Recently Watched Films 2014

[Matt Wuethrich]

Opening scene features graphic cunnilingus. Devastatingly awful.

The movie or the cunnilingus?

[Matt Wuethrich]

Rainer Werner Fassbinder, The Third Generation, 1979

Jonathan Rosenbaum apparently didn’t think as highly of this as I did (“Fassbinder’s Latest Weenie”). A lot of what he found as too chaotic and overstuffed (the sound design, the shot composition) I was engaged by and although he makes a valid point that Fassbinder’s prolixity could be seen as messiness, chumminess and ego-mongering, I find that on-the-edge, esoteric style refreshing. Everything stays just at the precipice of understanding. The plot (disaffected middle class and other marginalized sorts attempt to plan terrorist activities while a security corporation sponsors said terror in order to boost profits) is as daft as the characters (the irony that they dress up like clowns in the end is not very subtle), and in a work meant to be critique/satire, that daftness seems to be intentional.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Xan Cassavetes, Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession, 2004

A conventional documentary (talking heads, stills, archival footage, and, of course, film clips, lots of film clips) but for anyone even remotely obsessed with film and film culture, it's a period and a phenomena to be aware of. Jerry Harvey is the disturbed, tragic hero of the story, but at least one interviewee says, in light of Harvey's murder of his third wife and subsequent suicide, we should not see him as a hero at all, only as tragic and disturbed. The film tips its hand, however, by focusing in on the glowing enthusiasm of those who watched the channel and the obvious affection of those close to him. You're left very much with the picture that Harvey was a heroic figure. And maybe it's not really the place of a documentary like this to ascertain the mental health of someone who committed suicide 20 years before...

The access to such an eclectic range of films is something we can imagine (and surpass) today (Karagarga, anyone?) but the way these films were consumed seems a world away. I mean, imagine, someone else programs your viewing for you! But the omnivorous, open-minded viewing Z Channel encouraged is something to admire, and it's a way of viewing that I think many have internalized.

[eraritjaritjaka]

Sleepaway Camp......For the first time. Holy shit! Brilliant 80's slasher, gritty, funny, absurd... Definately in my top 5 of 80s US slashers .

A strong favorite of mine as well. From your comments I think you might also enjoy "Cheerleader Camp" (if you haven't seen it already that is).

[Dan Warburton]

Abel Ferrara, Bad Lieutenant, 1992

It'd been five or six years since the last visit, and I'd forgotten how scarily good Keitel is (his finest performance, as far as I'm concerned). Rough, scuzzy, sweaty, genuinely disturbing and curiously moving (the ending), but I think I'll wait until 2019 before I return to it again.




William Wyler, Funny Girl, 1968

Can't for the life of me think why Barbra – card-carrying leftie and campaigner for women's rights – let herself be talked into singing "My Man", one of the most brutal anthems of downtrodden / exploited womanhood, as a closing number. I suspect there was some studio jiggery-pokery, heated discussion about possible endings etc etc, but having wasted hours trying to find out the backstory behind The Way We Were a few weeks ago, I can't be arsed to do the research this time round. It has its moments – she's quite nifty on rollerskates, and that helicopter shot zooming in on her singing on the tugboat is awesome – but at least half an hour could have been lopped off without doing much damage.




Jack Arnold, The Incredible Shrinking Man, 1957

I remember seeing this as a kid and being scared stiff of that spider. It's still great fun, and they must have had a blast making those giant teacups and oversize chairs. Of course, they get the scale horribly wrong at times, but that's part of the charm. Love the ending too. You didn't expect a happy one, did you?




Jacques Tati, Jour de fête, 1949

Just been reading David Bellos's excellent biography of Tati, and will be rewatching all five (six, if you include Parade) of his features in due course. I've seen this about a zillion times already, but the gags are still terrific, and the political subtext (whether intended or not, probably not) subtle, from François's De Gaulle balcony salute to the ugly Americans running their jeep into the ditch to the back-to-the-fields ending - as Bellos points out, Sully's line to Henri IV labourage et paturage sont les deux mamelles de la France, had been gleefully seized upon by the Pétain regime during the Occupation.




Gérard Blain, Les amis, 1971

Thanks to Lao Tse Ben for hipping me to this. A gorgeous film, surprisingly gentle, to quote Scorsese's description of Peter Fonda's The Hired Hand – to which I'd add Claude Goretta's La Dentellière – and remarkably subtle in what it shows and, more importantly, doesn't show of Paul's relationship with the older Philippe. (What great actors too: what became of Yann Favre and Philippe March?) Sort of like a cross between Bresson and Rohmer, if you can imagine that.

[dialectics of shit]

Good to see you posting again, Dan

[Dan Warburton]

Henri-Georges Clouzot, La Vérité, 1960

I've never been all that taken by Bardot's acting in Le Mépris (one of my least favourite Godards), but here she's on fine form – the film even scooped up the Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 1960. But with Paul Meurisse prosecuting and Charles Vanel defending, how could it not have?




Marco Ferreri, La Cagna (Liza), 1972

My Italian doesn't get much further than "allegro molto" and "quattro stagioni", I'm afraid, but I believe "cagna" means "bitch", which is exactly what Mastroianni, living in self-imposed exile on a remote Corsican island, makes his petulant castaway Deneuve play once she's killed his dog. Once more, Ferreri – who I truly believe one day will be as lauded and studied as Pasolini and Fassbinder – manages to deal with seriously heavy issues with a lightness of touch that's almost flippant. The (slight) bonus interview on the Italian DVD reveals that he was considering more than one alternative ending – indeed, there's an almost Rivette-like work-in-progress feel to the film: the chronology of events is open to interpretation, and there's a rich vein of ambiguity in Jean-Claude Carrière's script that the two principal protagonists exploit to the full. Great stuff.




Jean Renoir, Les bas-fonds, 1936

Gabin and Jouvet at the peak of their form. Wowee. Great in every way – and I wouldn't hesitate to rank it as highly as La Grande Illusion and La Règle du jeu. Renoir sent a copy of his script to Maxim Gorky – I wonder if he had time to read it before he died (in June 1936).




James Frawley, Kid Blue, 1973

Comedy (more or less) western with Dennis doing what Dennis does so well – looking tormented, smiling sheepishly and, when necessary, beating the shit out of anyone who gets in his way. He also gets to take a bath with Warren Oates and nearly manages to fly off to freedom on a home-made plane built by potty preacherman Peter Boyle. Worth a look, even if you're not a Hopperhead.




Pier Paolo Pasolini, Salò ou les 120 Journées de Sodome, 1975

I'll leave the title in French, if you don't mind, as Pasolini always wanted French as the original spoken language (the French dubbing, with Michel Piccoli voicing the Duke, was underway when PPP met his untimely end). The only other time I saw this was alone (the best way to see the film, I agree with Claire Denis) in the Ciné Beaubourg in here Paris 25 years ago, in a tiny salle full of Japanese tourists who were – inexplicably – laughing their heads off. "Well, they're pretty inscrutable, you know, those Japs." Well, where to begin? I'd say that if you haven't seen it you probably ought to give it a try at some stage – rather the film than the book, which even the Marquis couldn't bring himself to finish, though he did sketch out those murderous passions in detail – but the world is a different place 40 years down the line (I'm not sure a better one, but never mind that), and we've become so immune to images depicting violence against the human body that those steaming turds and scalpings aren't as disturbing as they probably once were. But the political implications of the film – which after all are what interested the director – are no less relevant today than what they were in 1975. Still, I wonder how it'll stand the test of time. Seem to recall that our man leroysghost (are you still around these parts, LG?) had his reservations too. Would be nice to know what other posters here make of this one.

Slowly working through a backlog of "reviews" here, after being more or less sans internet for six weeks. More to come, honest.

[dialectics of shit]

The thing that struck me most about Salò—far more than its infamous coprophagia—is the amazing way tension is sustained; I was far more unnerved (in a good way) by that than any of the gross and gory details.

[Dan Warburton]

Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Wildwechsel, 1972

Aka Jail Bait, a jolly little tale of patricide and teenage pregnancy (which might explain why it hasn't had a decent reissue yet, unlike other RWF telefilms: World on a Wire, I Only Want You To Love Me..). Eva Mattes, who you might know better as Marie in Herzog's Woyzeck (she also put on a false beard and played Fassbinder later), passes for a 14-year old without difficulty, even though she was 18.




Jacques Audiard, Sur mes lèvres, 2001

I've written a few nasty things about Vincent Cassel in these pages (and stand by them too: I thought he was bloody awful in Black Swan and even worse in Eastern Promises), but his blunt gangliness is perfect for the ex-con Paul, talking Emmanuelle Devos's partially deaf mousy, frustrated secretary into using her lipreading skills in a revenge attack on his boss. Pretty implausible as plots go – and it's hard to imagine a steamy nightclub in the leafy suburb of Meudon – but hangs together remarkably well. Great sound design too, as you might expect.




Lars Von Trier, Dancer in the Dark, 2000

Christ, this annoyed the hell out of me. It didn't help that I'd spent the previous weekend immersed in Pedro Costa and Jean-Claude Fitoussi's excellent documentaries on the making of Straub Huillet's Sicilia! - but taking LVT to task for his rough'n'ready hand-held camera because it can't compare with the amazing precision of Danièle Huillet's framing and editing is about as useless as moaning about Sunburned Hand of the Man not sounding like Steely Dan. Whatever, this one really rubbed me up the wrong way, with its oh-so-predictable plot and tearjerker performance from la Björk, whose music I doubt I'll ever be able to listen to again. Is it a musical? Well, sort of – but the musical numbers account for barely a tenth of the total running time, and the contrast between their jumpy editing (ASL can't be more than half a second throughout) and the swooping, swirling home movie that is the rest of the film is jarring. There's always been a rich vein of director irony in melodrama – Sirk was the grandmaster, and Fassbinder followed him as faithful disciple – but one senses an abiding affection on the part of those directors for their characters, goodies and baddies alike, which I just didn't detect here. As far as emotional manipulation goes, I can't decide who takes the Palme d'Or, Lars or Haneke. Anybody else out there dislike this as much as I did? Curious.




Sam Peckinpah, The Deadly Companions, 1961

Sam said he wasn't all that fond of it – perhaps due to the struggles he had with the film's producer Charles Fitzsimons, who just happened to be the brother of the lead actress Maureen O'Hara – but the hallmarks of Peckinpah's later, greater films are all here. Brian Keith, Steve Cochran and Chill Wills are all terrific, and Maureen's feisty performance is easily as good as her better known work with John Ford, as far as I'm concerned. There's a great essay by Gerard Camy comparing this and Peckinpah's last film, The Osterman Weekend, in Peckinpah Today (2012), a fine collection of recent essays on the director which you can snatch over at KG if you're interested.

[Dan Warburton]

Douglas Sirk, No Room for the Groom, 1952

Yes, it's a screwball comedy – but with Sirk directing operations you can be sure there's a second-level, decidedly more sinister, reading of social critique. The House Un-American Activities Committee is evoked more than once, and in the context it's simply not all that funny. This is a kind of Frank Capra From Hell movie, with Tony Curtis more or less kicked out of his own house by his wife's seriously extended family, including the de rigueur vicious little brat with a peashooter and a chain-smoking gambling-addicted mother-in-law who feigns a heart attack whenever things don't go her way. Joe Orton would have loved it. Very good piece on it here, check out: http://berkshirereview.net/sirk-no-room ... yaD_c40-sM




Duccio Tessari, Una farfalla con le ali insanguinate ("The Bloodstained Butterfly"), 1971

A cute Gianni Ferrio soundtrack remixing Tchaikowsky and stunning location footage in Bergamo just won't compensate for a rather silly plot. Helmut Berger runs around looking disturbed, especially when he hears Tchaikowsky (figures..), so you can guess he's probably got something to do with the series of murders. Stabbings, of course. Not too many of them, actually – and they're nicely filmed, not that that's any reason for me to sit through this again.





Carl Theodor Dreyer, Vredens Dag ("Day of Wrath"), 1943

"Everything that son-of-a-bitch did was great," as Pauline so rightly said. Even if 17th century Danish witch hunts aren't your bag, Lisbeth Movin's performance as Anne is as jawdroppingly wonderful as Dreyer's camera movements. And wait till you meet the mother-in-law. Nice write-up by JR here http://www.criterion.com/current/posts/ ... y-of-wrath




Henry Jaglom, Tracks, 1977

Sgt Jack Falen - Dennis Hopper - is back from Nam on a special mission to take his buddy's bodybag back home for burial (you should see what he does when nobody shows up). So he's stuck on an Amtrak train with a weird real estate salesman, his prematurely aged hippy chess playing companion, a couple of cute chicks (as they called them back then) and Dean Stockwell (awesome), who's better at chatting them up than Dennis. As we approach the destination, hallucination takes over from reality, accompanied by a fine selection of not-always-politically-correct WWII songs, and it's just as well the film ends where it does: God only knows what Hopper goes on to do when he clambers out of the grave with his machine gun. Hardly subtle, but well worth checking out.

[Dan Warburton]

Alain Resnais, Je t'aime je t'aime, 1968

By way of homage to the recently departed grandmaster, we returned to this amazing film – as far as New Wave sci-fi time-travel tales go, it's right up there with Resnais' pal Chris Marker's La Jetée – and we were just as dazed and confused as we were first time round. Even Jacques Sternberg, whose short stories form the basis of the screenplay, admits that Resnais ordered the dream / flashback sequences according to a logic that only he could understand. No matter: it's absolutely magnificent, and strongly recommended, whether you're familiar with Resnais' oeuvre or not. The French Editions Montparnasse DVD is jolly good, but there are no English subtitles – Karagarga members though can find a splendid subtitled rip. Of course.




John Huston, Fat City, 1972

Jeff Bridges' expression as he glances over at his pregnant girlfriend in the parked car, realising that he's going to have to do the right thing and marry her, is priceless. So many great, painful moments here, another favourite being the lights going out one by one behind the departing Lucero, slinking out to bleed internally on the lonely bus back home. The boxing match is brutal simply because it's so desperate. Susan Tyrrell's Oma is wonderfully bleary, a bit over the top perhaps – but you try drinking yourself into oblivion on sweet sherry and see how you end up – but has some cracking lines. Stacy Keach never better. Seeing this (for the first time – and it won't be the last) makes me regret Huston and not Altman didn't bring Raymond Carver to the screen. His tales of loneliness and alcoholism seem better suited to dusty, dirty Stockton in 1972 than glitzy late 90s L.A. Just a thought.




Maurice Pialat, A nos amours, 1983

Sandrine Bonnaire really gets slapped about – by her brother and father (the latter played by Pialat himself) – and the violence is far more disturbing than the usual Hollywood gore. For depicting a family in turmoil, the only director who comes close is Cassavetes. One fascinating detail from the Criterion bonuses (which I'll camouflage for those who haven't seen the film and would like to): Pialat didn't tell anyone in the cast that his character would return at the end of the film! Makes that slap he gets from his wife even more surprising.




Jean Eustache, Odette Robert, 1971

Aka Numéro Zero. This is what happens when you give your granny a packet of cigarettes and keep filling her glass with whisky. Like Kowalski's East of Paradise, it's amazing how cinematic an old woman telling her life story can be. You'll need subtitles if your French isn't up to it, warning.

Plus a couple of classics that need no introduction:



Martin Scorsese, Taxi Driver, 1976



Alan J. Pakula, Klute, 1971

[dialectics of shit]

That A nos amours screenshot is stunning. Gonna watch it soon.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Lars Von Trier, Dancer in the Dark, 2000

Anybody else out there dislike this as much as I did? Curious.

I haven't watched a LVT film in ages (this might be the last one I saw, actually) and I seem to remember it seeming contrived (not that being contrived is in itself a bad thing) but worse, that Lars was trying to teach me something. I don't remember having a visceral annoyance of it, however. At a certain time, LVT seemed fresh to me, if only because I hadn't seen some of his techniques put to use very much (Dogville is the one that sticks out the most in my memory). His films seemed radical at one point but now they just seem trite and arrogant.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Ted Kotcheff, Wake In Fright, 1971

“New to the Yabba?” This phrase now goes down as one of the most disturbing in cinema, if only because it makes you laugh as much it creeps you out. This film isn’t so much about the Australian outback as it is about what happens when men prey upon men in the macho way only they can – obscene drunkenness, absurd gambling games, kangaroo hunting (and boxing!) in the desert from the sunroof of an old beater. Toes the line of unreality and vapid absurdity nicely, managing to stay on the right side throughout.

[Dan Warburton]

Have a look in IMDb Filming Locations at the place where he filmed it - as scary as the movie

Meanwhile..

"A Dangerous Method" - I was afraid that this film might turn out to be boring and under-inspired, but I was surprised. No, it's far-far-far from being genius stuff. Maybe my expectations were just too lowered. The actors are good, the script is fine, there are some nice dialogues, but it just all lacks an edge. It is a historical drama. Maybe more on the BBC than on the Hallmark-side. But it should be at least memorable. Which it fails to be. I really like most of Cronenberg's films, his late output has been on the downside ("Spider" was way too boring, "History of Violence" was great until the last 15 minutes). "Dangerous Methods" could have been at least "Dead Ringers 2". It's watchable, keeps a good (mid-tempo) pace, camera-work is fine. But all to bland, it's all calming waves of Switzern lakes. Maybe those were meant to contrast the disturbed inner lives, but frankly, te film fails to channel those properly.

Has anybody else seen this movie?

I have now, and didn't enjoy it very much. Not because Vincent Cassel's in it - it's just, as you say, too bland, like Howard Shore's uninspired reworkings of Siegfried Idyll. Viggo's Freud is a bizarre cross between Liam Neeson, Alec Guinness and Winston Churchill, but the real wild card is Knightley.. where the hell did she cook up that awful accent (and whose idea was it?). The story, such as it is, might make for a good read - though to be honest I'm not all that interested in the subject - but it's hardly edge-of-yer-seat cinema. Want to see a great film about a young woman with mental health issues? Try Rossen's Lilith.

[Dan Warburton]

Philippe Garrel, Le vent de la nuit, 1999

Usual subject matter for Garrel – mid-life crisis, suicide (related to drug use) etc. – but this time it's a road movie of sorts, going from Paris to Berlin via Naples. Impeccable framing and timing as ever – Garrel can make a sports car disappearing round a bend on a near-deserted stretch of motorway as poignant as his (very Bressonian) empty staircases and doorways – and fine performances all round, especially (of course) from Deneuve.




David Fincher, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, 2011

First up I should say I have neither read the Stieg Larsson novels (round these parts I must be one of the only people who hasn't) nor see the earlier Swedish film adaptation. Judging from the comments I've read on this American remake – though being shot in Sweden with several Brit heavyweights in the cast, it doesn't feel all that American to me – that might be something of a handicap, but at least we were able to come cold (as it were) to the Fincher and take it on its own terms. And it worked very well. The pace is pretty breathtaking, with words coming as thick and fast as images, but it couldn't be otherwise: I suspect some juicy, gory details of the murders had to be left out, but I'd have preferred more of those and less of the epilogue (Lisbeth's single-handed resolution of the Wennerström subplot), which has bugger all to do with the Vanger story and serves, it would seem, only to set up a possible sequel which appears to have dropped off the radar. The Reznor / Ross soundtrack is just as dense – obtrusively so at times (deliberate, presumably) – and the wacky cover of "Immigrant Song" in the opening credits is great fun. IMDb trivia sez that Rooney Mara's piercings were all real, and that she's since had them removed.. except for the one through the nipple, just in case the sequel ever got made. I hope she keeps it in, then.




Arthur Penn, Night Moves, 1975

Read someone somewhere describing this as the best, or one of the best, movies of the 70s, and this return visit confirms that. Outstanding in every way (said that last time, I think, and also linked to this article, which is still the best thing I've read on it, so I'll link to it again - http://sensesofcinema.com/2010/feature- ... t-moves-2/ ). The only film you can watch after this is



Eric Rohmer, Ma nuit chez Maud, 1969

which is namechecked of course in the Penn, and has more to do with Harry's predicament in that movie than you might think, as the above-linked article makes clear. Wonderful to see the snow of Clermont Ferrand in crystal clear Blu-Ray definition in the new complete Rohmer box, which also includes some splendid bonus material, in the form of a recent interview with Françoise Fabian and a vintage 70s TV chat show (complete with editing blunders). Ah happy days when chainsmoking intellectuals with long hair and no fashion sense whatsoever would appear on network TV for an hour to discuss an art movie. One of the revelations in the programme is that Rohmer's script even included the um's and ah's of natural speech hesitation. His preparation of the lead actress also, according to Fabian, consisted of taking her out to dinner at the Brasserie Lipp every week and discussing everything imaginable other than the movie they were about to make (while also moving his chair at right angles to hers so she would only see him in profile..). Whatever his reasons were, the film is still pretty extraordinary nearly half a century later (assuming, that is, you like films where people sit around talking most of the time). Hard to imagine it making much of a splash in the US today, were it ever to be reissued there, which, intriguingly, it did first time round (as the Penn film makes clear). So much so that Americans even started imported the cheap – and not very good – local Auvergne wine the protagonists consume chez Maud.




Hal Ashby, Coming Home, 1978

Totally blown away by this, I have to say. Quite apart from Ashby's impeccable editing – for which he was well known long before he got his first break as a director – it's a tour de force for the three principal actors: Dern, Fonda and Voight (the latter never better). I doubt I'll ever be able to sit through The Deer Hunter again. One of Voight's pained glances is worth all Cimino's Russian roulette. Excellent soundtrack too – love the way the songs spill over the scene boundaries, not to mention the way their changing lyrics chart the darkness that swallowed up the Sixties – must have cost a fortune to secure the performing rights. Worth every penny. Great movie.

[Dan Warburton]

Apologies for hogging the thread - have now written up 58 of the 70 films I've seen so far this year, and caught up on the backlog which accumulated while I was deprived of a decent internet connection these past six weeks.

[Dan Warburton]

Otto Preminger, Angel Face, 1952

Just one for the road.. Great to see this again, had forgotten how good it was.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Albert Maysles, David Maysles, & Charlotte Zwerin, Gimme Shelter, 1970

I’m surprised the Stones let this film exist, because they don’t come off as either a) very compassionate or b) very intelligent. When Charlie Watts and Jagger view the footage back they just stare blankly and have no visible reaction, as if they are watching something happen to somebody else, even though they lived through it. And when the actual violence is occurring at Altamont, Jagger simply looks like an asshole in his funny clothes up there on stage trying to get people to get along. I have to wonder if this was the moment they decided to get more ‘corporate’ and leave behind the spontaneity that let a concert like the one at Altamont actually happen. Their sets certainly seem less polished at this point.

No answers or explanations are given, but the filmmakers play this event right by showing the bigger context it occurred in (US Stones tour, aggressive concert promoters, improvised arrangements). Would this film be as interesting if it hadn’t ended in a death? Of course not, but again the filmmakers tease that voyeuristic element out when they show the footage being played back to Jagger and Watts. We see that and realize that we should have a reaction.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Apologies for hogging the thread - have now written up 58 of the 70 films I've seen so far this year, and caught up on the backlog which accumulated while I was deprived of a decent internet connection these past six weeks.

We expect nothing less!