Bring a little Bergman home for Christmas

image from criterion.com

I’m surprised I’ve successfully avoided talking at length about any films from my favorite director in this blog for so long. Truth be told, the average moviegoer may find the films of Swedish director, Ingmar Bergman a little inaccessible. I would argue that many of Bergman’s films’ style has been phased out over the years and, to modern audiences, may be a bit difficult to understand or even, to hold their interests. However, Bergman’s films are incredibly important to consider when developing a portrait of cinema since its creation. From his first masterpiece “The Seventh Seal,” made in 1957, to the director’s swan song, 1982′s “Fanny and Alexander,” Bergman has one of the most influential canons of cinematic work since the creation of the motion picture camera.

Known for his minimalistic approach and existential themes, Bergman’s “Fanny and Alexander” is probably one of the director’s most unusual films in terms of its presentation and its  similarity to Bergman’s previous work. For one thing, it’s extremely lush with color and movement. Originally a TV miniseries in Sweden, the film was cut down to roughly three hours for the theatrical version. Both are superbly shot, thanks to Sven Nykvist, Bergman’s almost personal cinematographer. Both versions are a treat both visually and intellectually, as there are numerous ins and outs to so many of the characters involved in the main drama. Oh, and did I mention that it’s my favorite film?

The plot of the movie follows young Alexander and Fanny Ekdahl, children of a happily married, well-to-do couple in early 20th century Sweden. The film begins with an incredible, theatrical scene as the family celebrates Christmas together with their extended family. However, when tragedy strikes the family, the children are thrust into a world that is the antithesis of their old life and must come to terms with what has happened.

I’m hesitant to recommend “Fanny and Alexander” as a first stop for Bergman… while it’s arguably one of his most accessible films in terms of its structure and presentation, its length and definite dissimilarity from most of the director’s other offerings may mislead viewers in assuming the director’s other work will be very similar. I’d argue that “Persona,” a psychological drama from 1966, while not as awarded as his other films, is the best place to start. It’s certainly one of Bergman’s most important works, and it’s more akin to his earlier works, yet pieces of it continue to be obvious within later films such as “Fanny and Alexander.”

But, of course, don’t stop there… and I’m not just saying so because I’ve been Bergman obsessed for years.

“Waiting a million years… just for us!”

image from criterion.com 

When was the last time you heard about the Australian film industry without mentions to Aussie A-listers, Nicole Kidman, Russell Crowe and Naomi Watts (to name a few)? Even in art house theaters across this country, European films dominate marquees and its rare when an offering from down under surfaces.

It’s about time Peter Weir went back to his roots and served up something like 70s-fare “Picnic at Hanging Rock” or “The Last Wave.” You may know Weir as the director of “Dead Poets Society” or “The Truman Show,” but, despite being better known for these more recent titles, I think it’s Weir’s early films set in his native country that set him apart as a master filmmaker.

When I purchased “Picnic at Hanging Rock,” I had watched it once before and remembered being very struck by its eerie, almost other worldly tone. I hardly remembered the majority of its plot or any stand out performances by the cast but I was sure there was something in the film worth my $25 plus shipping on overstock.com. (Criterion Collection DVDs aren’t cheap…)

Now that I’ve owned this film for almost a year, I’m amazed by its replay-ability. I’ve watched it nearly seven or eight times in just a few months and there’s always something incredibly different to focus on with each new viewing. “Picnic at Hanging Rock” is Weir’s richest film in terms of use of tone, setting and the characterization of multiple individuals. It’s vague enough to warrant many interpretations yet concrete so that even passive move-goers can find something profound in the first viewing.

This is one of those movies that will have you hitting up wikipedia the moment it’s over to find out just what really happened and how this unusual story came to be. While it’s not as unusual as Nicolas Roeg’s, “Walkabout” another eerie story set in Australia, “Picnic at Hanging Rock” still pulls its fair share of twists and turns often left out of mainstream cinema. It’s a daring movie and certainly will leave some sort of impression due to its clever ambiguity and intriguing characters.

Nothing sweet in this movie

image from criterion.com

If you’ve been reading my blog and noticed where I frequently link back to the films I offer commentary on, you may already know a little bit about The Criterion Collection. The Collection includes hundreds of film titles and “is dedicated to gathering the greatest films from around the world and publishing them in editions that offer the highest technical quality and award-winning, original supplements.” While a majority of the titles are foreign and were made pre-2000, Criterion includes recent offerings such as “The Royal Tenenbaums” and “Traffic.” With its impressive list of titles and often astounding transfers of very old films, when I pick up a Criterion Collection DVD, I expect a piece of cinema that is more often than not, of the highest caliber.

Sure I’ve run into titles that were preserved for their innovations in some obscure method in filmmaking and didn’t feature any superior elements in my opinion, I usually agree with Criterion’s idea of what should be deemed an “important film.”

Naturally, when I chose “Sweet Movie,” a 1974 Yugoslavian film from director Dusan Makavejev to watch with a bunch of friends a couple weekends ago, I was surprised when it was anything less than a good film.

*A quick warning, do not watch this film unless you want to be completely deterred from eating for about a week.*

Does a food orgy complete with human excrement and a gynecological competition need to be seen together and across the span of less than two hours? “Sweet Movie” definitely begs the viewer to be disgusted and disturbed minute after minute.

I tried to find meaning behind the madness that was the soft-core pornographic film coupled with a plot line as confusing as any low-budget indie art house flick but I was too distracted by “Sweet Movie’s” complete disregard for the traditional film experience. I assumed its ability to make me squirm and cover my eyes yet fail to turn it off completely was the reason why it became licensed by the Criterion Collection.

While I can’t actually recommend the film, I can say that if you have an unhealthy addiction to chocolate or ever wanted to be covered entirely in sugar, “Sweet Movie” has the power to cure you forever of these desires.

What are some of the most shocking movies you’ve seen? Were you ever driven to stop watching because they were so disturbing?

No Soggy Bottom Boys in these parts

If you haven’t heard already, Joel and Ethan Coen’s “No Country For Old Men” may be one of the best thrillers to hit screens in years.

Of course, coming from the same duo who offered up “Fargo” and “Blood Simple,” it was already on the horizon. “No Country’s” commanding cinematography and detail-oriented twists solidify this story of a dry Texas community facing change in the early 1980s as Academy Award fodder. I very much enjoy the slow, sensitive pace the Coens employ even during chase sequences — it’s what keeps audiences a part of the story while allowing a message most cookie-cutter thrillers let slip to reign supreme in the film’s conclusion.

When I saw “No Country” last week, I couldn’t help but think of “McCabe & Mrs. Miller,“a Robert Altman directed drama from 1971. Classified at its release as an anti-Western, this film may come off a little like a character piece with certain touches and embellishments. However, it was Altman’s genius control of pacing and overall mod through the film’s setting that immediately struck me several years ago when I first watched it. Using Winter and all its brutality to his advantage, Altman creates the town of Presbyterian Church in exact opposition to the traditional arid desert setting of popular Westerns. Much like the Coens utilize the emptiness of the desert and the crusty, overlooked corners of the U.S., “McCabe & Mrs. Miller” hones in on Presbyterian Church as a living entity that has just as much of an effect on its characters as they do on each other.

If we’re getting into specifics, check out how unusually each film presents its sheriff character. Tommy Lee Jones is excellent as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, who comes from a long line of law enforcers and must come to terms with the changes time has brought to his community. In “McCabe,” there’s no sheriff at all! Devoid of Native Americans, law enforcement or dangerous outlaws, Altman usurped the Eastwood and Denver standard from years before. In their own way, both films show a diminishing effectiveness or importance of the officers who have traditionally defended a clear cut law.

The average moviegoer may find the films a little slow in the beginning, especially if it’s the first time experiencing Altman’s often difficult over-lapping dialogue techniques or the Coens’ meticulous attention to detail, but the spellbinding conclusions are rewarding.

Of course, don’t expect many “O Brother Where Art Thou” moments, this picture may be the most serious the pair has ever offered. Still, “No Country For Old Men” has my vote for best picture of the year so far.

Foreign Classics: in ur dvd playur, takin namez

In this world, there are some of us born who are blessed with natural abilities that can lead to astounding feats. A few grow to the size of adolescent trees and make millions playing pro basketball while a select group are blessed with vocal cords that have the power to entertain the masses. Some of us are natural leaders and others can juggle flaming torches. Pretty much everyone has some innate ability to boast, whether it’s money-making or not. However, I would argue that it’s hardly uncanny to possess an ability to sit down for a couple of hours and take in a classic (potentially black and white) foreign film.

It may shock you, but I promise it isn’t considerably difficult and it definitely isn’t something you have to have an “acquired taste” or a “natural ability” for. Given the right mindset and feature film, just about anyone with two hours to spare can learn (and enjoy!) something within a notable screen gem.

Alain Delon is not real

Image from google images.

I saw “Le Samouraï” this spring and it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with the film’s star, the gorgeous and talented French actor, Alain Delon. Cool and collected, Delon epitomized the likable lawbreaker character copied so often in films today. Despite director, Jean-Pierre Melville’s misogynist tendencies, I find Delon’s work in “Le Cercle Rouge” and “Le Samouraï” irresistible.

Both films are devoid of delicate sensitivity and missing the trappings one would associate essential to any crime drama. For example, I could probably count the gunshots in each film on both hands. “Le Cercle Rouge,” which I watched yesterday for the first time, is especially striking because it manages to do something profound while still standing as a typical heist film.

At the heart of this film are the characters. Delon is Corey, the cold and removed mastermind of the heist. He and murderer Vogel, played by Gian Maria Volonte, team up with an alcoholic sharpshooter to rob an upscale jewelry store in intricate fashion. Think 2001′s “Ocean’s Eleven” without the fancy technology. But “Le Cercle Rouge” does exactly what “Ocean’s Eleven” doesn’t in its final heist scene. Instead of George Clooney and Brad Pitt exchanging jokes with the other robbers in the Vegas vault, we have the three Frenchmen acting out the job in absolute silence. The characters, at this point in the film, are not collections of emotional baggage or attached to each other as friends — in “Le Cercle Rouge,” everyone has their own motive and barely exists out of the job they are assigned.

If you’ve ever thought about turning to a life of crime, this is a film that could inspire you to actually burst into the nearest bank with guns and burlap sacks. From the slick camera angles to the criminals’ attire, everything about their world is seductive. Quite a contrast to the weak police chief who is seen on multiple occasions baby talking his fluffy pet cats.

Don’t expect any overarching message of morality to outweigh the attraction of the criminal underworld. While a message of guilt comes in to play, it’s small in weight compared to the film’s focus. That said, do yourself a favor this weekend. Turn away from that new Ben Stiller comedy or “Across the Universe” and rent some delicious Melville classics. If it means anything, I’ll definitely think you’re a cooler person for checking one out.

“Story of a Prostitute” is not a bedtime story

Last night, Sarah (roommate) and I watched my Netflix movie, Seijun Suzuki’s “Story of a Prostitute.” I promise I’m not on some dirty movie kick, even though my recent choices might make it seem that way. This film was very different from what I was expecting. I’d never seen any Suzuki films before and wasn’t aware of the director’s knack for B-grade yakuza flicks. With that in mind, “Story of a Prostitute” is pretty far removed from car chases and bright colored suits. The story centers on Harumi, a Japanese “comfort woman” sent to service hundreds of soldiers fighting in the Sino-Japanese war. As you probably already guessed, Harumi falls in love with a cold, confusing and oftentimes brooding soldier who has issues with Harumi’s occupation.

“Story of a Prostitute” was unlike any Japanese film I’d ever seen before. The ridiculous emotions of the central characters were shockingly humorous. Despite the overt seriousness of the narrative and the despairing backdrop of the war, Suzuki’s characters go through odd out-of-body experiences that spark laughter. In one, Harumi throws off all her clothes in a dramatic fashion while screaming and ascends the brothel stairs. When the prostitute is slapped by one of the soldiers, she screams and whines for at least five minutes. The slow motion shots of her writhing in pain or sorrow in order to turn up tensions even more come off as annoying or uncomfortable.

But, I’m not going to lie; I picked up this film for its title. “Story of a Prostitute” sounded pretty juicy for 1965. I’m particularly partial to Japanese titles though, having studied the language in high school and through college. I also lived there for three months while in high school on a study abroad program. This film, however, didn’t do so much for me save the interesting characters of grade-A crazy woman Harumi and the malicious Lieutenant Narita.

Maybe I was hungry for another dose of “Crazed Fruit” or trying to get out of this French kick I’ve been on for who knows how long. If you’re looking for a wild, edgy, Japanese romance — definitely try “Crazed Fruit.” It may not be what you expect at first, but there are some superbly directed moments plus a killer plot line that always kept me guessing. Plus, if you’re feeling a little bit angsty, there’s no better cure than watching a bunch of rowdy, sexually repressed teenagers running around like it’s their last day on Earth.

And with that, I’ll leave you with this link to Monkey Majik’s music video for “Sora wa Maru de.” The band is fronted by two Canadian brothers who started out as English teachers and eventually became Japanese rock stars. Those two blonde cowgirls look like fine, upstanding Japanese women to me.

Cruel Intentions – circa 1945

It’s likely that few people my age will recognize names like Antonioni, Bresson, Bergman, and Lang. In a similar vein, I can’t tell you anything about pro sports or “Grey’s Anatomy,” but I think there’s always a little bit of classic film in even the most typical blockbusters today. That’s not to say I think everyone should sit down with friends and a bowl of popcorn on a Friday night to watch “The Seventh Seal,” but it’s definitely interesting — once you’ve seen so many of these classics — to see how obviously hit movies today have borrowed from their predecessors.

Take 1999′s “Cruel Intentions.” I’m willing to bet a strikingly higher percentage of people have seen this than any Bresson I could list. Probably one of the least viewed films by the French director is “Les Dames de Bois de Boulogne” which, around ten minutes in, already made me wonder if “Cruel Intentions” director, Roger Kumble studied it in film school.

But it isn’t just the story in the American teen drama that strikes similarities. To its credit, “Cruel Intentions” is based on the 1782 novel “Les Liaisons dangereuses” by Choderlos de Laclos, also French! Yet, while the age old story of seductions plays a title role in each film, it was mostly the tones, lightings, and character appearances in the films that made me draw these two films so closely together.

Check out photos of Sarah Michelle Gellar’s character versus Hélène in “Les Dames.” Their pale skin and dark hair do wonders to play up the characters’ wicked queen persona. If you watch both films, the faux-motherly moves each makes towards taking in other girls for their supposed betterment is also very similar.

But I think, despite all this, the convention of the melodrama has certainly changed over the years. While “Cruel Intentions” brought widespread attention due to its scandalous plot and hot sex scenes with attractive “Tiger Beat” pin-ups, I doubt “Les Dames” got similar attention during its heyday. Sure, the novelette written by Diderot upon which the film is based might have stirred up some enlightened criticism, but the movie doesn’t break down any controversial walls here.

Aside from showing Bresson’s early attentiveness to the minimal and dark nature of humans, “Les Dames” probably doesn’t do a whole lot for classic film nerds like me. But, to be honest, the only thing I could remember about “Cruel Intentions” before looking on IMDb.com was “Colorblind” by the Counting Crows and how, when I watched the movie with a friend back in middle school, we had to turn the volume down low because it “had dirty scenes.”

L’Eclisse — wake me up, please

I’ve had “L’Eclisse” in my DVD player for more than a month now. Except for one night when I took it out to watch “Battle of Algiers” again, the 1962 Italian modernist staple hasn’t left my room. The Netflix envelope is literally collecting dust and, had Antonioni not passed away this summer, I’d probably feel worse for neglecting this film for so long.

I had a similar problem with “L’avventura,” the first film in the ‘trilogy’ “L’eclisse” is a part of. Both films, along with “La notte” deal with the same theme of alienation in the modern world and have put me to sleep, which is kind of embarassing for me since I usually love films from this era and on similar subjects. But there’s something about Antonioni that I haven’t ever gotten.

In “L’avventura,” I’d argue that Monica Vitti is captivating. She relays a sense of emptiness in her character even on the boat in the first scenes. Where one might suspect naiveté, in an Antonioni film that is quickly transformed into a bleak and empty understanding of the world and the realities that do little to turn this view around. Vitti’s control of her character’s energies and tone throughout the entire film is superb… But it took me two tries to be able to stay awake during “L’avventura” without nodding off once or twice.

Maybe it’s because “L’Eclisse” is a more intimate piece but Vitti isn’t as dominating in her scenes… coming off at times as a blonde, whiney version of Anna Magnani in “Mamma Roma.” I think I’ve got about 20 minutes left in the film (with any luck, I’ll finish it tonight) but I really can’t wait until I’m finished with it. In the film world, Antonioni screams slow moving. But they’re slow moving against a fast-paced world, filled with modern people living modern lives. “L’Eclisse” is a perfect example of that. Vitti’s character directly contrasts her environment when she almost drearily intermingles with the stockbrokers in the first parts of the film. She comes off as incredible self absorbed unless one can take a closer look at the materialistic natures of nearly all the characters surrounding her.

But it’s Antonioni’s ability to play with contrasts that makes me feel like it’s such a sin to not enjoy these films. When it comes to portraying lonliness on screen, the Italian director does it without shedding tears, without over dramatizing loss of love, and by keeping it so disturbingly real, the harrowing feelings still resonate.

Even if it’s going to keep me from getting “Grindhouse” from Netflix, I’ll force myself to watch “L’Eclisse” again if it kills me.

I can do Bresson marathons… there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to pull this one off!