TIFF: She, A Chinese

This is another installment in the long delayed series of reviews I had planned for the films I saw at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, 2009. I hope to write several more of these in a much more timely manner than I have so far. But I make no promises. Alas, life is busy and writing this stuff doesn't pay.

The second day of the festival began with Xiaolu Guo's She, A Chinese, which is based on Guo's own novel. Guo introduced the film as a coming-of-age film, or a film about youth. She asked, "What is coming of age?" In our globalized world, it is likely that question is becoming more difficult to answer. How does a young individual discover who they are in a world that has become more accessible, both through access to transportation, as well as through technology (the internet, film, literature, etc.), which, in a way, makes the world much larger. Today's youth perhaps feel even smaller, in a world that appears much bigger. Of course, our modern youth do not really have any other time to compare their time to, so how aware of this changed world are they? Nevertheless, their methods of navigating through the 21st century are different than those of previous generations.

Connected to this question of youth, is Guo's assertion that the film is not about national identity. To this I then wonder, why is the film titled She, A Chinese. This title suggests questions and/or themes of nationality, be they on national identity, multiculturalism and other cultural studies, as well as issues of gender. The film follows Li Mei (Huang Lu), who is born in a small Chinese village and eventually leaves for the big city, then on to London, England. It is a global journey where we initially want to think about the film as being only about a Chinese girl; but it eschews the still too common Western approach, which shows China through the lens of Western Orientalism: China as the foreign and exotic. It becomes more a study of displacement and wandering, where both China and England can seem both foreign and familiar. Guo herself was born in a small Chinese village, but has lived in London for years now - she is of mixed culture and heritage; an example of the multicultural existence familiar to an ever-growing number of people. Guo, aware of how many Western and Chinese films alike have portrayed China through this Oriental lens, tries to focus on individuals and cross national barriers, creating a multi-national image of the world.

National identity might not be at the root of the film, but it is still a part of the film and a subject worth examining. The film presents three different cultures through its principle characters: Li Mei and Spikey (China), Mr. Hunt (England), and Rachid (India). The film does a pretty good job to present these characters as individuals rather than cultural stereotypes, while showing how some of their cultural differences create tensions between them.

Even more interesting to me than the cultural issues are the gender issues within the film. Li Mei's track record with men throughout the film is hardly stellar; every man she has a relationship with takes advantage of her, and proves unreliable, leaving her alone to fend for herself. After being sexually assaulted by a truck driver in her home town, Li Mei heads for the city, begins helping and working in a brothel, and eventually becomes the girlfriend to Spikey (Wei Yi Bo), a criminal thug. Ironically, Spikey seems to be the nicest man to Li Mei, though he tries to pay her after having sex with her (perhaps a misguided act of sincerity on this bumbling criminal's part). But Spikey's machismo, gangster lifestyle is hardly a safe, dependable one; his demise leaves Li Mei on her own again, though - thanks to Spikey's criminal activities - financially set.

When Spikey and Li Mei Meet - A Poor Quality Excerpt

With Spikey's money she travels to England and falls in with the elderly widower Mr. Hunt (Geoffrey Hutchings). This seemingly kind old man helps Li Mei for a while, but eventually his own attraction to her pretty, youthful body becomes problematic. Mr. Hunt displays a rather Oriental tension of attraction and repulsion to the beautiful, young foreigner. Here both sexual and cultural tensions drive the two apart, for they can neither satisfy each other sexually, nor fully understand each other culturally. As is true of all the relationships in the film, there is a general failure to really communicate; most of the time the relationships are sexual, and if a sexual relationship is all there is, then the failure of that relationship is seemingly guaranteed.

Li Mei's Indian boyfriend, Rachid (Chris Ryman), also takes sexual advantage of her, through buying her clothes he thinks make her look sexy, to just pressuring her into sex. After using her for a while Rachid abandons her, claiming to be going back to India. This is likely motivate by the news that Li Mei is pregnant. This storyline becomes a somewhat conventional statement of men's failure to commit to a relationship, choosing instead to simply use women for sex and then dump them when the men no longer have a convenient use for those women.

This abuse of women by men seems a more common theme of the film than the cultural themes, showing how men's mistreatment of women to not be nationally or culturally exclusive. Men just mistreat women. While Li Mei is rather resourceful and finds a way of surviving, she is also rather ignorant and irresponsible, often expecting those men to provide her with the material pleasures she wants. She is often selfish, assuming that she can use men to get the things that she wants. The abuse between the sexes is less than commendable and in the end all the characters seem to hardly have fulfilling lives. The motives of these characters, influenced by the ever-more material world and belief in self-centered preservation and immediate pleasure leaves everyone lacking.

She, A Chinese raises some interesting questions and tries to tackle multiple themes in a way that is both supportive of its main character, Li Mei, and distant from that character. The film does not idealize her; her flaws are apparent and I found myself both sympathetic to her, while being completely exasperated by some of her behavior. Huang Lu's performance captures that balance of drawing our sympathy and frustration very successfully. In the end I felt more distant from her and uncertain as to whether I liked her at all. In some cases she brought her troubles upon herself, in others she is genuinely a victim. The themes of the film are interesting ones, but in the end I felt too distanced and annoyed with what I was seeing to feel much optimism for Li Mei's future. As one who likes to think that society still contains decency and goodness, this film seemed a somewhat flat declaration that we just can't win and we don't know where we're going anymore.

Director Xiaolu Guo

TIFF: Antichrist

PREFACE: I had the weighty responsibility to represent Boast at the Toronto International Film Festival this year. I like to think it’s because I’m the only Boast writer whose opinion actually matters, but the reality is: I'm the only one frivolous enough and void of real responsibility to throw down the money to attend. As a disclaimer, spoilers are likely to happen, which isn’t really a big deal since it’s film studies’ duty to rid film-watching of any surprises or entertainment. (Watching movies should never be just for fun, right?) I'm also aware that the festival is now some months in the past and these films may not exactly be breaking news, but sometimes it's good to wait a while, let things process, read some other people's thoughts, and then write about the film.
In the case of Lars von Trier’s Antichrist, watching this film is not fun. If fun ever crossed your mind while watching this film I'd recommend you order yourself a personal exorcism. Von Trier is no stranger to painful stories, putting his characters (and actors) through the most horrible experiences, and/or pushing you far outside your comfort zone. But Antichrist goes beyond anything I’ve seen von Trier do before, and honestly beyond anything I’ve ever seen in a film, which I guess says something about my viewing habits. So this was new territory for me and I tend to think I, or anyone, shouldn't be there, at least not for very long and not very often.

In the post-screening Q&A, lead actor Willem Dafoe explained that von Trier wrote the screenplay while in a severe depression. It became quite a personal film for von Trier, who was – according to Dafoe – in a delicate state during the whole filmmaking process, his core crew members there to help keep him stabilized. I’m not sure how good a job they did since the personal fracture and depressive anxiety assaulting von Trier’s psyche seems to have spawned a brutally violent, perverse, and justifiably objectionable finished film. Then again, Lars von Trier enjoys making offensive films; he means to provoke, upset and unsettle the viewer. He succeeds here better than he ever has before.

So what is Antichrist doing? Aside from being ridiculously graphic and explicit, and rather misogynistic? Hopefully a lot of things, otherwise I really wasted my time and the well-being of my everlasting soul. I’ll try expressing what I took away from Antichrist while saying I don’t claim to have ‘gotten’ all aspects of the film, nor do I agree with a lot of the message. Antichrist contains many standard von Trier subjects and themes: A central female character, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg and only named She in the credits; children also still interest him, like in his adaptation of Medea, though to different effect this time; nature, both human and environmental, is investigated; issues of control and domination, which von Trier has always struggled with and you see quite nicely studied in The Five Obstructions; then there’s psychology and religion, with primary attention on the female sex and the story of Adam & Eve. All this (and more) comprises a film less interested in telling a story, preferring to wax hyper-metaphorical/symbolic/philosophical/existential/psychological; all while slowly destroying both his characters and his audience.

It's rather obvious after the first minute of the film that sex is a central issue. More specifically, this is about carnal, aggressive, violent sex. In the story of Adam & Eve, the partaking of the fruit has often been interpreted as symbolic of the first sexual act; Eve tempts Adam into having sex, which brings about their fall from innocence and expulsion from the Garden of Eden. Mankind's nature is then corrupt, since, after being tempted by the Devil masquerading as a serpent, Eve tempted Adam, and Adam gave in to temptation. He and She - besides the child, the film's only characters - represent Adam and Eve, and the bulk of the film unfolds after they return to their cabin in the woods they call Eden. That they return to Eden to try dealing with their grief bears its own significance: are we sometimes trying to get back to the Garden? What do we think that will accomplish? For Lars von Trier, it accomplishes nothing good.

The opening scene shows He and She in severe carnal embrace, to such intensity that they fail to notice their kid has woken up and climbed out of his crib. The child then comes to their bedroom door and sees his parents having sex. He then climbs onto the table, opens the window and falls out to his death. All this makes me wonder if this is how von Trier sees sex and the Fall: simply a cruel, carnal and corrupting act that destroys as much as it creates. If mankind began with such a violent act, what does that say of our nature? Are we indeed evil, controlled by the Devil? And what does that say about Eve who was the first tempted and, unfortunately, has taken a severe beating throughout history, labeled at the primary cause of the fall of man. We seem to forget Adam's own roll in the whole thing. But von Trier hasn't. The husband's cold, sterile psychological approach to the death of their child is troubling and keeps us distanced from and annoyed at him. That He then succumbs to the violent sexual tendencies his wife is exhibiting shows his own capacity for cruel, vile behavior. And He is ultimately the one committing murder (considered by most to be the greater, if not greatest sin), not She. In the end I think Antichrist finds mankind rather evil, and that the sexes will eventually destroy each other.

I saw the movie and am thinking it might have been better if I hadn't. It's not worst film ever made, as some will annoyingly cry, but it certainly isn't the best film, as some will also annoyingly proclaim. The visuals are captivating. It looks gorgeous and sometimes crosses into some great surreal, symbolic territory. The pacing is good as things spiral down further and further. Dafoe and Gainsbourg are good, not brilliant, but good for what they're working with. The explicit content is rather terrible. An argument can be made that the content fits the story and is therefore necessary. Maybe. But was the film necessary to make in the first place? Von Trier might have needed it to cope with his own demons, but did he have to put it out there for us to see? A viewer has to take responsibility for their viewing practices and not condemn a filmmaker for having made an offensive film - the director didn't force anyone to watch it. But von Trier is a popular name and how many people are going to stumble into this thing who really shouldn't? Von Trier pushed too far here, and even people who have stomached and/or liked his other films have been really bothered by this one. Cannes was all upset at him for the film, but they put the film on the festival program, not von Trier.

A controversial film like Antichrist raises accountability questions for both the viewer and creator that are good to think about. Maybe thinking about those questions is where Antichrist succeeds best with me, which is outside the film itself perhaps (I doubt von Trier was thinking about such things as he made the film), but I do think that films should have some impact on our lives, how we see the world and are involved in it. If Antichrist thinks that the world and mankind are rotten, with the film itself as an example of that corruption, fine. But please excuse me if I disagree with that opinion and want to devote my time to other films.

No Country for Old Men

Much has already been said, critically and otherwise, about No Country for Old Men’s “hunter becoming the hunted” and the prospects of Javier Bardem winning an Oscar (which would be great). While such clichés citing overt and somewhat elementary symbolism flow like sentimentalism from a Spielberg movie, the more sinister and indicting themes at the core of this story confound such reductive criticism while demanding attention. Contrary to the popular notions of chic hipsters, Country doesn’t settle for merely achieving pop-genre status but, like many of the great films, resists simple classification and generalization to the effect of appealing to multiple tastes and sensibilities while being pointedly insightful. Of course the tense story and action, paced by remarkable editing, grabs our focus as well as our concern. But where the film becomes the most fascinating is in its acute awareness of cultural politics in America.

Although Llewelyn Moss is a sympathetic character who gets drawn into a treacherous stalking match, it’s significant that we understand him as a truly opportunistic guy who is determined to keep a bundle of money he gained by shady chance. That this money is someone else’s never deters him from trying to keep it even though he clearly understands that doing so puts him and his family at terrible risk. This act seems to characterize more of the McMahonian notion of capitalist expectation than one would normally assign to a poor schmuck being stalked by a raging psychopath. To ignore this and idealize a protagonist’s morally dubious actions based on our empathetic support is a remarkably dangerous practice and one that is deftly exploited by the Coens and award winning novelist, Cormac McCarthy.

Similarly, at the center of the film’s parade of ubiquitous and abrupt violence is the idea that no one is exempt and punishment (or dire consequence), however unjust, is inevitable. The fact that neither lawful nor vigilante retribution has a marked effect on minimizing the imminent brutality that Anton Chigurh brings further parallels a culture muddled in paradox and misconception. This is not to say that the film promotes fatalism, but only that it has its finger on the proverbial button of our societal conundrum of violence and terror. As Sherriff Bell’s narration brilliantly bookends the film, we understand the layered and self reflexive irony that veterans returning from conflict are doomed to relive the same madness at home.

No Country for Old Men evokes a haunting vision of social anxiety in America, defying our best efforts to evade responsibility in a way that could generically be considered post neo-western-noir. Despite the ambiguity of such categorization, we could also surmise that the Coen’s have made a masterful adaptation of a striking novel. More importantly, however, the filmmakers appear to have not only been faithful but have had faith in their source material – a virtue to be sure. If artists continue to make comparable renderings because of such stark and relevant works (i.e. if Moss really is America’s redneck Everyman) then our cultural position is bleak indeed.

Assessment: Many stars

Serenity Tops 'Best Sci-Fi' List

It comes as no real surprise (to me) that Joss Whedon's Serenity ousts Star Wars for the 'Best of Sci-Fi' as listed by SFX Magazine. In fact, I’m going to be pretentious enough to briefly tell you why I think the folks at SFX got it right.

Both films present a technologically varied universe that remains politically and socially stratified by oppressive governments (cynicism is an essential Sci-Fi trope). These films also apply many of the standard conventions of the Science Fiction genre as well as obvious characteristics from the Western.

Star Wars: A New Hope idealizes the ‘American Dream’ as the rural everyman aspires to something bigger and better – heroic adventure, romanticism, stickin’ it to The Man, and (aside from ignorant incestuousness) getting the Girl. This is cool. This is fun. This is Greek Tragedy minus the Tragedy. This is opera. It appeals to our ‘everyday’ commonalities and fulfills our most ridiculous fantasies (swinging across a treacherous chasm in the arms of a lovely maiden? Oh yeah). It doesn’t insult us (except, sometimes, for the Girl – which is nothing new, so apparently it’s OK).

Serenity, on the other hand, challenges, alienates, disillusions, blames, and questions. There are evil monsters out there but we made them. They are us. Reflections of who we are and can become. Not bent on being set in an escapist ‘galaxy far, far away’, Serenity adds it’s bleak slant on realism by referring to ‘Earth that was’, suggesting humanity’s responsibility for the past tense title. The crux of science fiction has always been the controversy of humankind’s ability to negotiate the morals of natural law – a contest that we nearly always fail. Whedon’s film confronts this in true Sci-fi fashion by making it political as we discover that the government (who effectively suppressed the rebellion) is decidedly monstrous. And the Girl? River's single-handed slaughter of a room full of Reavers firmly splatters mysogeny with such post-fem swank that it makes Mal's bloody eye seem like a limp-wristed plea for sympathy. (although the eye thing was pretty cool, wasn't it?)

In a political climate where the critical teeth of Sci-fi should find the biggest appetite, we can applaud films that challenge, stir, and reflect. This is what the great science fiction writers (Wells, Verne, Bradbury, Dick, Huxley, Orwell, et al.) have all done. And, as dreary and low as our world often gets, we can rest assured that Serenity rises to the top.


Top List from SFX Magazine.

More on Serenity [Link]

Tagged under:
Film

Chicago Reader and Blog Too!

For those of you dissatisfied with most popular film criticism, the Chicago Reader has a film blog that is well worth reading and subscribing to. Contributions are made by several of the brilliant critics and writers from the Reader (Jonathan Rosenbaum, Pat Graham, J.R. Jones, et al.) and include discussions and information on cinefile activities/events in and around the Chicago area, as well as general information and criticism relating to cinema for those of us not in the area.

[Link to the blog]


Tagged under:
Entertainment, Cinema, Chicago Reader

Simon Pegg on British and American Humour

Whilst living in Britain I would frequently hear the remark that British humour is 'different' than American humour, and then get surprised glances when I (an American) appeared to 'get'/dish out a clever bit of irony (don't misunderstand, I'm not that clever). I was always puzzled by this, as I merely thought it was the interpretation, filtered by cultural context, that determined whether someone got the laugh or not.

Well, we can all rest easy now, as British Actor/writer/man-of-extraordinary-genius, Simon Pegg, writes a brilliant article on the virtues and (lack of?) difference between British and American humour.
An excerpt from The Guardian:

When it comes to humour, however, there is one cultural myth that just won't die. You hear it all the time from self-appointed social commentators sat astride high horses, dressed as knights who say, "Ni". They don't get it. They never had it. They don't know what it is and, ironically, they don't want it anyway. That's right: "Americans don't do irony." This isn't strictly true. Although it is true that we British do use irony a little more often than our special friends in the US. It's like the kettle to us: it's always on, whistling slyly in the corner of our daily interactions. To Americans, however, it's more like a nice teapot, something to be used when the occasion demands it. This is why an ironic comment will sometimes be met with a perplexed smile by an unwary American. Take this exchange that took place between two friends of mine, one British (B), the other American (A):

B: "I had to go to my grandad's funeral last week."

A: "Sorry to hear that."

B: "Don't be. It was the first time he ever paid for the drinks."

A: "I see."

Now, my American friend was being neither thick nor obtuse here; he simply didn't immediately register the need to bury emotion under humour. This tendency is also apparent in our differing use of disclaimers. When Americans use irony, they will often immediately qualify it as being so, with a jovial "just kidding", even if the statement is outrageous and plainly ironic. For instance...

A: "If you don't come out tonight, I'm going to have you shot... just kidding."

Of course, being America, this might be true, because they do all own guns and use them on a regular basis (just kidding). Americans can fully appreciate irony. They just don't feel entirely comfortable using it on each other, in case it causes damage. A bit like how we feel about guns.

[Link to the full article]

Tagged under:
Entertainment, Simon Pegg

David Bordwell on 'Infernal Affairs' and 'The Departed'

"Infernal Affairs or The Departed?" Surely a question to stir up the excitable fanboy and pseudo-savvy filmgoing buzz-word-dropper. And despite the fact that I happen to really like Infernal Affairs and have yet to see The Departed, I think it's the type of comparison that rarely produces anything other than opportunities to display a (lacking) knowledge of cinema. In fact, I think the main reason people generally trash Nolan's reworking of Insomnia has nothing to do with the film at all, but that the original is Norwegian and by 'preferring' it they can dip into the international well of film that seems to elude so many.

That said, Hong Kong cinema expert David Bordwell makes some interesting points about each film that go beyond fanboy excitement and EWeekly predictability.

[Read the article]



Tagged under:
Film

Steely Dan offer Wes Anderson Advice©

Fans are an interesting bunch. Obsessed fans… well, they’re interesting for slightly different reasons that are more selfish than Golden Rulish. For all of you hipsters who worship Wes Anderson, (even so much as to send bits of assumed advice his way) here is a bit to His Geeky Holiness, Señor Anderson, from the copyrighted and royaltied guys of Steely Dan© - yes, THAT Steely Dan.

You can also link to the full article below, which includes another fine letter to Owen and Luke Wilson.

From: W. Becker and D. Fagen [AKA Steely Dan© ]
To: Wes Anderson

Maestro:

As you may know, we are the founders of the celebrated rock band "Steely Dan"©. If for some reason you don't know our work, check with Owen and Luke Wilson - they're both big fans. Here's something you may not know about us: when not distracted by our “day job” – composing, recording, touring and so forth – we like to head downstairs into the paneled basement of our minds and assume the roles we were born to play - you may have already guessed it by now – the roles of Obsessive Fans of World Cinema.

That's right. Eisenstein, Renoir, Rene Clair, Bunuel, Kurosawa, Fellini, Godard, Tarkovsky, Ophuls the Elder, Blake Edwards, Ophuls the Younger, you name it. Sat there, dug it.

Maestro, we give to you this Message: there was a time when Giants walked among us. And, damn, if you, Wes Anderson, might not be the one to restore their racial dominance on this, our planet, this Terra, this... Earth.

You may have heard that we have recently made it our personal project and goal to deliver a certain actor of no small importance to your past and present work from a downward spiral of moral turpitude from which it seemed there might be no escape. We are delighted to report that, with the news of Mr. ________'s participation in your new film (which we understand to be entitled, indeed, charmingly, “Darjeeling Limited”), our efforts have been repaid, and How.

This unqualified victory has inspired us to address a more serious matter. Let's put our cards on the table - surely, we are not the first to tell you that your career is suffering from a malaise. Fortunately, inasmuch as it is a malaise distinctly different than that of Mr.______ , and to the extent that you have not become so completely alienated from the intellectual and moral wellsprings of your own creativity, we are hoping that we - yours truly, Donald and Walter - may successfully "intervene" at this point in time and be of some use to you in your latest, and, potentially, greatest, endeavor.

Again, an artist of your stripe could never be guilty of the same sort of willing harlotry that befalls so many bright young men who take their aspirations to Hollywood and their talent for granted. You have failed or threatened to fail in a far more interesting and morally uncompromised way (assuming for a moment that self-imitation and a modality dangerously close to mawkishness are not moral failings, but rather symptoms of a profound sickness of the soul.)

Let's begin with a quick review of your career so far, as it is known to us and your fans and wellwishers in general.

You began, spectacularly enough, with the excellent "Bottle Rocket", a film we consider to be your finest work to date. No doubt others would agree that the striking originality of your premise and vision was most effective in this seminal work. Subsequent films - "Rushmore", "The Royal Tenenbaums", "The Life Aquatic" - have been good fun but somewhat disappointing - perhaps increasingly so. These follow-ups have all concerned themselves with the theme we like to call "the enervated family of origin"©, from which springs diverse subplots also largely concerned with the failure to fulfill early promise. Again, each film increasingly relies on eccentric visual detail, period wardrobe, idiosyncratic and overwrought set design, and music supervision that leans heavily on somewhat obscure 60's "British Invasion" tracks a-jangle with twelve-string guitars, harpsichords and mandolins. The company of players, while excellent, retains pretty much the same tone and function from film to film. Indeed, you must be aware that your career as an auteur is mirrored in the lives of your beloved characters as they struggle in vain to duplicate early glories.

My favorite is their aptly appointed theme of “envervated family of origin”©.

Now that’s what I call, “Quality”©.

[Link] to the full letter.

Tagged under:
Entertainment

Dispelling Myths About Miami Vice

Since it's TV-to-big-screen adaptation was announced, I've found myself confused by the insistence of the general public and critical world that Miami Vice is going to suck neon-lit, 80s pastiche, art deco butt. Well, it doesn't. Is it a stand alone feature that was inspired and adapted by the series' original creators and producers? Yes. Do they think so little of their ideas that they merely homage the original with tongue-in-cheek distaste in order to skive along on the recent bandwagon of television-to-feature tedium? No. Is poor Colin Farrell finally going to transcend his apparent status as Hollywood's most invisible leading action man? ... Um... who knows?

What Michael Mann has created is a grim and cynical cop/drug bust movie. Is that all? No. Despite what lazy critics might lead you to believe, it's never that simple people. This film isn't Heat, by any means, it's Miami Vice. A different film. Thank you Michael, we all appreciate the fact that you don't just recycle all of your films. What we don't appreciate is high school criticism parading around as professional competence.

[Enter: The Doofus]

Eric D. Snider, illustrious cheap thrill enthusiast and apparent film-hater (whom I have previously posted on here), seems to have had his assumptions that this was going to be Charlie's Angels dashed into reductive pieces.

He begins his review of Miami Vice by saying,

What Michael Mann -- executive producer of the TV series and writer/director of the new film -- has done is take that story and strangle all the fun out of it... The fact that I've never seen an episode of "Miami Vice" does not appear to be a liability.

Considering that Snider criticises the feature for being devoid of 'fun', I would say that it is a BIG liability - how can he assume that the TV series had any fun in it to be removed in the adaptation if he hasn't even seen it?! What does he mean by 'fun', anyway? Should the 'convoluted' vice cops be cracking more jokes, or making more sexual inuendos? Should there be more slo-mo car crashes or gun battles? Maybe the undercover cops should be a bit more wacky because the whole scenario is just a little too dramatic and not fun enough. That's what we need: drug busts that are not just uplifting and pleasant, but enjoyable and fun.

He continues,

Mann's films tend to be melancholy, even somber ("Ali," "Collateral," etc.), but never has he seemed so hell-bent on dreariness. The story, easily handleable in a two-part TV episode, is stretched out for 133 minutes, its themes repeated endlessly. Occasional bursts of action provide temporary respite. Then it's back to the dreariness.

It's sure good that his 'etc.' wasn't replaced by, um, I don't know, 'Heat' or 'Last of the Mohicans' or 'The Insider', because that would have ruined his whole argument, since they are all monuments to uplifting sensationalism. What I think Snider wanted was 133 minutes of bursting action to deaden all of that pesky dreariness. Need I remind anyone that the title of the film is Miami VICE? Not Miami Somewhat-uplifting-and-hopeful, but Vice; complete with all of the respiteless dual meaning.

Does this all mean that I thought Miami Vice was prefect? Definitely not. My purpose here is to encourage people to stop making/listening to stupid criticism that rails on it for not being another Michael Mann film or claiming that it is worthless and shallow. Michael Mann may be the best director since Michelangelo Antonioni or Andrei Tarkovski at commenting on humankind's relationship with themselves and with nature. Whether it takes place in Los Angeles or Miami, Mann's films build on characters in morally distressed situations that resemble similar themes found in Antonioni's Mediterranian or Tarkovski's deep space. The simple fact that Crocket and Tubbs are vice cops working under cover doesn't make their respective moral and physical battles in urban and rural environments any less of a comment on the paradox of 'fighting' conflict or discovering/losing humanity.
Mann implements a number of interesting formal techniques here. The use of silence is very effective in illustrating the feeling of disbelief and wavering sense of bearing. Several times sound would cut completely, as we watch a character carry on a telephone conversation, or respond to a particular situation. In these scenes, not only do we not hear the dialog, but we don't hear music or ambient noise either and are left to gather the story elements from other characters' reaction shots - a huge improvement over Collateral, in which I thought more than a few scenes were botched by lame audio edits and annoying music.

The use of camera focus also makes us consider who/what is important. The overall cinematography embraces a documentary style, with shaky pans and quick rack focus, and several times the camera would frame a character (usually in extreme close-up) and remain out of focus. Which makes us wonder who/what is in focus? Are our heros maybe too entrenched in the under cover nature of their seedy business that they have lost moral focus? I would say, yeah.

These themes are crammed into a fairly straight forward cop/drug bust plot complete with pros and cons. To reduce a movie like this down to what it isn't, rather than what it is, is cheap and lazy. Take the time to think about the details and the elements that make you uncomfortable or interested; They are there, but you may have to put forth a little effort to notice.











Click image for wallpaper


[Link to Snider's full review]


Tagged under:
Entertainment, Miami Vice

Slayage Conference Report - pt. II

What people consider sin, I consider human characterstics - Joss Whedon

[In Serenity] a world without sin is a world of death - Rhonda Wilcox

Another great panel that I attended was by the convenor of the conference, Rhonda Wilcox. The title of her paper was, '"I Do Not Hold to That": Joss Whedon and Original Sin' and I'll briefly outline some of the points she made.

In Serenity, the character of River and the Operative are basically weapons (of mass destruction, as others have noted) and are both products of the Alliance's manipulation. The connection between the Operative/River and the Alliance's meddling is first illustrated in the opening flahsback-within-recording where the frame is paused while showing Simon rescuing his sister River from the Alliance. While focusing on the frozen picture of River and the Operative passes through the holographic image, his face replaces hers.



Wilcox made the point of how the film suggests that knowledge and consciousness can be seen as forms of original sin. The Operative asks each of his victims, 'Do you know what your sin is?', and according to his philosophy, the punishment for sin is death. This suggests an encouragement of choice and agency (which he himself hasn't even been allowed), but is undercut by how he physically disables them so that they make the sacrifice/restitution by falling to their death on a sword (his, not their own). It is also worth noting that the name of the Captain of the starship Serenity is Malcom ('Mal') Reynolds, and that the word 'mal' in Spanish means sin, bad, hurt, injury.

The Operative: Do you know what your sin is?

Capt. Malcom Reynolds: Aw, Hell, I'm a fan of all seven... but right now, I'm gonna have to go with Wrath.

The scene where River first goes berserk after viewing the video screen has allusions to Orson Welles's Citizen Kane, and 'Rosebud'. The close-up shot of River whispering 'Miranda' and the lips of Charles Foster Kane uttering 'Rosebud' both suggest a loss of innocence and downward spiral toward destruction - as is certainly seen when the Serenity crew discover the nature and origins of Miranda and associations with the Reavers. These two terms are also used as the focus of a mystery that drives the plot and challenges the viewer to decipher. The manipulation of the people on Miranda by the Alliance also suggests that compelling people toward Paradise only results in apathy and loss of humanity. By deconstructing Paradise, ala John Milton, Whedon's film is resistant to the notion of an 'ideal' society, favoring instead one that is governed by choice, but includes the inevitable flaws and mistakes resulting from personal agency. From this perspective it also seems to oppose the colonial visions of manifest destiny that is so often supported in science fiction.


**Note: This is an extremely truncated account of Wilcox's excellent talk. I'll keep my eyes out for an online version of it to link to in the future.

[Link to an abstract of Rhonda Wilcox's talk]


Tagged under:
TV, Film, Entertainment

Slayage Conference Report - pt. I

Last weekend I attended the Slayage Conference on the Whedonverses at Gordon College in Barnesville, Georgia. I must say that it was an incredible experience for me, although I felt way out of my league presenting among such a prestigious scholarly crowd. The lectures focused on the works of writer, director, creator, Joss Whedon such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Serenity, as well as the comics The Astonishing X-Men and Fray. Since there were over 100 presentations and I attended probably around 25, there is loads to cover here. So, for the sake of time and attention span, I'll mainly cover the lectures that I really enjoyed and have a ton of notes from. Reductive much? Totally.

Day 1 opened with Dr. Michael Adams, a philologist and author of (among several others) Slayer Slang, presented 'The Matrix of Motives in Slayer Style.' He discussed the language in the Buffyverse and the use of 'clipped' versus 'full phrasal' idioms, such as 'wig' versus 'wig out'. He proposed that the determining factors for why a character would use one rather than the other were mainly dependent on familiarity and social distinction as opposed to just being jargony hipsters. He also suggested that this use of dialog could also be seen as a form of socio-linguistic competition as shown clearly in the scene where Faith is prodding Buffy about her past with Angel,

Buffy: What do you know about Angel?
Faith: (faces her, copping an attitude) Just what your friends tell me: big love, big loss. You oughta deal and move on, but you're not.
Buffy: (steps closer) I got an idea: how about from now on, we don't hear from you on Angel or anything else in my life. Which, by the way, is my life.
Faith: What are you getting so strung out for, B?

Faith challenges Buffy by using the clipped phrase, 'you oughta deal' (rather than a full phrasal line like 'you oughta deal with it'), which raises Buffy's hackles since they are not on familiar terms with this subject and Faith is getting pushy. Buffy then starts to get in her face about it and Faith feigns submission by backing off a bit and then calling her 'B' rather than Buffy.



Another point that Adams touched on was the fact that theory is basically a shortened or condensed form of the artistic knowledge and information. Theory becomes problematic and redundant when it approaches the extent of the art in that it is no longer shorter than the piece it is explaining. (It's like reading a synopsis that is longer than the actual piece allegedly being summarized) He also argued that 'Good Art' tends to resist theory because to theorize it properly, you would tend to exceed the length of the source.
And Buffy the Vampire Slayer is like this of course.

More to come!

[Link to Big Monkey, Helpy Chalk's blog post on this presentation]



Tagged under:
Buffy, Criticism, Television

SC2: The Slayage Conference on the Whedonverses

My contributions to Boast may take on a Buffy-esque theme for the next while as I will be presenting a paper at SC2: The Slayage Conference on the Whedonverses at Gordon College, Barnesville Georgia this week. The title of my paper is, "Do I Have Mom Hair?": Progressive Parenting in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I will be discussing how Buffy Summers represents a successful figure of parenting that borrows from an expansive tradition of maternal and paternal roles to ultimately embody a hybridized version of parenting. It may sound a bit intense, but let me reassure you, it's not. Just a bunch of academics getting together to talk about the cool stuff Joss Whedon creates.

I'll try and post summaries from the lectures I attend.

[Note: It's an academic conference, not a fan club gathering. So there won't be any special appearances by James Marsters, and no one will be dressing up like the straight-jacket monkeys from 'Hush'... although I wanted to]




Link to the Slayage web site


Tagged under:
Television, Entertainment, Pop Culture

Two Films by Jacques Demy

After making the brief comment about my general feelings toward musicals, I'm now looking real sweet as, once again, I cheekily write about another of my favorite musicals, The Young Girls of Rochefort. The cheese-o-meter peeks in this 60s French musical as the charming predictability of the melodrama and intertwining narrative threads don't leave us wanting a more satisfactory payoff. The picture and color is beautiful as is most of the music (scored by Jacques Demy favorite, Michel Legrand).

As politics go, this pacifist film layers its pointed relevance subtly, not unlike fellow Frenchman, Jacques Tati's brilliant Jour de fête. Dancing carnies replace military might in this lovely film about two talented ladies looking for their romantic ideal. Gene Kelly being dubbed into French is fun, but when he starts dancing, it makes everyone else look like someone stole their groove. The guy's got moves. The bit with the 'sadist' axe murderer is a complementing touch of macabre in an otherwise radiant musical.

Lola - Leave it up to Jacques Demy to bring melodramatic romanticism into the French New Wave. Lola, played by the dazzling Anouk Aimée, who you might remember from some of Fellini's films (La Dolce Vita, 8 1/2), follows the reflected/parallel lives of a cabaret dancer called 'Lola' (given name, Cecile) and a little girl, Cecile, who both fall in love with American sailors. In true Demy fashion, there is also a tangled set of circumstances that allow the downtrodden protagonist, Roland, to bump into Lola who he has been pining for since childhood. Given that the film is markedly nouvelle vague (minimal cast, natural lighting, hand-held or static photography) the frankness of the scene where Lola and Roland discuss their possible future is beautiful, even though we hate to see the poor guy get shot down.

In Lola, Demy's penchant for making lovely and romantic films isn't lost in the new waviness either, but spins a harmony between the often dour realism of the period and a positive outlook on destiny and fate that approaches idealism. However, destiny is a two-edged blade, and to say that the film ends happily would be to say that only fools and grown-ups experience heartache - as is suggested when the younger Cecile runs off to become a hairdresser rather than a dancer. But what should we expect? We knew what it was when we picked it up.

'Se moi. Se Lola.'


Tagged under:
Film, Entertainment

A Fiver for V

There are times when moviegoers should really have their expectations set low before walking into the theater, just so they can be humbled to the dust when they end up liking what they saw. I'll admit that I was probably one of the few who were actually skeptical of V for Vendetta when the previews first started rolling several months ago, and the resulting humility that I felt walking out of the cinema was just barely overshadowed by the laps my mind was running. I'm not as enamoured with 'The Wachowski Brothers' as some (I generally think that anyone who refers to themselves by the title, _______ Brothers, needs to put the PSP down and get off the bus right now). But before you assume that I've gone and registered at all of the MTV fanboy forums (I'm still trying to get them stoked on Ken Loach), let me also say that I liked the film, but I didn't love it.

Firstly, I'm not one to focus on performances - since I know next to nothing about acting or how people 'should' act and 'convincing' is a term used to assume elitist authority over a process that I believe is completely subjective - but I was very impressed by Natalie Portman. I also have to admit that I expected it to be more stylized than it was, but maybe that's because I haven't read the graphic novel. Is the source material more comicky than the film? (comment your answer below)

That my expectations were surpassed in these instances only worked for the film, I think; weak or overstated performances and an overstylized mise en scène would, while appealing to the geek and anti-establishment crowds (and resulting in a flood of Slash Lit), only cheapen the effect of the movie.

The artistic references and quotes were a nice touch, but anyone can quote Shakespeare or say they collect contraband artifacts and call themselves aficionados. Director James McTeigue distinguishes his film from other posers by assimilating, rather than just referencing, themes from such works as Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, or What You Will and Henry V and especially The Arnolfini Marriage by Jan Van Eyck - which was hanging on V's wall. The numerous reflective and lighting motifs that specifically borrow from the chiaroscuro elements in Van Eyck's painting were craftily brought into the film, not only as homage, but as subtle stylizing that wasn't overpowering or alienating. In fact, if you've never heard of Van Eyck or aren't familiar with Shakespeare's work, the film still flies brilliantly, since it isn't beating you over the head with self-indulgent intertextuality (which, for some reason, still works nicely in comedy).

Many of the more politically themed statements (yes, film is indeed very political, and this one overtly so) are very timely, such as the issue of patriotism vs. nationalism, symbols/acts of identity and purpose, as well as the ambiguity and subjectivity of the term Terrorism (V was both a terrorist and a revolutionary, kind of like George Washington or Samuel Adams and the Boston Tea Party folks). My advice to people who have a problem with this film's candid position on politics is that they shouldn't watch a film essentially inspired by Guy Fawkes.

All of this isn't to say that I thought V for Vendetta was flawless - quite the contrary. The film's premise focuses on the evils of totalitarian leadership as it promotes the tagline, 'People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people.' While this palindromic phrase works well for catchy advertising, I wonder if fear is really what we should be promoting. It's as if to say that Big Brother does heinous things (which we hate, by the way), therefore we should become what we hate in order to overcome Big Brother. The film poses many problematic situations, but the only solutions it offers are similarly problematic.

I also found myself wishing there was more location shooting to really create a vivid cultural, distinctly British, context (there really is more to London than Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament). I'm sure that the Northerners would also agree that it painted a rather reductive view of Britain - especially since the industrial North has dealt first-handedly with vicious riots, anti-government/police protests, and general public disgruntlement well within the memories of most middle-aged Britons. The splattering blood also got a bit cliche when V took out the circle of policemen, almost to the point of being absurdly humourous, ala Kill Bill, which I don't think was their intention.

These little complaints, however, don't begin to overtake the fact that the depth of most scenes made my brain hum. If anything, the flaws and problematic situations only stimulate more thought, resulting in a few sleepless nights. Give a movie props when it can stay on my mind for several days afterward, and this one sure will.

Penny for the Guy? Give 'em a fiver.

Tagged under:
Film, Entertainment, Art

'Inside Man': A Review of a Review

A while back, Stevo posted on the joys of finding a surprisingly high-brow film column in an essentially nameless local advertising paper. Unfortunately, our experiences with media and pop-culture criticism can’t always be that enlightening – even when they do have a name and a web site.

Firstly, so you don’t get the wrong idea here, this is not a film review. As per our modus operandi, we focus on all aspects of pop-culture, including the actual criticism of it by fellow aficionados and professionals. Given this, we find it our responsibility to identify and mock heavily those who assume journalistic authority over a medium which they apparently despise and/or know little about. One of my favorite such self-proclaimed ‘critics’ is Eric D. Snider, who seems to be making a veritable career out of writing smug articles that reduce movies to either Laughs, Violence, Acting, or some other low-brow description for base entertainment. Such tourism cannot be left unchecked.
Secondly, I have not seen the film, Inside Man. But, again, this is about the general level of criticism and not the film, right?
Right.

Snider begins his review by saying,

There is so little to "Inside Man" that it barely warrants a full-length review. It's a bank-robbery movie, and an entertaining one, but that's all it is.

Stop. OK, so you are telling us – as a movie critic – that there is nothing to say about this film? As a thesis statement, this first line isn’t entirely unremarkable, as he pretty much supports it throughout the rest of the review by giving a patronizing synopsis with ‘snide’ interjections to humor it up a bit. Not bad if you are looking for post-modern ways of constructing your freshman term paper, but a film critic should have loads to say about any film (historical/social relevance and context, theoretical and formal analysis, etc.), after all, he’s the estimable critic, right? We could only presume.

Furthering this essentialism, he states,

[The film] goes on a little too long -- it's directed by Spike Lee, who has never made a movie that didn't go on a little too long -- and then it ends.

‘Never.’ Spike Lee has directed over twenty films and several shows for television since the late seventies, and you mean to say that not one of those succinctly managed the time effectively? We are talking about Spike Lee and not Michael Bay, right? Has Snider seen every Spike Lee film so as to qualify him to make such a definitive statement? In my mind 4 Little Girls is the perfect documentary, weighing in at a slogging 102 minutes of captivating relevance, but I guess we can all just forget that one in the name of reductive absolutism.

With a screenplay by first-timer Russell Gewirtz, this is one of the few joints directed by Spike Lee that he did not write or co-write himself. Rest assured, there is still some of Lee's usual racial tension and sexism -- most of the women in the film are identified either by their breast size or their voracious sexual appetites –

Again with the blanket statements. But what I’m curious about is what he means by, ‘Lee’s usual racial tension and sexism.’ Of course we know that one of the common tropes in Lee’s work is race related, but is Snider claiming that he is sexist here as well? I misunderstand, since the dance scene / opening credits from Do the Right Thing seem to indict the lustful viewer therefore empowering the black woman through her unabashedly sexual presence. The term ‘usual’ obviously excludes one of Lee’s most popular and critically acclaimed films. All of this isn’t to say that Inside Man is a brilliant film without flaws, or that it doesn’t have sexist elements (I can’t say, having not seen the film), but only that Snider’s lazy tactics render his review and critical authority impotent.

The most interesting thing about this review is that the only analysis he performs is negative, which completely undermines his rather safe ‘B’ rating. I guess there are a lot of points given on the ‘entertainability’ of the overall synopsis, because his evidence certainly doesn’t support his results. Maybe this is just a pandering to the general consensus that the film is fairly decent (i.e. doesn’t want to lose his audience when they notice that other critics gave the film a positive review). If only we could all get away with such critical doublethink.


[Link to the full review]
-------------
Special Features
Other favorite lines from his review:
-The robbers have done their homework. They know what the cops are going to try before they try it.
Yeah, Emergency Response is so overrated and predictable; just like in Heat, and Le Samouraї, and The Asphalt Jungle.

-In [the film’s] basic scenario, it resembles "Dog Day Afternoon" so much that one of the characters mentions it.
In critical studies it’s often called intertextual reference; something that you praised Kill Bill for.

Tagged under:
Film, Entertainment

Gold Diggers of 1933 on DVD

One of the reasons why the 21st century is so sweet is that we can use these here new fangled internets to find out when our favorite movies will be released on DVD. For the past few years I have been lamenting the fact that certain shows like Antnonioni’s, Zabriskie Point, the entire series of David Lynch’s, Twin Peaks, and Mervyn LeRoy’s, Gold Diggers of 1933, are only available on dried-up VHS and laserdisc. Well, you can all stop writing hate-mail to Warner Brothers for now and run to your local Wal-Mart to snag that ten-dollar DVD player because Gold Diggers of 1933 is finally being released on region 1 DVD.

I must admit that my penchant for musicals doesn’t begin to approach my interest in sixties surfer rock or my craving for coffee ice cream. However, when I first watched the film, I found myself entirely thrilled with the combination of sex-battling comedy, ala The Awful Truth, the often biting Depression-era social commentary, and the lovely music and dance numbers. It was also a treat to see a young Ginger Rogers, whose popular career was essentially launched later that year through a pairing with Fred Astaire in Flying Down to Rio, playing a chorus girl.

However, it was the final musical number, ‘Remember my forgotten man’, that iced the proverbial cake for me. This number was so pointedly brilliant that it remains one of my all-time favorite musical moments in film. The song was catchy, but the tone was deadly as it laid its satirical smack on America’s post-WWI disillusionment and the bleak economic and social malaise of the Great Depression. Lighthearted tones and playfulness gave way to a searing comment that was so overtly relevant for disaffected contemporary audiences that Sergei Eisenstein would have thrown himself down the Odessa stairway for such a chance to cry ‘Revolution!’ I don’t see such boldness being equaled until Lindsay Anderson and the ‘angry young men’ began producing the British kitchen sink dramas of the 50s and 60s.

Historically, this film also helped to promote the emergence of the ‘backstage’ musical; a style that stuck with the genre as in Singin’ in the Rain, and even more recent films like Moulin Rouge, and Chicago. The dichotomy of the operetta tradition and other musical films was joined through the narrative integration of plots that accounted for and justified a diegetic soundtrack for the chorus line and accompanying star dancers to swing to. While this pattern isn’t always necessary (think Jacques Demy’s lovely French film, Les Demoiselles de Rochefort), it made such a proven stamp on Hollywood studio production that filmmakers are still using it over seventy years later (The Producers, 2005).

To say that Gold Diggers of 1933 was influential in how musicals were created and received might be the biggest understatement since Ian Astbury said, ‘The Cult needs the world; the world needs the Cult.’ Of course, this means you should buy it before Warner realizes they have released a rare gem and hastily discontinue it.

Tagged under:
DVD, Film

Sterilized Meaning - in a humorously annoying kind of way

A while back, I had the opportunity to watch the James L. Brooks film, Spanglish. The experience was, however, rather strange and unsettling, largely because it wasn'’t just Spanglish, it was a Clean Flicks version of the film that some friends had lent us. This was the first time I had submitted myself to one of their sterile bastardisations, and this only because I didn'’t contribute in any way to the financial support or endorsement of their shady practise (cheeky, I know, but I have my standards). Their website claims that they remove all profanity, nudity, graphic violence (rather ambiguous and misleading terminology that allows them to take the moral high ground while not restricting the proverbial market share), and sexual content, which was absolutely spot-on in the case of Spanglish. Unfortunately, as will happen, the process by which this material is removed also inevitably means that certain structural and contextual elements will be affected, thus altering the overall narrative, even if only slightly - which I would argue is still a deceitful trick played out by faceless people with evil designs (come and let'’s hold hands, so we can be afraid together).

I understood all of this beforehand and was, I thought, sufficiently prepared. The last I had really looked into the film was when it was still in the cinema and I read an interesting review by Jonathan Rosenbaum. What I had stupidly forgotten was the recurring theme of miscommunication and how, when certain things are removed from a conversation (like vocabulary/dialog) there is likely to also be a subsequent loss of understanding.

[Enter: The Dragon]

As I sat there watching what is, admittedly, a rather disconcerting film to begin with, I had the distinct feeling that, like the characters in the film, I too was missing something quite vital to the overall understanding of the picture. Certain scenes, having been unrighteously cut because of content, began midway or stopped abruptly thus undermining the real force behind many of the characters' actions and ultimately the central message of the film. I truly felt like the non-english-speaking character, Flor, (apart from the fact that she's a woman, people) whose confusion at being excluded from certain fundamental levels of understanding became quite comical, if ultimately frustrating. However, Brooks used the lack of English subtitles during Spanish dialog (among other somewhat crafty techniques) to create a sense of misunderstanding leading to compelled empathy. If he'’d only called the sweaty little mole in the Clean Flicks dungeon to cut the film instead, he might have saved some time and money shooting those 'unnecessary' bits in order to create the same effect.

The Clean Flicks web site happliy proclaims that this is all because, "It's About Choice!"
Only in the fascist sense my friends, because my choices were completely stripped after I decided to watch the thing.


[Mike previously posted a version of this on another ranty blog]

Krzysztof Kieslowski at the NFT

March is an exciting month at the NFT as they are revisiting the works of Polish film director, Krzysztof Kieslowski. This is, I think, one of the highlights of the modern age (second only to last June’s Michelangelo Antonioni retrospective; an event that still makes me giggle with geekish nostalgia) and paradoxically, one of the great tragedies. Kieslowski’s films frequently encourage comparisons with the likes of Hitchcock – an association that is well noted, especially in the case of White and Red – yet, if you were to casually assume that your sad friend down at the pub had even heard of the Polish director, much less preferred him over the legendary Hitch, I think you’d have likely overestimated your drinking coterie.

Enter: The Tragedy

One might ask why this is the case. My answer is, despite the overwhelming desire to reductively solve every such mystery, 'Who the crap knows?!' Not I. Why did it take Steven Spielberg and friends to help ‘revitalize’ Akira Kurosawa’s career in the 80s? Why does Miramax insist on marketing films like Hero and Chungking Express in the US with Quentin Tarantino’s name across the top of the dvd cover instead of the prolific and brilliant Chinese directors, Zhang Yimou and Wong Kar-Wai? These are just a few more questions I had while pondering why your lame friend doesn’t know who Krzysztof Kieslowski is.

Much like the complete contentment I find in Bob Dylan’s, Time Out of Mind, when I’m engrossed in the Three Colors Trilogy I can’t think of anything else I’d rather be watching (I must also say that Red is my favorite and, going against the critical grain here, I enjoy White more than Blue). Part of this is because of the way that Kieslowski deals with the human condition. In Krzysztof’s world there is no sense of immunity to the travails and/or successes of life. That is to say, bad things happen to good people and sometimes vice versa – a sad, stinking certainty to be sure. Although this seems to suggest a certain level of amorality, Kieslowski navigates the troubled realities of social decency in a way that often reflects the Christian themes found in the films of Andrei Tarkovski. The monumental achievement that is The Decalogue, ten short films loosely based on the ten commandments, further illustrates a delicate attention to the moral aspects of life as well as the difficulties and paradoxes that one often faces when striving only to be an upstanding and civil member of society. And, although these themes often present themselves through the intimate conflicts of everyday characters, Kieslowski never fully indicts the viewer in this voyeurism (unlike Hitchcock, bless him) which tends to endear rather than alienate.

This endearment has a comforting effect that, unlike Spielberg’s cockeyed imperialism, comes across as tactful and genuine. Similarly, Kieslowski handles the intertwining lives of the characters with such care and sincerity that it makes Tarantino’s scavenged methods look vulgar and opportunistic. But these are the filmmakers that get distribution and subsequent recognition by that same fella in the pub, not Kieslowski. And while many will argue that the tragedy lies in Kieslowski’s premature death, I would have to say that the true misfortune is that many will never even realize he was here to begin with.

If you find yourself in or near London during the month of March the good news is that you can take your friend to the NFT to rediscover one of the great filmmakers of our time. He/She’ll thank you afterward, and maybe buy you a drink.

Tagged under:
Art, Culture, Film