Recently Watched Films 2013

[Dan Warburton]

Billy Wilder, Ace In The Hole, 1951

What an absolutely magnificent film. I can't recommend it highly enough.

Word - terrific script (love the mention of Yogi Berra - a legend already! - "it's a sort of religion, isn't it?"), and Kirk Douglas doesn't get all the good lines, either. Jan Sterling as the trashy platinum blonde gets in some good ones too: "I met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my life, but you - you're twenty minutes." "I don't go to church. Kneeling bags my nylons." Needless to say, the whole saga of the media circus descending from nowhere is prophetic, but I wonder whether Wilder couldn't have found another plot resolution. There's something that bothers me about that stabbing.. not enough blood, perhaps?

[Dan Warburton]

Sergio Corbucci, Gli specialisti, 1969

Amazing shot, eh? All the more amusing as the four pot-smoking young revolutionaries, who look as if they've just escaped from a rock concert, are pretty incidental to the plot, such as it is, i.e. gunslinger Hud returning to the town of Blackstone to find the truth about who lynched his brother Charlie and what became of the half million dollars he was carrying at the time. Johnny Hallyday certainly looks the part, and joins the club of blond, blue-eyed spaghetti western heroes (we don't need to discuss acting as such ). Fun to see Françoise "Ma Nuit Chez Maud" Fabian as the nasty widow banker too. The bottom line of the story is pretty depressing, but that's Corbucci for you. Forget the Sierra Nevada, by the way - this was shot in the Dolomites, which makes it even more entertaining. Some great fight scenes, even if the overdubbing of the thwacks and smacks is dreadful. Thank goodness they got Angelo Francesco Lavagnino to do the soundtrack, and not Johnny.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Looks tempting. As for myself, here's what I recently saw:


Southern Comfort, Walter Hill, 1981

Excellent thriller. You could see where Hill came from. Some of the soldiers in this film are stupid beyond belief, I'm reminded of the not too bright elements who were part of the Wild Bunch (don't remember enough about Cross of Iron, but I guess there is a link too). The Grey with Liam Neeson, which was released two years ago I think, is basically the same film, except that it is set in Alaska, not in Louisiana, that it has wolves instead of mean Cajuns, and that it is rather bad. Accordingly, it's not difficult to also think of Deliverance.

[MRS]

Fat City (John Huston, 1972)

Stockton's chamber of commerce must wear this like a badge, what a gas, first time. Casting by Fred Roos. Susan Tyrrell careers it, Oma, an amazing performance at the bar, I know these people. She later revealed Huston drove her around inland NoCal taverns and had his way before filming, ah. Nicholas Colasanto (fucking Coach from Cheers) as ossified trainer, sharp-witted and perfect, sitting up smoking in bed in the dark with his wife talking about young white hope. Muhammad Ali compared the young black extra's pre-fight pep talk to his own truculence at that age. Some of the most starkly shot day and dark pub settings ever put to screen, cream sherry's all round. Sex, race, alcoholism, poverty. The monologue about infidelity in the onion field comes also from an extra, discovered in an onion field. There's a 15 second scene in a bowling alley where Ruben tries to patch together a comeback fight for Tully with the proprietor, so slimy it's the fulcrum of the whole thing. Bridges' boxing is laughable but Keach's final bout had me yelling. It ends memorably with two peaceful, strange conversations between Tully & Earl (played by Curtis Cokes, on vacation while Tully shacked up w/Oma) and Tully & Ernie over coffee.

Oma: "The white race is in its decline! It started downhill in 1492 when Columbus discovered syphilis."

[Dan Warburton]

Maya Deren, Witches Cradle, 1943



Maya Deren / Alexander Hammid, Meshes of the Afternoon, 1943

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Spring Breakers, Harmony Korine, 2012

A film about some sort of Apocalypse (they are really made by the dozens nowadays). It "oozes melancholy", cries out how fucked-up the world is, but whimperingly, like in the T.S. Eliot poem. All those films about personal apocalypses could be called "The Hollow Men", and, in fact, I lost count of the number of them that were making direct reference to that poem (Southland Tales and the last Sally Potter come to mind). Every bloody time you get the same kind of droning music which shall suggest the adequate wistful feeling. Usually, I'm a good audience for that kind of films, and Spring Breakers is pleasant enough, I guess; however, if there's no denying the fact that Benoit Debie's photography is alluring, it is also an exploitative and vapid movie. As I was watching it, I was reminded of this sentence by David Edelstein about To The Wonder:

The most wondrous thing in To the Wonder is Kurylenko, sylvan and meltingly beautiful, a tantalizing combination of sensuality and sexuality. But for all Malick’s transcendental aspirations, the only difference between the way he shoots her and the way Harmony Korine shoots the lady parts in Spring Breakers is that Korine knows he has lust in his heart.

it would have been more interesting if Korine had been more daring and less hypocritical about that "lust". The risk remains that the film could be interpreted as a morality tale (it's not Rohmer, though), which for him is an easy way out, in my opinion.

[Dan Warburton]

My son (14) and his chums went to see the Korine when it came out, expecting something a little more, um, lightweight.. I'm waiting for a Blu-Ray because those colours look gorgeous. Meanwhile Max is eating spaghetti in his bath with bacon taped to the wall, and we're watching this



Axel Corti, Wohin und Zurück, "Welcome in Vienna", 1982-1986 (An uns glaubt Gott nicht mehr - Ferry oder Wie es war, 1982 / Santa Fé, 1986 / Welcome in Vienna, 1986)

Based largely on the true story of Georg Stefan Stroller's flight from Vienna following the Anschluss and Kristallnacht (though here there are two principal characters, Ferry Tobler in episode one and briefly at the beginning of episode two, and Freddy Wolff in episodes two and three), this is a magnificent piece of work. In the hands of a Hollywood director it would probably have ended as a mawkish tale, with awful swirling music instead of the ineffable Schubert String Quintet (used sparingly and movingly), and would certainly have avoided the overwhelming cynicism of the concluding chapter, in which Wolff returns to Vienna and finds formerly idealistic colleagues abandoning their priniciples and dishing out jobs a-plenty to ex-Nazis. It's a pretty brutal indictment of Austria – even Fassbinder was never as bleak as this, and that's saying something. Corti's location shots are judiciously intercut with archive footage of the times (shades of Paris brûle-t-il) – the second episode in New York, apart from one wildstyle graffiti wall I spotted through the train window, is particularly skilful in this respect: I'm assuming the director and his crew had access to the observation deck of the Chrysler Building, lucky buggers (we can see the Empire State Building on the right looking downtown, so I'm guessing can't be Top Of The Rock), which was indeed open to the public until 1945.
If you like (is that the word?) Rossellini's Germania anno zero, Fassbinder and Thomas Bernhard – or even if you don't – you should check this out.

[Dan Warburton]

Paul Newman, The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds, 1972

Bought this splendid Agnès B DVD because the chap in the Potemkine shop (DVD heaven if you're looking for a place in Paris http://www.potemkine.fr/Potemkine-bouti ... a39m5.html) said it was as good as Barbara Loden's Wanda, Cassavetes' A Woman Under The Influence and Scorsese's Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. It isn't, but if dysfunctional one-parent family woman-on-the-edge (dirty) kitchen sink dramas are your bag, you might like it. The folks at Cannes did in 1973, when they gave Joanne Woodward an award for her impressively hysterical performance. It's adapted from a Pulitzer Prize-winning Broadway play by Paul Zindel, and that's the problem: I don't mind the idea of plays becoming movies, as long as they're good plays and they're good movies, but there's something wearying and old-before-its-time about Zindel's dialogue (he studied with Edward Albee, and it shows), and something wooden and uncomfortable about Newman's direction, almost as if he was afraid that real cinematography might detract from the "power" of the play. (Compare the inspired crazy racing up and down the stairs in the Cassavetes, or the blasted, desolate Pennsylvania landscapes of Wanda..) Nice performance from Roberta Wallach (daughter of Eli, yes) as the older daughter, but Newman's own (daughter), who plays Matilda, is about as interesting as the science experiment she does. Give me that pesky little brat in the Scorsese any day.

[presquepartout]

what i've seen over the past month. of the stuff i saw in theater, stories we tell was excellent, and this is the end was a lot better than expected, and actually pretty funny.

robert kaylor derby



george roy hill butch cassidy and the sundance kid



roman polański rosemary's baby



joel coen & ethan coen barton fink



joel & ethan coen miller's crossing



joel & ethan coen no country for old men



sarah polley stories we tell



paul thomas anderson the master



seijun sezuki tokyo drifter



seth rogen & evan goldberg this is the end



nicolas myer star trek ii: the wrath of khan

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Sergio Corbucci, Gli specialisti, 1969

The bottom line of the story is pretty depressing, but that's Corbucci for you.

Corbucci has a mean streak indeed, but I'm always surprised to see how cynical Italian cinema could be at that time. Just saw for instance:



La Moglie Del Prete, Dino Risi, 1971

which plays like a regular rom-com, as its argument suggests it (Sophia Loren falls in a love with a priest played by Marcello Mastroianni), until the end which is unexpectedly, um, sour and saddening. Saw it in English and can't say whether or not Loren, who wears a tremendous series of outfits throughout the movie, is mouthing English. I think it added to the charm to hear her speak English (I think it's her); it's a silly comedy alright, but you know pretty much what you're in for, that is, some of that delightful chemistry between Loren and Mastroianni.



A Ciascuno Il Suo, Elio Petri, 1967

A noir with Gian Maria Volontè and Irene Papas, adapted from a novel by Leonardo Sciascia. It's pretty cruel too. I love Luis Bacalov's loungey soundtrack (more or less). I was wondering if it's him who sings the song "Pour Reve L'Hiver" (with a text by Rimbaud which is actually called "Rêvé pour l'hiver") which is heard during the movie - you see a disk spinning at this moment but I guess he wrote it himself. Made me think of something out of Ravel, "Toi, le Coeur de la Rose" for example, which is perhaps a lousy comparison.

[Dan Warburton]

Samuel Fuller, Run of the Arrow, 1957

"New York-born Scottish German Lutheran pretending to be second generation Irish reb speak with forked tongue!"
"So does Polish Lithuanian Pennsylvanian pretending to be Indian chief!" Another one to add to the list of Worst Accents Ever, Rod Steiger's pitiful attempt at an Irish brogue (amusingly described as "South Asian Norwegian" by a punter over at IMDb) spoils another great Fuller opening, a splendid tracking shot across the corpse-strewn, smouldering battleground of Appomatox. Why did he have to be Irish anyway? Never mind, Steiger heads west and meets Walking Coyote (Jay C. Flippen, who, wig apart, looks and sounds about as Indian as I do) and decides he wants to become a full-time Sioux. He even gets himself a squaw - Sara Montiel had to be overdubbed by Angie Dickinson (shame, a Spanish accent wouldn't have been any worse than Steiger's) - and ends up working as an Indian guide for a US Cavalry division heading out to build a fort in the middle of the happy hunting ground, which leads to a spectacular bloodbath. Apparently this is the first film to use squibs, btw. It's loosely based on the Red Cloud War, but Fuller's not the kind of guy who'd let a bit of historical innaccuracy get in the way of a good story. "Sioux" does not mean throat-cutter, but if Sam wants a throat cut, so be it.

[Dan Warburton]

Jerzy Skolimowski, Essential Killing, 2010

In terms of cinematography and sound design, it's mighty impressive, and it scooped up awards galore at festivals left right and centre (including several for Vincent Gallo, though he doesn't say a word in the movie - maybe the juries felt sorry for him having to run barefoot in -30° temperatures in a godforsaken pine forest in Norway) - but I wonder what it all adds up to. Never mind, some great images - the turquoise chador in the stream, the blood-spattered horse.. and where did that pack of sheepdogs come from?

[Dan Warburton]

Claude Chabrol, L'oeil du malin, 1962

If Les bonnes femmes was Chabrol doing Fellini (Cabiria, plotwise), then this little-known thriller from 1962 finds him in Antonioni mood. Dispatched to a village in Bavaria to report on the everyday life of "our former enemies, future allies", hack writer Albin Mercier (Jacques Charrier), unable to speak a word of German, develops an unhealthy fascination with his neighbour, successful novelist Andreas Hartman (Walter Reyer), and his French wife Hélène (Stéphane Audran). We never really know why he's got it in for them - neither jealousy of Hartman's success nor infatuation with his wife is ever clearly stated, though the former adds a Ripley-like vibe (Chabrol presumably knew Rene Clément's Plein soleil, and there's a touch of Delon to Charrier) and the latter becomes his excuse (though we can't really believe his protestations of love). Anyway, that's far too spoilerish as it is. Well worth checking out, for Pierre Jansen's splendidly creepy score and for Charrier's excellent voiceovers.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

La Traversée de Paris, Claude Autant-Lara, 1956

http://cityarts.info/2013/05/23/occupying-paris/

Le Corbeau dates from 1943, Armond and it's not the German officer who says the line:"In every Frenchman dozes a pig, maybe in every human", but Jean Gabin. It's more fitting since French are known to excel in self-disparagement, and that's what Jean Gabin and Claude Autant-Lara are doing here, with many reasons to do so. The final impression is somewhat dismaying, it's a mean film, sure, about French spinelessness at the time, but it's also pretty cynical and fatalistic about it; Gabin plays a character whose motivations are unclear for most of the film, but who seems to have some moral principles and the rebellious propensities to match: it appears at the end that he is a well-to-do painter looking for a thrill, who has no qualms making friends with the enemy when the situation gets tough. At one stop during their journey across Paris, you hear him say to a barman and his wife "Salauds de pauvres" (which could be translated as "Fucking paupers"), "Is it their fault that they're poor?" will ask him his antipathetic companion (played by Bourvil) a little later. That's facile moral ambiguity for you. Striking nonetheless. Typically the kind of film made by, what we call in France, "un anarchiste de droite".

[MRS]

Getting Straight, Richard Rush, 1970

l've been looking for you.
Hey, what's the rush?

(God knows why, that line made me laugh).

According to The Rough Guide To Films (as I said, some book that I downloaded on the internet) 'Ingmar Bergman called the campus comedy Getting Straight (1970) “the best American film of the decade”. Why not, honestly? Such an assertion implies a certain amount of bad faith but the film is so little known, why be afraid of superlatives? There was just one problem, it dawned on me that I don't really like Elliott Gould. He's constantly shouting throughout the film, it becomes tiresome, even if he's supposed to play some sort of caricature (of a male chauvinist, for instance). In The Long Goodbye, in which he's grumbling most of the time, he gets on my nerves too. But it doesn't matter since everyone loves Gould I suppose; the movie is frequently hilarious even if it drags a little (it lasts a little more than two hours), and the end, where he's presenting his PhD Thesis and one professor stubbornly tries to convince him that Fitzgerald was gay, is great in that regard.

I really tried with this having never heard of it before your post. Pretty terrible and I think Gould held it afloat. There are great moments, maybe it's because I can't put the whole in any kind of bucket. How about Gregory Sierra showing up in the back of class? Whoever plays the black activist is tremendous. But jesus what a hike.

[Dan Warburton]

La Traversée de Paris, Claude Autant-Lara, 1956

Every time I cycle down rue Poliveau I yell out "Jambier!"



Jacques Tourneur, Out of the Past, 1947

Absolutely fuckin' awesome. Echt noir. Can't fault it.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Getting Straight, Richard Rush, 1970

I really tried with this having never heard of it before your post. Pretty terrible and I think Gould held it afloat. There are great moments, maybe it's because I can't put the whole in any kind of bucket. How about Gregory Sierra showing up in the back of class? Whoever plays the black activist is tremendous. But jesus what a hike.

Ah, sorry about that. It's precisely because the movie is hard to pigeonhole that I liked it- I'm repeating myself but it's more Gould who is a problem for me here, though it's partly deliberate that he is insufferable. Perhaps that can be pinned down as one of these "not to be a square" comedies that were in fashion at the time such as Joe by John Avildsen, I Love You, Alice B. Toklas (which is disappointing), or practically any film by Paul Mazursky. They have not always aged well but Rush's heavy-handed satire has in my opinion, and the film is wacky enough to sustain some interest. No? No. Sorry again, anyway.

Jacques Tourneur, Out of the Past, 1947

Absolutely fuckin' awesome. Echt noir. Can't fault it.

One way to fault it perhaps was to remake it. I already mentioned that remake, Against All Odds, with Jeff Bridges, Rachel Ward, James Woods and a title song by Phil Collins, which looks pretty terrible, despite the fact that those are all actors that I like.

[Dan Warburton]

I agree with you about the cast, but I might have to avoid it on principle because of that Phil Collins song

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Una Giornata Particolare, Ettore Scola, 1997

So is it "the director’s masterpiece or "a particularly clodhopping allegory"? Here's a good review by someone who found the film as absorbing as I did. I don't understand however why some people find it so difficult to imagine Mastroianni play an homosexual. He's superb anyway but something in the story leaves me a little perplexed, his love scene with Sophia Loren is rather awkward: while they are both lonely souls seeking sympathy and understanding in one another, Mastroianni plays a man who just wants to talk with someone, while Loren's character unwittingly looks more for some sort of sexual intimacy. For that reason, he vehemently scolds her before giving in. It's a great film, the psychology of which is quite simple but which manages to be puzzling now and then, or merely moving the rest of the time. The most striking shot is represented in the screenshot above, you get to see Sophia Loren's beautiful face most of the time until that particular moment when, out of shame, stultified, she turns her back on the camera.

[MRS]

Ah, sorry about that. It's precisely because the movie is hard to pigeonhole that I liked it- I'm repeating myself but it's more Gould who is a problem for me here, though it's partly deliberate that he is insufferable. Perhaps that can be pinned down as one of these "not to be a square" comedies that were in fashion at the time such as Joe by John Avildsen, I Love You, Alice B. Toklas (which is disappointing), or practically any film by Paul Mazursky. They have not always aged well but Rush's heavy-handed satire has in my opinion, and the film is wacky enough to sustain some interest. No? No. Sorry again, anyway.

Don't apologize, my partner and I go back n' forth on snail Netflix and I pretty much depend on IHF entries, please keep them coming. I liked Gould especially at the flophouse barking back to the crowd about activism on a campus. The love scene 30' in was disgusting, couple that with his aimless Peter Fonda lookalike friend. Again I couldn't know where to file this. I have Upstream Color en route, kind of fired up.