Recently Watched Films 2013

[Matt Wuethrich]

Charles Laughton, The Night of the Hunter, 1955

Another one of those 1950s Hollywood studio productions where I wonder a) "Who let them actually make this?" and b) "Maybe I'm underestimating 1950s audiences, projecting a false sense of how conservative they were". I'm not underestimating on B) too much, I think, because the film flopped critically and commercially, (and presumably cost Laughton a chance to make another film) but it still looks pretty adventurous to these eyes. Spooky mist-filled sets, thick expressionistic shadows and hyped-up performances all around. It's almost cartoon-ish in places. Mitchum is truly creepy, as is Lillian Gish as Rachel Cooper (that's a sly bit of casting if there ever was one!). Winters probably plays the widow a little too dumb and hysterical, but her children make up for it in their resourcefulness. Great plotting too, with the film cleaved into three packed acts, all with distinct moods. Totally watchable but layered. You could peel a lot out of this if so inclined.

[Dan Warburton]

Claire Denis, J'ai pas sommeil, 1994

There's a lot of humour in this film, which is not always the case with Claire Denis, from the coppers in the chopper laughing in the opening minutes (we never find out what they're laughing at), to the deliciously foulmouthed Yekaterina Golubeva's hilarious ramrodding car chase across Paris, but the undertow is deadly (literally) serious. As usual, splendid cinematography from Agnès Godard and great performances from Denis regulars Alex Descas and Béatrice Dalle. Not sure whether a hotel-manager-with-a-heart-of-gold like Line Renaud actually exists in the seedy streets behind Montmartre, but I do know plenty of barmen as plain rude as the bloke who charges Daïga 34 francs for a cup of coffee and three croissants.



Yannick Bellon, Quelque part quelqu'un, 1972

In stark contrast to Godard's luscious pinks and golds, here is a Paris that looks as bleak, grey and miserable as somewhere in Eastern Europe. Radio news broadcasts set the scene on the eve of the Oil Crisis, as journalist / failed writer (?) Vincent (Roland Dubillard) drinks himself unconscious night after night, despite attempts to dry him out by (his girlfriend?) Raphaële (Loleh Bellon), herself trapped in a dead-end job as an architect forced to deal with mafia corruption and faceless bureaucracy constructing the hideous impersonal towers of the banlieue. Great Georges Delerue soundtrack, wonderful footage of live trading in the old Paris stock market, the Palais Brongniart, and outstanding montage - thank goodness it was restored in time before it deteriorated beyond all recognition. You may need a stiff drink yourself after it's over, though – if not during.



Richard Rush, Freebie and the Bean, 1974

Finally managed to catch up with this again after reading Lao Tsu Ben's enthusiastic post here a few months back, and enjoyed its tacky tastelessness enormously (all the more so seeing how many esteemed film critics have taken a dump on it). Caan and Arkin make a great team – buddy cop repartee doesn't get any better, that is if you can stomach the politically incorrect – and the San Francisco location shooting is as much fun to watch as Bullitt. Of course, there are far too many apocalyptic car chases and one pursuit that ends up trashing an entire restaurant, until the bad guy is brained by a huge copper pan and half-drowned in tomato soup. The scene where they drive at full tilt into a girls' marching band leaving cheerleaders splattered across the street must have had a few people gasping, but somebody in Hollywood must have liked it, as there was a follow-up TV series. A lousy one, too, as I recall, without Caan and Arkin.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Richard Rush, Freebie and the Bean, 1974

Finally managed to catch up with this again after reading Lao Tsu Ben's enthusiastic post here a few months back, and enjoyed its tacky tastelessness enormously (all the more so seeing how many esteemed film critics have taken a dump on it).

Of course, it's its tastelessness that makes it worthwhile, and also the changes of tone: I was impressed by the brutal kung-fu skills displayed by the transvestite at the end.

but I do know plenty of barmen as plain rude as the bloke who charges Daïga 34 francs for a cup of coffee and three croissants.

I know what you mean, but 5 euros sounds alright to me, or to put it another way, that is the price nowadays...



Baby, the Rain Must Fall, Robert Mulligan, 1965

Armond White calls it "the best, unheralded American film of the 60s.", which may or may not seem a little excessive depending on how you understand "unheralded" and link it to "best", but it's a very good film nonetheless, which is not too much hindered by an odd, unsure performance by Steve McQueen whose imitation of a southern accent sounds laborious, to say the least. More generally, the role wasn't for him. Lee Remick's character, on the other hand, may be too passive for some but she's perfect for that sort of Americana, evoking perfectly the wistful, resilient feeling that often pertains to it, and she is well-aided by László Kovács's absolutely beautiful cinematography. Extraordinary scene with Steve McQueen sitting by his adoptive mother's deathbed, and hearing his torturess say to him "You're not worth killing" before giving up the ghost. Its angst may be conventional but the film is not only distressing but also weird, no small feat to me, and probably becomes weirder with the passing of time, no matter how decipherable it is or seems to be.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Pierre Zucca, Vincent mit l'âne dans un pré (et s'en vint dans l'autre), 1975

Don't ask me to explain the pun of the title.. in fact, don't ask me to explain anything. A real headscratcher, this - which is not to say it isn't a lot of fun, with fine performances from Michel Bouquet, Bernadette Lafont and Fabrice Luchini (this was his film debut). The late great Bernadette actually said she preferred it to La Maman et la Putain, which is a bit like Säure Bummer arguing the merits of Rossini over Wagner in Gravity's Rainbow. Wouldn't go that far myself, but oddly enough Jean Eustache pops up here as an extra. Precious little online background info to refer to, and there are no subtitles on my version, so your French had better be up to it. Paging Lao Tsu.. seen this, Ben?

Bizarrely, I missed that post, but yes I've seen it. I think the film has somewhat of a cult reputation here in France but I'm no big fan of it; my customary problem with French cinema when it decides to be whimsical and eccentric and... - you know what I mean - and ends up being childish to me, lacking some typical Anglo-Saxon wit. But I can't say I remember too much of it, would like to give it a chance again if I can lay hands on the dvd which I happen to possess. Yes, and I can't make sense of the title either.

[Dan Warburton]

Wonder what happened to my screenshot there. Must find another one. Meanwhile, let's hope this one sticks around.



Jean-Pierre Mocky, Les dragueurs, 1959

Apparently, the film that dragged the verb "draguer" into the French language (um, can you confirm that, Ben?) was a huge box office success when released - 1.5m entries in 1959, not a bad debut. I wonder how many young Frenchmen went out groping girls in shopping arcades as a result. Were guys really like this? There are so many examples in film it makes you wonder. After all, Freddy (Jacques Charrier, very good again as his was in L'oeil du malin, though Mocky had originally wanted his co-star in Les tricheurs, Laurent Terzieff) isn't exactly a role model, though he does have the decency to save his new-found pal Joseph (Charles Aznavour, delightfully inept in his little duffle coat) from humiliation at the libidinal stag party they all end up at. The fight scene there is truly vicious - I can't think of any portrayal of violence anywhere near as strong as this in French cinema before - and the whole affair is bitingly cynical. Fine cameos from Anouk Aimée, Véronique Nordey, Dany Carrel and bored libertine Belinda Lee (above), who you're half expecting to come out with "you're a groovy boy, I'd like to strap you on sometime" - but that's another movie.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Louis Malle, ...And the Pursuit of Happiness, 1986

A simple, sympathetic documentary that barely shows any craft at all – and that's a compliment here. Malle is clearly on the side of the immigrants he interviews, but he wants us to celebrate as much as we sympathize with the individuals here. Lots of slice of life vignettes that don't add up to any grand statement, just a fragmented portrait. It's sad to think that the dynamics of this issue, at least in the US, haven't changed all that much in the three decades. Instead of beating kids over the head with all the "All men are created equal" and "melting pot" in US schools, they should just show this film.

And this:







Orson Welles, F for Fake, 1975

I'm not sure those three images even get close to showing what Welles gets up to with this picture. Hell, after watching I'm not even sure which way I'm supposed think! In contrast to Malle's warm hug of subject (and viewer) above, Welles' film essay is a violent intellectual mugging. Malle uses clearly framed, portrait-like shots throughout to illuminate his subject, whereas Welles uses ultra-aggressive editing to obscure his themes (and the truth) wherever possible. Along the way, Welles touches on art forgery, Howard Hughes, girl-watching, his own history in show business, Picasso, Chartres Cathedral and good old fashioned magic. The confusion and doubt is the point, and it leaves you feeling smarter by first making you feel dumb. Brilliant.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Charles Laughton, The Night of the Hunter, 1955

and b) "Maybe I'm underestimating 1950s audiences, projecting a false sense of how conservative they were".

Or maybe we are projecting a false sense of how "progressive" we are. I would take Preminger's Laura over Usual Suspects or Seven any day of the week. I think that it's obvious that in terms of moral or thematic content, most of the films made in Hollywood nowadays are a lot less ambiguous and, say perhaps, intractable than they were once. That's a point I was trying to make in the post above on the film by Robert Mulligan.

Jean-Pierre Mocky, Les dragueurs, 1959

Apparently, the film that dragged the verb "draguer" into the French language (um, can you confirm that, Ben?)

I don't know anything about that, I'm not such a fount of knowledge (just kidding), but I would be surprised if the film had such an impact. But you can see there that seemingly the word had already appeared at the beginning of the decade, so I suppose it was common slang when Mocky made his film, but I may be mistaken.

I wonder how many young Frenchmen went out groping girls in shopping arcades as a result. Were guys really like this? There are so many examples in film it makes you wonder.

I think that Mocky says somewhere that the anecdote about the guy who picks up a girl at the airport really happened to him, though you don't have to take his word for it.




Blind Detective, Johnnie To, 2013

A film which can be described as whimsical, eccentric and, above all, childish, but I love it. However, you perhaps have to be receptive to the idiosyncrasies of Hong-Kong cinema in order to appreciate it, or else, the film can rapidly become very annoying. "Blind Detective offers an extreme mishmash of familiar Milkyway Image ideas delivered with in-your-face Cantonese comedy execution. The result is intriguing but divisive, entertaining but ugly, and the textbook definition of a mixed bag." says the always to-the-point Kozo on lovehkfilm. The hero is a blind detective who loves posing, good food and always smile like a maniac, and for the most part, the film revolves around little games that play upon his disability (he drives or shoots a gun, for instance). Fun stuff for those who can bear the silliness of that sort of Hong-Kong movies, and Johnnie To, whose reputation is now well-established, which is only fair, makes it better than the average one.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Matt Wuethrich wrote:
Charles Laughton, The Night of the Hunter, 1955

and b) "Maybe I'm underestimating 1950s audiences, projecting a false sense of how conservative they were".

Or maybe we are projecting a false sense of how "progressive" we are. I would take Preminger's Laura over Usual Suspects or Seven any day of the week. I think that it's obvious that in terms of moral or thematic content, most of the films made in Hollywood nowadays are a lot less ambiguous and, say perhaps, intractable than they were once. That's a point I was trying to make in the post above on the film by Robert Mulligan.

Excellent point. I wasn't necessarily suggesting that we are more progressive (though I suppose that assumption does hang around sometimes), just that we are more accepting (or maybe less critical?) of certain images and themes. So we've traded the more nuanced, less obvious thematic explorations of something like The Night of the Hunter for the more radical imagery and shallower themes of, say, Seven. The Night of the Hunter struck me as interesting because it has that ambiguity (even the widow gets more complex when I think about it, not resolving into a simple victim/heroine dichotomy) and it seems to push the imagery (a lot of which it got from an even earlier period of filmmaking, namely, the German surrealists). I'm thinking of the scenes in the nave-like interior of the widow's bedroom and the children's journey down the river.

I try to stop myself from making blanket statements about a period's art or audiences, but to deny a difference is just as precarious. Thanks for catching me on this.



Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, 1971

With the stark interiors of working class residences, intentionally stilted dialogue and general concern for those at the margins, I couldn't help but thinking of the Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki (who does indeed put this in his Criterion top ten). A really affecting experience, at once direct and yet compiled from so many personal and societal tensions. (Thanks to Jon and Dan for pointing me toward this one.)

[Dan Warburton]

Arne Mattsson, Hon dansade en sommar ("One Summer of Happiness"), 1951

[yonhosago]

La spirale (La espiral), 1976, Armand Mattelart, Jacqueline Meppiel, Valérie Mayoux

[Dan Warburton]

Shane Carruth, Primer, 2004

What a delightful headfuck this is - makes earlier what-was-real-and-what-wasn't cult films like Usual Suspects and Memento look like Winnie-the-Pooh in comparison. From what little I've managed to read so far (and the volume of literature on Primer is already quite impressive), I'm not sure Carruth really knew himself what was going on when he threw it all together (for a mere $7000?!). Did he really sit down with a piece of paper and draw out a scheme of nine superimposed timelines, like the one you can find a link to in the IMDb FAQ page? There's something exciting about coming out of a film knowing you'll have to return to it one day (eh, sorry Pauline), but I suspect that I could watch this another dozen times and only get so far. It's like Ijon Tichy's "Seventh Voyage" in Lem's Star Diaries, except that it takes place in what could be anywhere in middle America instead of on a spaceship, and the principal protagonists a couple of geeks with no idea what they're letting themselves in for. This blandness verging on banality makes the movie both intriguing and frustrating in equal measure.

[Dan Warburton]

Georges Franju, Hôtel des Invalides, 1952



Georges Franju, Le Sang des bêtes, 1949



Gaspar Noé, Carne, 1991

[Dan Warburton]

Wallace Wolodarsky, Coldblooded, 1995

Could have been much better.




Andrei Tarkovsky, Nostalghia, 1983

Can't be much better.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Excellent point. I wasn't necessarily suggesting that we are more progressive (though I suppose that assumption does hang around sometimes), just that we are more accepting (or maybe less critical?) of certain images and themes. So we've traded the more nuanced, less obvious thematic explorations of something like The Night of the Hunter for the more radical imagery and shallower themes of, say, Seven. The Night of the Hunter struck me as interesting because it has that ambiguity (even the widow gets more complex when I think about it, not resolving into a simple victim/heroine dichotomy) and it seems to push the imagery (a lot of which it got from an even earlier period of filmmaking, namely, the German surrealists). I'm thinking of the scenes in the nave-like interior of the widow's bedroom and the children's journey down the river.

In fact, it's obvious that, though I'm sometimes doubting it, spectators are somewhat more liberal today and that a society a little less at ease with itself possibly makes for films a little more ambiguous.

I try to stop myself from making blanket statements about a period's art or audiences, but to deny a difference is just as precarious. Thanks for catching me on this.

I wasn't catching you, as a matter of fact, I was merely expressing my perplexity- as to my own take on the subject.

Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Ali: Fear Eats the Soul, 1971

Read an interview recently with Todd Solondz, of whom I am a big fan, which reminded me to watch that. Ironically, here's what Solondz also says in that interview:"The idea that people would be going to a movie because of what I said about it. It makes me feel, I don’t know, arrogant, self-important, self-aggrandizing, whatever. Like I’m being used."



You're Next, Adam Wingard, 2011

Saw this at the cinema yesterday, which could be, or has been described as a sort of mumblecore slasher. Slashers I am ok with, mumblecore, not really but fortunately, there's not much of that here (save for the scarcity of means). Very impressive film which begins a little like something by LVT or Thomas Vinterberg (whom I don't like much, to be frank), with a family reunion which turns sour. It's not too subtle, but it's effective, what a frightening bunch of people they are, we think, and no blood has even been spilled yet. Effective is also the use of an excellent song by Dwight Twilley, "Looking for Magic". Check it out if you know you're partial to the genre.

[Dan Warburton]

The idea that people would be going to a movie because of what I said about it. It makes me feel, I don’t know, arrogant, self-important, self-aggrandizing, whatever. Like I’m being used.

But my answer yeah to all that use me stuff
Is I want to spread the news that if it feels this good getting used
Oh you just keep on using me until you use me up
Until you use me up

[Matt Wuethrich]

But my answer yeah to all that use me stuff
Is I want to spread the news that if it feels this good getting used
Oh you just keep on using me until you use me up
Until you use me up

(From Soul Power --- check that doc if you haven't already.)

[Dan Warburton]

Jacques Deray, Un papillon sur l'épaule, 1978

I don't know who James Travers is, but his description of this over at KG is right on the money: "This chilling, exquisitely structured Kafkaesque thriller is a far cry from Jacques Deray’s more conventional plot-driven policiers (which all too often end up pandering to the egos of a few big name actors). It is also, arguably, one of the best examples of the neo-polar (conspiracy thriller) genre, the kind of film that was very popular in the late 1970s. The film features Lino Ventura, at the time the undisputed hard man of French cinema, renowned for playing tough, taciturn heroes with more than a touch of film noir panache. Ventura’s performance is faultless; the actor conveys both the absurdity and the terror of the situation his character finds himself in, without overplaying either. In many ways, this is one of Jacques Deray’s most sophisticated and appealing films – the cobweb intrigue is masterfully woven, the detached photography evokes the sense of an unseen deadly threat throughout, and the minimalist script emphasises the feeling of isolation and helplessness of the film’s principal protagonist. It is a satisfying and compelling work, but also a profoundly disturbing one."
To which I'd add great cameos from Paul Crauchet, Jean Bouise, Nicole Garcia and Laura Betti, sharp no-nonsense script courtesy Jean-Claude Carrière and Tonino Guerra (heh, seems almost movie I watch these days has a screenplay by the mighty Guerra) and splendid location footage of Barcelona. One of the best 70s thrillers I've seen, strongly recommended to any fans of the genre.

[Dan Warburton]

Christophe Honoré, 17 fois Cécile Cassard, 2002

"Le cinéma français qui va bien m'emmerde, je ne peux pas entendre que Marius et Jeannette est le meilleur film de l'année sans rigoler, je refuse de marcher dans le coup de la chaleureuse humanité. Il n'y a pas d'humanité dans Marius et Jeannette, il n'y a que des bonnes intentions. Je ne peux pas lire que Nettoyage à sec est le film le plus sulfureux de l'année sans être terrorisé. Cinéaste subversive, Anne Fontaine ? Cinéaste superbourgeoise, oui." Well, I'll go along with that, but I found M. Honoré's debut long métrage full of good intentions too. Film school intentions, that is - quite apart from the deliberate homage to Demy's Lola (it's worth it to see Romain Duris's campy Anouk Aimée imitation), I suspect a dawn raid on Honoré's DVD collection would unearth the complete works of Fassbinder and Claire Denis, plus copies of Varda's Sans toit ni loi, Assayas's L'eau froide and Cyril Collard's Les nuits fauves. Not bad as influences go (though personally I can do without the latter) - but even so the transition from real-life drama of suicidal young widow who leaves three-year-old son with a friend and runs away to a Toulouse seemingly depopulated of women feels uncomfortable. Denis can manage perfectly well without much spoken dialogue, but it's needed here. Still, an effective if a little derivative soundtrack by Alex Beaupain (enjoyed the Lili Margot song "Pretty Killer", somewhere between Sonic Youth and Carole Laure) and hats off to Honoré for having the guts to show the scary, ugly side of Béatrice Dalle.

[Dan Warburton]

Abel Ferrara, The Funeral, 1996

Good cast, each doing what he or she does best - Walken sallow and reptilian, Penn volatile and sweaty, Gallo smooth and shifty, with solid supporting roles from the girls: Annabella Sciorra, Isabella Rossellini, Gretchen Mol - but I still can't decide if I think Ferrara is really good or not. Certainly won't forgive him for butchering Billie Holiday's "Gloomy Sunday" to fit over the opening sequence. Goes out with a bang though.

Didn't mind the Billie opening, on the contrary. Artie Fucking Bucco features prominently early, David Patrick Kelly (Luther in both The Warriors and 48 Hrs.) delivers a compelling red sermon of the era. Victor Argo (Taxi Driver's convenience store clerk) breathes menace in maybe thirty seconds of screen. More importantly this must be Chris Penn's finest hour, he's insanely good and orca fat, the way his voice cracks threatening women, testing himself, sweating. And weird within a garden variety fascist gangster movie, every alpha turns, even if involuntarily, to women for advice or consolation in dire straits, Rossellini disarms like ever. Spoiler, and this is tasteless but the finale evokes school shootings. Watched this tonight during an ice storm in the South. Walken isn't too caricature should that put you off. Pretty boring though. Great late 30s Cadillacs.

100% agreed with you, Michael. Watched this again last night, and was much more impressed. Walken cracks me up every time, but Penn is outstandingly good. Script much better than I remember, too.

[Matt Wuethrich]

Excellent point. I wasn't necessarily suggesting that we are more progressive (though I suppose that assumption does hang around sometimes), just that we are more accepting (or maybe less critical?) of certain images and themes. So we've traded the more nuanced, less obvious thematic explorations of something like The Night of the Hunter for the more radical imagery and shallower themes of, say, Seven. The Night of the Hunter struck me as interesting because it has that ambiguity (even the widow gets more complex when I think about it, not resolving into a simple victim/heroine dichotomy) and it seems to push the imagery (a lot of which it got from an even earlier period of filmmaking, namely, the German surrealists). I'm thinking of the scenes in the nave-like interior of the widow's bedroom and the children's journey down the river.

In fact, it's obvious that, though I'm sometimes doubting it, spectators are somewhat more liberal today and that a society a little less at ease with itself possibly makes for films a little more ambiguous.

I think this is a fascinating idea, that there's somehow an equilibrium between an audience and the contents/mood of films, i.e. that the more open we get, the less complex our films get. I wonder if this is why all that fragmented narrative (e.g. Pulp Fiction, Memento) material has been so hot. The films have a surface complexity but the moral/message behind them is either quaint or non-existent.

I try to stop myself from making blanket statements about a period's art or audiences, but to deny a difference is just as precarious. Thanks for catching me on this.

I wasn't catching you, as a matter of fact, I was merely expressing my perplexity- as to my own take on the subject.

Don't worry, I don't feel like a criminal . The expression was maybe just another, roundabout way of saying thanks for a good point to think on.