always playing in the moment, thus creating truthful images just by its brisk, impulsive action. Cinema is only stripped of its innocence when artificiality is given room to creep in, of which this avoids. Funny since its conception is the antithesis to that very notion. The resounding effect of Makhmalbaf's film illuminates brightest as I look back to this past year of watching movies.

Times are tough, but at least we have the cinema.

Links:



Sunday, December 27, 2020

ESSAY: To Process the Motion Picture

The following text is an abridged edit of an academic paper written for a film theory class this fall. My essay's main concern was to identify, illustrate, and hypothesize the place and future of widescale cinematic revolution in an increasingly hostile economic and political climate actively curtailing projects of the such and what small individual attunements could be made to incite change in unmotivated viewing habits. It was written with more of a casual audience in mind, rather than speak to the already initiated, but more than anything it's a personal proof of ideas I've long wanted to tie together and discuss. As a base, Maya Deren's famous "Cinematography" essay is used as a spine for my narrative abstraction. Most of my modifications have cut out in-text citations and removed as much declarative voice to loosen the posture of my discussion for more casual reading (at least as best as I could without having to rewrite the damn thing over). That is all. Hope it inspires something.

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    In 1960, American avant-garde filmmaker and theorist Maya Deren published her seminal essay Cinematography: The Creative Use of Reality where she personally championed for the autonomy of cinema’s exclusive properties within the art of filmmaking. Deren felt a hindrance to cinema consistently sticking to rudimentary form and that in order for the medium to achieve its full potential, filmmakers would have to wholly embrace what the photography of motioned reality and sequencing through montage truly encompassed. Understanding time and space was crucial for manifesting a designated film narrative detached from the trappings of plot, she instead insisted on the manipulation of form via the different tools such as slow-motion, reverse playback, and an overall customization in shooting to take the place of forced expository dullness. Her concerns revolved around the normalization of uninquisitive sculpting, which often saw a replication or simulation of a reality photographed, which she deemed as regressive, “owing nothing” to the “actual existence of the film instrument." Realism, or the perceived notion of it, was for documentarians at best, but certainly not for artists working in fiction, whether live-action or animated. Instead, filmmakers should take advantage of reality by authoritatively imposing their own onto it.

For Deren, it was all about the abstractions communicated within a stitched chronology of images. Much like what she practiced in her own work, her rhetoric is an ideological counterpoint to the aesthetic and narrative traditions commonplace in most productions (her arguments direct mainly towards Hollywood). Aside from just passively photographing reality, which Deren declared as an equivalent to the reality itself, filmmakers should also relinquish the narrative disciplines of literature and theatre and find new temporal linkages from image to image and the sound accompanied. She states that the concept of the cause-and-effect linear narrative was a primitive relic of nineteenth century materialism and in order for film language to be just that, these relationships to other media would need to find complete severance. To kindly elucidate, a film so reliant on reproducing the same effects as other mediums may not be a complete work of cinema at all. Films must forge their own distinct realities to prove their constructs.

Fragments of her arguments find root in earlier proclamations made of similar, philosophic minds. In the Evolution of the Language of Cinema, French film critic and theorist AndrĂ© Bazin acknowledges a similar sentiment, exclaiming the importance of pushing form to breach old traditions. When discussing the advent of sound as a reinvention of the cinema, Bazin notes that with new subject matter demanding new form, “the styles necessary for its expression” must be challenged as a consequence. And for Hungarian film critic Bela Balazs, in his internalized interrogation of the motion picture in his essay The Creative Camera, presents an existential counterpoint to the film image as a reproduction of reality with two pivotal questions of his own. That is, “What are the effects which are born only on celluloid” and which “are born only in the act of projecting the film on to the screen?" The contemplation of which Deren’s case is subject is seemingly not so isolated after all. It seems that prior to her summative gospel, a loosely plotted trend of kindred ideas projecting the capacity for the medium were already taking seed. But whose take on the matter is most considerably pertinent is none other than famed novelist Virginia Woolf who penned an essay dedicated to this observation entitled The Cinema in 1926.

Written as more of a vulgar critique of the medium’s reliance on literature in contrast to Deren’s clinical deconstruction, Woolf’s observations reverberate uniformly. In it she recalls an anomaly experience with cinema during one fateful screening of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) which revealed to her a momentary glimpse into cinema’s lone specialty. During the screening, she writes “a shadow shaped like a tadpole suddenly appeared at one corner of the screen… It swelled to an immense size, quivered, bulged, and sank back again into nonentity. For a moment it seemed to embody some monstrous diseased imagination of the lunatic’s brain. For a moment it seemed as if thought could be conveyed by shape more effectively than words. The monstrous quivering tadpole seemed to be fear itself , and not the statement  'I am afraid." Woolf learned later that this strange animated tadpole was simply an accidental burn in the print, but its revelatory impact remained, so much that it was the catalyst for Woolf’s write-up. Her revelation, from the viewpoint of an artist working in literature, powerfully resounds the distinctive manipulations of what film can do that words cannot. The reality before her in that brief moment belonged to cinema and cinema only.

To defend the notion of autonomous film language, the psychology of how our brains receive, transmit, and process information as it is laid before us is important. Natural to our development, starting around the ages of three to four, we begin to organize sensory stimuli from the world around us and arrange its information into chronological sequences. These are known as episodic memories. A narrative construct in relation to ourselves. This ability is what allows us to abstract the plethora of variables in our lives and form coherent narratives as an intrinsic link to our conscious ties to time as we traverse in parallel along its linear plane. So while one could most certainly see the relation of cinema’s development and its nearly universal sense of perceived narrative form in dedication to the continuity style as an interwoven relationship, the actual functionality of linearity is not all that key when personal abstraction and emotional projection are taken into account.

But first, in narratology, the importance of the monomyth must be recognized and detailed in its widely utilized and perceived cultural effect. Most pertinent to literature and subsequently film is Joseph Campbell’s A Hero’s Journey, which is a modern cultural summation of ideas originally pledged in Aristotle’s Poetics. As Campbell describes the myth himself in his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces, “A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered and a decisive victory is won: the hero comes back from this mysterious adventure with the power to bestow boons on his fellow man." Due to cinema’s early outsourcing to literary material as it pertained as a vestigial byproduct of theater, Campbell’s monomyth has since seen an infiltration to the development of film narrative and thus film language. Many films have followed this arrangement of dramaturgical events (or some slight deviation of it) across a span of different genres since the birth of cinema. From The General (1926) to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) to Toni Erdmann (2016), the core narrative structure remains synonymous. This form of linearity as a result leads to Deren’s critique of its prognosis to the medium. Though for as commonplace as the structure is within film, its functionality is entirely subjective.

Ultimately the role of which Campbell’s monomyth, or any given structure alternatively, plays into the mind of the spectator is trivial to their processing of a particular film. Rather, how any film is encoded and decoded is dependent on variables much more nuanced and abstract to each individual’s reception. A viewer can be conditioned to recognizing and attuning to familiar structures, but how the material is interpreted is traced within the imagination as it reacts with and against a filmmaker’s directive lead. Therefore, while classically ingrained structures like Campbell’s monomyth that in typical also simulate, to a degree, the human sensory system’s chronological arrangement of events in dynamically linear form, how any film transmits and effectively renders has no primary bias. Meaning, the manner of how a filmmaker constructs their narration and what a spectator does with it is open for attuning. By this metric, Deren’s considerations prove entirely doable. It is then just a matter of negotiation for both parties. For filmmakers, the reconfiguration of their cinematic language and for audiences, the will to readjust accordingly. Also relevant are the sociopolitical and cultural factors to determine what is made of such innovations. Education, class, and identity will drive what is accepted and what isn’t. The major role of capitalistic influence as it relates to cultural tastemaking (i.e. your sleuth of recycled intellectual properties and their saturation in advertising) also has a lot to do with how audiences are guided in their media consumption, thus pivotal in the shaping of insight, but more on that in a bit. Overall, the possibility for this embrace of aesthetic and narrative shifting are in place.

Deren’s theory is ancillary to a developing postulation I’ve been sitting on in the past year, which expedites further pushing these notions purely out of the sake of cinema’s survival in a media landscape grown long stagnant. With film now having left the exclusivity of the theaters and into the homes of the populace as a result of online connectivity since manifested as an integral part of communicative technology, the consequences of over saturation have grown to be a true concern of mine. In a world where cinema’s properties have expanded into television, online video sharing, and brand advertisements, the need to advance the artistry of film has never been more dire. When chewing gum commercials and social media content creators successfully simulate and yield similar aesthetic, and to an extent, dramatic results as those in the cinema, a dark cloud looms over the eventual fate of that original medium’s prognosis to antiquation. Jean-Luc Godard shares the notion as he once eluded to in a 2011 interview for his (then) new film Film Socialisme (2010), fittingly a work rebelling against conventional narrative forms. In the interview, Godard notably, though with some cheek provocation, declared the film auteur as “dead” and therefore, the cinema was too. In his own words, “with mobile phones and everything, everyone is now an auteur.”

With democratization, a double-edged sword manifests. It serves graciously for the marginalized, but thereupon creates new, if more troubling, scenarios for artistic revolution to prevail in a prominent mainstream setting. Much of it due to the vast power of upper class influence and the corporate sector. The permeation of more screens in society results in more filmmakers creating work. But when filmic output is churned out in unprecedented numbers, in ways unfathomable to the cinema’s purpose upon conception, at a certain point, that sheer abundance will in turn dilute the power of the images and render them expendable. With familiar film images and narrative forms (now) being exploited across many different canvases, it’s no wonder the cinema has lost its popularity as an experiential forefront. Why dedicate time and money to a movie when its assets have become so open source? Factoring in the target demographic (and majority) of the working class’ opportunity costs, oscillating between how and where to spend one’s limited resources, the cinema is too much of a bourgeois affair to dedicate one’s waning attention to given its practical irrelevancy. Placing the reality of strict monetary investment aside, which differs on the basis of each project’s capitalistic circumstances, it is an appropriate opportunity for filmmakers to experiment with their imaginative minds and opt for each’s own re-inventive take of cinematic communication.

Due to the nature of financing and distribution for getting films made and seen, it is also a risk that lies just as much in the hands of producers, financiers, and distributors as the filmmakers themselves. This is where artistic risk often falters before getting the chance to flourish. Understandably, when film is treated as business, yielding the highest possible return in investment is the sound ambition to be met, but as the market continues to chase higher stakes and most films struggle to be lucrative, let alone profitable, these unattainable expectations need reevaluation. With Hollywood studios relying more on recycling familiar intellectual properties due to their refined track records of financial success at the box office, more money is being sourced individually for these types of projects than ever before. This shift has come to see the mid-level budget film obscured into endangerment and most significantly, lesser control in the hands of artistically forward filmmakers. Either a studio spends minimum funds on a smaller project (who typically receive less advertising, thus yielding smaller audience numbers) or goes all out on a few major productions, better known as the tentpoles. It’s an incredibly unhealthy tactic financially speaking. There’s also much blame to be placed on larger economic and political factors.

To discuss the cumulative impact of the “mainstream,” acknowledging and criticizing the United States’ global media stranglehold is necessary. The ruling class and corporate elite’s diseased infatuation with greed as hierarchical hedonism and its subsequent relationship with eliminating advanced literacy of the populace as an act of suppression to feed such corrupt systems is the root cause for cultural stagnation. For this reason, delving into the ties between this agenda to its influence on national media is most critical to seeing Deren’s aims realistically see the light of day. A mass lifting of intellectual independence and agency would have to occur to allow for the adoption of experimental aesthetics and narratives to prosper. The problem is, such a thing is a slippery slope to effectively hindering the lucrative profits of the products who exist in large part to be consumed with minimal brain work and regurgitated in the form of franchising and merchandise. In contrast to other filmmaking cultures, film in the U.S. is and was never about artistic accomplishment, but what could merely be sold, to how many people, and for how much (the more the merrier). Cinema being treated as a vessel solely for capitalism dilutes its potential for inner growth. Until this changes, the medium stays in stagnation, merely a tool to keep mass audiences obedient. A cultural purgatory of sorts.

Though cinema has certainly undergone revolution since Deren’s text, our relationship with it hasn’t, at least not intellectually. Cinema of reinventive conceit remains, for the most part, as marginalized and fringe as it was during the many independent and avant-garde movements occurring during Deren’s period. So where as new radical languages have developed, they’ve only gone so far as to incite minor, often local, cultural shifts. Remaining largely uninitiated in any broader social context. Where Deren vouched for ontological remodeling of the creative, I now presently vouch for our own as audiences. To begin, we must first remove our core biases of linearity and classical dramaturgy and get in touch with our own perceived notions of symbols, stimulation, and our emotional intelligence. Hypothetically, one cannot propel their relationship with the moving image until this realignment of expectation and process occurs. Like any other art we may experience, whether a performance of dance or spectating a painting or sculpture, it is about how we exchange wavelengths with the piece itself. Treating a film as such will yield an immediate difference in interactive posture. Take confidence in how to process the motion picture.

Wednesday, December 9, 2020

November Digest


FILM:

TO CATCH A THIEF (1955) (Dir. Alfred Hitchcock) - Had somehow missed this during my big Hitchcock phase in high school. Good film, but not particularly great either compared to the rest of his legendary 50s run. Though, in that sense it also makes it this odd thumb out with it easily being Hitch's most visually indulgent effort and features some of his most impressively constructed sequences overall (I direct to the French Connection-esque car chase and the fireworks display from Frances' room.) The white, upper class materialistic flaunting is high with this one, which is what I feel kept me from embracing it all the way. Though, despite the links between its aesthetic splendor directly tying to my criticism, I'd be disingenuous if I didn't say that I miss movies looking this damn beautiful. What the hell happened.

KILLER OF SHEEP (1978) (Dir. Charles Burnett) - What fascinates me most about Burnett from the two films of his I've seen (the other being the criminally unknown My Brother's Wedding) is his ability to mask a seemingly languid, vignette structure and invisibly devise it into something far more meticulous later on. Similarly to how Burnett calculates the dilemma in My Brother's Wedding leading to the sleekest representation of real time conflict I can ever recall, he does the same here lifting significant dramatic weight for Stan as his shortcomings parlay into one another. But beneath it is something even more pressing than working class tumult which is the cycle of patriarchal superiority that is observed throughout the entire runtime, clouding the final scene between the women with a hidden melancholy the surface film doesn't codify. With these two films alone, Burnett proves himself as a master of structure. Maybe even one of the best to do it in the American cinema. 

GODZILLA (1998) (Dir. Roland Emmerich) - Randomly yanked this off the DVD shelf one night and put it right into my player out of sheer impulse. You'd be surprised to learn as I was revisiting it how much I honestly dug this. Not to praise Emmerich's jingoism, but his inability to read the room in regards to domestic terrorism brought on by the military industrial complex ends up emulating, with near acuity, the satirization of Paul Verhoeven as seen in RoboCop and Starship Troopers. If you like Verhoeven's run of mockish blockbusters, then Emmerich's Godzilla can most certainly be appreciated in the same light. Also, as a card carrying member of the Jean Reno fan club, his mythologizing here is fucking amazing. What's a French legionnaire in America to do but put holes in freakish lizards and chew bubble gum? 

BEAU TRAVAIL (1999) (Dir. Claire Denis) - Denis' formal elusiveness in this film is one of the rare examples for me where the full embrace of esotericism ends up revealing more than any regimented form of didacticism could ever. Witnessing the harsh physicality of the legionnaires during drill routines blur seamlessly into dance with just the blink of an eye as to make the subjective objective is nothing short of a perceptive enigma. Like the landscapes before them, of which they eventually blend into, are hostile and jagged, but simultaneously bear an elemental beauty in plain sight. Where elementalism and humanism intersect. I find it fun to note that near the start of my viewing, out of nowhere, my mother sat down to join me which at first really freaked me out given this type of thing being as distant from her viewing norms as possible, but to my surprise, she followed it through and got on its wavelength enough to be compelled to finish. She still felt a bit bored with it in the end, but all I really cared about was her making it to see Denis Lavant go ape shit over Rhythm of the Night of which she then just repeatedly mouthed "oh my god" about two or three times over the course of its duration. For as long as I've waited to finally see this film, getting to first experience it via the new Janus restoration on Blu-ray whilst witnessing my mother's pure reaction to the ending is as perfect a first time viewing as I could've ever wished for.

BATTLE IN HEAVEN (2005) (Dir. Carlos Reygadas) - Personal thanks to my wonderful mentor and film professor for urging me to finally get started with Reygadas. Despite seemingly being his most hated, my decision to start with this one in particular all comes from seeing its climax referenced to in Mark Cousins' The Story of Film back in high school. The one take camera sweep out of Ana's apartment to gaze around the surrounding environment in god's eye view before returning to bay really resonated well with me so it was time I experience the full thing in proper. Which brings me to my summative take which is what I lack. No other film I've taken in this year has put me into the ideological struggle this personally has. Part of it is my own register of Reygadas' obvious, near caricature attempt at extreme provocation with his use of unsimulated sex and deliberate one-note aims for moral deviancy, yet despite this, it all still renders as genuinely felt to me. I should hate it by all conceits, like much of Lars von Trier's stuff who I share an equivalent relationship with, but I don't. In fact, I love the film a bunch. Like many of the best films for me, it resists categorization.

I WAS AT HOME, BUT... (2019/20) (Dir. Angela Schanelec) - Going to be brief since I want to save my words for my eventual favorites of 2020 list, but Schanelec's newest is everything I wished I saw more of in contemporary filmmaking. Less emphasis of the motion picture as a conventional storytelling device as it is an advanced canvas for idiosyncratic image making and temporal rendering. No other new release left me as viscerally inspired like this did. 

TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH (2019/20) (Dir. Kiyoshi Kurosawa) - An online buddy partly praised this for being a film made entirely up of set pieces that naturally flow from thing to the next and I've since found that to be the proper descriptor for why I left this feeling impressed beyond words despite its constantly fleeting structure. Begins like a culturally specific spin on Antonioni's The Passenger before morphing into a Sound of Music riff. Excuse me for the Ehrlich-ism, but that's how I can best describe it without drawing out an entire critique. In a time where I feel like feature length cinema has exhausted its handful of ways for constructing narrative, Kurosawa refreshingly breaks the stagnation. Atsuke Maeda gives what is sure to be the most memorable performance for me from this cursed year of mubis.


MUSIC:

OPEN AND CLOSE (1971)/ ZOMBIE (1977) (by Fela Kuti) - Kuti is my big music discovery of the year (which means almost next to nothing given how little exploration I've done) but still. No individual tracks I cling to most since each collective album is that damn good all around. Uncommon for me to feel that way actually since I am one to typically obsess over a couple tracks over the entirety.

SIXTEEN OCEANS (2020) (by Four Tet) - Personally boring for me. With the exception of 'Romantics' being a very good anomaly, this is quite disposable fare to be honest. Disappointing.


ARTICLE:

Adult Problems: An Interview with Dan Sallitt (by Vincent Poli) - Discovering the work of Dan Sallitt this year has proven major for me as I further hone my perspective outlook of the film medium, both as a viewer and as a creator. His singular approach to cinephilia and filmmaking as a working class individual is kindred to my own ruminations as someone who is also unabashedly dedicated to spelunking the endless void of cinema and aspiring to artistically contribute humbly. Therefore, his candidness here to link his two passions together in a sort of creative homeostasis is nothing but of pure interest and inspiration. When pursuing an independent filmmaking career feels so much like a stressful burden in the current moment, with an illusory competitive anxiety to be the best at it, Sallitt's grounding of the endeavor as a privilege that can wait to be acted on is sobering and relieving to the admittance of my own personal tensions. It's made me reflect on how it is I even want to go down in the cultural canon. Not to be narcissistic or too self conscious about the potential effect, but taking note of how I'd like to be perceived will ultimately temper the energy of how I create. Of course the more success the merrier, but I also wouldn't be hurt either if I just managed to crank out a small handful of features in my lifetime and let them be discussed and held by the same niche communities that'd likely be the only ones to see them in the first place. Either is fine to me. At the advent, getting the chance to make a film at all and have it find an audience is a blessing in itself, its critical reception inconsequential. Like Sallitt, filmmaking is a natural desire for myself and that itself is a beautiful thing to do. Have only seen two of his five features and I hope to get to the rest in due time. Dude has grown to be among my very favorite personalities in the film world and will likely continue to be. In fact his blog, Thanks for the Use of the Hall, was key for me starting this one. 


Links:

https://read.kinoscope.org/2019/10/18/adult-problems-an-interview-with-dan-sallitt/

http://sallitt.blogspot.com/

Top 10 Films of 2023

There are many words I could, and would, spit out to describe the previous year in cinema, in lieu of a more formal analysis. Whether out of...