Nobody Knows Anything

Two films this week, one marked with a † for Blu-ray, the other marked with a * for cinema.

Zwartboek (2006) †

Although this was my second viewing, I still haven’t seen this film on film, since my first cinema screening was a digital projection, which looked rather magnificent by the way. So it should really be no surprise that Tartan’s now out of print Blu-ray disc maintains that quality. They made an odd choice with the extras though - interviews with Paul Verhoeven and Carice Van Houten are windowboxed on the menu screen and not accessible as separate, screen filling entities. A fascinating companion piece to Soldaat Van Oranje (1977), Verhoeven can be found at the top of his game, delivering a morally ambiguous European tone in combination with the breakneck pacing of his American ventures. And more to the point, none of the subtleties are signalled, they are there to be picked up upon or not as suits the individual viewer. The film may get better and better as the years pass.

Public Enemies (2009) *

As may this, and it’s already mightily accomplished. Deprived of his trademark rock music, Michael Mann relies instead on moody jazz numbers, the odd piece of 1930s blues and a dark, foreboding reunion with Elliot Goldenthal, the composer of Heat (1995). Although there’s nothing Mann likes more than wet down streets at night shining under neon and fluorescents, this is not the first time he’s explored the crimes of America’s past. Back in the late 80s, he executive produced the legendary TV series Crime Story (1986-88) though I’ve seen none of it. So in many ways this is the kind of project he’s probably wanted to do forever, since the shooting down of John Dillinger in Chicago would have been one of those crime stories that passed into local folklore, and Michael Mann comes from Chicago. This is also a film that touches on other important events of the 1930s, including the forming of the FBI around the specific goal of pursuing criminals like Dillinger who crossed state borders, and the irritation of the Mafia at this because they could now face prosecution for committing crimes that crossed state lines (and most Mafia crimes did and do precisely that). There is a vicarious pleasure in the joyous elan with which Dillinger robs banks, escapes from tightly guarded jail cells and hooks up with hot babes, though I wasn’t entirely convinced by the “this was the love of their lives” emotional tragedy Mann sets out for Dillinger and Billie Frechette (but I could be wrong). Above all, it was a pleasure to spend time watching a real movie among all the summer turkeys. Here’s to the next one.

Two cinema visits this week, marked with a *.

The Golden Compass (2007) *

As I’m currently reading the His Dark Materials trilogy for the first time, it seemed like the right moment to nip to the cinema and catch New Line’s filmization of the first book in the sequence. I was deeply impressed. Who knew that Chris Weitz had a film like this in him after American Pie (1999) and About a Boy (2002)? Those two films were competent but only slightly surprising and certainly no standouts. No wonder Weitz walked off the project once, daunted by the technical challenges, but thank God (that’s a His Dark Materials in-joke by the way) he came back to finish what he started. The only blip in the continuation of the series is its dismal non-performance at the American box office. However, the film has done really well worldwide, and hopefully New Line will figure out some ingenious way to promote the film on DVD in the States and allow it to find its audience. Although it may look like a children’s film, it is so not, it’s about as deeply adult and disconcerting as fantasy films can get, and it knocks CS Lewis into a cocked hat, which is where he and the rest of his wretched Christian brethren belong.

Blade Runner (1982) *

For the record, this was the Final Cut version of the film, projected digitally. As magnificent as Blade Runner now looks on DVD (see previous post), this spanking new cleaned up digital version on a big screen with a decent sound system is simply overwhelming. Vangelis’ score has real presence, the special effects look better than CGI, and the subtlety of the performances and the great craft of the direction really come to the fore. The other thing, even though Golden Compass was coming to the end of its run, the cinema wasn’t crowded at all, but the Blade Runner screening was packed.

A Scanner Darkly (2006)

So it takes Richard Linklater and Bob Sabiston’s proprietary rotoscoping software to bring Philip K Dick to the cinema really for the first time, reasonably undiluted and very out there. Maybe what a Philip K Dick adaptation needed was an approach as extreme as Dick’s own approach to science fiction, and it certainly gets it in spades here. Filmed in Austin, Texas, in the summer of 2004, it took 18 months to essentially reanimate the film frame by frame to deliver the final product. The blur suit, especially, would be a challenge even in CGI, but the approach here, halfway towards a comic book, works better than CGI would. A Scanner Darkly is an edgy, paranoid, very political film about drugs and the people who consume them and are consumed by them and the people who let people consume them for twisted purposes of their own.

Total Recall (1990)

The other kind of Philip K Dick adaptation is this beauty with its slam bang direction and driving Jerry Goldsmith score, which uses one or two ideas from We Can Remember It For You Wholesale and then has Arnold Schwarzenegger beat people up Dutch judo style, when he’s not shooting them in the head and delivering pithy quips, or using dead bodies as shields. By the way, the scene in the hotel room where the head of Rekall arrives to tell Arnold he’s living out a fantasy while suffering from a schizoid embolism is real; Arnold plants the “giveaway” sweat on the Rekall director’s head because he doesn’t want the fantasy to end; and the final fade to white, after Arnold has got the girl, killed the bad guys, and saved the entire planet, is a symbol of his ultimate lobotomy. And then he became Governor of California. Sorry, but can someone pinch me every time I read this or see this? Because it can’t be real, can it?

Oh dear, three months in, and I’m already adjusting my DVD watching so as to make a nicer set of movies to write about. See next week, if things work out.

Trading Places (1983)

This is why I’ll never make a killing on the stock market; I flat out just don’t understand the commodity trading scenes in this film. It’s a reminder of a lot of things, of a time when John Landis could still direct, and Eddie Murphy could still be funny, and American film comedy could still have something to say.

Showgirls (1995)

By now, I’ve clearly gone insane. I spent all my time talking about Pandora’s Box last week talking about Showgirls, and this week I’m gonna spend all my time talking about Showgirls talking about Pandora’s Box (sort of). Taking my cue from the Pandora’s Box commentary track from academics Thomas Elsaesser and Mary Ann Doane, here are some very odd thoughts about Showgirls that link the film to Pandora’s Box more than they should. Consider the film as a fetishistic object. Consider the following as an allegory of cinema: the prostitute, the pimp and the client standing for the leading actress, the director and the spectator. These themes can be found in the films of Godard and Fassbinder, especially in films concerning the spectacle of women. And Showgirls is about nothing else than the spectacle of women. It all fits. Nomi Malone is clearly the prostitute figure at the heart of the film, who denies that she’s a prostitute at the same time as she exploits her body to get ahead; the late plot detail that she’s been arrested for soliciting earlier in her life is not much of a surprise. Nomi is surrounded by pimps, men who exploit her and encourage her to exploit herself: the guy in the pickup truck at the start, the boss of the Cheetah, the guy at the disco, all of the men at the Tangiers, and the rock star who rapes her friend. Nomi is also surrounded by clients who watch her and pay for her services, whether with money or employment; it starts on stage at the Cheetah, continues in the lap dancing back room, and finishes on the stage of the Tangiers. And somewhat inevitably, this plays into the subject of the film itself. A naive and inexperienced actress, Elizabeth Berkeley, has been persuaded into exposing more of herself than perhaps she should have done by a couple of pimps: Joe Eszterhas and Paul Verhoeven, all for the supposed delight of anyone who’s ever watched Showgirls. The exploitation of Nomi is the exploitation of Elizabeth, so how complicit is the viewer of the film in this exploitation?

All That Jazz (1979)

There was a fair amount of accusations of pretentiousness levelled at this film when it first appeared and did all those things that Hollywood would prefer American movies don’t do: win the Palme d’Or at Cannes, excoriate the whole business that is show, reveal that the man behind the curtain isn’t a wizard but a painfully flawed human being after all. And yet All That Jazz is one of those films that’s improved over the years like a fine wine. Bob Fosse only directed five films, but all of them are great, and I guess that isn’t so bad.

Chicago (2002)

Rob Marshall’s directed two, and nobody has anything good to say about Memoirs of a Geisha. It is odd that Chicago has the structure it has, in which the musical numbers all take the form of dreams or nightmares (except perhaps the last number). It’s almost as if Harvey Weinstein had a backup plan in case the film didn’t work for an audience: Chicago the musical without the songs.

Ed Wood (1994)

How fabulous is this film? Before the Academy recognised Johnny Depp, I already knew he was one of the best actors of his generation. As Joel Schumacher and Michael Bay continue to prove, all you need to make a bad film is a total lack of talent. Ed Wood’s films were terrible, of course, but at least they didn’t drain the resources of Hollywood and clog the multiplexes of the world to keep the studio limping on for another year.

Sunset Blvd. (1950)

So here is the flip to David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. (2001). Norma Desmond is really creepy and it’s great to see an actress really commit to playing completely unhinged on the big screen. This is a film about what happens when the studios don’t want you anymore because there’s always someone younger and hungrier waiting to push you down the stairs backstage and take your place in the show. This is a film about what the show does to you, and what’s left when there’s no one remaining to worship your image any longer.

I don’t watch TV. I’ve almost completely abandoned it as an entertainment medium. Instead, I’m all about the DVD. And the cinema. And surround sound. There will be DTS references, oh yes, there will. The only thing I’m going to do here is basically list every film I watch this calendar year and offer something like a things I’ve learned from watching them, probably in brief. Or other comments, which may or may not relate. I’m also going to do my level best not to edit my comments excessively, so this is pretty much straight from my head to cyberspace. Since I’ve already been too lazy to start this in January, I’m going to start with everything I watched in January.

Since the cinema visits will be rarer than the DVDs, I’ll put a * next to the cinema visits.
The Incredibles (2004)
Because I was in need of cheering up.

Ran (1985)
And having been cheered up, I needed to feel a little more miserable again. This was the Criterion Collection’s release of Ran, which has pretty much rendered all other releases redundant. I first saw Ran 20 years ago in a cinema, in all probability at the Aston Triangle, and remembered two things: it took a fair old time to get going, and that the villainness met with a fairly spectacular end. These things remained true, but what’s even more true is that the film ends by dumping you in a big black hole and saying, well there we all are, what do you think about that? Another thing: Chris Marker’s excellent making of documentary, AK, included on disc 2, underlines something very important: it was all done for real. Kurosawa had a giant castle set built on Mount Fuji, which he then attacked with real extras on real soldiers, and then burnt to the ground in real time, placing his leading man in real danger (since the poor guy has to stagger out of a burning castle down very steep steps covered in vision obscuring makeup all the time pretending that he’s completely insane).

The Doors (1991)
I love this film. I think people who don’t are people who don’t love cinema. A slightly older academic friend of mine once told me that this is what the sixties were really like; even though the film is wildly inaccurate about a whole bunch of things, it gets the tone of the period absolutely spot on.

Hannibal (2001)
Possibly because I’d just read Hannibal Rising. I think people are right: it was a lot better when we didn’t know why Hannibal Lecter had become the way he was. Anthony Hopkins is still too camp for me, but I have a lot of time for Julianne Moore, and she is great in this.

Apocalypto (2006) *
Is it just me or should this have been a widescreen movie? I could’ve sworn the trailer was widescreen. Anyway, this was a big step up from The Passion of the Christ; at least Mel Gibson’s used all those pieces of silver to do something interesting. The reason this film was shot on digital cameras is that in a jungle there’s not enough light at ground level to register an image on film without bringing in an enormous array of lighting equipment, which would negate the reason for filming in the jungle in the first place. The film may have a whole bunch of problems (its purported historical and ethnological accuracy among them) but it worked for me.

Lady and the Tramp (1955)
I needed a break from human sacrifice and brutality and this was perfect. The 2.55:1 frame seems a strange choice for a film that largely takes place in houses and alleyways but it leads to some fantastic compositions. And the animation is gorgeous: people who think that 3D CGI is the future of animation really need to check out the sequence in this film where the owners try and lock Lady in the dining room on her first night in the house. And the raindrops in Bambi; Bambi has lots of great character animation in it, but the animation of nature is breathtaking.

Where the Truth Lies (2005)
I don’t know how convinced I was by this. I think the film needed a more intriguing premise than demonstrating just how cute Alison Lohman is.
Evil Aliens (2005)
This makes an interesting companion piece to The Descent (see below), which also directly references a whole bunch of scenes in other films, but is a far superior work because cast and crew take the central premise seriously, and they’re not afraid to scare. Unfortunately, Jake West takes nothing seriously, and his film and his cast suffer badly as a result. If you as a filmmaker don’t believe in your premise, neither will anyone else. This is just a diversion from real filmmaking. Fun but a shame. Just because you can rip people’s spines out doesn’t mean you should.

The Conformist (1970)
Wow. It’s been an awful long time since I watched this, and it’s only improved with time.

A Prairie Home Companion (2006)
And so this is Robert Altman’s last film. The imaginary death of an imaginary radio show with warm humour, country songs, and Lindsay Lohan. This film was shot digitally.

The Fifth Element (1997)
The best moment in this film: Bruce Willis and Milla Jovovich have boarded a spaceship that will take them to a far off planet to retrieve magical stones they need to save the universe. But first, the spaceship must be refuelled. Cut to a location beneath the ship. Cue reggae music. Cue rastas and working stiffs who look like they’re smoking something. One guy bangs on a hatch, pulls out an empty fuel cell, picks up a full cell glowing bright green (it’s radioactive), and slams it home. They guys head off for lunch. End of scene. If this film had been made in Hollywood, this scene would never have made it past the first script development meeting because it does absolutely nothing to push the story forward, it doesn’t involve any of the leads, and it is in essence pointless. Except that the point is that it’s an integral part of the world of the film and the film would be poorer without it.

Novecento (1976)
I watched this five hour plus film in one day. Not something I would particularly recommend. I am now convinced that a communist revolution from the grass roots of peasant farmers is the only way to stop the ruling oligarchy of fascists and child murderers from destroying all that is great about our country. And that Dominique Sanda is one of the most beautiful women ever to have been photographed. See The Conformist above.
The Descent (2005)
See Evil Aliens above.

Babel (2006) *
I’m not sure how convinced I was by this movie. The connections between the four stories were, it has to be said, awfully slight and really more of a contrivance than such a film so convinced of its own importance really has any business getting involved in. The actors were all terrific though, as was the score. I just don’t know if the movie has anything to say. And it’s all rather put in perspective by Short Cuts (see below).

Contact (1997)
I love this film, and I’m not ashamed to admit it in a public forum. Hey, Contact haters, get with the programme.

Seven Samurai (1954)
The Criterion Collection hit another home run. The extras on this disc occupied me for another month. That Kurosawa, he was really good, you know.
Looney Tunes: Back in Action (2003)
I remember this as fairly uneven when I saw it in the cinema, but it seemed much better in a home environment, particularly when you can pause and go back and check out the sheer weight of injokes and action going on even in the deep background.

Tommy (1975)
I love Ken Russell, and Tommy is Ken at the height of his powers. The surround sound is overwhelming, and it’s quite a surprise to discover that this film is one of the innovators in the technology that led to the 5.1 home cinema systems of today. Critics at the time complained that the film was too loud; they were unaware that this was one of the first films where the sound was just right.
Ocean’s Eleven (2001)
Which has to be followed by:

Ocean’s Twelve (2004)
Roland Barthes wrote a book called Le plaisir du texte, and this is just an example of that.

The Usual Suspects (1995)
Still holds up. Still makes other crime thrillers look ordinary and underplotted by comparison.

The Color of Money (1986)
I think what I like more than the performances (and everyone here is at the top of their game) is Richard Price’s crackling dialogue which never fails to cut to the point of every single scene.

Mean Girls (2004)
I must be insane but this film gets better every time I see it. We pray for you, Lindsay, we pray for you.

Short Cuts (1993)
This film is embarrassingly good. Alejandro González Iñárritu should be locked in a room for a month with Robert Altman’s entire back catalogue, and not let out until he’s repented of his foolish ways and vowed to become a better filmmaker. The Criterion Collection really spoil us with this one: the film newly remixed in 5.1, Luck Trust & Ketchup a terrific 90 minute making of documentary, and all the Raymond Carver short stories and poems that inspired the film in a newly published version of an out of print book.

Gosford Park (2001)
A film that rewards you for paying attention. Dense and packed with backstory and incident, it’s a film that inherently criticises the society and world it’s depicting at the same time as it recreates it in all its forensic detail.

Zwartboek (2006) *
In an interesting development, this film was projected digitally, and looked absolutely fantastic. It retained the clarity, depth and grain of film projection, but will of course never be subject to scratches, flaws or fading.

Soldaat van Oranje (1977)
So I had to check out Paul Verhoeven’s earlier WWII epic again as well.

Starship Troopers (1997)
And I really love Starship Troopers: “Rico, you kill bugs good!”

Dreamgirls (2006) *
Every bit as good as promised. People who don’t like musicals are clinically dead. There’s just no hope for them.

Wild Things (1998)
Sex crimes. Oh yes.

De Vierde Man (1983)
Perhaps not the best film to watch in the afternoon.