Another chance to see one of the all time great (from 1966) films; has there been better films with the content of war as its subject.
We immeditely cast our minds to 'Waltz With Bashir'. These films can't be directly compared to each other, that is not the intention. What one could argue has happened is that there has been a movement in the experience of sanctioned violence. It now no longer has this street style, the dirty compromises and so on. It is now all completely unreal, the round edges and complete unreality. Even for when it is being lived, war is now a memory, now something that no one ever experiences except through songs and slightly waspish mediation of others, that one can look at, read about, but can't touch. Even for those 'soldiers'. It is a new kind of space, no longer concrete but now cut apart by the camera, it is a sort of floating space far far away from the street and the houses that, in 'Algiers', the actors can and do constanly dissapear into.
'The Battle Of Algiers' was just as powerful on second watching. It remains the truth of the horrible cliche, 'unbearably tense', it has identification, even-handedness, but still an immensely powerful message? Is the music a little overheated? It adds great atmosphere, boduly feelings are engaged enough as it is, but all the more so.
Despite it being a repeat view, the final scenes still bring one to tears of power. The overwhelming power of the people remains in this film, and in our experience of watching it. But where else?
Friday, 26 November 2010
Delicatessen
This 1991 film from Caro and Jeunet, we realised about half an hour in, is amazingly good. Really, frankly very surprisingly, it turns into a great work. Where did that come from?
The directors are formally interesting enough to use cuts (the clock tick rythms) and more particularly colours, to convey something beyond the content; why the formalism of cinema is the justification of cinema. The yellowish, dark sand blasted outsides provides the house as a microcosm and at once connected, as the wind blows. The post-apocalyptic setting works very well on a double level. It at once means they aren't tied to anything, but certainly evokes memories of collaboration, and the hell people will inflict in such siutations. This film is, in a way, about responsibility, intelligently smuggled into what could be seen as a slice of macabre.
The dream character of the heightened colours is at times funny and involving, but certainly keeps the powerful atmosphere going. Excellent, excellent, excellent, a joyful surprise.
The directors are formally interesting enough to use cuts (the clock tick rythms) and more particularly colours, to convey something beyond the content; why the formalism of cinema is the justification of cinema. The yellowish, dark sand blasted outsides provides the house as a microcosm and at once connected, as the wind blows. The post-apocalyptic setting works very well on a double level. It at once means they aren't tied to anything, but certainly evokes memories of collaboration, and the hell people will inflict in such siutations. This film is, in a way, about responsibility, intelligently smuggled into what could be seen as a slice of macabre.
The dream character of the heightened colours is at times funny and involving, but certainly keeps the powerful atmosphere going. Excellent, excellent, excellent, a joyful surprise.
Sunrise: A Song Of Two Humans
This famous work (1927) from F.W. Murnau is amazing to see; an exciting and surprisingly violent (tonally) silent film, full of lessons in the making of the film, of storytelling, how you can put content together, and the changing fashions.
The opening of this film uses very clear stereotypes of good and evil. Murnau uses similar techniques to what he did in 'Nosferatu', with the use of shade on the faces of )every) evil charatcer, and those lurching backs.
It is next to unbelievable that our hero, at one point, attempts to murder his wife. This shows a different in gender relations, no doubt, but also shows a shift in the kinf of realism; for an early master like Murnau, cinema is more clearly seen as a kind of fantasia, a dream, where the usual rules don't apply.
The seamless but, from modern perspectives, odd shoft to the city represents a particular high moment. There are a number of great technical issues of lighting and focus in how Murnau shoots the whole wide city. We don't know directors before Murnau who used cuts so often, manipulating and falsifying space on occassion, to create, again, a dream world.
This story is told in a wonderful tight manner. It is simple enough to induce real emotional power in the viewer. We have been blessed to see another example of the greatness of cinema, a perfection of its type.
The opening of this film uses very clear stereotypes of good and evil. Murnau uses similar techniques to what he did in 'Nosferatu', with the use of shade on the faces of )every) evil charatcer, and those lurching backs.
It is next to unbelievable that our hero, at one point, attempts to murder his wife. This shows a different in gender relations, no doubt, but also shows a shift in the kinf of realism; for an early master like Murnau, cinema is more clearly seen as a kind of fantasia, a dream, where the usual rules don't apply.
The seamless but, from modern perspectives, odd shoft to the city represents a particular high moment. There are a number of great technical issues of lighting and focus in how Murnau shoots the whole wide city. We don't know directors before Murnau who used cuts so often, manipulating and falsifying space on occassion, to create, again, a dream world.
This story is told in a wonderful tight manner. It is simple enough to induce real emotional power in the viewer. We have been blessed to see another example of the greatness of cinema, a perfection of its type.
Berlin: Symphony Of A Great City
Classic city symphony, from 1927, to go with the truly marvellous 'Man With A Movie Character'.
We watched this film without a soundtrack, which didn't help, but all the same it is clearly a great work of art, of brilliance. How does it differ from Vertov's masterwork? It is less violent formally, using montage more rarely as a technique for effecting the very visual aparatus of the viewer.
It is also rather more sympathetic, though still focussing on the object rather than the person it is more cuddly, to a small extent, more playful. This may be as it concentrates more on the actual way the exposure levels are used; the wonderful heavy, uncontrasted blacks of the nighttime shots are magical rather than sharp.
They also have the train shots, and amazing shots of the street we saw from Vertov. It is more structured, more particular, making it easier to parse, with the positives and negatives so entailed.
This, obviously, is a film of a higher level; a treasure.
We watched this film without a soundtrack, which didn't help, but all the same it is clearly a great work of art, of brilliance. How does it differ from Vertov's masterwork? It is less violent formally, using montage more rarely as a technique for effecting the very visual aparatus of the viewer.
It is also rather more sympathetic, though still focussing on the object rather than the person it is more cuddly, to a small extent, more playful. This may be as it concentrates more on the actual way the exposure levels are used; the wonderful heavy, uncontrasted blacks of the nighttime shots are magical rather than sharp.
They also have the train shots, and amazing shots of the street we saw from Vertov. It is more structured, more particular, making it easier to parse, with the positives and negatives so entailed.
This, obviously, is a film of a higher level; a treasure.
The Firebird & Les Noces
Two performers of Diaghilev Ballet Russes, shot in modern performances, designed by Goncharova.
The Firebird; The ballet, in a fascinating manner, uses the foregrounding and the backgrounding. The firebird is initially in front, Ivan as the voyeur. The rest of the piece is the male attempt to win the powerful symbolic position, to retain his lone ability to enter from the right. The key trope here is that he has to realise that he can't keep this power; it is selfish, phallo-centric. The reveal of this is wonderful.
Also interesting is the use of depth in this piece. The way that the bodies of the other dancers are used to illustrate the inability of the lovers to communicate, how they must be within the crowd and are at once held from a unsustainable immediacy through it.
Les Noces; A sharp little piece. To note here is the assymety of the sides of the stage. As we may also see the extremely cramped stage use, around the balck outlines. What actually squeezes up here is surprisingly messy fiddly; if the people are clockwork machines, then they are the thousands of un-understandable cogs of the watch. The final thing we want to say here is the brilliant way every single aspect of the piece is mediated. When some are violently moving, others stay dead still, eerily so. The stage is the stage, again, of the voyeur, it is a great move towards self-awareness, and promotes a kind of Checkovian sadness.
These were enjoyable to watch, and we look forward to seeing more ballet (on stage rather than chopped up by cameras, hopefully).
The Firebird; The ballet, in a fascinating manner, uses the foregrounding and the backgrounding. The firebird is initially in front, Ivan as the voyeur. The rest of the piece is the male attempt to win the powerful symbolic position, to retain his lone ability to enter from the right. The key trope here is that he has to realise that he can't keep this power; it is selfish, phallo-centric. The reveal of this is wonderful.
Also interesting is the use of depth in this piece. The way that the bodies of the other dancers are used to illustrate the inability of the lovers to communicate, how they must be within the crowd and are at once held from a unsustainable immediacy through it.
Les Noces; A sharp little piece. To note here is the assymety of the sides of the stage. As we may also see the extremely cramped stage use, around the balck outlines. What actually squeezes up here is surprisingly messy fiddly; if the people are clockwork machines, then they are the thousands of un-understandable cogs of the watch. The final thing we want to say here is the brilliant way every single aspect of the piece is mediated. When some are violently moving, others stay dead still, eerily so. The stage is the stage, again, of the voyeur, it is a great move towards self-awareness, and promotes a kind of Checkovian sadness.
These were enjoyable to watch, and we look forward to seeing more ballet (on stage rather than chopped up by cameras, hopefully).
Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia
This 1974 film is the first film we have seen from Sam Peckinpah. It truly impressed us, up there with some of the very finest moments from Hollywood, that congealed around that boundaries-breaking period.
As with all even close to mainstream Hollywood, this isn't exactly shot in an avant-garde manner, but still does have its own distinctive style. One of the first we have here is the dreamy shot. The floating, abstract quality, which changes the entire colour tone of the film, has a special kind of psychoanalytic magic to it.
Peckinpah has a few nice wide compositions throughout. We have some stark shadows of the lone figure, the long man, caught among the contrasts of the rocks and the detritus of Mexico.
An easy thing to say about Pecknipah is to accuse him of sexism, or rather misogyny; and there is undoubtedly more than a question of this. Their are too many shots of the lead female topless, and, though the casual violence has a purpose (showing how it infiltrates from top to bottom, the way they can't have proper relationships in this world, even if they liked) there is perhaps a bit too much dwelling, an undoubted fascination which seems erotic in its gaze.
The key element of this film is how it is one of the perfect, perhaps the very purest we can see committed to film in a clear manner, show of commodity fetishism. The love of the dead object is quite literal. The obsession with the use-value over exchange-value, how it makes what it does make out of personal relations. This can be explicated right up to a very specific point. The raising of the dead as the bringing of violence, how there is simply no way out.
We again have how the individual's world collapses in on him; the classic trope of every single great Hollywood movie. For that reason we are in a variety of minds about the end of the film; is it too much, a wish fulfillent. Or maybe that is the point, the ridiculous scream, that of course blows up in the face.
This is a film of violence and almost the absurd. It is both entertaining, occassionally beautiful, and heated almost beyond belief. Skirting on the edges of the great Hollywood movies.
As with all even close to mainstream Hollywood, this isn't exactly shot in an avant-garde manner, but still does have its own distinctive style. One of the first we have here is the dreamy shot. The floating, abstract quality, which changes the entire colour tone of the film, has a special kind of psychoanalytic magic to it.
Peckinpah has a few nice wide compositions throughout. We have some stark shadows of the lone figure, the long man, caught among the contrasts of the rocks and the detritus of Mexico.
An easy thing to say about Pecknipah is to accuse him of sexism, or rather misogyny; and there is undoubtedly more than a question of this. Their are too many shots of the lead female topless, and, though the casual violence has a purpose (showing how it infiltrates from top to bottom, the way they can't have proper relationships in this world, even if they liked) there is perhaps a bit too much dwelling, an undoubted fascination which seems erotic in its gaze.
The key element of this film is how it is one of the perfect, perhaps the very purest we can see committed to film in a clear manner, show of commodity fetishism. The love of the dead object is quite literal. The obsession with the use-value over exchange-value, how it makes what it does make out of personal relations. This can be explicated right up to a very specific point. The raising of the dead as the bringing of violence, how there is simply no way out.
We again have how the individual's world collapses in on him; the classic trope of every single great Hollywood movie. For that reason we are in a variety of minds about the end of the film; is it too much, a wish fulfillent. Or maybe that is the point, the ridiculous scream, that of course blows up in the face.
This is a film of violence and almost the absurd. It is both entertaining, occassionally beautiful, and heated almost beyond belief. Skirting on the edges of the great Hollywood movies.
Belleville Rendez Vous
This short little piece from Sylvain Chomet, made in 2003, is a fun enough little piece of work, though it is unlikely something that will be returned to all that often.
Like 'The Illusionist' it is nearly silent, and again much information is conveyed through a sense of the grotesque, of the extreme. This leads to some certainly aggressive images, in what is generally an alienated picture. The real lack of identification mixes with the use of the dog as an mediated device. The fact that what we have the closest relation to is something that is seen as utterly idiotic makes for a difficuly picture.
This picture is more primatively animated than 'The Illusionist', and doesn't wuite employ the same long shots. It also has less of a deeper sense of grief and character, the jokes here are clearly antecedents in the slightly off beat stereotypes, but the way they are used differently, that is in a different perspective, leads to a less thoughtful, but slightly more direct film.
So, we quite enjoyed this, though it wouldn't last too long.
Like 'The Illusionist' it is nearly silent, and again much information is conveyed through a sense of the grotesque, of the extreme. This leads to some certainly aggressive images, in what is generally an alienated picture. The real lack of identification mixes with the use of the dog as an mediated device. The fact that what we have the closest relation to is something that is seen as utterly idiotic makes for a difficuly picture.
This picture is more primatively animated than 'The Illusionist', and doesn't wuite employ the same long shots. It also has less of a deeper sense of grief and character, the jokes here are clearly antecedents in the slightly off beat stereotypes, but the way they are used differently, that is in a different perspective, leads to a less thoughtful, but slightly more direct film.
So, we quite enjoyed this, though it wouldn't last too long.
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