Recently Watched Films 2019

[Dan Warburton]

Nicolas Roeg, Track 29, 1988

As is often the case, Rosenbaum nails it - and says it better than I can. https://www.jonathanrosenbaum.net/2018/ ... americans/
I can't for the life of me figure out why some folks think this is a very complex or rich film, because it's abundantly clear even on a first viewing that, despite Roeg's virtuoso editing, Martin (Gary Oldman, chewing scenery with Sid Vicious abandon), is just a figment of Theresa Russell's imagination. I'm normally a big fan of Ms Russell (Mrs Roeg btw), but her Southern accent is simply fucking awful. Why does she have to feign one in the first place? Dennis Potter set his screenplay in Texas, but the film was shot in North Carolina, after all. Maybe Roeg wanted to make some connection with Baby Doll or Gone With The Wind - the nods to Cape Fear are, after all, clear? Whatever, it's an interesting mess - even a second division Roeg is better than most folks' best efforts.

[henriq]

(Gary Oldman, chewing scenery with Sid Vicious abandon)

Yes, Mr Oldman is a little much, as he was in The Firm - good or great films both, but still. Still curious how this stacks up next to Schmoedipus, must finally get around to watching that.

[Dan Warburton]

(Gary Oldman, chewing scenery with Sid Vicious abandon)

Yes, Mr Oldman is a little much, as he was in The Firm - good or great films both, but still. Still curious how this stacks up next to Schmoedipus, must finally get around to watching that.

It's a bit like comparing apples and oranges, but I think The Firm is much better, fwiw. (How dare we compare Alan Clarke and Nic Roeg? ha!) Let me know how you get on with Schmoedipus (for others maybe confused, same screenwriter - Dennis Potter - as the Roeg, but not Gary Oldman.. he was 16 when Schmoedipus was broadcast. Maybe he saw it, but he was busy at the time fucking up school in Deptford.

[Dan Warburton]

Alain Jessua, Frankenstein 90, 1984

Alas, like the famous monster, Jessua's film is cobbled together from two different bodies of Frankensteinlore: one the original (and great) Mary Shelley novel, the other the James Whale classic with Karloff (and later cinema incarnations). Obviously, both the director and his screenwriter Paul Gégauff - of Chabrol fame - like both in equal measure, but they end up producing a film that is never quite funny enough but not at all serious either, especially the deeply stupid ending, which I won't tell you about because it might put you off, and you should give this a look if it comes your way one day (apparently, Bong Joon-Ho loves it.. if that means anything to you). Jean Rochefort as Frankenstein and Eddy Mitchell as Frank (the monster) are both well-cast, but their girlfriends are appalling. As actresses, I mean: Herma Vos was obviously only cast for her legs, while Fiona Gélin, with a dad like hers, should know better. The Armando Trovaioli soundtrack is deliciously tacky and very often highly inappropriate, which I suspect was deliberate. Indeed, you could make a case for putting your Mattin Songbooks Party Hat on saying "it was meant to be bad".. but, well, I'm not so sure.

[Dan Warburton]

Masaki Kobayashi, The Fossil, 1974

One of Takemitsu's more conservative soundtracks graces this 3h21 tale of a widower (Japanese) businessman who, on a trip to Europe, discovers he's got about a year to live. Comparisons with Ikiru may spring to mind, but forget that: our man doesn't get to nod off on a swing in a playground (I won't spoil the ending). But as a meditation on that eternal question "do you live to work or work to live?" (no problem answering that one myself, but never mind) it's a touching tale. Worth it for the footage of Paris and Vézelay (and Chartres too, briefly!) in the late autumn, but it slows rather alarmingly once it gets back to Japan.

[Dan Warburton]

Peter Weir, The Cars That Ate Paris, 1974

Neither Paris, France nor Paris, Texas, but the "rural Australian town of Paris [that] arranges fatal accidents to visitors driving through. Townspeople collect items from the luggage of the deceased passengers whilst survivors are taken to the local hospital where they are given lobotomies with power tools and kept as 'veggies' for medical experiments by the earnest town surgeon. The young men of the town salvage and modify the wrecked vehicles into a variety of strange-looking cars designed for destruction." (Wiki) Wonderfully weird, thoroughly enjoyable - cool review here https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/a ... dal-action

[Dan Warburton]

Barbet Schroeder, The Venerable W., 2017

Holy shit! There's nobody like Schroeder for making documentaries on controversial figures - Amin, Vergès, and now this character, Ashin Wirathu, whose anti-Muslim rhetoric makes Tommy Robinson look like Tony Robinson. How does Barbet do it? Just let the cameras roll and let the poison flood out - not as easy as it sounds. And sometimes what is not said - what the fuck has Aung San Suu Kyi been doing about the Rohinga ethnic cleansing, eh? - screams as loud and as raw as the horrendously tacky techno music on W's infowar hand-burned DVDs. Yikes.

[Dan Warburton]

Alan Rudolph, Welcome to L.A., 1976

Rudolph worked as assistant director on Altman's Long Goodbye and Nashville, and Altman produced this, his protégé's debut feature, and his influence is easy to detect, both in terms of fluid cinematography and hydra-headed narrative. Rudolph also imported Richard Baskin from Nashville to provide the music here (and appear himself as the pop star Eric Wood who sings it), which nearly prompted me to abandon ship on several occasions: that oh-I'm-so-fucking-sincere, creaky, faux-intimate delivery really rubs me up the wrong way, sorry. The other major turnoff - though not, apparently for many of the women in the movie, who fall for him without difficulty - is Keith Carradine's stoopid lickle beard. Here he plays a strangely désinvolte pop music composer who seems to consume about six litres of Southern Comfort a day (there's always a pint bottle in his hand) and swans around L.A. resolutely not taking over his dad's family business. It's a story of "the lives and romantic entanglements of a group of young adults who have achieved 'overnight' success in Los Angeles" sez IMDb (not so sure about that "overnight" though - Harvey Keitel's been working his way up the corporate ladder for years), but I don't get the impression the director really cares for any of them (I don't, anyway), with the possible exception of Geraldine "I'm going to die soon" Chaplin.

[henriq]

Alan Rudolph, Welcome to L.A., 1976

Rudolph worked as assistant director on Altman's Long Goodbye and Nashville, and Altman produced this, his protégé's debut feature, and his influence is easy to detect, both in terms of fluid cinematography and hydra-headed narrative. Rudolph also imported Richard Baskin from Nashville to provide the music here (and appear himself as the pop star Eric Wood who sings it), which nearly prompted me to abandon ship on several occasions: that oh-I'm-so-fucking-sincere, creaky, faux-intimate delivery really rubs me up the wrong way, sorry. The other major turnoff - though not, apparently for many of the women in the movie, who fall for him without difficulty - is Keith Carradine's stoopid lickle beard. Here he plays a strangely désinvolte pop music composer who seems to consume about six litres of Southern Comfort a day (there's always a pint bottle in his hand) and swans around L.A. resolutely not taking over his dad's family business. It's a story of "the lives and romantic entanglements of a group of young adults who have achieved 'overnight' success in Los Angeles" sez IMDb (not so sure about that "overnight" though - Harvey Keitel's been working his way up the corporate ladder for years), but I don't get the impression the director really cares for any of them (I don't, anyway), with the possible exception of Geraldine "I'm going to die soon" Chaplin.

You're a hard man to please re Rudolph, my friend I actually like, a lot even, Richard Baskin's performance in this. The key to enjoying all of it, I think.

[henriq]

(Gary Oldman, chewing scenery with Sid Vicious abandon)

Yes, Mr Oldman is a little much, as he was in The Firm - good or great films both, but still. Still curious how this stacks up next to Schmoedipus, must finally get around to watching that.

It's a bit like comparing apples and oranges, but I think The Firm is much better, fwiw. (How dare we compare Alan Clarke and Nic Roeg? ha!) Let me know how you get on with Schmoedipus (for others maybe confused, same screenwriter - Dennis Potter - as the Roeg, but not Gary Oldman.. he was 16 when Schmoedipus was broadcast. Maybe he saw it, but he was busy at the time fucking up school in Deptford.

Oh, agreed, completely. Even more to the point re Track 29, that is a rework of Schmoedipus, isn't it?

[henriq]

even a second division Roeg is better than most folks' best efforts.

Well if you think so, steer clear of the awful (awful doesn't begin to cover it, really) Full Body Massage. One of the worst things I've ever seen. Might take another look, I'm slightly less militant these days, but my hopes are low to nonexistent.

[Dan Warburton]

You're a hard man to please re Rudolph, my friend

I guess I am. I want to like him more than I do. I do like The Moderns, but maybe that's the European aspect. Put it down to an increasing antipathy towards Americans on my part, sorry.

Track 29[/i], that is a rework of Schmoedipus, isn't it?

Is it? I wouldn't know, haven't swotted up on my Potter as well as you.

steer clear of the awful (awful doesn't begin to cover it, really) Full Body Massage. One of the worst things I've ever seen

Ha, yes. I withdraw the earlier remark.



Jean-Luc Godard, For Ever Mozart, 1996

Godard later said he didn't care much for this one, describing it as "too theoretical". Christ, if JLG says that, you know you're in for a challenge. But in point of fact, this tale of a theatre director determined to stage a Musset comedy in war-torn Sarajevo (inspired by an article in Le Monde by Philippe Sollers taking Susan Sontag to task for staging Godot there, saying the Bosnians were miserable enough as it was and would appreciate Marivaux more) isn't as impenetrable as you might think. If your French is up to it, here's a link to a blogpage featuring links to an excellent 1996 TV debate between JLG, Sollers, Lyotard and other maître-penseurs. Whatever happened to television? http://www.pileface.com/sollers/spip.php?article1130

[Dan Warburton]

Roman Polanski, The Ninth Gate, 1999

Well you know I'd never have bought it, or even snatched it if hadn't been free. And I regret doing that too, but not as much as I regret watching the whole bloody thing last night. What a mess. A silly story to start with - most satanic cult movies are - but not only is it unimaginatively told (the film's at least half an hour too long, and doesn't have any sense of forward motion), it's badly acted. By everybody, but especially Mrs Polanski (Emmanuelle Seigner). Goodness knows how Sharon Tate would have ended up if she'd survived.

[henriq]

Roman Polanski, The Ninth Gate, 1999

Well you know I'd never have bought it, or even snatched it if hadn't been free. And I regret doing that too, but not as much as I regret watching the whole bloody thing last night. What a mess. A silly story to start with - most satanic cult movies are - but not only is it unimaginatively told (the film's at least half an hour too long, and doesn't have any sense of forward motion), it's badly acted. By everybody, but especially Mrs Polanski (Emmanuelle Seigner). Goodness knows how Sharon Tate would have ended up if she'd survived.

Oh, that's so bad I didn't even snatch it. There are limits...

[Dan Warburton]

Rainer Sarnet, November, 2017

https://screenanarchy.com/2017/07/fanta ... ember.html
https://louderthanwar.com/november-film-review/
To quote from the latter, courtesy Jamie Havlin: "These mechanical creatures are known as kratts, and I initially guessed they must be a figment of the imagination of Andrus Kivirähk, adapted from his novel Rehepapp ("November"). After a little research, though, I learned they were commonplace in Estonian folklore. Kratts can come in a variety of shapes and sizes. Once constructed, they are magically animated into life by the Devil with the aid of three little drops of human blood. In exchange for this supernaturally created servant, the soul of its owner will belong to the Devil once they die. [..] November is beyond batshit crazy. Midway between Valerie and Her Week of Wonders and an animation by Czech surrealist Jan Švankmajer; there’s love spells, a day of the dead, human sized chickens, werewolves, sleepwalking, a talking pig and plague – although this isn’t that great a problem if you put your pants over your head: ‘The plague will think we have two arses and won’t dare to touch us.’"
Tarkovksy, Tarr, Bartas and Pasolini - with a dash of Tim Burton. Delicious!

[Dan Warburton]

Bong Joon-ho, Snowpiercer, 2013

The Guardian summed it up as follows: "The base material is a French graphic novel called Le Transperceneige; the director and co-writer is Bong Joon-ho, best known for the South Korean monster movie The Host; the cast is a multi-ethnic collection including Chris "Captain America" Evans, Korean star Song Kang-ho, Academy award-winner Octavia Spencer and the UK's own Tilda Swinton, John Hurt and Jamie Bell. The premise is indeed daft: after a 'second ice age', all human survivors have retreated from the frozen planet inside an enormous train, which is divided on strict class principles. We start off right at the back, among the unwashed proletariat, where revolution is being fomented by Curtis Everett (Evans) and his loyal sidekick Edgar (Bell); their immediate target is to get through the gates to the next set of carriages, which are protected by brutal, gun-wielding guards."
So much for all that - the review's second paragraph says something about Terry Gilliam doing Samuel Beckett, but that's doing a gross disservice to both, imo. I have nothing against impressive special effects, but that seems to be all there is to enthuse about here. The story, such as it is, train as microcosm of planet, rich folks up front poor buggers at the rear (they used to call it "steerage" on the Titanic), poor folks pissed off because they have to eat gooey protein bars (wait till you see what goes into 'em) while rich folks get steak (I'm sure the Soylent Green references are deliberate), poor folks decide to rebel and get rid of the Great Engineer (apologies to Oswald Chambers) is pretty corny. To do what when they get there? Outside the train it's minus godknowshowmany degrees - though polar bears seem to have survived and now climb mountains, which must be one of the silliest endings to a film I've ever seen - it's not like they can escape into another green world like THX 1138. Anyway, quite apart from that, the acting is bloody awful, and not only because the script is: Ed Harris and John Hurt should have known better. As for Tilda Swinton's broad Yorskhire accent and false teeth, well, I can only assume she did it for the money (she was even less plausible in Okja - at least Jarmusch lets her make a proper fool of herself). If Derek Jarman hadn't died, this would have killed him.

[Dan Warburton]

And now for something completely different -



Eugène Green, Le fils de Joseph, 2016

Only in Eugène Green films do teenage boys have enormous reproductions of Caravaggio's Sacrifice of Isaac on their bedroom walls, and stand visibly moved at the performance of baroque opera in the Eglise Saint Roch. I'll be frank, I just love Green's films, with their 17th-century pronunciation, Bressonian flatness and quirky humour, and this tale of a boy who finds out that his father (who disowned him before he was born) is a hotshot philanderer and publisher (Mathieu Amalric, a great performance) and who ends up befriending his uncle almost by chance, is thoroughly engrossing. As the world slumps into populist racist stupidity before overheating and melting altogether, it's comforting to know that there are still decent civilised human beings like Green around. "The beautiful word begets the beautiful deed" (Thomas Mann) indeed. Though maybe you folks prefer Snowpiercer..

[henriq]

"The beautiful word begets the beautiful deed" (Thomas Mann) indeed. Though maybe you folks prefer Snowpiercer..

Or both, possibly. No sides necessary. I might even think I like Snowpiercer, or more to the point, I like Song Kang-hoo. Have yet to see any Green, unfortunately. What do you say, I'll watch the latest Bong and write something so you don't have to?

[Dan Warburton]

Dagur Kári, Virgin Mountain, 2015

Fúsi (Gunnar Jónsson) is 40-something, still living at home with mum, still playing with toy soldiers (his passion, which he shares with a neighbour, is to reconstruct the Battle of El Alamein), seriously overweight and, yes, a virgin, mercilessly bullied by his workmates - he works as a baggage handler at Keflavik airport. When his mother's boyfriend signs him up for a class in line dancing, and gives him a Stetson to boot, he meets Sjöfn (Ilmur Kristjánsdóttir), who's got her own fair share of personality problems. He's a good-natured soul, willingly giving of his time and (considerable) DIY know-how, but it's up to you to discover whether he gets anything back in return. After the equally touching Noi The Albino, another sensitive study from Kári of one of life's outsiders - though I suspect there are more Fúsis and Sjöfns out there than we'd all care to acknowledge.

[Dan Warburton]

Kon Ichikawa, Alone Across the Pacific, 1963

Based on the true story of Kenichi Horie's solo crossing of the Pacific (a feat he went on to repeat twice, along with other sailing exploitshttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenichi_Horie), it's not a great film by Ichikawa's standards but will certainly have you on the edge of your seat at times wondering how anyone could be so daft. How he made it across the ocean in that piddling little boat is anyone's guess. The Takemitsu soundtrack is excellent, of course, but the problem I have is that when it's all over (Horie was arrested upon arrival because he didn't have a passport!) we see him take a bath and then fall asleep on a bed and.. well, that's it. Sure, it was all about the trip and nothing else, but I get the sense Ichikawa just lost interest in his hero as soon as he stepped back on dry land.