 Surrealism done right Director: John Frankenheimer Writer: Lewis John Carlino; based on the book Seconds by David Ely Cinematographer: James Wong Howe Producer: Edward Lewis by Jon Cvack I’ve had this movie in my queue for at least six years now; one of those films that sounded fascinating but would always get bumped down, until suddenly it was next in line and nothing was deserving enough to replace it. The film is a black and white art house sci-fi film made by John Frankenheimer; who while providing a barrage of fantastic movie (the suspense thriller The Manchurian Candidate (1962), one of the best WWII epic action adventures The Train (1964), and 1998’s Ronin with Robert de Niro) but never ventured quite so close into the art house. Most comparable to The Game (1997), the story involves Arthur Hamilton (John Randolph) who’s banal life comes to a crossroads when he’s contacted by a strange organization called “The Company” which promises to decrease his age by half and make him into an attractive and successful artist. Arthur agrees, abandoning his wife and all the life they created in order to start anew. It provides the most heartbreaking scene of the film as his wife and Arthur sit in their bedroom after Arthur gets home from work. They sit in separate beds, not speaking, with cinematographer James Wong Howe using a fish eye wide positioned at the top of the room, making the relationship feel all the more empty. The awkwardness enhanced when the wife tries to seduce Arthur who no longer finds her attractive. The story opens with the operation, in which Frankenheimer films an actual nasal plastic surgery. We watch strings and needles enter into and out of a person’s nose as they get sewn up; allegedly so grotesque that some of the audience at Cannes walked out. Later Arthur goes in for his operation, meeting the mayor from Jaws (1975), Charlie (Murray Hamilton), who guides Arthur through an incredible surrealistic* scene as he undergoes the transformation; resurrecting as painter Antiochus “Tony” Wilson (Rock Hudson) whose house is on the Malibu coast where an Old Man (Will Geer) operates as both butler and his liaison to The Company. Tony has all the skills of a successful painter, along with the wealth and charm to host large parties and attract beautiful women. He meets the mysterious Nora Marcus (Salome Jens) on the beach who takes him up to a hippie commune up in Santa Barbara where the members mash grapes and have sex. Later at a party, Antiochus drinks too much and embarrasses himself, fighting with his guests and Nora. He requests that the Old Man demand The Company return him to his prior life. He again meets Charlie who tells him he too is being reborn once again, however, instead of Tony being reborn, he’s killed in order to provide another empty shell for Charlie. Middle Class Angst Films were some of the most effective in piquing my initial interest in film. Movies like American Beauty (1999), The Chumscrubber (2005), The Ice Storm (1997), In the Bedroom (2001), SubUrbia (1996), and others are some of the earliest moments I recall of connecting art to my own experiences. There’s a strange bell curve in that you initially feel alienated in your home town, which then becomes part of the mainstream fringe, as its the same feeling that brought everyone out here - the way Hot Topic caters to this alienated fringe while being part of the mainstream consumer culture. The process then weeds people out, as some grow out of the feeling, others fail to escape, and few make the move to do something about it. I recall the foolish pride I had in telling people I was studying film when in college; as so many others were doing such boring things. Nearly a decade later, I’m left thinking of a quote I read in Movie Maker in that you better love film with all of your heart to have any success, because it’s that passion which drives the competition. I love it with all my heart and am miles from where I hope to be at the time of writing this; feeling the gradual progress, literally what feels like a nail’s rate of growth. But it is advancing. To think of how easy it would have been for me to stay back and pursue Construction Management (a random major I selected after discovering my mind was incompatible with the math/science rigors of engineering); have a great house, maybe live in the city, have an interesting and pretty wife (these adjectives are deliberately generic), and perhaps, by now, a child. Given that I’m not perfectly content now, I often wonder if - discontent being omniscient - whether it might have been worth the annoying struggle. When I go home, it’s seeing the forest for the trees. Which means the discontent is therefore inevitable and it’s better to at least be making inch by inch strides toward what you hope to achieve. Tony wanted it all without the effort and heart; that is, the idea of what provides a meaningful life rather than locating that meaning himself. On The Ezra Klein Show's "Is Modern Society Making Us Depressed?" - Ezra debated with a psychologist Johann Hari who believes that it’s the market driven system itself that makes people depressed; as there are few indications that it’s entirely or a dominantly chemical imbalance.The man gave the example of the ubiquitous problem of everyone believing that buying more stuff provides happiness, giving the example of a man who hated his job, but wanted a new garage so bad that he put off switching careers for another few years to save up. The extreme example is being so overridden with car payments, mortgages, children, and all the other expenses that escapes becomes next to impossible. Ezra had a different perspective - wondering if it’s within our genetics to always want more than we can have, and that this desire drives us toward progress. While I side more with the guest, it does make me wonder - is it culture and social media specifically, in which everyone is sharing the best version of their lives making the viewer feel inadequate; that’s driving record levels of depression, anxiety, and suicide; growing inequality and job insecurity, or is it simply genetic? I’m sure it’s a combination of all three. Arthur/Tony deals with the perpetual dissatisfaction; gaining first hand experience in the grass always being greener. Look up Antiochus on Wikipedia, I see the name means “God Manifest”, stemming from Antiochus IV Epiphanes who was a Greek King around 175 B.C.; gaining the nickname “The Mad One” for his weird behavior. I’m not a big fan of dissecting names and trying to learn what it means, but this one’s peculiar enough, and clear enough to understand. Arthur’s life in many ways mirrored a king, dominating the marketplace and creating a good life; willing to abandon it all in order to buy himself an alternative and allegedly more satisfying life. Ultimately, it’s the same money that kills him; in that I can only surmise that Charlie was so envious of Tony, that he was willing to buy the boy at the cost of a man’s life. That’s how much these individuals are determined to transform their lives. To think they have enough money for anything they want, they then decide to spend it on destroying the life that allowed them to make such a purchase. That’s the great madness; something we all might face, if we all could achieve our dreams or have endless time to do so. *For anyone wondering about other thoughts on surrealism, when done well - like in this film or The Sopranos - it can offer incredible sequences. BELOW: The infamous opening that caused walk outs at the 1966 Cannes Film Festival Like what you read? 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 Soon to go on to receive far less sympathy Director: François Truffaut Writer: François Truffaut and Marcel Moussy Cinematographer: Henri Decaë Producer: François Truffaut and Georges Charlot by Jon Cvack I think this is at least one of the first ten classic foreign films I had ever watched, alongside Bicycle Thieves (1948) or Breathless (1960). I remembered little beyond the final freeze-frame at the beach, having read at least half a dozen essays on what it all meant in college and not remembering a thing. Like Breathless, it was a film that was over-intellectualized; deconstructing each and every frame until there was nothing left to see beyond the academics. This old Criterion disc featured Truffaut’s sequel, Antoine and Colette (1962). As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve developed a strange pleasure with watching old foreign films nowadays; as though it only took a decade to love them both for their craft and their stories (both actual and historical), rather than for the significance they held. I call bullshit on nascent cinephiles who allege genuine pleasure while watching October beyond the pride in being one of the few who consumed it (I say this once having that feeling; at least compared to hedonistic feeling it provides me now). The series begins with a realism that allows the endearing to create the bizarre, rather than how the later films forfeited a bit of reality in order to accommodate more colorful plots. The 400 Blows follows Antoine Doinel as a fourteen-year-old boy living in a lower-class apartment with his unfaithful mother and a deadbeat father. Antoine sleeps in a nook next to a kitchen, laying in a sleeping bag on a piece of plywood. The arrangement fails to help his ailing studies, in which he cuts class to gallivant the neighborhood; creating one of the film’s most memorable scenes which would go on to forever inspire stories about cutting school; making you wonder if Ferris Bueller is entirely based from this one montage. His mother and father are called in by the teacher. They try to discipline the boy, never taking themselves into consideration and how their treatment affects him. But its Jean-Pierre Léaud’s performance that prevents the character from ever feeling entirely like a victim. Léaud appears as much deliberate as confused throughout the movie; expressing awareness years ahead of his peers in that what else is there to do but live life to the fullest, especially when you’re young? After getting kicked out of school for plagiarizing a Balzac essay, he and his friend fall further into the Dionysian lifestyle, culminating in the theft of Antoine’s stepdad’s typewriter back at work. The theft lands Antoine in jail, serving as the final straw for his parents who take him out of school and toss him into a reform academy. In the second most famous scene, Antoine is interviewed by the child psychologist, shot as though in her POV while Antoine explains - in a purely objective, nearly (but not entirely) emotionless terms - why he did what he did and is what he is. He starts off explaining why he stole 10,000 francs from his grandmother, to which he says with full conviction that she sleeps all day and doesn’t need the money and is probably going to do die soon; what sounds like something his mother would say in defense of a comparable action. Antoine goes on to explain that his mother then stole the money he stole that night, along with a book his grandmother gave him. The questioner continues as to why Antoine doesn’t like his mother - to which Antoine explains that he has forever resented how his mother left him after birth with a wet nurse, then moving onto his grandmother’s when his mother couldn’t afford it, who then got too old to take care of him, forcing him to come back home. We discover that his mother not just neglected the boy, but that she very well could have hated him; resenting having had him at all in the first place. The interviewer then asks if he had ever been with a woman, to which Antoine smirks, leading most to believe he knew the lines, but not the questions. He explains that he hadn’t, but had once been taken to a hooker at a hotel. While the connection’s a bit too Pop Freudian, the question does establish the subsequent films, in which Antoine will forever search for the proper woman, sabotaging relationships and opportunities along the way; falling into a pattern of self-destruction, culminating with Love on the Run (1979). It’s a film that feels odd to take apart, as each individual piece feels so heavy or generic; the photography or style is not all that unique beyond a historical document; and yet it somehow all adds up into an absolutely wonderful film that is fully deserving of its position as one of the all-time greatest films from mid-century world cinema. BELOW: Arguably one of the most iconic closing images in world cinema history Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Proving Jean-Pierre Léaud didn't always look like an asshole Director: François Truffaut Writer: François Truffaut Cinematographer: Raoul Coutard Producer: Pierre Roustang by Jon Cvack This rounds out the Antoine Doinel series for me. Here’s the ranking:
Antoine and Colette is a thirty minute short film, shot three years after The 400 Blows. For those who don’t remember (as I didn’t), The 400 Blows finishes with a freeze frame of Antoine on the beach after having escaped the boys home where his parents left him. In Antoine and Colette, he’s back on the Paris streets, now working at record store and living on his own. At a concert, he sets eyes on a student Colette (Marie-France Pisier) and falls in love, attempting to court her. When she invites Antoine back home to her parent’s house, Antoine discovers a loving family who accept him as though a second child much to Colette’s disagreement who was hoping for a more rebellious dynamic and preventing the relationship from going any further. Antoine refuses to give up, going so far as to move across the street, which pleases the parents, but further alienates Colette. In the end, her parents invite Antoine over once again for dinner and television. As dinner wraps, Antoine’s friend arrives to take Colette out (he also appeared in The 400 Blows; who helped coordinate the typewriter theft). Contrary to the three sequels following, Antoine and Colette maintains the gritty realism with just a dollop of quirkiness which defined the first film. The series would go on to flip the formula, playing as Wes Anderson-lite for Bed and Board, Stolen Kisses, culminating in a clip show for Love on the Run (though exploring some interesting ideas about memory). Rooted in reality, Antoine and Colette captures early infatuations, in which there’s no basis for love beyond the physical; not that anyone’s ever aware until long after it’s past. Additionally, counter to the other four films of the series Antoine is actually a pretty decent person in this film, as though the calm before the storm before he’d go on to develop his complete selfish desire. I’m not a big fan of short films, as they often either play far too slow, or rely far too heavily a twist (either superficial or moral), but this film is one of the better ones. It offers a slice of life; giving us a taste of authentic 1960s Parisian streets; providing what any great film captures in documenting a specific place at a specific time. It’s the perfect length; explored in ways memories pass; serving as nothing more than fragments which race by. I think I’d consider a film like this a feature; containing all the heart of a similar story three times its length. BELOW: A new wave cringe Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Sean Baker and Shih-Ching Tsou Writer: Sean Baker and Shih-Ching Tsou Producer: Sean Baker and Shih-Ching Tsou by Jon Cvack I haven’t yet seen Tangerine (2015) as of this writing, but I consider The Florida Project (2017) as one of the best films of 2017. There was a refreshing and unique voice within that film which has been missing over the last decade or so; in which I saw a side of life - and American life, specifically - of which I’ve never seen before; somehow combining the innocence of a coming of age story with the frightening realism of our lower classes. The film piqued my interest in Sean Baker. Many believe Tangerine was his first film when in fact he actually made six films prior to The Florida Project, his first being Four Letter Words (2000) which I can’t seem to find, and then the $3,000 feature Take Out which would win at Slamdance and go on to be nominated for a John Cassavetes award at the Independent Spirit Awards. The film is shot entirely on the type of nascent digital cameras which you could find at Best Buy for under a couple thousand bucks, opening up with Chinese immigrant Ming Ding (Charles Jang) approached by some debt collecting thugs, demanding the three hundred dollars that Ming’s late in paying, giving him until the end of the day to pay it off. Ming works at a NYC Chinese restaurant as a biker deliverer. The restaurant is led by Big Sister (Wang-Thye Lee), the cook is Wei (Justin Wan), and the other deliverer is Young (Jeng-Hua Yu). Ming explains his situation to Young, who decides to give Ming all of his deliveries, and so we follow Big Sister taking orders, Wei cooking the delicious looking food (you will want Chinese after this), and Ming delivers. This goes for nearly 90 minutes as Ming meets a range of New Yorkers, from sweet to rude; the interactions nothing beyond a few seconds, and that’s about it. Looking at the Wikipedia page synopsis, it’s funny to note that two-thirds of the synopsis describes the first five minutes, and the last third describe the next 85 minutes. I want to emphasize again that I see think The Florida Project is both the best film of the year, along with making me excited for where else Baker will take us (especially after this film and knowing Tangerine’s general story), but in terms of this film - I’m simply in disbelief that it has gained the laureates it has. So little happens in this movie beyond the first and last few minutes, that all anyone could really celebrate is the banality of working a mundane and repetitive job. What I saw was a filmmaker who had very little money, hoping to shoot a feature about an area of life we rarely see. But in terms of the overall craft, even how the cheap digital camera would be used, it looks like it was shot by pre-film schoolers. Frankly - it’s just a boring movie that could just as easily have been a ten or twenty minute short with the same message, if not more powerful. I can’t fault the film too much, as deserved or not, the film shined a spotlight on Sean Baker and provided him the path toward The Florida Project. But all those filmmakers that took so much time to lead a crew, craft a story and images you can’t help feeling frustrated that a film like this gets celebrated while so many other engaging stories are vastly overlooked. BELOW: One of the few trailers that gives you the entire plot Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Best cameo in film history Director: Paul Thomas Anderson Writer: Paul Thomas Anderson Cinematographer: Robert Elswit Producer: Robert Jones and John Lyons by Jon Cvack Each time I watch this movie it seems to take on a different feel, in which I forget most of the details, and yet remember some of the most powerful images - John C. Reilly outside the diner, the matchbook catching fire, the artful con Philip Baker Hall teaches, and of course, the greatest cameo of all time by Philip Seymour Hoffman. I was motivated to watch it after being introduced to The Director Series (which I recommend checking out, offering in depth video essays on various filmmakers), reminding me that this story was based on Anderson’s incredible short film Cigarettes and Coffee, made when Anderson was only 22 years old, getting him into the Sundance Labs where he developed “Sydney”, forcefully retitled “Hard Eight” (which to this day I find a better title, if anything for capturing PSH’s scene), made when PTA was only 25 years old. A year later the 26 year old filmmaker would go on to make what has become one of the greatest pieces of cinema of all time - Boogie Nights. In the history of cinema, only Orson Welles would be able to match the level of craft at such a young age. Coincidentally, Welles was the same age. When I watch a film like this I’m reminded of what independent cinema used to be, in which the return on home video sales was enough to take risks with new filmmakers, rather than hoping to navigate projects through the arduous festival circuit, hoping to get a distribution deal with even a modicum of marketing budget. A person like PTA could drop out of college, pour his tuition money into a film, and so long as it was good, could be approached to make a feature from there. Today anyone can make a film, and with that comes the issue that, unfortunately, there are just too many pretty good films to see, let alone good movies to see all while battling the golden age of episodic storytelling. When I watch the great 90s indie films I picture grimy theaters and video stores, going to Best Buy and hitting up the DVD sales and using the nascent internet to find the best films out there. Films like this make me picture the last remnants of old Hollywood; before television was serious, and before a single video existed on the internet. It was the peak American art form, hungry for new talent, back when single stars were strong enough to finance projects. Back when they were mysterious and more disconnected, developing personas which we only got to see through performance or the tabloids. Independent film is far from dead. I’d even go so far as to argue that what it accomplished has now become much of mainstream Hollywood. 80% of theater viewership is reserved for tentpole or blockbuster films (often franchises). When the option is to check out an obscure indie film for fifteen dollars a ticket, seeing a tentpole movie, or staying at home to watch some of the best television ever offered - it’s not too hard to see the first option is far from the top. When I watch a film like this, there’s a sexiness that makes me nostalgic. It embodies the effort to make a cool movie in a time when such a thing could still gain appreciation; if for nothing else than its ability to introduce a new storyteller - and by extension - a new way to see the world. Although I knew the history about it’s financiers demanding the name change from Sydney to Hard Eight, though in The Director Series, its said that the original cut is nearly two and a half hours; which while keeping that in mind, made me wonder how much different and better of a film it could have been. It opens up outside a diner where John (John C. Reilly) sits against the wall, dejected. A man named Sidney (Philip Baker Hall) enters the frame, offering to buy John a cup of coffee. They then enter into a scene based off the original short film “Cigarettes and Coffee”. John explains that he’s in need of $30,000 in order to bury his mother, making me wonder whether John was conning Sidney or serious. I’m uncertain of either. Sidney offers to give John $100 in if he comes back to Reno with him. The pair head back and John asks for a cigarette. Sydney only has matches and John rejects them, explaining a story about how he had a large box of matches in his pocket years ago while waiting in line which spontaneously erupted, giving him a second degree burn. They arrive in Vegas and Sydney teaches John a trick for recycling hundred dollars into reward points which soon get him a free hotel room and a meal. The seed money works, and we move forward a year. John and Sydney are still in town and two new characters are introduced: Cocktail Waitress (Gwyneth Paltrow) and hoodlum Jimmy (Samuel L. Jackson) who’s been getting closer to John, much to the suspicion of Sydney. Sydney finds another in need with Clementine, who’s caught with a John, taking her back to a diner in one of the film’s best scenes where he hears her story and what she does to survive. I’m sure there’s some contemporary criticism out there for having the one female character as a prostitute, but looking past all that, regardless of the position, Gwyneth Paltrow makes us feel the way Sydney acts. He invites her back to his room, offering his bed, wanting nothing in return. The next day he finds her with John and the two end up getting married within days. In the film’s longest scenem- shot entirely in a hotel room which goes on for about thirty minutes - John calls Sydney in the middle of the night and has him come to a motel where a man lies unconscious on the bed; blood oozing and splattered from his head. Clementine had slept with him and he refused to pay, so she bludgeoned him in the head and called John. Sydney vows to take care of the situation, urging John and Clementine to take a honeymoon in Niagara Falls while things cooled down. Returning to his car, Sydney meets Jimmy who informs him he knows how years back, Sydney killed John’s father, and unless he pays $10,000 he’s going to reveal the information. Sydney refuses, going on to kill Jimmy in one of the film’s best scenes. I once got stuck in Reno for three days and two nights after a flight got canceled; forced to explore the near absurdly small city further than I ever anticipated (there’s actually a riverwalk that leads to a great art district and some phenomenal parks). For the last eight years, my best dude friends and I all take a long weekend trip to Donner Lake, and for the last couple years, have tried to make it down to Reno at least once (it’s only 45 minutes away). I once believed the Chicago Shedd Aquarium had some of the best people watching. Reno is in a league of its own; feeling as though you’re time traveling back to a period that no longer exists. When you hear of the Old Vegas, Reno provides a taste of what that means. Hard Eight embodies the spirit. According to The Secret History of Paul Thomas Anderson, the filmmaker had worked in Reno for a summer or two before college; and it’s clear that he too saw the strange combination of mundanity, stasis, and charm. I’m not sure how to describe what Reno feels like, but when I watch Hard Eight before visiting I felt it, and watching it again having gone there nearly half a dozen times, there’s no better movie to capture its essence. It’s a film that demonstrates a young filmmaker figuring out his craft; and yet I have a feeling that the extended version might have been one of his best. Allegedly, according to IMDb, the man in the hotel room had worked with Jimmy, tracking Sydney and shooting him outside of the same diner he met John. It feels like something Anderson would have done, and seems a more fitting ending. With Malick announcing a five hour cut of Tree of Life (2011), I’m hoping that PTA will one day release his original piece. BELOW: Great series Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A movie impossible to convey with a single poster Director: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger Writer: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger Cinematographer: Jack Cardiff Producer: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger by Jon Cvack A Matter of Life and Death is a very weird film, keeping right in style with Powell’s other unique pictures. This disc actually had an interview with Scorsese who talks about how, given the year it was released, it was still very much a product of the World War 2 propaganda pieces released over the last five years. Yet sure enough, Powell is able to transcend the genre and produce something unique and unexpected. It opens up in a shot up bomber returning from Germany. Royal Air Force pilot Peter Carter (David Niven) demands his crew bail out. He calls into base, and explains the situation to operator June (Kim Hunter), revealing that his parachute is damaged and he’ll be going down with the plane. Though over just seconds, the two develop a believable attraction, pulling of a miraculous love at first sight (or hear), causing Carter to make the foolish pledge that if he somehow survives the two will meet. The radio then breaks out and Carter decides to jump to his death in order to avoid the agony of a plane crash. Rather than dying, he’s sent the “Other world.” Moments later, he wakes up on the beach, confused as to whether or not he’s conscious. A search plane finds him, and soon he’s back in the hospital with June where the two fall in love. A flamboyant man by the name Corridor 71 (Marius Goring) suddenly stops time, taking Carter back to the Other World where Carter learns he should have died in the accident; pleading for an appeal before a panel of angel judges and Carter granted a three day extension for his case; also requiring legal representation. Back on Earth, Carter is revived by both June and the charming and decent Dr. Reeves (Roger Livesey). When Carter explains his preternatural visions, Reeves suspects a serious brain injury. Soon Reeves dies, and Carter selects him as her lawyer at the trial for Peter’s resuscitation. So begins one of the most fascinating procedural films I’ve ever seen, which goes on for over twenty minutes. The Prosecutor is a victim from the American Revolution, believing that Carter and June are in love due to circumstances and that Carter had used borrowed time he owes back. Neither could possibly have a spouse or relationship at home that they’re abandoning, unable to cope with the horrors of war, making the international affair exist on shaky ground. Reeves responds by saying that the time was not at all borrowed, but given, and that it should have no basis on matters of nationality. The American further digs in, calling upon what he calls “Report on England” which I believe is now referred to as the “Famous Five” which was a bipartisan committee opposed to War in England. The American is bitter about how many Americans died fighting Britain, and essentially wants reparations in the form of Carter’s life (or so I surmised after having to watch this scene all over again, having to take careful notes for the first time in my life in order to discover the references). Regardless of the intention, the American utilizes a barrage of metaphors to enforce his point, starting out by holding up a priceless glass from King George III and drops, asking if it breaks because it’s faulty or because it’s glass, somehow connecting this to the fact that our ancestors had a hand in shaping our national identities. The conversation then evolves to Reeve’s asking the American about his heritage, then mentioning a bunch of English artists such as Wordsworth and Shakespeare, then playing American popular music while the prosecutor plays the BBC. Although I have little idea what it means, the American brings up a great quote by Benjamin Franklin, “For the want of a nail the shoe was lost, For the want of a shoe the horse was lost, For the want of a horse the rider was lost, For the want of a rider the battle was lost, For the want of a battle the kingdom was lost, And all for the want of a horseshoe-nail.” I assume it has something to do with June and Carter marrying, or granting Carter an exception, either or both of which could lead to terrible consequences, I’m just not sure how exactly. Reeves responds with another great quote from Washington, “Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire, called conscience”; though again not sure of the relevance beyond letting Jane and Carter marry, as defined by Washington. Reeves moves on to highlight the fact that the Jury fails to reflect the defendant (comprised of a Frenchman, a Boer War veteran, Crimean War veteran, a Chinese from an 1857 British attack, an Hindu man from subjugated India, and an Irishman). Reeves demands Englishmen, though is forced to settle on Americans, comprised of a French cook, Italian serviceman, a white collar Asian man, black serviceman, and a former Englishman. The former Englishman then stands and demands that Carter and June be heard. The Judge agrees, and Powell pulls the camera out into a wide, revealing not just a courtroom comprised of tens of thousands, but taking place in another galaxy altogether. The jurors, lawyers, and judge all journey down a cosmic staircase, returning to the colorful world and to the operating room where Carter’s under anesthetic. They call June, and the American prosecutors ask June if she is willing to step upon the staircase and take Carter’s place. She does, sacrificing her own life for his, proving her love. The jurors rule in favor of Carter, pushing his date of death back (which we don’t learn) much to the disagreement of the administrators and prosecutor. The pair are then returned to Earth. I’m reading another book from the Oxford History of the United States “Freedom from Fear” (a series I strongly recommend to anyone interested in American History; truly some of the best history books I’ve ever read). The book highlights the period from Hoover and the Great Depression through Roosevelt’s New Deal and WWII. Today I reached the point where Roosevelt is stuck between America and Britain’s isolationists, the latter led by Neville Chamberlain (and mentioned in last year’s Darkest House; he’s the man Churchill replaced). For those who don’t know (as I didn’t) Chamberlain is widely condemned in history books for how much of a coward he was - willing to cede Italy to Mussolini in order to gain neutrality for Britain. Roosevelt offered a conference to most Allied European countries in order to discuss possible sanctions, embargoes, sanctions, and how to deal with future aggression. Chamberlain rejected the offer, wanting England to handle it themselves. The book quotes Churchill who later said, “...no event could have been more likely to stave off, or even prevent, war than the arrival of the United States in the circle of European hates and fears. To Britain it was almost a matter of life and death… We must regardless its rejection… as the loss of the last frail chance to save the world from tyranny otherwise than war.” Thus, although I can’t find anything about the “Famous Five”, the court case and overall story seems to reflect this fractured moment. Most - myself included - assume that Britain and America were allied from the start; a fallacy as shocking as learning about our Isolationism and reluctance to open our borders to the oppressed Jewry*. While I think the court proceedings get a bit muddled as to intention, including far too many undefined metaphors and quotes, it does demonstrate the power of love beyond the romantic. To love a neighbor should be as much other nations and people as close proximity; and it’s through that love that millions of needless deaths could be avoided. Perhaps that’s even the point of the garbled debate, in that, in the end, no amount of grandiloquence will ever take the place of compassion. The film might have worked better if Powell integrated this debate earlier into the narrative; instead we’re introduced to a more or less traditional romantic ghost story, in which the intellectualism doesn’t come in until the closing twenty minutes. It could have worked better if the story explored these ideas sooner, threading the procedural earlier into story, injecting more cerebral throughout and allowing us to catch our breath, rather than dumping them onto for twenty minutes straight. It’s still a fascinating film, standing up with any of Powell’s other work. *One heartbreaking anecdote from the book involves Jews who escaped aboard a ship, getting to Cuba, discovering they were unable to help them get to the states, forcing the Jews to return back to Europe, literally seeing Miami as they sailed back. BELOW: Heck of an intro Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  jlaw! Director: Darren Aronofsky Writer: Darren Aronofsky Cinematographer: Matthew Libatique Producer: Scott Franklin and Ari Handel by Jon Cvack I often say it while writing about most Luis Bunuel’s films, but what I resent most about surrealism is that it relies on subjectivity whenever an explanation is absent or short. I often imagine a conversation with a filmmaker like Jodorowsky - whose The Holy Mountain (1973) I actually enjoyed (El Topo (1970) not so much) - in which I can discuss the hypocrisy of some religious sects and how they’ve been hijacked by moneyed interests and I’m sure he’d agree and we could, but of which the other 40% of that film would likely be utter metaphysical nonsense (more or less confirmed in a book of his I read “The Spiritual Journey of Jodorowsky”; not to mention he has a book entitled Psychomagic: The Transformative Power of Shamanic Psychotherapy). I assume if we were to talk about these metaphysical ideas I’d either have been bend my critical thinking skills to the breaking point, or I’d have to concede that I don’t understand; to which he could then say my ignorance is why I don’t understand. A different argument is the images and scenes are open to any interpretation whatsoever and it’s up the individual experience, but if done well, most traditional narratives could provide the same exact experience without alienating audiences by falling too far into abstraction. My friend said it best in that either people hated this movie or loved it; most of the former. My friend gave the example of walking into a bathroom afterward and hearing two men taking a piss while one yelled in rage, “What the fuck was that about?”. It’s easy to laugh at, but if you’re not expecting this, hoping for a more traditional Jennifer Lawrence story, I’d understand the frustration. That’s $15 down the drain if you weren’t expecting this going in. I had heard it had something to do with the environment and watched a YouTube explanation video which I suggest watching below. Essentially, Jennifer Lawrence represents mother-earth, Javier Bardem is Him (God), Ed Harris a man (lower case), and Michelle Pfeiffer is woman (lower case), who have two sons serving as Cain and Abel. The film starts at year zero, in a strange house that’s being renovated, mostly by mother while Him works on his writing. Man then comes, woman follows, they have a kid and one kills the other and people begin pouring in, Him \ writes a poem that gains worldwide approbation. Mother later gets pregnant and more people start to arrive, including armed police guards and the military, until mother has the baby via some type of Jesus figure which is stolen, mangled, and eaten as the body of Christ (again this is from the video), until the house burns and they all die and it starts all over again. That is, we’re destroying the Earth with reckless disregard, and in some Nietzschean sense, doomed to forever repeat the sequence. I don’t disagree with much from the video; though not hearing the details prior to watching, I have a bit different experience with Him and mother. Aside from the cryptic setting is a strong gender dynamic at play - mother is preparing her house for a family, as while not yet pregnant, clearly preparing herself for birth, while the husband is determined to create his own baby through his work. In this case the mother believes purpose - or even immortality - is produced through a child, the husband believes it’s produced through his work. Yada yada yada as the story progresses and Him finds success, it creates a national uproar. As all artists hope for, the work literally changes the world, causing riots in the street and mass political upheaval. Jennifer Lawrence on The Hollywood Roundtable mentioned Aronofsky's obsession over the reviews (they dated for a bit), reading everything and getting torn up about the spectrum of opinion. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a bit of Aronofsky in Him.* However, I’m not all that sure on how to connect the rest of it; other than some broader claim about man’s inherent desire to achieve immortality through work versus a woman being able to achieve immortality through giving life. If the environmental interpretation is correct - which seems close enough - I am left wondering what it’s meant to offer. Warnings about the environment are urgent enough to demand grabbing the attention of as many as possible, so then what is the purpose of telling this story this way? I’m left wondering, if like Jodorowsky, Aronofsky requires something so personal that only a few could ever know the true meaning. *Strange enough PTA would explore a similar tortured artist in Phantom Thread (one of my favorite films of the year) BELOW: Abstraction explained Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  A brilliant cast that prevents the film from going too far down the comedy hole (while getting right up to the precipice) Director: Armando Iannucci Writer: Armando Iannucci, David Schneider, and Ian Martin; La Mort de Staline by Fabien Nury and Thierry Robin Cinematographer: Zac Nicholson Producer: Yann Zenou, Laurent Zeitoun, Nicolas Duval Adassovsky, and Kevin Loader by Jon Cvack An old professor of mine who taught the first philosophy class I’ve ever taken inspired me to go to major in the subject. The class was Intro to Existentialism and one of the best assignments I experienced in college was taking the ideas we learned and applying them to a list of films the professor assembled, inspiring me to major in the subject. Years later, I came across the professor on Facebook. I believe his first message to me was “Woah” and although I was in my mid twenties or so, I still felt a deferential attitude toward the man who would enter into brilliant tangents about politics and state of the world, remaining calm and collected, speaking against the excesses of capitalism and neoliberalism. I was happy to show him my film Road to the Well (2016), which he said he enjoyed. A few months ago, he started a Facebook film appreciation page, inviting about eight or so other students and friends. The flavors are a bit obscure, often making me feel embarrassed over how little I’ve seen of 1920s silent German cinema. During one of the discussions, someone mentioned The Death of Stalin and without a second thought I knew I needed to see it as soon as possible. Recently I read the biography "Stalin: Court of the Red Tsar" (2003) which, having a gross ignorance of Soviet history, the biography shed light on how terrifying the individual was; in which gross mistrust and paranoia prevented anyone from feeling safe. Over 20 million people died during Stalin’s Great Purge and the government was truly led by what oftentimes reads like children who are sick with power and drowning in wealth. I haven’t seen Armando Iannucci’s In the Loop (2009) since it came out, and while I’ve enjoyed the few episodes I’ve seen of "Veep" I’ve never dug too far into the series. Nevertheless, the idea of his voice combined with Stalin’s reign was fascinating. The Death of Stalin takes place the moments before and after Stalin’s death, as he’s left with the remaining eight or so members of his cabinet, a couple of whom are about to be executed that night or later in the week. Kruschev (Steve Buscemi ), Lavrentiy Beria (Lavrentiy Beria), and Georgy Malenkov (Jeffrey Tambor) and the various other cabinet members all scramble to position themselves most favorably in succession. The primary feud is between Beria and Kruschev, who attempt to gain the upper-hand through a game of wit. The film opens at a concert where two radio operators received an order from Stalin to record the show, even though it’s about to end. For a bit I was thinking it was another smart and sharp brown comedy; not too light, but not that dark. The characters felt the same way; with Buscemi and Tambor feeling as such strange choices for such despicable characters that I was nervous the whole thing would never take the Soviet Union serious enough. Near my house is a restaurant called Solidarity and it has a secret back room decorated in the hammer and sickle insignia across the walls. Anne Applebaum in her book "Gulag" (2003) mentions the hypocrisy on the left for refusing to acknowledge Stalin’s systematic murder of 40 million people; we excuse people displaying their memorabilia when they were collectively more murderous than the Nazis. The last thing we needed was a film to make light of Stalin's reign of terror and just as I was expecting it to head in that direction, it shifted, capturing how dark and horrible his rule was, with both Buscemi and Tambor fading into their characters unlike anything I’ve ever seen - either of their other work, or from any other more prominent actor. It’s one of the finest political satires I’ve ever seen. The eight people comprise the governing committee after Stalin’s death. While Malenko serves as the face of the state, Lavrentiy Beria controls committee, forcing Kruschev to manage Stalin’s funeral while Beria institutes Kruschev's more liberal reforms; namely ending the Great Purge. Kruschev fights back by reopening the public train lines, allowing tens of thousands of citizens to come to the city and mourn, surprising the Soviet soldiers who shoot down 1500 of them. Malenkov is then urged by the rest of the committee to provide the final vote in removing Beria, who agrees only if there’s a trial. So begins the most jarring scene of the film, in which Beria is rushed through a courtroom located in an old barn, sentenced within seconds, and in a terrifying POV, taken out to the courtyard and shot through the head. It’s been awhile since I read the Stalin book, but what I most remember is how juvenile and paranoid the entire story was, providing endless sycophancy, lies, and betrayal amongst a bunch of men acting like teenagers, ruling the country with absolutely no regard for any life beyond their own. Combined with the mass killings, it’s difficult to comprehend unless you get the detailed account. The comparisons are clear. We can laugh at Donald Trump and the things he does and says; the trolling and disdain for what anyone thinks. Now imagine if he was willing to indiscriminately slaughter tens of millions of human lives. Nothing different about Trump personally; just this horrifying addition. That is just the beginning of what Stalin was like. What the film does a fantastic job of capturing is that lust for power, and the utter corruption absolute power contains. In some ways, none of the men even had a choice, as by that point - with Molotov on the kill list - it’s only a matter of time before they would all get the bullet. The conclusions demonstrates the speed in which happens. One moment on top and only minutes later dead before you even hear the gunshot. It makes you think back to that silly opening scene, realizing that the lightheartedness was the entire point; helping to demonstrate the terror beneath the surface. It’s rare for a satire to take such a grim reversal and that’s why this might go down as the greatest since Dr. Strangelove (1964). BELOW: Tambor's greatest role Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  Director: Ken Annakin Writer: Bernard Gordon, John Melson, Milton Sperling, and Philip Yordan Cinematographer: Jack Hildyard Producer: Sidney Harmon, Milton Sperling, Philip Yordan, and Dino De Laurentiis by Jon Cvack Similar to good popular 90s films, I’ve coming to the bottom of the bucket in terms of the Epic World War 2 action films produced from the 50s through the 70s. A Bridge Too Far (1945), The Longest Day (1962), Van Ryan’s Express (1965), The Guns of Navarone (1961), and Kelly’s Heroes (1970) all utilized grand set pieces, with countless numbers of tanks, planes, and soldiers packed into every scene. Where Eagles Dare (1968) was the last one I watched, and while not perfect, the closing sequence is one of the most incredible action scenes ever created. It’s watching these films that you realize how inferior modern VFX are by comparison, and why a film like Dunkirk (2017) is a far more powerful cinematic experience than cramming each action sequence in with as much computer graphics as possible. Battle of the Bulge is directed by the same Ken Annakin who gave us The Longest Day; with this one in color (I was expecting black and white) and one of the few films from the sub-genre I’ve seen on Blu-Ray. Not knowing a thing about the film (beyond the obvious), an Overture kicks off and the credits begin to roll. In grand cinemascope, flying above the skies of the Ardennes Forest, we meet Lt. Colonel Daniel Kiley (Henry Fonda) and his pilot on a reconnaissance mission, eventually flying overhead of who would become Kiley’s primary villain, Nazi Colonel Martin Hessler (Robert Shaw). At the time, Allied forces had assumed the worst was behind them, and that Nazi Germany would fall in a matter of months. Kiley is convinced otherwise; believing that a massive force was hiding in the Ardennes; the place where Hessler is headed. There he meets his superior, General Kohler (Werner Peters), who walks him through an incredible series of corridors and rooms, showing everything from a mini-cooper sized Panzer tank model, to a war room with an ornate switchboard, helping them to coordinate their every move while walking us through the story. One of the best description for movies such as Volcano (1997), Twister (1996), 2012 (2009), San Andreas (2015), etc. is Disaster Porn. While I’ll stick to Epic World War 2 Action Movies, you could easily call this War Porn, as the film glorifies all manner of machines, vehicles, and guns. As a kid, this is the type of action film that’d make me jump from my seat, grab my toy weapons cache, and go play war in the backyard for a couple hours until I tired myself out and needed another dose of inspiration. Kiley admonishes his superiors officers of the suspected attack, including an old friend Gen. Grey (Robert Ryan) who while wanting to believe him, just can’t take the risk rolling out such a significant number of troops in preparation. Kiley remains committed, heading to the Siegfried Line front where he meets a battle hardened crew watching the Germans not more than a quarter mile away, led by Major Wolenski (Charles Bronson). Back in the German barracks, Hessler is put in command of a Panzer division; however, with Germany having taken on such large casualties, he’s left with only young boys fresh from the academy with little to no battle experience, determined to demonstrate their courage. Kiley then takes another reconnaissance flight, flying beneath the fog to discover the Panzer division which then shoots Kiley and his pilot down, though before he forwards the message. To complicate matters, German Command has sent in American-sounding GI’s to help sabotage the response. The tanks open at the Schnee Eifel, obliterating American forces, and forcing them into retreat. So begins the battle that defines any Epic World War 2 film in which hundreds of war machines and soldiers fight for the remaining hour, culminating in one of the most impressive final sequences I’ve seen from the genre (and any action film overall) in which dozens upon dozens of full scale tanks battle across the fields; duking it out across acres and acres of land, using trenches to gain advantage. Soon it ends up at a fuel station where hundreds and hundreds of 50-gallon drums of gas are stacked high in all directions, which you know is going to be the end Hessler. Once again you’re left desiring a return to this type of filmmaking, in which what you’re seeing - from the characters to the machinery - is entirely real. The closing sequence was so awesome in the truest sense of the word that you grow saddened by the thought that the thought that the visual arts have actually devolved. The Battle of the Bulge is not the best from the subgenre, but like Where Eagles Dare, the action and characters more than make up for it. Robert Shaw, Peter Fonda, and Charles Bronson are all fantastic; with Shaw serving as the star of the show, as even though Jaws is my favorite movie of all time, I neither knew he was English or ever played a German Nazi. While there’s not as much snow as you expect, it’s a fun film. BELOW: Robert Shaw plays one heck of a Nazi Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page  The original filmmakers podcast Director: Kent Jones Writer: Kent Jones and Serge Toubiana Cinematographer: Nick Bentgen, Daniel Cowen, Eric Gautier, Mihai Mălaimare Jr., Lisa Rinzler, and Genta Tamaki Producer: Charles S. Cohen and Olivier Mille by Jon Cvack There’s been a series of great filmmaker biopics coming out as of late - De Palma (2015), Spielberg (2017), Altman (2014), all providing deep dives into most of their work; all experiencing the same problem in being far too short. It often breaks my heart looking back at these filmmakers, knowing that they all got to live through a time when cinema’s popularity remained strong. I’ve recently joined a show run by a relatively recent NYU grad, who for as much as he loves cinema, admits that the theatrical experience is close to dead for him and most of his friends and that Netflix, Hulu, HBO, and Amazon are where they discover most of the content they consume. One even gave up his Movie Pass after it failed to work at a theater, figuring he probably wouldn’t use it enough anyway. I get a lot of resistance when I say that film is losing its position as the pinnacle of American art; as I'm also the first admit that we’re living in one of cinema’s golden ages in terms of content. The issue is that few care to participate. Movies will always get made, but they no longer hold the position as America’s premiere art form in which the theatrical experience is holy. Most people I talk to (even for those working in the industry) watch shows and a couple movies here and there. Few I know ever go to the movies for anything beyond the occasional spectacle film, or what spreads through word of mouth. Industry people aside, I hardly know anybody that has seen more than one or two Best Picture nominees, not even hearing of most of them. There’s a part of me that so badly wants cinema to return to where it once was; like wishing for an ailing relationship to suddenly correct itself, knowing it’s forever gone. Movies will always exist, but in terms of their dominant position in culture, once Virtual Reality gains ground, cinema will be no different than the state of literature or theater; a bit above jazz or poetry, as though an immortal senior citizen, retiring for new generations. Truffaut/Hitchcock opens with various filmmakers - Paul Schrader, David Fincher, Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, Peter Bogdanovich - all discussing what the book meant to them when it came out as they went through it page by page and shot by shot. I had initially purchased the book back in college, and probably take about four years before I ever got around to reading it. I haven’t revisited the book since Road to the Well (2016), and after seeing this, I’m pissed that I didn’t think of going to the book before we shot. While I can’t remember the details, I do recall certain sequences broken down shot by shot in a series of images in order to demonstrate the language of cinema. As with most great and progressive artists, it’s only far into their career that they’re finally celebrated for their achievements (Spielberg being our generation’s version of this fallacy who only recently is receiving the unanimous recognition he deserves). I enjoy Hitchcock and his obsession of being wrongfully accused, often placed with a Freudian dreamlike style; the yarn being when he misbehaved as a boy, his father took him to a police station who locked him up for ten minutes or so, leaving him with the note saying, “This is what we do to bad little boys.” In the mediocre Hitchcock biopic film, we also learned of Hitch’s affinity - possible obsession - for attractive young women, much to the chagrin of his wife. To think the guy made over 53 films, most within the same genre, just goes to show the extremity of these obsessions. It poses a fascinating question of authorship and the limitations of certain filmmakers, along with how extraordinary it is when other filmmakers (Billy Wilder, Kubrick, etc.) are able to transcend a singular genre and explore all forms of story. We’ll never know if the event from Hitchcock’s past is what caused his obsession with the the story. What the film and the interviews do best is highlight what’s been missing from most mainstream film and television - the ability to show and convey information rather than say it. At various points the filmmakers discuss their favorite visuals - the crop duster chasing Cary Grant in North by Northwest (1959), the God’s eye view from The Birds (1963) when the gas station explodes, the shower scene from Psycho (1960). Last October I watched What Lies Beneath (2000), serving as yet another attempt by a modern filmmaker to replicate Hitchcock’s style, and while doing pretty well, had too poor of an ending to retain the tension. The issue is that Hitchcock had explored so many of the different visuals from the genre that even De Palma admitted in his documentary that he struggled to think of new ideas. Nevertheless, Hitchcock set the standard for what a popular filmmaking could be - utilizing visuals of the highest craft within an accessible story; allowing the spectrum of audiences to enjoy it. This movie could - and should - have spent an hour on each of his major films, allowing us to go scene by scene or even frame by frame to understand what he did. In terms of documentaries about cinema, this is one of the finest. BELOW: Part 1 of a 25 episode audio feed of the interview Like what you read? Support the site on Patreon Please report any spelling, grammar, or factual errors or corrections on the contact page |
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