Recently Watched Films 2019

[Dan Warburton]

Albert Finney, Charlie Bubbles, 1968

It all starts out a bit daft, with Finney and Colin Blakely in a food fight in a posh London club before going out and getting royally pissed in several dreary proletarian hostelries, but it doesn't take long for that Magic Christian whimsy to dissolve into a mildly disturbing Antonionian ennui. Finney's character is a working class lad from Salford (where both Finney himself and scriptwriter Shelagh "Taste of Honey" Delaney hailed from) who's made it big as a writer and moved to London where he drives around aimlessly in a Rolls Royce Phantom and watches his snooty in-house servants on a system of closed circuit TV installed in his three-storey townhouse. The filming of the array of CCTV screens (Guy Ritchie nicked the idea later for the title sequence in Snatch) is a real tour de force, one of the great shots of cinema, and must have been a bitch for Finney to set up: several scenes all taking place in real time in different rooms and relayed by a dozen cameras to a master control room which itself is filmed - and when Finney himself bursts into the room you realise it was all one take! Such cinematic brilliance aside (though it's worth mentioning the surreal arrival in the wastes of Salford and some authentic footage of 1968 Old Trafford), the film becomes genuinely engrossing: Finney and his live-in assistant / secretary (Liza Minnelli, whose screen debut features what must be the least arousing love scene in film history) drive up north to see his ex-wife Lottie - played to perfection by Samuel Beckett's adored Billie Whitelaw - and take his young son to see Man United play Chelsea. And then - no, shan't say any more. Just suffice it to wonder how the film would have done at the 1968 Cannes Festival (for which it had been entered) if said festival hadn't been cancelled due to the événements in Paris. Recommended! Some video clips here http://www.british60scinema.net/unsung- ... e-bubbles/ and background info here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Bubbles A spanking 1080rip over at KG if you want to help me with my ratio

[Dan Warburton]

Antonio Bido, Il gatto dagli occhi di giada ("Watch Me When I Kill"), 1977

It's a giallo in that it's an amateur sleuth who finds out what's going on, and because there's a pretty girl, some stylish bloody killings and plenty of red herrings, but in fact there is a straightforward revenge logic to the story, and the ends are neatly if a little abruptly tied up at the end. Compelling enough on a first viewing, but not flashy or trashy enough to warrant a repeat viewing, I fear.. And before you jump to conclusions seeing Franco Citti in the cast, no, he's not the baddie this time

[henriq]

François Truffaut, Les Deux Anglaises et le Continent, 1971

Also shot in the Cotentin peninsula substituting for Wales. Based on another novel by Henri-Pierre Roché, author of Jules et Jim. As I wrote here before years ago, it's a similar love triangle story, except this time it's two girls and a guy (the "Continent"). I'd forgotten how good this was, really much better than J&J imo. Jean-Pierre Léaud, who was described by Truffaut somewhere as the best actor of his generation (and I don't think FT had his tongue in his cheek), is absolutely terrific here - along with La maman et la putain this must be his greatest performance, and Yann Dedet's masterly editing catches every sideways glance and twitch of the lips. It's as if you can see him thinking, wonderful. Goes without saying that any film shot by the mighty Nestor Almendros is a thing of beauty. But let's hear it too for the two British actresses, Kika Markham and Stacy Tendeter, who deliver beautifully nuanced performances. The closest Truffaut ever got to Rohmer. Probably my favourite Truffaut, come to think of it. Have you seen this one, Henrik mon ami?

Not as of yet, probably about as wary of Truffaut as you are. But yes, as you said, Almendros, Léaud, sold! Will have a look.

[henriq]

Albert Finney, Charlie Bubbles, 1968

It all starts out a bit daft, with Finney and Colin Blakely in a food fight in a posh London club before going out and getting royally pissed in several dreary proletarian hostelries, but it doesn't take long for that Magic Christian whimsy to dissolve into a mildly disturbing Antonionian ennui. Finney's character is a working class lad from Salford (where both Finney himself and scriptwriter Shelagh "Taste of Honey" Delaney hailed from) who's made it big as a writer and moved to London where he drives around aimlessly in a Rolls Royce Phantom and watches his snooty in-house servants on a system of closed circuit TV installed in his three-storey townhouse. The filming of the array of CCTV screens (Guy Ritchie nicked the idea later for the title sequence in Snatch) is a real tour de force, one of the great shots of cinema, and must have been a bitch for Finney to set up: several scenes all taking place in real time in different rooms and relayed by a dozen cameras to a master control room which itself is filmed - and when Finney himself bursts into the room you realise it was all one take! Such cinematic brilliance aside (though it's worth mentioning the surreal arrival in the wastes of Salford and some authentic footage of 1968 Old Trafford), the film becomes genuinely engrossing: Finney and his live-in assistant / secretary (Liza Minnelli, whose screen debut features what must be the least arousing love scene in film history) drive up north to see his ex-wife Lottie - played to perfection by Samuel Beckett's adored Billie Whitelaw - and take his young son to see Man United play Chelsea. And then - no, shan't say any more. Just suffice it to wonder how the film would have done at the 1968 Cannes Festival (for which it had been entered) if said festival hadn't been cancelled due to the événements in Paris. Recommended! Some video clips here http://www.british60scinema.net/unsung- ... e-bubbles/ and background info here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Bubbles A spanking 1080rip over at KG if you want to help me with my ratio

Always happy to help! DLing now.

[henriq]

Roman Polanski - Frantic (1988)

I have always had a problem with Polanski, with his persona that seems petty, hateful, misogynist. The Sharon Tate murder might have a lot to do with a surly bleakness on view, as would his family’s plight at the hand of the nazis, but no matter, it still feels mannered and willed in a way, the director basking in it in a way that don’t chime with me. That said, at times the director really delivers. Chinatown is great; Bitter Moon is awesome, a total classic (before I write something full length on that – not that I won’t at some point – check JR: https://www.jonathanrosenbaum.net/1994/04/sex-games/, a text reprinted in Movies As Politics). And Frantic, the present one. A Harrison Ford vehicle should have me running in the other direction, but this is magnificent in it’s way. Ford playing a surgeon on a trip to Paris, where wife gets kidnapped and held for ransom over a missing suitcase with nuclear contraband. The doctor then joining up with Emmanuelle Seigner’s streetwise courier to retrieve valise and wife. As a frequent visitor to Paris, it is just astounding how the city is rendered here by Polanski and DP Witold Sobocinski. The entire landscape, be it café, street, courtyard, rooftop, hotel lobby, feels poisonous, charged with malaise and decay. Ian Penman somewhere points out that Polanski’s regular scriptwriter, Gérard Brach, is an agoraphobic, and you can quite believe it. Interiors feel ugly, cramped, suffocating, even in all their glitz and sophistication (a kick ass dance scene in a neon charged night club here attests to this - for no further proof needed, check the cruise ship in Bitter Moon); exteriors are flat, noisy, pressed up against the camera. All a question of an overall artistic idea, encompassing production design, editing, lighting, writing – a reason Polanski at times remind me of Haneke. Maybe that’s the reason too why Ford works here. Either he received some much needed direction, or his constipated mannerisms are subjugated to the pressures of the composition, the volume turned down a bit, but for once he’s ok. Seigner is not much of an actress, but her character, and the writing, is interesting. The film carries traces of both Boorman’s Point Blank (Ford’s Richard Walker is even called Walker by his wife) and Aldrich’s Kiss Me Deadly (the nuclear component hunted down all over Paris), Seigner playing a weird admixture of Angie Dickinson in the former and Gaby Rodgers’ femme fatale in the latter. A bit of a revelation, actually. Chouette!

[walto]

I still say Polanski's best movie is The Tenant.

[Dan Warburton]

I have always had a problem with Polanski, with his persona that seems petty, hateful, misogynist. The Sharon Tate murder might have a lot to do with a surly bleakness on view, as would his family’s plight at the hand of the nazis, but no matter

I try to separate the art from the artist - if I didn't Céline and Wagner would go straight in the bin. To name but two. Yes, I snatched this one too, looking forward to seeing it again soon: I remember quite enjoying it. Meanwhile here's one you probably know well, Henrik



Bertrand Blier, Les valseuses, 1974

I just found out (the horror, the horror..) that John Turturro is remaking this as his Jesus Quintana character from The Big Lebowski. Holy shit Batman! Frankly, I can't imagine anyone remaking Les valseuses in these times of political correctness - Depardieu and Dewaere's treatment of women make Harvey Weinstein's supposed antics pale into insignificance. And, though I'm no fan of today's airbrushed tweetytwat inquisition, I still find Blier's film distinctly disturbing. Well it was supposed to be: Blier's speciality is pissing people off (Michel Bouquet arrives in Les Côtelettes saying "je suis venu pour vous faire chier.." Or is it "vous emmerder"?) - and it's amusing to read the misguided and often quite potty reactions of IMDb punters trying to go through hoops to let him off the hook - or rather themselves for liking it. Things like, "well, in fact they were doing the women a service.." (Presumably written by a man - ask him what he'd think if two voyous followed his wife home and pinched her ass along the way. Or threw her in a canal..) One of the film's strengths is indeed that we do end up siding with Jean-Claude and Pierrot, despite their atrocious physical and verbal abuse - the chirpy Stéphane Grappelli soundtrack helps. But then I feel pretty uncomfortable about doing so. Hmm. Did I write that about this one before? Can't see anything in the Search Engine. Oh, another thing: IMDb notes that the film lasts 150 minutes, whereas my cut runs to 117. Is there an Extended Cut somewhere (God knows what other atrocities Blier might have excised..)? And is that Citröen DS at the end the one they sabotaged at the beginning of the film - imagine it's supposed to be though I noticed it has a different registration plate from the one they "borrowed" earlier.. Guess the owners could have changed the plates, though it's not obligatory here in France and I've never known anyone to do it. Just a trivia thought. Enjoy while you can, anyway - in a few years' time this will probably be banned and burnt. I wonder what fate awaits the Turturro adventure..

[henriq]

I try to separate the art from the artist - if I didn't Céline and Wagner would go straight in the bin. To name but two.

Oh quite, always the right way to go. My issue with Polanski is you can't really look away from the hateful treatment of Deneuve in Repulsion, or Dorleac in Cul de sac, it's right in front of you. He seems to enjoy it. Again, had he been crap I wouldn't bother (morally dubious art that is awful, say Boyd Rice, bore me more than incite to troll, tweet or blog Top Ten Reasons This Suck And You're An Idiot For Liking It), but he isn't, his interiors are masterful, the clammy unease of everything in his films.

Bertrand Blier, Les valseuses, 1974

I just found out (the horror, the horror..) that John Turturro is remaking this as his Jesus Quintana character from The Big Lebowski. Holy shit Batman!

Aie aie aie, the horror! And there's a new mini series of Catch-22 (caught the Nichols last night, great one!) with eternally smug George fucking Clooney (the "new Cary Grant," kiss my...) Can't be good. Seems that everything Hollywood shits out these days, if it isn't Marvel or crap like Dunkirk, are remakes. How about some new ideas in, folks?

Frankly, I can't imagine anyone remaking Les valseuses in these times of political correctness - Depardieu and Dewaere's treatment of women make Harvey Weinstein's supposed antics pale into insignificance. And, though I'm no fan of today's airbrushed tweetytwat inquisition, I still find Blier's film distinctly disturbing.

It is actually possible to be both, no fan of inane tweeting nor of locker room toxicity. We share an outlook there, I think.

Well it was supposed to be: Blier's speciality is pissing people off (Michel Bouquet arrives in Les Côtelettes saying "je suis venu pour vous faire chier.." Or is it "vous emmerder"?) - and it's amusing to read the misguided and often quite potty reactions of IMDb punters trying to go through hoops to let him off the hook - or rather themselves for liking it. Things like, "well, in fact they were doing the women a service.." (Presumably written by a man - ask him what he'd think if two voyous followed his wife home and pinched her ass along the way. Or threw her in a canal..) One of the film's strengths is indeed that we do end up siding with Jean-Claude and Pierrot, despite their atrocious physical and verbal abuse - the chirpy Stéphane Grappelli soundtrack helps. But then I feel pretty uncomfortable about doing so. Hmm.

Faut avoue that I haven't seen Les Valseuses yet, it's sitting on a hard drive. Yes, always amusing with people tying themselves in knots trying to like something in print. Like Mark Fisher with DePalma: no amount of theorising, Lacan/Zizek/libidinal/cannibal/whatever and ever and ever, is going to convince me that the man's movies aren't awful. Except Scarface (bone of contention there, eh Dan )

Did I write that about this one before? Can't see anything in the Search Engine.

I think you wrote about another Blier, Les Cotelettes maybe. Must check the man out myself now.

[walto]

FWIW, the attitude one takes toward a living artist like Polansky can be easily and sensibly distinguished from the attitude one takes toward Wagner, if one wishes to do so. Presumably, neither Wagner nor his estate is benefiting from current performances of the Ring cycle. People can reasonably take a different tack with Woody Allen.

[Piano Mouth]

Oh dear, I still have to finish Knife in the Water...

[walto]

Oh dear, I still have to finish Knife in the Water...

Mind you, I'm not saying people SHOULD take a different position wrt Polansky than wrt Wagner, only that they COULD without contradiction. I have no idea what one ought to do. You're on your own.

[henriq]

FWIW, the attitude one takes toward a living artist like Polansky can be easily and sensibly distinguished from the attitude one takes toward Wagner, if one wishes to do so. Presumably, neither Wagner nor his estate is benefiting from current performances of the Ring cycle. People can reasonably take a different tack with Woody Allen.

A very good point. I must say, I hadn't thought of that. I should reiterate that my ambivalence towards Polanski is more to do with what oozes in his films than what he did outside of them. Though that isn't exactly pleasant either.

[walto]

I love two or three of his movies myself.

[Dan Warburton]

Faut avouer that I haven't seen Les Valseuses yet, it's sitting on a hard drive.

Look forward to your thoughts when you do.

DePalma: no amount of theorising, Lacan/Zizek/libidinal/cannibal/whatever and ever and ever, is going to convince me that the man's movies aren't awful. Except Scarface (bone of contention there, eh Dan )

Depends I suppose on how much you like Hitchcock. De Palma certainly does. My problem with Scarface isn't the director as much as the scriptwriter.

Oh dear, I still have to finish Knife in the Water...

You do indeed

Presumably, neither Wagner nor his estate is benefiting from current performances of the Ring cycle. People can reasonably take a different tack with Woody Allen.

Sorry, I don't see what royalty payments have to do with it. Whatever it is. What were we discussing? Nor do I think there's much of a comparison to be made between Wagner / Céline vs Polanski / Allen.

[henriq]

Faut avouer that I haven't seen Les Valseuses yet, it's sitting on a hard drive.

Avouer, I stand corrected.

DePalma: no amount of theorising, Lacan/Zizek/libidinal/cannibal/whatever and ever and ever, is going to convince me that the man's movies aren't awful. Except Scarface (bone of contention there, eh Dan )

Depends I suppose on how much you like Hitchcock. De Palma certainly does. My problem with Scarface isn't the director as much as the scriptwriter.

Yes, Stone is a dick, agreed. Though I like Scarface. You could read Penman on both DePalma and Tarantino for some superb vitriol.

[Dan Warburton]

You could read Penman on both DePalma and Tarantino for some superb vitriol.

Got a link?

[henriq]

You could read Penman on both DePalma and Tarantino for some superb vitriol.

Got a link?

Well, this on Scarface:
https://apawboy.blogspot.com/search?q=scarface
and a cache on De Palma:
https://apawboy.blogspot.com/search?q=de+palma

Otherwise, a savaging of The Untouchables reprinted in Vital Signs: "But he so foregrounds the self-consciousness of manipulation that I never find my belief suspended in the first place, so I'm not drawn in, not manipulated, I find it too crude; I find myself reacting like Betsy when Travis in Taxi Driver takes her to a first-date porno show - 'That's about as exciting to me as saying "Let's fuck".' I want to leave De Palma's theatre too, I'm exasperated by how crude his seduction is; his movies are so cheap he implies I'm a pushover." (p. 275), and a thorough skewering of Tarantino in the same volume. This slam too brilliant not to quote: "And see, here's the rub: if those Seventies films were about alienation - an entire nation now alien to itself after Watergate and Vietnam - and about a nation of men now strangers to a formerly sure certain legacy of US Frontier manliness and masculinity - then QT is somewhere else altogether: his is a cinema of pretend togetherness. These supposedly so-so-so-hep flashily sick fluently slick sharkskin-ballet no-ethics no-feelings hardboiled reel-world spiels are actually groovy little group therapy feel-good sessions for an audience cut off from its own emotions but that still wants (needs?) to congratulate itself on having one basic response left: laughing in rhythm. An audience that sees the - their, any - cultural past as a sweet shop to be picked and mixed - and so on and so forth until we all complacently slum together in the strangely one-dimensional glow cast by these movies because all they ultimately do is they tell us so sweetly surely savagely how People Like Us, we dig the same things." (p. 345)

Frustrating as IP often is as music critic, when it comes to movies he is almost always brilliant. He's coming out with a new book this fall, did you see? The first since Vital Signs.

[Lao Tsu Ben]

Bertrand Blier, Les valseuses, 1974
One of the film's strengths is indeed that we do end up siding with Jean-Claude and Pierrot, despite their atrocious physical and verbal abuse - the chirpy Stéphane Grappelli soundtrack helps. But then I feel pretty uncomfortable about doing so. Hmm.

Watched the film only once when I was a teenager and didn't like it at all precisely because of that. The film has a reputation of being cool, which nonplusses me, since I find it vulgar and sillily provocative in its "anarchiste de droite" way that is typically French, or "franchouillarde". The general leniency towards the film and its characters, I've always found rather disquieting, not that I'm passing judgment on you Dan .



Neil Jordan, Greta, 2018

Whenever Neil Jordan has a new film out, I'm curious, in spite of the fact that I don't hold any of his films as a masterpiece. The last one is a pleasant one. Funny how Armond White is, not that forcefully, reading a right-wing or reactionary subtext into it, Huppert serving as an allegory for decadent Europe, while Chloé Moretz is supposed to embody the millenial American whom circumstances obliged to do away with her fascination with all things European or chic (and, expectably, in Armond's analysis, socialism). The far-fetched allegory is made even funnier by the fact that Armond extolls European or foreign cinema whenever he deems it propitious to trash on movies made at home.
Greta is a good enough psychological thriller and I'm sure plenty is to be made of its almost exclusively female cast in terms of analysis, perhaps in the way of what Aldrich used to do (haven't seen his run of films which deal essentially with female protagonists). Isabelle Huppert gets to ham it up in a very amusing way and I'm no fan of her - or her doing that, which is most of the time.

[walto]

Nor do I think there's much of a comparison to be made between Wagner / Céline vs Polanski / Allen.

Hah. You're the one who first made that comparison. I was just responding!

Also, I don't see what's confusing about the connection between somebody you take to be evil and giving him or her money. It's pretty obvious. In the case of Wagner, e.g., even if you think he was a bad bloke, neither he nor his estate benefits from your current enjoyment of his work. That would not be the case with Polansky or Allen. What's the difficulty?

[Dan Warburton]

Odile Etaix, Pierre Etaix un destin animé, 2011

Wonderful little (one hour) documentary on the late great Etaix - really well done, will make you want to sit down and watch all his films again. Never knew it was Etaix who designed the famous house in Tati's Mon Oncle. Great draughtsman and magician too. Check him out (he's Laurel above btw.. Hardy is Jean-Claude Carrière)!