The late Claude Chabrol, seen as perhaps the most 'mainstream' of the key new wave directors, made this fine little film in 1970. Wr found it precidely at the axis of the point where Alfred Hitchcock and Luis Bunuel intersect.
The Hitchockian elements; that is the slow build up of tension, the atmosphere of creeking unease. We don't have the Bernard Hermann brass band, but from the very beginning the soundtrack gives us a presentiment. Indeed, there is something slightly delicious of the violence here. The viewer feels a glee at picking it apart, a kind of fun in the violence. There is a sharp little stab of black humour here, very Hitchcockian.
The Luis Bunuel line is the flat surface where tensions boil, but are ultimately completely unseen. The way the characters are manipulating each other, putting each other to horrendous acts, but there is no sign of anything. This cool surface, in the way they walk and the muted, bare sets of the small town, give us a film of surfaces, which makes the viewer wish to really examine the whole screen.
There are a couple of nice twists, and some excellent shots at the end, particularly on the trolley. This was a great personal device, the difference and closeness in tone really bringing out strong emphasis. They, like the film as a whole, was a stab of real pleasure and interest.
Friday, 10 December 2010
La Salaire De La Peur (The Wages Of Fear)
Henri-Georges Clouzot's 1953 movie, that proved hugely popular and it seen as one of the totems of a fine career. We weren't completely sold, but would be hesitant to criticis it too much; a total criticism is difficult, considering how different the two halves of the film are (in content, perhaps more than thematically).
The opening uses some nice tracking and camera movements, giving us long shots that really convey a sense of passing time. Space is not (generally) cut up, and this bleeds into the general atmosphere. That is of a kind of dry sweat, a dusty heat, and parching, with white to yellow heavily exposed areas (contrasted with the low-key lighting of the interiors). The finest performance in this is the at once petulant, but with a sharp radiance, of the female lead, Vera Clouzot. One of the problems we had of this film is how she effectively dissappers.
Our problem with the second half is that it all becomes a little standard, a little hoary. Except for a not particularly built up masculinity, it is difficult to find too much of a reason to care. It is too easy to sink in and frankly forget what went before. It seems to turn into just various set pieces, and, oddly considering how incredibly Clouzot built up tension in 'Les Diaboliques', suspense didn't seem to feature too heavily here.
Perhaps something was missed, perhaps we will engage more on examination of greater detail, emphasising and identifying with thw characters more, to be brought into the second half. For now, we were rather underwhelmed.
The opening uses some nice tracking and camera movements, giving us long shots that really convey a sense of passing time. Space is not (generally) cut up, and this bleeds into the general atmosphere. That is of a kind of dry sweat, a dusty heat, and parching, with white to yellow heavily exposed areas (contrasted with the low-key lighting of the interiors). The finest performance in this is the at once petulant, but with a sharp radiance, of the female lead, Vera Clouzot. One of the problems we had of this film is how she effectively dissappers.
Our problem with the second half is that it all becomes a little standard, a little hoary. Except for a not particularly built up masculinity, it is difficult to find too much of a reason to care. It is too easy to sink in and frankly forget what went before. It seems to turn into just various set pieces, and, oddly considering how incredibly Clouzot built up tension in 'Les Diaboliques', suspense didn't seem to feature too heavily here.
Perhaps something was missed, perhaps we will engage more on examination of greater detail, emphasising and identifying with thw characters more, to be brought into the second half. For now, we were rather underwhelmed.
The Birth Of A Nation
1915 movie from D. W. Griffiths. Seen as perhaps the fist proper film, one of the most important, perhaps, as the first, the primary narrative film and epic. The touchstone, a masterful piece of work. Also completely vile.
The narrative cross-cutting is masterful. Even as this film is obviously 'only' laying the foundations, it balances its omniscient narrative stance great pace for each scene. It rythmically allows us not to forget any particular line. The film increasingly focusses on the Cameron film, as though to draw us in on to an increasingly personal view.
The detail of the mis-en-scene is also incredible. The interiors are at once simple, not distracting, but each element adds new interest. Think particularly of the 'ermine' dress; a beautiful touch, not entirely necessary, but without having to introduce anything extraneous deepens our understanding. This makes the film not at all drag; their is a wonderful momentun, due to all the factors, in the edit.
Then we have the content of the film. Griffiths attitude is absolutely mystifying; how can someone who is clearly aware that he is making this film (the intertitles), go ahead and make it so vile? Charicature, dreadful cop-outs, nearly worse than unmentioned racism, because it tries to make an argument.
This does severely effect it as a film. At first it is a curiousity; watch how this happens. But then it, frankly, become sickening, because one has to constantly resist the cavalcade of ugliness. It breeds an aggressive attitude towards the film, and certainly makes one want to turn off.
This precludes it from being a great work of art, as it effects the form in the exhibition. There are endless lessons here, and for that it is sensational. But, once lessons learned, the film is best forgotten.
The narrative cross-cutting is masterful. Even as this film is obviously 'only' laying the foundations, it balances its omniscient narrative stance great pace for each scene. It rythmically allows us not to forget any particular line. The film increasingly focusses on the Cameron film, as though to draw us in on to an increasingly personal view.
The detail of the mis-en-scene is also incredible. The interiors are at once simple, not distracting, but each element adds new interest. Think particularly of the 'ermine' dress; a beautiful touch, not entirely necessary, but without having to introduce anything extraneous deepens our understanding. This makes the film not at all drag; their is a wonderful momentun, due to all the factors, in the edit.
Then we have the content of the film. Griffiths attitude is absolutely mystifying; how can someone who is clearly aware that he is making this film (the intertitles), go ahead and make it so vile? Charicature, dreadful cop-outs, nearly worse than unmentioned racism, because it tries to make an argument.
This does severely effect it as a film. At first it is a curiousity; watch how this happens. But then it, frankly, become sickening, because one has to constantly resist the cavalcade of ugliness. It breeds an aggressive attitude towards the film, and certainly makes one want to turn off.
This precludes it from being a great work of art, as it effects the form in the exhibition. There are endless lessons here, and for that it is sensational. But, once lessons learned, the film is best forgotten.
Friday, 3 December 2010
Eden
It's been quite a while since we've seen a real piece of crap, this isn't the nastiest thing ever, but it's pretty darn poor.
The camerawork is incredibly obvious, with banal shots flicking backward and forthward at lengths of no interest.
This is visually dull, with the same shots of Gregoire at the table, eating, bit of emotion close up, blah blah blah.
There are, added to this a few straightforward bad moves from scene to scene, some bad cuts that get the view of the scene all wrong. We are left hanging, the last one ended wrongly.
The acting and the relationships have a kind of crappy unnaturalism, the lead has too much make-up, it is almsot laughable how certain things just happen wierdly. The script is a mixture of actors explaining bits of the contrived story (one especially funny explanation in the park).
The acting is rather cardboard, unbelievable. It is simply of no interest. The relationship, along with the situations and th general plot structure, is cliched beyond redemption. Even the 'surprises' add little.
This isn't the worst film ever, we have been a little cruel perhaps, in certain ways it is not all that different from the kind of fare that generally packs into most French, Italian, and Spanish cinema. It plinks along, there's one good joke, and it wasn't, as a whole, particularly boring. Just not very good; even rather bad.
The camerawork is incredibly obvious, with banal shots flicking backward and forthward at lengths of no interest.
This is visually dull, with the same shots of Gregoire at the table, eating, bit of emotion close up, blah blah blah.
There are, added to this a few straightforward bad moves from scene to scene, some bad cuts that get the view of the scene all wrong. We are left hanging, the last one ended wrongly.
The acting and the relationships have a kind of crappy unnaturalism, the lead has too much make-up, it is almsot laughable how certain things just happen wierdly. The script is a mixture of actors explaining bits of the contrived story (one especially funny explanation in the park).
The acting is rather cardboard, unbelievable. It is simply of no interest. The relationship, along with the situations and th general plot structure, is cliched beyond redemption. Even the 'surprises' add little.
This isn't the worst film ever, we have been a little cruel perhaps, in certain ways it is not all that different from the kind of fare that generally packs into most French, Italian, and Spanish cinema. It plinks along, there's one good joke, and it wasn't, as a whole, particularly boring. Just not very good; even rather bad.
Lola
1981 movie, BRD3, from Fassbinder.
This movie is bright, colourful, gaudy, sickening lurid greens and reds that pour out of the screen, through the senses, in shaded areas. His mixes with the thematic gaudiness, but again more underneath that. A kind of grounding of artifice, entire appearance that suggests depths visible, but not communicable. It is our sense that prove inadequate, not the colour.
This is the most obviously related to old hollywood, particularly Sternberg's 'Blue Angel', and again plays with the themes.
The central characters are well played, fascinating. There is at time something Bunuel esque about their internal lives expressed through a kind of closed off, flatness, which is the product of their own over-reactions.
Fassbinder is a master of strong individual scenes, often with the addition of a central character adding an excess that determines the whole. Thus quite straightforward narratives are given an extra element, even as Fassbinder has quite a mainstream narrative flow.
This is the continuation of themes, dialectics of money represented through the stages that in this film in particular are all shown, chronologically.
Fassbinder has his usual tracking shots, mixtures of mid and wider with a few close ups, for a slightly flat style that every now and again finds us at an interesting view.
We have enjoyed Fassbinder's films. They haven't completely thrown our lives into chaos with their brilliance, being formally quite simple and fast, but there are layers and great cinema references that really let meanings conjeal. We look forward to seeing more of his (large) oeuvre.
This movie is bright, colourful, gaudy, sickening lurid greens and reds that pour out of the screen, through the senses, in shaded areas. His mixes with the thematic gaudiness, but again more underneath that. A kind of grounding of artifice, entire appearance that suggests depths visible, but not communicable. It is our sense that prove inadequate, not the colour.
This is the most obviously related to old hollywood, particularly Sternberg's 'Blue Angel', and again plays with the themes.
The central characters are well played, fascinating. There is at time something Bunuel esque about their internal lives expressed through a kind of closed off, flatness, which is the product of their own over-reactions.
Fassbinder is a master of strong individual scenes, often with the addition of a central character adding an excess that determines the whole. Thus quite straightforward narratives are given an extra element, even as Fassbinder has quite a mainstream narrative flow.
This is the continuation of themes, dialectics of money represented through the stages that in this film in particular are all shown, chronologically.
Fassbinder has his usual tracking shots, mixtures of mid and wider with a few close ups, for a slightly flat style that every now and again finds us at an interesting view.
We have enjoyed Fassbinder's films. They haven't completely thrown our lives into chaos with their brilliance, being formally quite simple and fast, but there are layers and great cinema references that really let meanings conjeal. We look forward to seeing more of his (large) oeuvre.
Veronika Voss
1982, chronologically last but second entry in the BRD trilogy from Rainer Werner Fassbinder. The black and white shots are well concieved. They use sharp, sharp contrasts, giving a two-dimensional artificiality to the use of depth. It is the most accurate use of the old Hollywood aethetic we have seen. The film is over and under exposed; deep unconstrasted blacks and overexposed whites. Again, old hollywood.
The plot is similar, with the relation to hollywood meoldrama in the acting style, and directly referenced. It has all the best aspects of that tradition; the unreal formalism is taken out of its rather worrying ideological context, at the time, and made into a pure aesthetic here.
As in 'Maria Braun', we again have a fractured narrative, the centre of the movie dances from the reporter to Veronika and back again. It creates an uneasiness, but is needed so we have a entrire reworking, not just an update, of its precursors.
This film operates at the crossroads of noir, melodrama,and the European art film. It has the dark, idea of internal chaos, with the extreme acting of the glycoreine tears. Yet all through the Fassbinder perspective; an intelligent filmmaker who again offers up more layers. He is a filmmaker to be watched in conjunction with the history of cinema; his spin-offs are of the best kind.
The plot is similar, with the relation to hollywood meoldrama in the acting style, and directly referenced. It has all the best aspects of that tradition; the unreal formalism is taken out of its rather worrying ideological context, at the time, and made into a pure aesthetic here.
As in 'Maria Braun', we again have a fractured narrative, the centre of the movie dances from the reporter to Veronika and back again. It creates an uneasiness, but is needed so we have a entrire reworking, not just an update, of its precursors.
This film operates at the crossroads of noir, melodrama,and the European art film. It has the dark, idea of internal chaos, with the extreme acting of the glycoreine tears. Yet all through the Fassbinder perspective; an intelligent filmmaker who again offers up more layers. He is a filmmaker to be watched in conjunction with the history of cinema; his spin-offs are of the best kind.
The Marriage Of Maria Braun
First film of the loosely collected BRD strand (three films) from Rainer Werner Fassbinder, this was 1979. All related for Germany's post-war 'miracle', the moral compromises, how the political is the personal.
Warm colours are used by Fassbinder, the suggestion that they are washed out is true to an extent but shouldn't be overdone. This is a 70's film, full of that era's simplistic spaces in its use of film stock that gives a certain bright blankness.
The use of music and the radio to obscure sound is interesting here, as though the changing world and the industrial clangs are overwhelming the attempt at communication.
This is further emphasised in the obscuring camera uses, where we can at times fail to see the front of faces or what wethe singified of the story is. This works with the long dolly shots that track across distances, not quite voyeuristically but in a manner of a frind, rather than direct indentification. This non-direct identification is mirrored in the story, where we have a variety of different strands. Maria is the centre but the camera and scenes don't always follow her. The woman as the centre of the piece is good early feminist cinema, though as more of a symbol than a character, it can seem so at times. The again, most of them are.
The content at its most obvious is quite clear; high capitalism effecting personal relations, driving to mania, combined with psychonanalytic fetishes that have an object which, at the last analysis, they don't really want.
There are some sensational constructions and individual scenes in this film. When the husband returns, nearly every scene with the G.I., has a slightly uneasy, wondrous transcendental sense. As a whole, there's a lot here, but also the sense that there may be even more than the sum of its (impressive) parts. Fassbinder, for all his impressive shots, is also playing hide and seek to an extent here.
An impressive film, not too far from the mainstream, with the suggestion of more.
Warm colours are used by Fassbinder, the suggestion that they are washed out is true to an extent but shouldn't be overdone. This is a 70's film, full of that era's simplistic spaces in its use of film stock that gives a certain bright blankness.
The use of music and the radio to obscure sound is interesting here, as though the changing world and the industrial clangs are overwhelming the attempt at communication.
This is further emphasised in the obscuring camera uses, where we can at times fail to see the front of faces or what wethe singified of the story is. This works with the long dolly shots that track across distances, not quite voyeuristically but in a manner of a frind, rather than direct indentification. This non-direct identification is mirrored in the story, where we have a variety of different strands. Maria is the centre but the camera and scenes don't always follow her. The woman as the centre of the piece is good early feminist cinema, though as more of a symbol than a character, it can seem so at times. The again, most of them are.
The content at its most obvious is quite clear; high capitalism effecting personal relations, driving to mania, combined with psychonanalytic fetishes that have an object which, at the last analysis, they don't really want.
There are some sensational constructions and individual scenes in this film. When the husband returns, nearly every scene with the G.I., has a slightly uneasy, wondrous transcendental sense. As a whole, there's a lot here, but also the sense that there may be even more than the sum of its (impressive) parts. Fassbinder, for all his impressive shots, is also playing hide and seek to an extent here.
An impressive film, not too far from the mainstream, with the suggestion of more.
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