Recently Watched Films 2013

[Dan Warburton]

Thought I'd go for a Harmony Korine double bill tonight..



Larry Clark, Kids, 1995



Harmony Korine, Gummo, 1997

..and after seeing these two back to back, I hope you'll forgive me if I finish off my bottle of Domaine d'Auberet Merlot and my pack of Benson Silver instead of trying to write anything right now, other than it's great to see Linda Manz back in action (thanks to leroysghost for hipping me to this after I posted about her in Hopper's film a while back). Don't think I'll be eating spaghetti again for a while, but I said that after Se7en too. Bonne nuit les enfants.

[Yii]

Ozu, Sanma no aji 1962

[MRS]

Night of the Hunter (Charles Laughton, 1955)

Cuts from the locomotive + Don Ellis grade low brass against old maid advising Shelley Winters (St. Louis) that she needs a husband, back to the train, back to the two women, it's too much. First time seeing this, it's very good but not w/o deep flaw, just all over the place. Mitchum's accent is twelve different colors, he's splendid, then laughable. Peter Graves exudes homoeroticism more than Maverick.

Soaked with baptism, Baptists, the Ohio, so much salix over water, willows and water are everywhere. And the animals, rabbits, lizards, squirrels, that frog. Said old maid Evelyn Varden as Icey Spoon might steal the show all told, and Gish is unreal. But it never ends, it wanders like its rivers, weirdly. Gold medals to the pyramidal nave where Harry harasses the kids, the kids' acting, those twin homes on the water, and the moaning song throughout. A riparian nightmare with long bookends that remind me of third grade religion class at St. Pius V. This must've been something in '55.

"My, that fudge smells yummy!"

"It's for the picnic. . .and you don't get a smidgen of my fudge unless you stay for the picnic."

[Dan Warburton]

Martin Scorsese, The King of Comedy, 1983

"Neither funny enough to be an effective black comedy nor scary enough to capitalise on its thriller/horror elements, The King Of Comedy sits awkwardly between the two," wrote Empire magazine. I'll go along with that. It doesn't help that Jerry Lewis is the most desperately unfunny comedian I've ever seen, but then again he's not supposed to be funny here. In fact his seething sulkiness is a rather effective foil for De Niro's empty chatter. But you care about neither man. The ending sucks. Shame Sandra Bernhard didn't get more airtime. She should have taken a kitchen knife to Jerry, Madsen-style, when he was all tied up. Or something.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Songwriter, Alan Rudolph, 1984

Kael uses the word enjoyable, so why should I use another one, let alone make up another review. As enjoyable as it gets, in fact, as they say. It's not The Moderns set in Nashville, but it could be something like that. It's not Nashville, it's a slapstick comedy filmed with a more gentlemanly spirit and real country stars. I like Keith Carradine but he is no Willie Nelson, or Kris Kristofferson (the one who wrote and sang "To Beat The Devil" for instance). You know this video on youtube, where you see Kris Kristofferson, Willie Nelson, Johnnie Cash, Waylon Jennings singing "The Highwayman", the film has this kind of atmosphere, and charisma.

[Dan Warburton]

Raoul Walsh, The Roaring Twenties, 1939

[Dan Warburton]

Ingmar Bergman, Vargtimmen, 1968



http://bergmanorama.webs.com/films/hour ... strick.htm

[Lao Tsu Ben]

The Paperboy, Lee Daniels, 2012

Still catching up with last year's movies, this film was appropriately described as a "freaky-deaky potboiler" (Armond White) and an "intentionally trashy and determinedly trivial movie", so it sounded like quite a bit of fun and it is. It's outrageous in an innocuous way. I wonder, does Lee Daniels really think that he can still shock people with such laughable material? I'm not sure what's going inside his head and, frankly, I prefer not to know, he could be too serious about it, but given the way he is handling his camera, that is, very loosely, which I found very pleasant and refreshing, he seems, at least, to have some intuitive grasp of it. Paul Verhoeven could have made this film, and I think at one point he was supposed to do it (so was Pedro Almodovar). What is depicted in some reviews as a bundle of perversions, I see it as humane elements in a lively comedy. Reminds me of Jean-Pierre Mocky too. For instance, Kidman may play the slut that everybody thinks she plays, but her character isn't a total caricature, and in fact, I'm reluctant of calling her that. No condescension on my part either. She's fucked-up enough, all right. Daniels seems not to be judging, at all, this is perhaps the right stance, and it's rare enough to be noticed, I think. I may mention that this film doesn't seem to be realistic in any manner, and, as a consequence, should not be judged as that!

[Dan Warburton]

Azazel Jacobs, The GoodTimesKid, 2005

I see why they call it mumblecore now. Apart from Sara Diaz's little dance in the kitchen and the Gang of Four song that ends the film, there's nothing much to write home about. Bloggers bleating about Chaplin and Tati must have their tongues in their cheeks, not to mention heads in their asses. Wonder if the fact that the director's daddy is Star Spangled Ken Jacobs had anything to do with it. Indie needn't mean cruddie. A decent plot, script, acting and editing wouldn't have gone amiss.




Sam Peckinpah, Noon Wine, 1966

Fortunately this 49-minute TV movie (ABC Stage 67, Season 1 Episode 9) had all four. Jason Robards rocks. As you can see from the quality of the image above, in desperate need of a decent DVD release (though until that happens, viva Karagarga). Nice write-up here http://mooninthegutter.blogspot.fr/2009 ... piece.html




Woody Allen, Bananas, 1971

Yes, that is Sly Stallone there (his fellow subway mugger / rapist is Danny DeVito btw), whom Allen initially sent back to the casting agency saying he wasn’t “tough-looking” enough. Has its moments - any film that was banned by the Catholic Church (for the New Testament cigarettes ad spoof) and manages to slip in references to Battleship Potemkin and Wild Strawberries can't be that bad, and Woody presumably thought so as he recycled several gags in Sleeper a couple of years later - but Louise Lasser isn't Diane Keaton.




Lindsay Anderson, Every Day Except Christmas, 1957

Priceless little documentary from the Free Cinema 3 programme about the old Covent Garden market back in the days when everbody smoked Woodbines and ate greasy sausage sandwiches at 4am (I'm guessing everyone featured in this film subsequently died of lung cancer and/or heart disease). What's left today? Mango, Mexx, Lush and Starbucks.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

The Players Club, Ice Cube, 1998

This sure ain't no Go-Go Tales. In Ferrara's film, nothing much could pass as a real story, and it was great, if you like the color blue, superimpositions, and other things we are keen - or not - to see in any of his films (at least, lately); I would perhaps find it a little too arty now, but yeah, it was great when I saw it. Anyway Ice Cube should have favored atmosphere too, because the story here is really nothing special. But he has a knack for images which makes the film worthwhile, I think, and as easy on the eyes as, say, LisaRaye who plays the heroine. Wikipedia says that "this was Bernie Mac's first starring / lead role", which is deceptive, I would have liked to see a little more of him (that is, in terms of character development, acting chops, to use such weary expressions). Fuck, I didn't know he died.

[Dan Warburton]

Donald Cammell, Wild Side, 1995

This so-called "Director's Cut" was cobbled together in 2000 by Frank Mazzola and Cammell's widow China Kong, apparently working from notes the director left before he shot himself after the studios drastically recut the movie and sent it off to die in oblivion on cable TV. The montage is, to say the least, bizarre, often disconcertingly fading to black between cuts, but it's not as bizarre as the tortured plot (Alex, a woman working for sleazy offshore bank is sacked for not putting out for wealthy client, becomes $1500/night call girl to pay for fancy beach house, ends up in bed with even sleazier money laundering villain Bruno (Christopher Walken, who else) whose chauffeur Tony turns out to be an undercover Fed out to nail his "boss".. and to thicken the plot she falls in love with Bruno's wife Virginia, etc). Complex who's-fucking-who plots are fine, as long as they're well-written and well-acted, but that's not the case here: Alex's metamorphosis from hard-as-nails money-grabbing hooker into lovestruck giggly schoolgirl is embarrassingly unconvincing, Anne Heche and Joan Chen are both dreadful, and their "love scenes", set to Ryuichi Sakamoto's awful velvety synth noodlings, are about as good as the Samurai Dream softcore rubbish that James Woods and his pals piss themselves laughing over in Videodrome. But there is one reason to see this film, and it's Walken. This must be his wildest performance to date; it's Walken doing Kevin Pollak doing Walken. Happily, you don't have to wade through the whole film to find the good bits, as YouTube has done it for you: if you're a Walken fan go straight to 5'10" in the following video and place cushions strategically around your chair, as you're likely to fall off it laughing. This, as Alex says in the scene, is out there. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnhVD0-gh8g

[Dan Warburton]

Oh bollocks, looks like that YouTube vid is no longer online (it was this morning).. so you'll just have to imagine it

[Mo Noyz]

Man, that's a relief!

I'm 5'11", and trying to figure out how I was going to shave an inch off was making me a bit queasy...

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Ulee's Gold, Victor Nunez, 1997

It's called "Ulee's Gold", as you may know it by now, and Victor Nunez has the Midas touch. Of course, the metaphor is pretty obvious, and Peter Fonda plays a beekeeper, but it is the grand-daughter who extends the metaphor here, and it doesn't last too long (just one scene if you want to know), which means Nunez is naive, but not excessively so. At any rate, it's a beautiful film, it's not very surprising; Ruby in Paradise, Coastlines, except for a few, forgivable mishaps were beautiful too.

[MRS]

Holy Smoke! (Jane Campion, 1999)

Ruth (Winslet) of Sydney is seduced unto a cult in Delhi, connived back home by her mother, family retains American P.J. Waters (Keitel) at $10,000 AUD to defrag Ruth. Two tremendous Neil Diamond injections, "Holly Holy" at Keitel's airport welcome. Ruth's mom's performance takes the cherry, Julie Hamilton is her name. Ruth's dad's speedo. Once she's back home everything attenuates rapidly, shots of the whole family in a tight living room or a dark blue tavern grow more claustrophobic, everyone more and more irritable. P.J. coaxes Ruth to an outback shack for three days' expurgation. P.J. is fellated by her floozy sister, then on to Ruth outright. The family descends upon the shack once word's out, the brothers wear fishnet wifebeaters and leather trousers, deviant sex is decocted in near every scene now. P.J. on the run in the bush (Keitel's in drag for the last third of the picture), finally captured and thrown in the back of a pickup. Maybe that's what it takes of him to cure his sick? Is her family not more of a cult than the guru's? I kept thinking about Burroughs' "control's need to control" or however he put it.

Winslet's so good. Campion splices seconds long stylized intermezzos which just incinerate the tension and sex and arguments at their peaks, shameless comic relief amongst uncomfortable comedy. Best part: Incredible displays of green light, often green on mauve, tourmaline, like hellebores. Incandescent green interiors, sickly green, everyone's clothes, trinkets, Pam Grier's fingernails.

"Why do people believe in God? Why do people believe they're in love? Why do I tell myself, every day, you're fat, mate?"

[Dan Warburton]

Robert Altman, M*A*S*H, 1970

I like to think Leonardo would have enjoyed this.

[Antoine]

Blancanieves (Pablo Berger, 2012)

Sevilla in the 20s, with Snow White as a bullfighter.

[Dan Warburton]

Alan Parker, Pink Floyd - The Wall, 1982

Never really cared for Pink Floyd to start with - things started going downhill when Syd was booted out, imo - so I wasn't one of those punters swooning over Gilmour's guitar solo in "Comfortably Numb" (I do remember though there were distinct groans of pleasure from some members of the audience when I saw it back in Cambridge..). Watching this again for the first time in - gulp - nearly three decades, it seems to come from far far away, as quaint and fusty as the British Empire flags hanging down in the chapel where Mrs Pink, or whatever Pink's mother is called, goes to pray. No surprise that Geldof nods off in his hotel room watching The Dam Busters (1955), with its gung ho jolly good show pilots (and a dog called Nigger.. yo, Armond) - that's what my generation grew up with, but WWII imagery doesn't mean much to my kid, who watched it with us last night and seemed thoroughly bemused. Can't decide what's dated more, Parker's film or Waters' music. Al least Gerard Scarfe's still in the news..

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Wild Bill, Walter Hill, 1995

This article compares Wild Bill and The Long Riders. . It reminds me why I don't read much criticism nowadays: it's way too periphrastic and says things you grasp immediately when you see the movies. I don't even agree with him. The Long Riders is closer to Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid, while Wild Bill is more like The Wild Bunch. Anyway, if the two films are good, I think Wild Bill is far better, it's cruder, livelier, funnier, less straightforward, but I'm left wondering what is this machine that Ellen Burstyn, who plays Calamity Jane, uses to shake cocktails. Jeff Bridges looks very much like an American Depardieu (playing Cyrano? The Colonel Chabert? etc), and his impersonation of a worn-out but imperturbable Bill Hickok, whom opium, among other things such as old age and the unexpected appearance of a young fool seeking retribution, fills with distressing memories (filmed in black and white and complete with dutch angles), somehow set a precedent for The Big Lebowski, while hinting back at Ed Harris' turn in Walker. Good western.

[Dan Warburton]

Jeff Bridges looks very much like an American Depardieu (playing Cyrano?.

haha, he certainly does in that picture!
Meanwhile, this morning (I'm sick) I tried this again, and managed to get through it with a few strategic coffee breaks



Peter Greenaway, The Baby of Mâcon, 1993

Much to admire, especially the long takes (I remember being present when Greenaway and his crew filmed the Phil Glass Ensemble in London for the Four American Composers series, and was impressed by the crane he used and how it allowed him to zoom all around the stage and right in on Michael Riesman's rumbling arpeggios), but there's something terribly oppressive about it all, presumably deliberate. Fiennes' chiselled features and cold delivery are perfect for the role he's playing, shame (SPOILERS HERAFTER, WATCH OUT) he comes to a sticky end all too soon; Julia Ormond, despite being traumatised during the rape scene, is fantastic, but it's like being trapped inside a Caravaggio for a couple of hours, all blacks, deep reds and dark blues (there's not a touch of green in the whole film, as far as I can make out). And with all those candles burning all the time you can practically smell the place. What's more disturbing than the blood and guts - how many movies do you know that contain a 208-man gangbang, a dead baby being chopped to pieces and a bloke being gored to death by a bull? - is the Brechtian "it's just a play with music" side of it all. Funny games, anyone?