Francis Ford Copola’s 1983 film Rumble Fish is really one of the most stunningly photographed films of all time – here working with cinematographer Stephen H. Burum, a frequent Brian De Palma collaborator. The problem is the meaning of the film isn’t made by the visual elements; they are just plastered on top. The baroque visual style is not allowed to speak for itself.
Some examples of the beautiful compositions in the film:
Instead, the film’s meaning is mainly created by the characters, the dialogue and the plot – all of which are wholly clichèd. The archetypal characters are all there; Matt Dillon’s poser rebel, his pretty girlfirend who puts up with his bullshit, his bad-ass big brother who comes to the rescue, and his pathetic alcholic father. Add to that fact each scene is so predictable that the film no longer borders on, but fully enters into, the realm of parody.
The middle image over is particularly telling, as it is a strikingly beautiful expressionistic composition, tarnished by the absurd-looking, sunglass-wearing cop. Keep in mind that the entire film is played straight, almost overly serious in tone. (The top image is of a baddie that comes to kick Dillon’s ass.)
It’s rare to see such an utterly polarizing film that is at once ravishingly beautiful, and yet cannot be describes as anything other than a failure. Had this been a silent film it could have been a great film – even a masterpiece – but as it is, it is plain painful to watch the way Burum’s talent is wasted, one scene at a time.
The result is a soaringly overrated and pretentious film.
The Motorcycle Boy Reigns; one of the last shots in the film.
Looking at other Coppola-films, I find, although well made, The Godfather to glorify the Italian gangster. Coppola’s best film might very well be the post-modern and genre-transformative The Conversation.
Agree or diasagree? Feel free to sound off in the comments below 😉
Blue is the warmest color is one of the most controversial films in recent memory.
The director came under attack for not representing lesbian sex accurately; as well as putting the cast and crew through hell – the shoot lasted for 5 1/2 months. Even the author of the graphic novel upon which the film is based claimed the sex scenes to be the product of a male heterosexual gaze, projecting his own sexual fantasies onto the material.
Personally I think the reactions are more likely to stem from the fact that we’re not used to seeing explicit sex scenes continue for so long. (One sex scene lasts eight minutes.) Meanwhile, the criticism of the actual sexual acts not being accurate has – predictably enough – been put to rest by other lesbian commentators.
As Kechine dissects the human condition and the intensity of falling in love for the first time it’s only natural he explores emotions as well as sexuality. Early on in the film, Adele has sex with her boyfriend, likely for the first time. There is a marked difference between the look in her eyes in this scene compared to the later scene with Emma. This is not exploitation; Kechiche is onto something meaningful.
Another gut-wrenchingly convincing scene is the breakup. It’s almost physically painful to watch. Apparently Kechiche kept the cameras rolling for hours without interrupting, and it shows. The fear and desperation in Adeles eyes is a real as anything yo’ll ever seen on the celluloid.
After the breakup-scene we follow Adele as she continues her daily routines, particularly in her job as a teacher. Although she goes through the motions and seemingly fulfills her duties as normal, interacting with the innocent children, we can see that she is empty, broken. Even as she walks down the street, little subtleties in her body language reveal her endless guilt and sadness. Kechiche communicates this contrast between what’s going on on the inside and outside expertly. One way he does this beautfully is by returning to a place of significance from earlier in the film; the park where Adele and Emma share their first kiss. Screenshots from the earlier scene in the park:
Later, Adele has returned to the same park, the same bench, and underneath the same tree. The contrast between the beauty of the image and the torment of Adeles emotional state serves to further underline the emotions we feel as spectators:
Kechine then cuts to a close up of a pair of fingers nervously tapping against a window-sill. It’s a beautiful moment that in an instant speaks volumes about what Adele is going through.
Blue is the Warmest Color has become another chapter in the ever-ongoing debate about how far you can push the people around you in the attempt to achieve an artistic vision. And while the shoot may have been difficult, the work lives on. And in the case of Blue is the Warmest Color, it is a testament to a director and two actors working together and making great sacrifices, in order to create a work of true art that will last forever.
My Top Ten favorites from 2013:
1. Spring Breakers (Harmony Korine)
2. Blue is the Warmest Color (Abdellatif Kechiche)
3. The Great Beauty (Paolo Sorrentino)
These first three are real standouts. Some of the best films I’ve seen in a long time.
4. The Hunt (Thomas Vinterberg)
5. Passion (Brian De Palma)
6. In The House (Francois Ozon)
7. The Grandmaster (Wong Kar-Wai)
8. Mud (Jeff Nicholas)
9. Don Jon (Joseph Gordon-Levitt)
10. All is Lost (J.C. Chandor)
I will write more about my picks later this week. Feel free to comment or post any qestions if you want me to elaborate.
I’ve been really busy lately with my own film projects. But I am currently working on a new blog entry on my favorite films of 2013. My favorite? I’ll give you a little hint – it starts with an “s”. 😉
So what was your favorite film of 2013?
Often described as “weirdest movie of 2012”, Leo Carax’ surrealist film has left many viewers perplexed. It may not be perfect, but it was the most wonderful complex and meaningful film I saw in 2012.
So what does it all mean?
Leo Carax’ Holy Motors asks a number of existential questions.
What is this thing we call life?
Is there such a thing as community?
The film starts with the protagonist leaving his family for work in the morning, and by the time he returns he enters a completely different home, his original community seemingly forgotten.
What is reality?
What is the nature of our position in relation to the world around us?
What are we? Are we what people see when they see us, or is it something else?
Holy Motors is a meditation on all of these epistemological questions.
One of the main themes is performance in life and cinema. The main character is constantly changing identity in the movie. Is there a substance behind the layers upon layers of the roles we play?
At one point the lead character bumps into an old friend, played by Kylie Minogue. She asks: “Is it you?”
“I think so,” he answers.
Shortly thereafter Minogue breaks into a euphoric dance-number: “Who were we, when we were who we were, back then? Who would we have become, if he had done differently back then?”, she sings.
After they say their goodbyes, as soon as he leaves, she pulls off her blond wig and costume, and throws herself off a balcony, killing herself.
It’s about Art and about Hollywod.
At one point a character says: “Beauty in the eye of the beholder. What if there is no longer a beholder?”
To what extent does an artwork have to find an audience in order to be considered worthwhile? What if there are only a few spectators – what if there are none?
It’s a beautiful and thematically complex movie – the most though-provoking film I saw this year.
Lately, I’ve seen two great action films. Action is a very interesting genre for those who care about pure cinema. It’s all about communicating space and time in a coherent manner – and let it be said right away – 99.9% of all action movies fail quite miserably.
The first movie is Abraham Lincoln – Vampire Slayer and The Raid: Redemption. In “Lincoln” Bekmambetov slows the the action down at cruical moments to build up suspense. It’s a rare display of cinematic skill. Interestingly, the film uses vampires as a metaphor for the wealthy feasting on the poor – the rich can only stay rich by making sure the poor stay poor. Bekmambetov’s vampires are wealthy slave-owners. At one point he shows how the vampires grow and spread from the southern states, in what looks like a computer-generated political map from a CNN election coverage broadcast.
The second movie is the The Raid: Redemption. The Indonesian film is beautifully crafted from start to finish, it’s short, fast, and the action never lets up. It’s a fairly brutal film, but the outstanstanding choreography, cinematography, editing and spacial coherencee makes up for it. The shoot-outs and fight scenes are extremely intense, with fitting variations in tempo and rythm.
In an interview David Cronenberg did in conjuction with the release of his latest film A Dangerous Method, he stated that
“Often people talk about things being theatrical, and they often think lots of dialog is automatically theater, like a stage play.You know, as a filmmaker, the thing I photograph most is a face talking. To me, that’s ultimately the essence of cinema: the human face talking. If you have a fantastic face saying fantastic things, you’ve got real movie-making.”
Wow, I have to disagree with this.
What is true is that the CLOSE-UP is inherently cinematic. Not necessarily people talking. That’s two different things. The close-up is an important cinematic technique, one of the major building blocks of cinema. It brings the viewer in close, leading him to see things that are rare in many other art forms, for instance the theater. But it’s far from the only important building block in the language of cinema. When used right, creating a contrast with other shots, it can be very effective. But to go from there to say that shooting people talking is the essence of cinema honestly couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Cronenberg goes on to say some even more remarkable things:
“I’ve often said you give the movie what it wants and the movie will tell you what it needs, and you give it that. It’s a mistake to impose on the movie some outside idea of what it’s supposed to be.”
Imposing an outside idea of what the movie is about? Really?
I’m pretty astonished by this. All art is about presenting your personal view of the world. In Cronenberg’s view the director is aparantly not such an artist. That makes no sense to me. For me the director is an artist, creating meaning through images. If not the director, then who else?
I always considered Scarface to be one of De Palmas lesser achievements, as I saw it as a more impersonal film for him, a film that did not reflect his particular social, psychological and political sensibility. In that sense, I saw it as being in opposition to films such as Hi, Mom!, Blow Out, Snake Eyes, and Femme Fatale.
Well, I was wrong.
I just rewatched this film expecting to see a spectacular, but ultimately somewhat superficial epos. However, not only does De Palma coax what is perhaps a career-best performance out of Pacino, but the movie is wildly entertaining while at the same this serving as a stinging criticism of the Reagan administration’s hypocritical “war on drugs”, which was little more than a PR-campaign and the consruction of an external enemy.
De Palma makes it clear that both police, bankers and politicians are all corrupt, meanwhile using Tony Montana as a scapegoat to illustrate everything that is wrong in America. No wonder the afro-american community has taken this film to heart, as they have experienced this first hand.
Watching Scarface today, it’s easy to forget that the story was contemparary in 1983. The political reality that the movie describes – enormously brutal violence, government corruption at all levels – was happening outside the movie theatres as the movie played out on the screen. No surprise De Palma almost got lynched after this one. The criticism of the Reagan administration and American society was so intense that it was impossible to accept. It was an incredibly ballsy move by De Palma. The satirical critique of capitalism and the American Dream is easily recognizable in this movie as well as in De Palmas filmography as a whole.
Making Dressed To Kill, Blow Out and Scarface back to back over three years? Has any major Hollywood director ever offered a more direct criticism of American society? All while keeping his audience glued to their seats with their eyes wide open.
Regardles of original director Abel Ferrara’s apparent wish to see the people behind this picture die and burn in hell, I thought this was Werner Herzog and Nic Cage’s best effort in a while. Cage is able to express a number of different emotions and personas as convincingly as I’ve seen this year. (Jeff Bridges also did it empathically in Crazy Heart, but Cage’s performance seems more important.) With his hunched back, walking with stiff, short steps he embodies a whole city’s (if not to say country’s) feeling of despair and disillusion.
Cage’s character, Terrence McDonagh, is a highly flawed, corrupt cop who at one point decides to jump into a flooding prison cell from one story up to save a drowning prisoner. The result is irrepearable back damage and a permanent condition of severe back pain. These chronic back pains spiral McDonagh further and further down into a world of narcotics and prescription drugs.
Setting the plot in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina is a masterstroke by Herzog. If there is ever a place to illustrate the brimming injustice of the ever-growing inequality in the U.S. (and the world), this is it. (Consider the plans to privatize and gentrify the area in the wake of the catastrophè.)
I find it hard not to see Cage’s tortured cop as a metaphor. A metaphor for how poverty and downward social mobility as the result of disease, injury and disaster strikes coincidentally, dragging shame and humiliation along in its footsteps.
Cage’s good deed does not go unpunished. His injury perfectly illustrates how New Orleans’ poor and predominately black population was brought to its knees. The same way desperate people all over the world see the windows, doors, and borders of opportunity close all around them by a brutal, overwhelming, and merciless force, as poverty sweeps up its random victims.