Derek failed at finishing his top 100, but there are a lot of solid reviews in here! [Archive] - Page 5

Duncan

01-28-2009, 03:11 AM

73. Stranger Than Paradise (Jarmusch, 1984)

http://mrsadman.com/i/strangerThan.jpg

Maybe we oughta go to the shore, she’s saying, but she doesn’t know. I don’t hold it against her. I don’t know either. And now, We could walk around Jack London Square. This I hold against her. Jack London wanted that square like Charlie here wants to give his kibble to charity. Charlie sees in b&w, the magazines tell me, and that’s what you should be imagining this in. Thought I’d let you know in case you were doing it all wrong. Things like Pabst Blue Ribbon are still called Pabst Blue Ribbon, but the ribbon isn’t blue, it’s dark grey. There’s colour TV too, but it’s also b&w. Right now an &w news anchor is talking about some b guy that got shot by a blue man (who appears dark grey) on the BART. Maybe it’s best not to imagine things this way. I thought it was a good idea because of the film, but it’s not. It’s a bad idea.

We end up at the park by the port, which happens to make the whole b&w debate pointless because this place is only made of greys. I hope you’ll remember that there are many beautiful films that are made only of greys, and that grey settings get a much worse reputation than they deserve. The tide is out, leaving fields of sludge that have only the slightest slope. There’s a bright plastic dolphin about twenty yards from the shore’s retaining wall. I can imagine how it would look if the tide were in. It would be caught leaping from waters of suggested depths, frozen in a moment of what the mould its face came from would have you think is happiness. If we had come six hours earlier I never would have seen the off-vertical stand descending from the base of the dolphin’s tail into the muck. City signs with pictures of thin legged birds tell me this muck is an ecosystem all its own and worth saving. I’m not sure the dolphin is pulling its weight.

Charlie runs ahead of us. Charlie, come here, she says. Let him be, I say. There is no one else in the park. Walking around this place you understand that it was once a concept. Some urban planning committee decided the waterfront needed refreshing, and in grandiose montage of public space they cut directly from the port to grassland and fake dolphins. The Mumford Perplex is being unloaded. Cranes larger than most downtown buildings make neat piles of bulk containers. What do you think’s in those things? I say. Frankincense, wigs for chemo patients, thousands of those singing fish you see on TV, and Lego. Good answer, I think. Charlie does not care to imagine what’s inside the containers with us. These cranes are the crippled offspring of giraffes and AT-AT’s, and we are walking in their shadows.

Milky Joe

01-28-2009, 03:49 AM

More film reviews should be like that.

Derek

01-30-2009, 06:18 AM

#72 - Shoot the Piano Player (Francois Truffaut, 1960)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/pianoplayer.jpg

The opening sequence of Shoot the Piano Player is a perfect metaphor for the French New Wave’s approach to cinema. The main piano theme is played over a shot of the inside of the piano, revealing to the audience the inner workings of the instrument, while still allowing for enjoyment of the music itself. Truffaut’s cinema, particularly this film, works the same way, here taking an established genre and cinematic conventions and peeling back layers to show us the underlying structure, yet doing so in a way that never once takes away from its emotional impact or dramatic tension. Truffaut’s self-reflexivity, unlike so many directors influenced by the French New Wave, is never mechanical and actually increases the empathy the audience feels for his characters rather than distancing them through cold irony.

Like the noirs it homages, Piano Player is a film of doubles, but not merely through the protagonist’s fractured psyche (in this case, Charlie as Edouard born anew). The scenes and sequences themselves are often doubled as subtext and internal monologues are brought to the surface to play alongside the text itself, either humorously commenting on it or adding to the emotional conflict. It is a duality embodied in the character’s behavior and actions as the film plays out in short bursts of tender realism only to break away into sheer movie-ness, either behaviorally or through overt stylistic flourishes. Truffaut’s skill at balancing the real and the cinematic is no more evident than in the various ways he infuses Charlie with genuine humanity despite the reminders that he is only a character.

This is a film that’s alive like few others and Truffaut gives it a sense of whimsy that is matched only by its unrestrained romanticism and sense of danger. It is full of seemingly infinite possibilities, where a camera can track the protagonist to the apartment he’s visiting only to abandon him and, on a whim, follow the pretty girl who leaves it. This toying with the position of Charlie in the film occurs throughout and at one point he even steps outside of the on-screen drama to comment on it before dutifully taking his seat behind the piano. Unlike everyone else, Charlie is tragically aware of his status as movie character, realizing that fate is out of his hands and all he can do is wait for it to play out. His internal monologues, back-and-forth with the narrator and other such devices are not aimlessly self-referential, but reveal the machinery that makes cinema move without sacrificing any of the magic. In fact, Truffaut’s bag of tricks, in this his most playful film, helped usher in a whole new brand of magic that we’ve been seeing in the 48 years since this film hit the scene.

dreamdead

01-31-2009, 01:50 AM

Wanted to say that I'm still reading with interest, but still haven't built out my Jarmusch viewings past Dead Man and have retained little memory of Truffaut's film from my viewing in '04, though there was a time when it featured on my top 100. I wonder sometimes about the credit that Truffaut receives from the film community as he's acclaimed more for The 400 Blows, rightly so, of course, and little else receives coverage. Whereas someone like Godard allows for a multitude of answers on which is someone's favorite, Truffaut never quite achieved the acclaim for a multiplicity of titles...

Qrazy

01-31-2009, 01:53 AM

Duncan

02-11-2009, 02:21 AM

71. Code Unknown: Incomplete Tales of Several Journeys (Haneke, 2000)

http://www.thelifecinematic.com/filmcaps/code.jpg

Code Unknown is a fragmented film. Its subtitle is fairly apt. There are several protagonists. Their tales are incomplete. Scenes end before they should, dramatically. Others seem to have no point at all. Others echo ones that came before, the interference of class and race difficult to normalize. It is a film sympathetic to immigrants while not engaging in the false canonization of victimhood. Because of Code Unknown's structure, Haneke can afford to be broad in political scope but specific in example. We are presented with issues of the homeless, of the handicapped, of romance, of youth, of agriculture, the mirroring inherent in film. What haunts every scene in Code Unknown, however, is the suspicion that something is always lost in every instant. That there is a latent expression of our experience left unnoticed and its promises left unfulfilled. Portrait after portrait on the subway, and what's left over is that we don't know these people.

But it is not the alienation from others that is disturbing about Code Unknown. Rather, it is the proposal that we are alienated from our own experience. And I do not mean in the subconscious sense, or that some instinctual current is carrying us. I mean that our day-to-day, regular, waking life is somehow kept at a distance from us. There are times when this distance can grow to the point where one may wonder if existence is one's own, or if it is held in the gaze of others. And if we were helpless, like a young girl for instance, and others chose not to watch, to avert their eyes, would this be taken from us? And when we are in most honest conversation with ourselves, do we have the language to express what we know about our being? And is what we know even knowable, let alone expressible? Wandering down supermarket aisles with a loved one, why does this love, at some limit of magnification, become so abstract and indistinguishable from a locked door? Who the hell is this mute kid even talking to, anyway?

http://img5.allocine.fr/acmedia/medias/05/00/19/050019_af.jpg

Duncan

02-11-2009, 02:23 AM

Apologies for the delay.

Derek

02-11-2009, 08:18 PM

71. Code Unknown: Incomplete Tales of Several Journeys (Haneke, 2000)

Great pick and my favorite Haneke film. I really like how you approach it too, especially your second paragraph.

Derek

02-11-2009, 08:21 PM

#71 - Modern Times (Charlie Chaplin, 1936)

http://campus.queens.edu/depts/history/Syllabi/H204/H204%20Images/Chaplin%20Modern%20Times%20193 6%203.jpg

The opening twenty minutes of Modern Times are rightfully placed in the pantheon of great comedic sequences and remains one of the greatest and the funniest extended segments in the silent cinema. Chaplin’s slapstick humor has almost always come from a combination of his bodily contortions and the way they are played against his environment. With Modern Times, Chaplin himself becomes the instrument of protest, his body redefined and reconfigured to meet the increasing stresses of capitalist society, literally becoming an expendable gear in the factory machine. Chaplin’s humor, as he begins to twitch uncontrollably before his mind temporarily turns to mush, is so miraculous here because the social commentary is engrained in the slapstick – the absurdity in direct lineage to the exorbitant demands of the social system.

From the initial commentary on the rise of mechanization and the dehumanization of the worker, Chaplin expands the film to a full critique of Depression Era United States and the systematic oppression he saw occurring at the time. The romance between he and Paulette Godard may be a tad underdeveloped, but it serves its purpose as the two attempt to rise from their troubled pasts only to find themselves constantly pushed back into prison and vagrancy. To see a mainstream American film deal with class issues with such unflinching candor and in such an up-front manner is quite remarkable – this was obviously always the case with Chaplin’s tramp character, but he never so blatantly and angrily challenged the inherent class inequities as he does here – especially considering the times and that now, such a perspective couldn’t make it within 10 miles of megaplex.

As per usual with Chaplin’s classics, the balance of love story and comedy is pitch-perfect, yet nary a moment feels extraneous as he carefully ties every angle into a grandiose statement that stands up to the lofty title bestowed upon the film. And not to suggest this film is in any way underrated, but the complexity behind its commentary is too easily dismissed as naïve or overly simplistic when it is so beautifully weaved into every aspect of the film and delivered with such passion without detracting from the humor or stepping outside the film (Great Dictator’s final speech, I’m looking at you). Chaplin’s sentimental side certainly shines brighter in City Lights, but Modern Times showcases his incomparable ability to use comedy as a vehicle for social change and evoke laughter and compassion in same breath.

dreamdead

02-13-2009, 03:21 AM

That Haneke film is the one that I actually expected to resonate best with me, since its ideas of cultural alienation, when structurally fragmented, seemed like it would fashion a full panoramic picture and allow, albeit paradoxically, a full vision of Haneke's ideas. However, the very structure either was too formally rigid and offputting for me or, alternately, the very idea of a fragmented narrative in this context rings as too "academic" and "stiff." I realize that these terms are terribly subjective and thus refuse to allow much conversation, but whereas Haneke usually provided entryway into his characters, the formal conceit here constricted any sentiment beyond sympathy (especially for Binoche). And I don't think that Haneke has ever been big on generating emotional sympathy, so I feel like the film and I never got on the right wavelength. In this case, I feel Haneke didn't do his part. However, I can fully understand why some might privilege this work above the others, for its audacity at a narrative level is stronger than his others.

Chaplin... In general, I need to revisit Chaplin's works. There are times I feel he's one of the most important directors ever, and there's other times where I feel the tramp archetype actually impedes any lasting value to the films, in that he remains too much aware of his actions. I can never be sure if I'm underrating him or not. That said, there are several of his sound films that I need to get to, especially those that abandon the tramp character.

Duncan

02-15-2009, 05:46 AM

71. Le Samourai (Melville, 1967)

http://blogs.suntimes.com/scanners/ls3.jpg

After agreeing to call Jean-Pierre Melville’s curiously black stand-in for Death a couple hours later, Jef Costello pauses before leaving. Played by Alain Delon, Jef is reminiscent of a sculpture. His face is perpetually still, but this doesn’t mean that it is emotionless. There are certain subtleties of gesture and a strained stoicism that, at times, suggest he is actually asking us to empathize with him. Still, Toshiro Mifune he is not. Le Samourai is a film that announces itself as one culling Japanese history and myth. However, little about Le Samourai seems Japanese to me. Melville’s development of Jef is classically European, like Aias of The Iliad or a Roman Centurion. Jef is more likely to have read Marcus Aurelius than The Tale of the Heike, or whatever fictional Japanese book is quoted in that impeccable opening shot (solitude of the tiger, ha). So, to me, Jef has to pause before leaving Death’s chamber because we have to see him preserved for just a second as the marble idealization of men long past. Here is his brief tenure in the museum alongside the busts of ancient warriors and philosophers.

It is also in this moment, at what I think is the peak of Jef’s cultivated masculinity, that one has to ask Jean-Pierre Melville if he is fucking kidding because this film, frankly, is ridiculous. What kind of weirdo pauses as if he existed in a photograph? The mounting manliness of Delon is too much to bear, brought to a point of utter absurdity. His jaw is flawless. His nose is refined. His fedora is exquisite. The collar of his trench coat is popped just to the right side of the angle that boundaries coolness and obnoxiousness. And, to throw in a bit of contrast to the impotent bourgeoisie just for good measure, his rival for the affection of a preposterously beautiful woman is named, I kid you not, Monsieur Wiener. Furthermore, these genre tropes are being extruded from some collection of bad cops and crooks films into shapes too obvious to take seriously. It’s one thing to suggest, as so many of these films do, that the line between police and criminals is a blurry one. It is entirely another to make it a centerpiece of your film without winking (I’m looking at you, key ring).

So, what exactly is this film? Is it just a taciturn version of 300, where ultra-male men live by some code that requires sacrifice for a principle? Is it a pre-cursor to Sin City, jacking itself off to the extremes of genre exaggeration? Or, does Le Samourai have a sense of irony? “It has all been arranged,” says Jef as he goes to meet Death for the last time (contrary to what the Criterion subtitles say: “It will all work out”). I like to think that it’s Melville speaking here, and that it’s the films silliest exaggerations that have been arranged, that a sense of humour exists below Delon’s imperturbable coolness. It is to Melville’s credit as an artist that I can’t quite define Le Samourai. Its tone is ambiguous or stratified, perhaps maintaing a note people can’t normally hear while simultaneously playing a familiar tune. It’s not El Topo or Inland Empire, but Le Samourai is certainly one of the most bizarre films I have seen. Its aesthetic is precise, its cultural signposts are diverse, and its director and star are stubbornly reticent to let the viewer in on a joke that may or may not exist. Ba-dum-chsh.

Melville

02-16-2009, 01:57 AM

Chaplin... In general, I need to revisit Chaplin's works. There are times I feel he's one of the most important directors ever, and there's other times where I feel the tramp archetype actually impedes any lasting value to the films, in that he remains too much aware of his actions.
What do you mean by him "remaining too much aware of his actions"? In my mind, the tramp is largely what makes Chaplin's films so great. He is pure icon and simultaneously endlessly sympathetic—a semiotician's dream. A film like Modern Times, in particular, works so beautifully because Chaplin makes use of the tramp as an iconographic figure; the whole movie is a brilliant play of symbols.

Though you should definitely see Monsieur Verdoux if you want tramp-free Chaplin.

It is also in this moment, at what I think is the peak of Jef’s cultivated masculinity, that one has to ask Jean-Pierre Melville if he is fucking kidding because this film, frankly, is ridiculous.

So, what exactly is this film? Is it just a taciturn version of 300, where ultra-male men live by some code that requires sacrifice for a principle? Is it a pre-cursor to Sin City, jacking itself off to the extremes of genre exaggeration? Or, does Le Samourai have a sense of irony?
This was pretty much my exact reaction to Le Samourai, though its odd tone and use of genre tropes, while certainly interesting and amusing in their oddness, didn't add up to much for me.

dreamdead

02-16-2009, 05:57 PM

What do you mean by him "remaining too much aware of his actions"? In my mind, the tramp is largely what makes Chaplin's films so great. He is pure icon and simultaneously endlessly sympathetic—a semiotician's dream. A film like Modern Times, in particular, works so beautifully because Chaplin makes use of the tramp as an iconographic figure; the whole movie is a brilliant play of symbols.

I should emphasize that Modern Times is the film that is least in my Chaplin vocabulary, as its dependent on my eight-year-old memory of it. That said, for me this kind of devolves back to issues of my sense of spectatorship. I think back to Keaton and consider how incredibly invisible/transparent his performative style is, which is certainly intentional and thus constructed. At the same time, save for The Gold Rush (which is clearest in my mind of Chaplin's tramp films), I always feel as though Chaplin's character is too self-aware of his own filmic-ness which lessens my interest in it. I love the semiotic symbols at work in the closing images of Modern Times, which has been referenced so many times, and that self-knowing kind of forward-thinking iconography works there. Yet for other moments, specifically the much-referenced fusion between machine and man that Chaplin endures (in the image that Derek posted), it comes off as too obviously artificial. That one's due for a rewatch, though, as my impressions do need to be reevaluated...

I think I'll get to Monsieur Verdoux next month. Thanks for the rec.

...I simultaneously did and didn't have Melville's apathy to Melville's film (whatda?!? ;)). Despite my appreciation for the cultural signifiers at work here, there is the very real sense that I didn't leave moved or transformed by the exercise that Melville employs. And while I hate the semantic implications invoked within my use of word "exercise," that ultimately is the way I approach Le Samourai. It is patently the sum of its parts, but it is frequently ambivalent about whether or not it's in on the joke. In that respect, I think back to something like Contempt, which is certainly working metatextually but also works as a fully designed text, and feels like a smarter twin than Melville's film. Though I value both genre deconstruction and signification (and Le Samourai feels more like the latter), not much of it resonates or moves me in any way beyond the scope of its textuality. I have no real understanding, then, for why Truffaut's film that Derek had earlier referenced works in a better way than this one, though neither would place as a great film in my eyes... but I digress.

Derek

02-16-2009, 06:39 PM

Yet for other moments, specifically the much-referenced fusion between machine and man that Chaplin endures (in the image that Derek posted), it comes off as too obviously artificial.

Could you clarify what you mean by artificial in this case? Of course it's artificial and it's meant to be. It's an unnatural and, in Chaplin's mind, nonviable fusion that dehumanizes the tramp and shows the absurdity of the machines that are supposedly functioning for our benefit. His heightened facial tics and bodily expressions, the artificiality of it all, is a necessary part of the commentary.

Melville

02-16-2009, 07:54 PM

I always feel as though Chaplin's character is too self-aware of his own filmic-ness which lessens my interest in it.
That never occurred to me. He always struck me as a pure creature of film, more self-aware of his relationship to society, his position as an outsider, than Keaton's character was, but not self-aware of his filmic-ness. I'll ponder it next time I watch one of his movies.

Yet for other moments, specifically the much-referenced fusion between machine and man that Chaplin endures (in the image that Derek posted), it comes off as too obviously artificial.
Yeah, I can kind of see that. The construction of that scene and the underlying themes seem perhaps too overtly and artificially conveyed in the symbols (or metonyms or whatever).

I have no real understanding, then, for why Truffaut's film that Derek had earlier referenced works in a better way than this one, though neither would place as a great film in my eyes... but I digress.
I think Derek nailed exactly what I like about Shoot the Piano Player (which is the movie you're talking about, right?):

Truffaut’s self-reflexivity, unlike so many directors influenced by the French New Wave, is never mechanical and actually increases the empathy the audience feels for his characters rather than distancing them through cold irony.
The self-reflexive use/deconstruction of genre was distinctly playful, and entertaining as such, and moreover, it was used to build engaging characters. Melville's film wasn't as obvious in its use/construction of genre elements, and its characters remained ciphers throughout. It really didn't give me much that I could grab onto besides its oddness (which I suppose is largely why Duncan liked it: its kind of slippery, ambiguous metatextuality).

Derek

02-16-2009, 08:05 PM

#70 - 8 1/2 (Federico Fellini, 1963)

http://mmimageslarge.moviemail-online.co.uk/fellini8.jpg

What a difficult task to review 8 ½! Do I go for humor or insight? Is the role of the critic to lay out a classic like this in the most straightforward way imaginable since it is one of those required introductions to foreign cinema or to bring something new to the table and engage the reader in a unique way and get them to think of the film in a new light? Where even do I start? Chronological run-downs and synopses are half-baked and overdone, but I fear going against the critical grain or ruffling too many feathers with regard to an undisputed masterpiece may lose me some readers. It’s the old struggle between art vs. entertainment, fighting for individual expression without slipping into puerile solipsism. Is this a review about a film or a review of reviewing or is even that giving myself too much credit? Is it hot in here or is just me? My artistic temperament left me debilitated, unable to relate my impressions through mere words? Form now dictated by the chains that enslave me to my own sub-conscience, audacious promises of the review about one of the greats slowly slipping out of reach. Have I built such expectations over these last 30 reviews that anything short of making them think “My god, I’ve never thought of it that way!” would be deemed a disposable failure? The pressure is so overwhelming, it’s downright paralyzing. I am not worthy of 8 ½ and I sure as hell am not qualified to tell anyone what they’ve been missing about it. Perhaps some sort of grandiose gesture needed, a Tower of Babel perhaps for me to stand upon, hollow inside yet so distractingly large, no one will question its value before their jaw drops from its mere scope. Have I constructed a house of cards that must inevitably crumble beneath the pretense of my sheer arrogance in even following through with this concept? Perhaps a distraction…reverie?…nosta lgia?…objectification and meaningless sex sometimes does the trick, doesn’t it? It’s getting embarrassing by this point. Why continue going on when each step forward is only digging a deeper hole for my detractors to shove me into and bury me under the empty shards and shallow contemplations I continue to think may pass as a film review? “But this isn’t a film review” you say. And perhaps you’re right and it was silly of me to lead you to believe that it was. Is there any value in examining the process behind, what do they call it, writer’s block? Is it even writer’s block anymore when your fingers literally can’t remove themselves from the keyboard, as if the subconscious mind has finally reached equilibrium with my typing speed? Where would I be right now had my parents not forced me to do Typing Tutor in my middle school years? But no, I don’t want to think of my youth, since that’s not what this is about. Or is it even about anything anymore? Does it need to be? What of the thematic content or cinematography in 8 ½…that’s what I’m expected to discuss, yet discussing it would only make me one of thousands of other critics who’ve tackled it and the end result is either disappointment that others have done it better or revealing that even in saying something interesting, there is no way to do so without sticking to the formula I have laid out for myself. How can I be one of them and stand apart from them? It’s late and I’m exhausted and frightened my fraudulence will soon be revealed for all to see. Better to ignore it. “He has nothing to say!” she boldly declares after cackling right in front of me, but is there a difference between having nothing to say and saying something about having nothing to say? Am I making 8 ½ sound like Seinfeld? Are they really that different? Of course they are, but something always comes from nothing. Regardless, that’s another house of cards for another day and my fears of inadequacy and artistic failure need their rest. I’ll exit quietly for fear that any loud noises may disrupt the words above, causing gravity to infiltrate the world of text and bring this hollow sham of a review crumbling down into a pile of unconnected words and letters. On second thought, let’s just pretend that’s what happened and move on, shall we?

Melville

02-16-2009, 08:17 PM

Terrific choice. (Seinfeld would have been a great choice too.)

Duncan

02-16-2009, 08:23 PM

I like it, Derek.

Duncan

02-16-2009, 08:31 PM

Keaton has always struck me as the more self-aware of his own filmic-ness between he and Chaplin. His films play with editing tricks (Sherlock, Jr. especially), break the 4th wall (but not in any way that should concern dreamdead), and play with logic even outside of dream sequences. The Tramp, on the other hand, I have always thought of as a quaintly Vaudevillian character, not quite at home on the silver screen, but someone who should be on a stage somewhere charging a penny a ticket.

dreamdead

02-16-2009, 09:00 PM

Interesting process with the 8 1/2 write-up, Derek. Whenever I think of a film that is self-aware of its own process of being made, this is the first, and perhaps best, film with which my minds aligns itself. It's a wonderment.

Duncan, your thoughts make me go back and question my initial stance even more. There is the sense that you're right with regard to Keaton being more transparently cinematic, which brings with it all of the various constructions that film inherently possesses, but the Vaudville train of thought with Chaplin that you identify is precisely my issue with Chaplin. He exists more at odds with film than ol' Stoneface, existing in an almost liminal space that is antithetical to Keaton's more naturally filmic attitude. On some level, that liminality makes me suspicious of his intents, even if he is more traditional in terms of his production and editing sequences. I just have vague memories of Chaplin using society to buttress his jokes more here (the policeman and the dip into the water here, if memory serves), whereas Keaton is more about centering the joke back on himself which somehow defuses any self-awareness to me.

Melville

02-17-2009, 01:42 AM

the Vaudville train of thought with Chaplin that you identify is precisely my issue with Chaplin. He exists more at odds with film than ol' Stoneface, existing in an almost liminal space that is antithetical to Keaton's more naturally filmic attitude.
I'm confused by this. How can a character based primarily on visual appearance, from costume and makeup to the poetry of his visual comedy, be at odds with film? He would certainly work well in Vaudeville as well, and I would happily pay my one cent to see him there, but he seems almost like the perfect film character to me: a character and an icon achieved through pure motion and appearance.

As for Keaton, his films are self-aware, but his character in those films much less so. Even when he's moving randomly from movie to movie in Sherlock Jr., he always seems so single-minded in his focus on achieving some goal that he never comes off as self-aware on a "meta" level.

Marley

02-20-2009, 03:28 PM

This thread is a goldmine. Outstanding reviews gentlemen and plenty of recommendations.

Your stream-of-consciousness review for 8 1/2 was a breath of fresh air Derek. This is one of those films that I just "don't get" although my first viewing was when I was just beginning to become interested in film. There is something to be admired in Fellini's approach concerning the creative process and it truly is a beautiful cinematic work but for some reason it left me cold. Since then, I haven't bothered to check any other work by him. I fail.

Duncan

02-24-2009, 02:03 AM

Sven

02-24-2009, 03:46 AM

Bosco B Thug

02-24-2009, 04:06 AM

I think I'd interpret it similarly as Duncan. And I only say "I think" because, I don't know, Sven's notion to not-really-see-that reads valid as well, from his post. In other words, I should've just typed "Very nice write-up!"

EDIT: Or, as an alternate to my last sentence: "In other words, I could type 'Contextualization of his impression of desolation in the shot is very possible.'"

Derek

02-24-2009, 06:20 PM

An old review, but in the interest of keeping things moving...

#69 - Heat (Michael Mann, 1995)

http://images.tomshardware.com/2007/07/18/the_top_20_movie_shootouts/heat2-small.jpg

Michael Mann's 1995 crime epic masterpiece Heat contains all of the director's typical thematic concerns, but over the course of its nearly 3 hour runtime creates a depth of characters, plot intricacies, emotional weight, and sense of visual mastery than none of his other films have achieved. Since its release, it is often referred to as the only film to put acting giants Al Pacino and Robert De Niro up against one another (the less said about Righteous Kill the better, I imagine), but too rarely is overlooked as a key entry in the genre and one of the best films of the 90s. The rhythm and pacing allow it to move at its own speed leaving room for roundly developing several of the characters and their backgrounds as well as a number of brilliant action set pieces, each of which must stand among the best sequences Mann has ever filmed. It is risky in its attempts to humanize the criminals, but by showing them as actual human beings with normal problems without sympathizing with their criminal activity, Heat places itself in the gray area where good and evil are not as clearly defined as most films make them.

Through carefully crafted character arcs, Neil (De Niro) and Vincent's (Pacino) their similarities and shared human traits and flaws are brought to the forefront stressing the thin line between crime and justice and between a good man and a bad one. While the film devotes a significant portion of its time to the details of Neil and, his close friend and partner, Chris's lives, it never attempts to justify their criminal acts. These are flawed men, but like Vincent, they do what they do best and the consequences of their professional devotion have dire effects on their personal relationships. Mann presents us with the essence of his characters - their professionalism and high level of expertise - through the parallel's that exist on both sides. For a crime drama, it is surprisingly quiet and pensive for long stretches and the extended action sequences serve as reminders that for all the similarities between all the men, these criminals are infinitely brutal and although they go to great length's to avoid resorting to violence, they're willing to harm the police and innocent bystanders if they stand in the way of their score. These scenes stand out as much for their emotional impact as for the pure visceral charge and intense energy they contain. Since the main characters involved are presented as multi-dimensional, the audience is led to identify and, on some level, root for their success. It is a feat that a number of films aim for, but few have ever taken the go-for-broke approach that Heat does in presenting its protagonists and antagonists from both points of view, vilifying the criminal's actions while showing appreciation for their skill and professionalism and presenting their flaws in the context of the film rather than through outright condemnation from the outset.

The film's visual scheme, containing recurring tints of blue, evokes the character's isolation and disconnect from those they love and the underlying melancholy that exists because of the trappings of their professional lives. Mann's use of the wide-screen frame has always been impressive, but never have his compositions held the emotional and thematic weight they do here. The visual texture is much more than a stylistic background to act as the setting. The hopes, dreams, frustrations, flaws of his characters are brought to life through the almost dreamlike imagery in a number of scenes. Vincent and Neil are men of action, but are often fighting off past mistakes and in a state of thought about setting things right in the future. Take the scene with Neil and Eady framed over the bright Los Angeles. The backdrop is excessively fake stressing the frame of their faces over the very thing they are trying to escape. Neil's livelihood and everything he stands for is underneath those lights, but because of the nature of his existence, it has a hold on him that he realizes he must escape even if it means leaving everything behind. Similar scenes exist for Vincent who struggles to balance marriage and fatherhood with his demanding job. Close ups are used throughout, but none are quite as effective as the ones capturing Vincent's growing frustration when his target continually avoids him while his wife slips further away. It is through small scenes like this that Mann is able to create a strong emotional core that equals his brilliant action scenes. The expertise and technical proficiency of Heat's main characters is topped only by Mann's own mastery. He has made what is as close to the perfect epic crime film that I have ever seen - one that dives into the emotional nature of these men while crafting a compelling story that's effectively told through dialogue and a unique visual style. It is a remarkably powerful, entertaining and invigorating piece of cinema that hits on more levels than seemingly possible.

Qrazy

02-24-2009, 07:23 PM

69. Stroszek (Herzog, 1976)

http://www.dvdtimes.co.uk/protectedimage.php?image=NoelM egahey/stroszek5.jpg

And then, after it all, there’s the chicken. The stupid bird that can’t be stopped dances to a yelping slice of Americana. The chicken is a difficult motif to avoid in Herzog’s films, but only at the end of Stroszek does it reach this potency (I’m tempted to make a “tasty” pun, god help me). Watching this feathery thing kick its legs about is curiously distressing. I’m not sure that I agree with Herzog. Chicken-wise, I mean. Herzog seems to consider the chicken an abyss of stupidity. Like, how can something alive and even kind of empathetic be so stupid? How can things continue to wander around in circles without a guiding hand? And yet they do. Things make it from moment to moment. Remarkably, stupidly, effortlessly we always make it to the next moment. The drive is without mind or reason but the drive exists and it turns us. The chicken to me is a kind of miracle of getting to the next moment stupidly. The chicken is not a portal into the abyss of an indifferent, chaotic jungle. It is a bridge over that abyss from which you can look down. The bridge will never betray itself to a leering nothingness. No creature, no stone, no speck is stupid enough to fall into that nothingness. Or smart enough to leap into it either.

No, what I find distressing about Stroszek’s ending is not the chicken but the stage. This stage is not there accidentally. The stage is a teleological end, designed and built for a purpose. And what is this purpose, exactly? Well, it’s to make money twenty-five cents at a time. The dancing chicken is hardly absurd at all. It has been conditioned to pull a rope for food. The price it pays for this food is to have its feet burned. The most effective way to deal with this is to hop from one foot to the other, thus dancing for, I don’t want to say our, but someone’s entertainment. All avenues that lead to this juncture are absurd. By some economic forecasting on the scale of quarter dollars a man (a person, but I am guessing a man) has come to the reasonable and rational conclusion that by making it appear that a rabbit is riding a fire engine, or that a duck can play the drums, or that a chicken can dance he can turn a profit (which all proved true, apparently) and this thought process is undeniably absurd and insignificant and terrifying.

The stage is also distressing because it represents an intersection point of reality and film’s idealism. This isn’t set dressing. It’s found. Out there. In Montana. The stage with the chicken is an epicentre of collapse. Reality is deconstructed for a quarter – as in, chickens know how to dance in this town – but Herzog refuses to fill that void with projections. Stroszek’s final shot harnesses a resonance effect between Herzogian leanings to the ecstatic and the moribund America he is documenting. Crests go screaming towards fiction and troughs go tumbling towards a reality too far gone to comprehend. I don’t know what this place is, but it’s uninhabitable.

I fall between Sven and Duncan. I agree with some but not all.

Yeah I don't really agree with the paragraph about the stupidity of the chicken either. I don't think that Herzog is passing that kind of judgment over the chicken or comparatively over his protagonist. As I see it Herzog is primarily interested in commiserating (as you note when you stress empathy) with these poor creatures (chicken and protagonist) both of which are unable to exert much control over their environments and must simply dance to someone else's tune (i.e. the tune of a society to which they can't adapt... or rather the chicken does adapt but man instead chooses suicide). All that being said I do agree with your second paragraph except for calling the stage a teleological end. I understand your meaning but the use of the phrase creates unnecessary philosophical complications. Finally, your last paragraph just confuses me.

The stage is also distressing because it represents an intersection point of reality and film’s idealism. This isn’t set dressing. It’s found. Out there. In Montana. The stage with the chicken is an epicentre of collapse. Reality is deconstructed for a quarter – as in, chickens know how to dance in this town – but Herzog refuses to fill that void with projections. Stroszek’s final shot harnesses a resonance effect between Herzogian leanings to the ecstatic and the moribund America he is documenting. Crests go screaming towards fiction and troughs go tumbling towards a reality too far gone to comprehend. I don’t know what this place is, but it’s uninhabitable.

What?

Duncan

02-25-2009, 11:00 PM

Hmmm... I'm not sure I agree with pretty much anything in this review, actually. Firstly, I'm pretty much a Herzogholic and I've never known him to utter any concrete sentiments about the chicken and its alleged stupidity (he always describes it as "a great metaphor for I'm-not-sure-what"). I do not know where you get this. I do not think there is any quantitative judgment of intellectual prowess or worth in that image. I'm about 99.9% sure I've heard him call chickens stupid, but I don't remember exactly where. It might have been on the commentary tracks for Even Dwarfs Started Small or Heart of Glass. Or, it might have just been a YouTube video somewhere.

Ooh, wait, googling gets me this:
I did like, however, Glover and Hill acting as interviewers, and in particular enjoyed Herzog saying that he was unnerved by the chickens because they were "profoundly stupid."

From: http://www.filmfreakcentral.net/dvdreviews/herzogondvd.htm

We can assume that there is a connection between it and Stroszek, and given Stroszek's simplicity (though Herzog is far from calling him "stupid") I suppose there's a bit of leverage there. I've honestly never made this connection. I've always thought of the chicken as a metaphysical metaphor, not a metaphor for a specific character, especially since chickens appear so often in Herzog's films.

I don't think Herzog is being judgmental of Stroszek at all, nor is he calling Stroszek stupid. I think Herzog feels deeply empathetic.

Secondly, again, you do Herzog's words and vision a slight injustice in your conclusion about the habitability of this "moribund" America. It is undoubtedly an absurd place and an absurd vision, but is "too far gone" the right phrase? Is uninhabitability a logical reaction to a sideshow featuring gyrating chickens? By all accounts, Herzog loves middle America--I find the image it paints, while not necessarily enticing, entrancing (and beautiful, just painterly-wise) to the point of something-close-to-loving curiosity. Even when he's decrying the empty indifference of the jungle, it's always with an air of awe that is ultimately respectful. "Too far gone to comprehend," I said. But, I would say uninhabitable follows fairly logically from: Eva leaving to prostitute herself in Vancouver, the old dude getting arrested and thus removed from society, and Stroszek's apparent suicide (which is never made explicit, but I remember Herzog saying he personally thinks Bruno kills himself).

I think Herzog is fascinated with middle-America, but not lovingly so. I think he is fascinated with harsh places: desert, jungles, Montana. I never said he disrespects any of these places. I think he's in awe of all of them.

Lastly, I'd like to know how you think this desolation plays into the rest of the film. Your review is practically a description of an impression of a shot. Contextualize a bit. For me? I consider Stroszek to be an exceptionally depressing film. The saddest of any Herzog film I've seen. It's the only film of his that I have difficulty finding the humour in, whereas even something like Aguirre I can laugh along with. It's also the only fiction film of his I've seen that is set in the present (does he even have any others?) and I think there's a discernible outrage throughout. Specifically, I think he is outraged about the quiet viciousness of America. Bruno has a monologue about how Americans politely beat the hell out you without ever laying a hand on you. One of the most unnerving aspects of the film is the inability to communicate experience, which is something that has preoccupied me a lot lately. In terms of beauty, I'd say the film has plenty. I like that it lingers so long on shots that would have been cut entirely by almost any other director (and not just portrait shots). There's also the scene in the premature ward of the hospital. I don't know what to make of that scene, exactly, but I do know I don't find it depressing. It's moving and maybe inspiring even.

However, the culminating effect for me is one of overwhelming sadness and anger one level removed by absurdity.

[/still gone, but definitely reading] Glad to hear. Not about the still gone part, but about the reading part.

Duncan

02-25-2009, 11:12 PM

I fall between Sven and Duncan. I agree with some but not all.

Yeah I don't really agree with the paragraph about the stupidity of the chicken either. I don't think that Herzog is passing that kind of judgment over the chicken or comparatively over his protagonist. As I see it Herzog is primarily interested in commiserating (as you note when you stress empathy) with these poor creatures (chicken and protagonist) both of which are unable to exert much control over their environments and must simply dance to someone else's tune (i.e. the tune of a society to which they can't adapt... or rather the chicken does adapt but man instead chooses suicide). All that being said I do agree with your second paragraph except for calling the stage a teleological end. I understand your meaning but the use of the phrase creates unnecessary philosophical complications. Finally, your last paragraph just confuses me. Like I said to Sven, I'm pretty sure Herzog considers chickens incredibly stupid. I am hesitant to conflate the chicken and Stroszek the character. I used "teleological" because I thought it contrasted pretty sharply whit Herzog's own philosophy.

What? The collapse/resonance thing? I believe I was thinking of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge at the time of writing, and was somehow trying to use that as a metaphor...or something. I agree that none of that really comes across. Pretty unclear.

Basically all I was saying is that there are at least two forces at work here and they're both pulling in the same direction. One is Herzog's tendency to fictionalize reality in his documentaries and here as well, since this shot is basically documentary footage. The other is America's tendency to live in a fantasy land. That's what a large part of Obama's speech last night was about. Unwillingness to face up to realities, unwillingness to make difficult choices, unwillingness to inhabit a world that doesn't exist on a stage or screen. So it's an extremely powerful image to me because its directorial technique and thematic content are so purely in concert.

Boner M

02-25-2009, 11:17 PM

Heat and Stroszek rule! Repped!

[/neanderthal]

Duncan

02-25-2009, 11:33 PM

Heat really does rule, though. I like that one a lot.

Qrazy

02-26-2009, 12:16 AM

Like I said to Sven, I'm pretty sure Herzog considers chickens incredibly stupid. I am hesitant to conflate the chicken and Stroszek the character. I used "teleological" because I thought it contrasted pretty sharply whit Herzog's own philosophy.

Fair and I understood what you were driving at I just think some problems arise from calling an object (in this case the stage) a teleological end... but it's not big deal.

The collapse/resonance thing? I believe I was thinking of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge at the time of writing, and was somehow trying to use that as a metaphor...or something. I agree that none of that really comes across. Pretty unclear.

Basically all I was saying is that there are at least two forces at work here and they're both pulling in the same direction. One is Herzog's tendency to fictionalize reality in his documentaries and here as well, since this shot is basically documentary footage. The other is America's tendency to live in a fantasy land. That's what a large part of Obama's speech last night was about. Unwillingness to face up to realities, unwillingness to make difficult choices, unwillingness to inhabit a world that doesn't exist on a stage or screen. So it's an extremely powerful image to me because its directorial technique and thematic content are so purely in concert.

Ah k thanks, your initial final paragraph had a lot going for it in terms of flow but this clarifies a great deal. So do you think Herzog is suggesting that the stage/fantasy needs to be deconstructed or is he only critiquing it without specific change in mind (i.e. the stage and what it engenders are absurd but not necessarily something that will or even must change).

Qrazy

02-26-2009, 12:26 AM

I've honestly never made this connection. I've always thought of the chicken as a metaphysical metaphor, not a metaphor for a specific character, especially since chickens appear so often in Herzog's films.

I don't think Herzog is being judgmental of Stroszek at all, nor is he calling Stroszek stupid. I think Herzog feels deeply empathetic.

I think he is drawing a connection between the chicken and Stroszek although certainly not a one to one correlation... or rather drawing a connection between all three of the characters on the road trip (the old man and Stroszek specifically but Eva as well in her own way). This connection seems apparent to me vis-a-vis connecting Stroszek to the flaming car driving in circles which he leaves behind and connecting that image to the chicken's circular dance. In this light the connection could be interpreted as Stroszek leaving the socially prescribed 'dance' behind and opting in favor of suicide. Which reminds me of that Nietzsche quotation... "Man is the only animal who has to be encouraged to live." If the chicken is indeed a stupid creature it is it's stupidity which facilitates it's survival. Perhaps Stroszek suffers precisely because he is more intelligent than the chicken but still too simple to adapt effectively to the world around him. He inhabits the small unhappy margin wherein he cannot effectively change his surroundings but nor can he accept them blindly.

Duncan

03-04-2009, 01:05 AM

68. Earth (Dovzhenko, 1930)

http://www.filmreference.com/images/sjff_01_img0550.jpg

When directors decide to film grass blowing in the wind critics will often make some witty crack about Terrence Malick such as, “Is that a Malick in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Seriously. Somebody said that. Anyway, the person they should really be making lazy jokes about is Aleksandr Dovzhenko, who was filming grass blowing in the wind before Malick was even born. Dovzhenko was an early Soviet director and, like Eisenstein or Vertov or Pudovkin, considered montage the rigid member supporting the uniqueness and privileged nature of film among art forms. However, unlike those other directors, Dovzhenko did not publish any theories about what montage should accomplish or how it accomplished it (at least, not that I am aware of). If you write something down and ask the world to consider your theories, then you are at least somewhat bound to those theories. Perhaps this is why some silent Soviet films seem stiff or restrained, even if they are towering artistic achievements. Earth is a gentle film, one that is not afraid to include four minute long montages of apples in the rain. And although it grows into a pointed piece of Communist propaganda, Earth never sacrifices its poetry or intensity of emotion to an intellectual argument.

The climactic scene in Earth is the most striking example of how Dovzhenko chooses to use montage, and it is justly famous. Through an intricately structured parallel narrative Dovzhenko does not so much compare and contrast different characters or groups of characters, but lay them on top of one another, each providing the other with what they lack. I am hesitant to call it a dialectical form of montage, and if it weren’t for the vitriolic priest I don’t think much of a case for this term could be made. Nevertheless, there is certainly violence between the images. But also there is stimulation and synthesis and a forging of peoples. The shots of the masses marching express an idea, obviously, but they convince through a caressing of the senses rather than rationality. This sequence is also an exemplary example of Soviet filmmakers favouring an exploration of time instead of space, which I hypothesize derives from all their thinking about montage, but is in any case something that excites me about Soviet cinema.

Dovzhenko’s technique can be less obviously defined as well. In the opening sequence he frames a girl so that she mirrors a sunflower within the same shot. She may or may not be looking down on an elderly farmer who is dying. Again, space is demoted in favour of image, emotion, and time. The connection is existent regardless of physical proximity. When the old man dies, Dovzhenko cuts immediately to a sunflower. There are threads drawn from land to youth to age to death within a few shots, and never throughout the film are we relieved of the knowledge that we are inextricably bound to each other and to Nature and that even distinguishing between the two is slightly blasphemous. Earth is not a religious film, but it is a reverent one and I hope I’ve done a sufficient job of turning you gay for it.

Duncan

03-04-2009, 01:12 AM

Also it's on YouTube. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teg5x4ObZ3M)

Qrazy

03-04-2009, 02:36 AM

Solid pick.

Derek

03-06-2009, 06:17 AM

Great pick, Duncan. I've only seen it on a crappy VHS, so I really should give it another look.

#68 - Written on the Wind (Douglas Sirk, 1956)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/written.jpg

About an hour into Written on the Wind, Jasper Hadley, patriarch of the Hadley family and oil mogul extraordinaire, discovers his daughter, Marylee, is a tramp. As she gleefully dances away, drunk and alone in her room, her father stumbles out of his office suffering a heart attack before falling down the stairs. His life ends, but the music goes on in a terrifying juxtaposition of tragedy and reckless pleasure-seeking. Judy (Lauren Bacall), wife to Kyle (Robert Stack), Jasper‘s troubled and emasculated son, comes to the top of the stairs to gaze at the aftermath. Horrified, she immediately turns away, covering her face with her hands, but only for so long as she’s one of the few characters who doesn’t hide from the truth. Her reaction, however, a desperate need for escape from the real and this escapes inevitable transience, embodies Sirk’s central concern in the film. A world where money and power are a means only to a fantastical end, band-aids to apply on the wounds of daily living, only the suffering, the pains of unrequited love, of not measuring up, of realizing you want more than you can ever have, that the life you’ve always imagined will remain only in the imagination, is too great to simply cover up. All the expensive possessions in the world can’t conceal the pain and unhappiness underneath and Sirk, with a brilliant combination of colors and symbols of power, masculinity and potency, reveals the depth of emotions within each one of his characters. It’s a melodrama indeed, but one that uses its surface materiality to examine the inner stirrings of its central family and the complicated emotional layers bubbling beneath the surface.

The set up is pure soap opera - Marylee loves Mitch, Mitch loves Judy, Judy loves Kyle and Kyle hates himself so much that he can’t love anyone – but Sirk is so skilled at taking the clichés and superficial stylistic ticks of the melodrama and infusing them with genuine emotional depth by peering at the melancholy and desperation inherent in the tragic set-up. The rift between the characters’ ideals and the situations in which they find themselves sits in waiting throughout the film, like a great abyss threatening to swallow each of them whole. Kyle’s self-hatred and inability to deal with his feelings of inferiority, especially in the face of his more virile and attractive adopted brother, and Marylee‘s destructive need to possess Mitch spread like a poison, infecting good intentions and true compassion to the point that every act is lethal, sealing the fate not only of the despairing Hadley duo, but everyone whose lives they touch. The mirage of familial unity is slowly revealed to be fraudulent and money, security, friendship, all the comforts of modern living are unable to cure human suffering in the Sirkian universe – a suffering that much like the wind that bursts through the Hadley‘s front door can only be held at bay for so long. This isn’t a melodrama content to merely tug at the heartstrings, but one that gains its power from a genuine investment in the characters and careful exploration of its emotional terrain.

transmogrifier

03-06-2009, 10:33 AM

When these are done I'll add them to the MC Top 100 database. I should be free in 2013. :)

Duncan

03-06-2009, 12:03 PM

When these are done I'll add them to the MC Top 100 database. I should be free in 2013. :)

Hey, we've been moving quicker lately. Clear your calendar for 2012.

Beau

03-13-2009, 02:57 AM

Duncan

03-14-2009, 01:15 AM

Earth! I love Earth. I also really liked Arsenal. It's more intense than Earth, more feverish, but perhaps lacking in the, I don't know, the spiritual, relaxing, entrancing, mystery of Earth. I think Earth is better at shifting from moments of exhiliration to stretches of calm and soothing peace.
I keep trying to see Arsenal and failing. There's a ton of early Soviet cinema that I still want to see. Such an amazing time and place for film.

Beau

03-14-2009, 05:11 AM

I keep trying to see Arsenal and failing. There's a ton of early Soviet cinema that I still want to see. Such an amazing time and place for film.

Failing because you find it uninteresting? Or failing because you can't find it or can't get ahold of it?

monolith94

03-14-2009, 05:54 AM

I think that I might have seen Arsenal… but it was on a crummy VHS which really sucked the life out of it. One movie I'd like to see on the big screen…

But yeah, I'm totally gay for Earth. The long sequence with the man dancing down the street is my favorite.

Duncan

03-14-2009, 06:10 PM

Failing because you find it uninteresting? Or failing because you can't find it or can't get ahold of it?

Can't get a hold of it. I know it's on YouTube, but I'd rather not watch it in that format.

Derek

03-25-2009, 08:19 PM

Sorry for the delay - health issues, a weekend away and basketball held me up.

#67 - Floating Clouds (Mikio Naruse, 1955)

http://www.d-kaz.com/images/Misc/floatingclouds.jpg

As much as I love Kenji Mizoguchi, and he’s my favorite Japanese director so that would be quite a bit, there is something innately more compelling about the empowered women that dominate Mikio Naruse’s post-war filmography than the martyred victims of fate who are equally prominent in the former’s work. Naruse’s films are often as tragic and heartbreaking, but the process of self-realization amidst the vicissitudes of the modern era that his heroines go through render richer characterizations and more psychologically complex portraits than perhaps any of his peers. That he so often had Hideko Takamine, the greatest of all Japanese actresses, at his disposal certainly helps as she has the uncanny ability to convey not only a full array of emotions, but the enigmatic, paradoxical nature of her characters, with a simple glance, facial tick, posture or gesture. And her economy of expression is matched by her director’s, a man whose single shots may not wow viewers as often as other great directors, but whose editing rhythms and compositional variety communicate so much without making a show of it.

Floating Clouds is about as perfect a marriage of Takamine’s uniquely modernist acting style and Naruse’s restrained directorial approach as one could hope for, finding both at the top of their craft. In the film, Takamine plays Yukiko, a woman who upon returning from overseas seeks out her lover from her time spent in IndoChina and plays her with a fascinating combination of tenderness, fervor and vulnerability. The interplay between an exoticized past, represented by the lush photography of the breezy interludes in IndoChina, and the crushing reality of a post-war present in Japan is used brilliantly not only to effectively build the drama of the central relationship, but to represent the loss and sacrifices of war without showing a single gun or soldier. Naruse keeps the film tightly focused on Yukiko revealing both her strengths and flaws as she struggles to confront her new situation, even falling into disrepute as a prostitute for a time, yet never losing her resolve or self-respect. And still, this intimate story, with its toes dipping in the past, is as incisive on a social level as it is emotionally devastating on a personal one.

Visually, this may be Naruse’s most impressive film with a distinctive editing pattern which frequently cuts to characters in motion, most often walking into or towards the frame. It is a deceptively subtle technique, but one that captures the sense of the change being thrust upon the characters. Time literally pushes them away from their utopic past towards the uncertainty of the present and each cut is a reminder of their instability as well as an impetus for change. And yet Naruse doesn’t allow for the trajectory of a traditional tragedy as Yukiko’s indominatable spirit is rendered is so fully and complexly that her undying love reveals shades of impertinence and her constitution no longer cut from the cloth of the traditional self-sacrificing Japanese woman. No, from the minute Yukiko stepped back onto Japanese soil, she became an agent of her own fate, fiercely ushering in the modern times into a country that perhaps wasn’t ready to accept it.

soitgoes...

03-25-2009, 08:42 PM

Great write-up for a great film. Naruse definitely deserves mention along side of Mizoguchi, Kurosawa, and Ozu as the great Japanese filmmakers. In my eyes I think only Ozu surpasses him. He does a wonderful job portraying Japanese women in a very male society, and you're right that having Takamine at his disposal made making such films all the more powerful.

Duncan

03-31-2009, 05:25 PM

I'm doing a lot of writing for another project at the moment, so I think for the time being these will have to be shorter than they were in the past.

66. Ivan the Terrible: Part II (Eisenstein, 1958)

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReviews11/eisenstein%20box/a%20ivan%20the%20terrible%20pa rt%202%20dvd%20review%20PDVD_0 03-01.jpg

Ivan the Terrible: Part II, as is often said, is one of the most visually dense films ever made. It is constantly building upon itself, referring back to not just images from an hour earlier in this film or even from Part I, but to specific instances of blocking that involve totally different actors. Eisenstein asks for serious audience dedication, and it asks us to be visually literate, to be able to read signs that do not merely point in a certain direction, but establish a whole spatial and temporal context.

But Ivan the Terrible: Part II is not merely a semiotics exercise. It is also a mesmerizing film, a story of power gone to the bone-picking, vulture-like extremes of viciousness. The dialectics are amplified to surreal levels (i.e. people start actually looking like they’re the angel of death, wings and all). The plot is Shakespearean with a heavy dose of psychological theory and mother issues. Finally, it features a banquet scene that appears to have been filmed by a mathematician on acid, being so precise and controlled in it madness. And that, to me, is what makes this such a compelling film. Ivan the Terrible, both character and film, is all insanity but is held together with the calculation of a great mind, one that was capable of holding vast patterns of ideas and images together with his framing, editing, and mise-en-scene.

dreamdead

03-31-2009, 06:00 PM

Nice thoughts here. Still only seen Potemkin, but this write-up, replete with consideration to signs and visuality, has made me take an active interest in knocking out this one.

Both yours and Derek's choice are filmmakers who I highly respect, but whose work is either largely unavailable to me or I always find some other filmmaker to place ahead of them. I'll work on fixing that here soon.

Duncan

03-31-2009, 06:40 PM

Nice thoughts here. Still only seen Potemkin, but this write-up, replete with consideration to signs and visuality, has made me take an active interest in knocking out this one.
I'm actually not a big fan of Potemkin. The montage isn't as intense or interesting as Strike! and October, and the politics are fairly banal and really dated. Ivan the Terrible is a much different film, I think. Part I isn't quite as good but you should watch that one first anyway.

Qrazy

03-31-2009, 07:40 PM

I'm actually not a big fan of Potemkin. The montage isn't as intense or interesting as Strike! and October, and the politics are fairly banal and really dated. Ivan the Terrible is a much different film, I think. Part I isn't quite as good but you should watch that one first anyway.

Hmm I agree that the Ivan's are his best work and I also agree that the politics are banal in Potemkin but I prefer the montage work in Potemkin to that of Strike. I haven't seen October or Nevsky yet. I also prefer the first Ivan to the second on a formal level although I suppose the content of the second is more interesting. The craziness of the content begins to infiltrate the aesthetic and gets a bit too messy for my tastes. Although maybe some of this was the print I saw but the color stuff wasn't wholly successful imo. It's too bad he never got to make part III.

Spaceman Spiff

04-01-2009, 04:55 PM

I was really bored with Strike, personally. I'd reckon that Soviet montage just isn't my thing.

Qrazy

04-01-2009, 05:17 PM

I was really bored with Strike, personally. I'd reckon that Soviet montage just isn't my thing.

Perhaps but I'd still give Ivan the Terrible a look if I were you. It's quite different from Strike or Potemkin.

Derek

04-07-2009, 06:25 AM

I'll have to give Part II another look, Duncan. I like it a lot, but Part I is my favorite Eisenstein although I haven't yet seen Strike. I prefer the sheer formal brilliance of his geometrically rigid compositions of the first to the more sprawling mess of the second, but I see the charm in the latter.

Now time for some Spinalrep...

Derek

04-07-2009, 06:26 AM

#66 - Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2004)

http://lifeoutofbalance.files.wordpre ss.com/2007/08/dogville_grace_with_chain_thin g.jpg

I have always been a bit confused by many people’s distaste for Lars von Trier’s Dogville, not because I can’t understand how its provocations could rub one the wrong way, but because it is often dismissed as puerile and obvious in its observations of America’s relationship with immigrants, or perhaps simply outsiders (no mention of the “O” word, I promise). What often goes over-looked or under-valued is the stringently paradoxical nature of the world von Trier creates and that despite the stripped-down aesthetic which lays everything bare and the hilariously literal John Hurt voice-over, there is a fascinating duality at work in every character, and seemingly every line delivered by every character, as well as the director himself, who mockingly chides Tom Edison for relying on illustrations to teach his moral lessons when his film is clearly doing the same. In terms of the originality of its themes, von Trier even beat Cronenberg to the punch in examining America’s history of violence buried beneath good intentions, protestations of moral superiority and the thin veneer of a utopic surface that quickly disappears once the sociological equilibrium is upset. Vastly different films these two, but I think LVT digs a little deeper.

Despite the attacks on America’s small town values and their latent xenophobia and hypocritical conservatism, Trier takes more than a few shots at those who would normally yelp with glee at these small-minded folk getting their comeuppance. His Grace is a virtual paradox, symbolically the immigrant, the damsel in distress, yet in reality, a spoiled rich girl whose compassionate, selfless nature is revealed as arrogance born from a deep-seeded belief in her own innate superiority. Tom Edison, on the other hand, is an intellectual whose illustrative concoctions are meant to impart his own carefully formed conclusions without the inconvenience of having them tested on him. In essence, Trier uses these characters to challenge the preconceptions of his audience, both in how they would normally view the townspeople as well as the man making all these accusations.

The town of Dogville itself is open in the most literal sense - with no doors, walls or barriers, nooks and crannies within which to hide their malevolent thoughts and misdeeds - yet in practice its openness, its willingness to help Grace, its begrudged acceptance to attend Tom’s lectures and its reliance on a moral code to constantly justify their own transgressions on human decency all mask the injustice that lies at its rotten core and protect the town from being held accountable for their hypocrisy. Dogville is self-contained, not only in its remote location, but on a sociological level as well. It is an ecosystem of its own, thriving on the ignorance and prejudices of its inhabitants and arcane moral principles that allow it to remain assured of its own quaint perfection even as the townspeople constantly violate them.

As an allegory, Dogville succeeds by leaving no one off the hook – not Grace, not von Trier and not the audience. Grace’s vengeance at the end is frighteningly cathartic, a release of justified rage against a town that refused to accept responsibility for their mistreatment of her. Von Trier clearly baits the audience into sympathizing with Grace, using this sympathy particularly to challenge liberal’s own belief in open-mindedness. If we’ve spent 2 ½ hours being increasingly infuriated at the hypocrisy and closed-mindedness of the residents of Dogville, how can we very well accept, even celebrate, their being given a great big dose of their own medicine? But would it be right for Grace to leave the town be and allow their crimes to go unpunished? Is this entire illustration even valid or does it leave Trier and us in the same position as Tom where we can mull over the strength of our own moral fiber without having it put to test? Whatever answers you may or may not come up with, Dogville remains an important film if only for forcing you to address them.

Spinal

04-07-2009, 07:59 AM

Oh, man, that was a really good write-up. Nicely done.

SirNewt

04-07-2009, 09:04 PM

Sorry for the delay - health issues, a weekend away and basketball held me up.

#67 - Floating Clouds (Mikio Naruse, 1955)

http://www.d-kaz.com/images/Misc/floatingclouds.jpg

I've only seen "When a Woman Ascends the Stairs" from Naruse. I should check this out.

I'm doing a lot of writing for another project at the moment, so I think for the time being these will have to be shorter than they were in the past.

66. Ivan the Terrible: Part II (Eisenstein, 1958)

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReviews11/eisenstein%20box/a%20ivan%20the%20terrible%20pa rt%202%20dvd%20review%20PDVD_0 03-01.jpg

Visual appeal alone could get this onto a top ten.

Bosco B Thug

04-08-2009, 05:45 AM

[CENTER]#66 - Dogville (Lars von Trier, 2004)

I have always been a bit confused by many people’s distaste for Lars von Trier’s Dogville... Love Dogville, great insights, and awesome jumping off point, I wonder the same thing myself quite often. I'm looking at you, Roger Ebert. :) The film's not leaving anyone "off the hook" is a good point, one that subverts marks against it of broad social allegory, since the film is pretty emphatic about much of what we see being inherent human nature.

dreamdead

04-09-2009, 01:15 PM

Lovely write-up, Derek. I especially like the business about the social equilibrium. As you say, von Trier is conscious of letting all his characters get a chance to both humanize themselves and to prove how their society has also dehumanized them, so that they're easily willing to ostracize Grace without hesitation. And it's here that the Brechtian ideas work the best, in that the voiceover is so dry that it can only be read as a critique of the very utopian ideals being espoused. I still like the experimentation with the stage, and divesting that setting of particularity. Though it's sometimes as subtle as a shotgun blast, von Trier nonetheless commands the screen with the skill and wit of a master filmmaker.

D_Davis

04-09-2009, 02:55 PM

Nice review Derek.

I still plan on watching all of LVT's films this year.

I should start soon.

Duncan

04-23-2009, 09:40 PM

Guys, I'm taking my leave from this thread. I'm doing too much writing for other stuff. The thought of writing about movies too is kind of repulsive to me.

Sorry.

Spaceman Spiff

04-23-2009, 09:44 PM

Prett-ty lame, Milhouse.

Derek

04-23-2009, 09:47 PM

Prett-ty lame, Milhouse.

Yeah, but what are you gonna do? I blame krazed for setting the precedent of leaving these lists unfinished. I have to head out now, but I'll have my next pick up tonight.

Mods, can one of you go ahead and change the thread title since I'm on my own now?

Spaceman Spiff

04-23-2009, 09:49 PM

Is it only you now? Oshit.

Where did Melville go? Is he gone too?

As for Duncan, yeah you've got to do what you've got to do.

Winston*

04-23-2009, 09:51 PM

You don't need to keep going, Derek. It's over. You've won.

D_Davis

04-23-2009, 10:21 PM

Don't give up!

It feels really, really good when you finally finish that last review.

Sycophant

04-23-2009, 10:22 PM

You're the man now, dawg!

Sven

04-23-2009, 11:48 PM

Melville

04-23-2009, 11:50 PM

I blame krazed for setting the precedent of leaving these lists unfinished.
I blame myself.

Kudos for sticking with this.

D_Davis

04-24-2009, 12:43 AM

I blame myself.

What is this shameless act of personal responsibility?

Duncan

04-24-2009, 12:55 AM

Well, I'm totally blaming krazed. He truly sowed the seeds of my destruction. If he had just been a better role model, then maybe I could have been a better pupil.

Normally I'm pretty indignant about people using scapegoats, but this actually feels pretty good.

Sycophant

04-24-2009, 12:57 AM

Use scapegoats more often, Duncan. Pretty soon, you can shuffle all the blame for everything in your life to other people. It's kinda liberating. :twisted: :twisted: :twisted:

Duncan

04-24-2009, 12:57 AM

Hey, Duncan. Sympathies obviously issuing from me, would you mind posting the rest of your list for curiosity's sake? I've been piecing together an enormous document of movies to see and I'd love to bump up or add anything that you'd recommend. Because you tend to like good movies.

Yeah, it's on a different computer though. I'll post it later tonight or tomorrow. I think you've probably seen the vast majority of stuff on there.

Melville

04-24-2009, 01:04 AM

What is this shameless act of personal responsibility?
I was the first person to drop out of this thread, and, uh, wait...I'm not sure I understand the question.

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:05 AM

Love the name change and Duncan, your avatar couldn't be more perfect. ;)

And actually, did anyone drop out before iosos changed his name? I know that malevolent act threw my bearings off and caused me a few sleepless nights. Any way we can blame it on that?

Next review up in a few...

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:10 AM

#65 - Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975)

http://culturazzi.org/review/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/mirror.jpg

Mirror is at once Andrei Tarkovsky’s most personal and most enigmatic film. Consisting of a juxtaposition of dreams, memories and newsreel footage, Tarkovsky creates a visually striking, emotionally potent tale of regret, abandonment and unrequited love. His typically materialist style brings these memories to life through an intense focus on natural elements – flames, dripping water, wind blowing through corridors – to suggest the sensual, rather than experiential, nature of memory. Using the same actress to portray his mother and ex-wife, Tarkovsky, via his invisible narrator, also examines the transformative power of memory and cinema as a means of means of exploring and coming to terms with one’s own past.

Constructed as a circular, nonlinear narrative, Mirror continuously returns to images of Tarkovsky’s peaceful, remote childhood home and kind-hearted but distant mother, communicating both feelings of safety and emotional remoteness following his father leaving the family behind. There is a remarkable black-and-white sequence where, following his father’s brief return home on leave, his mother washes her hair in a water basin before the ceiling begins to cave in under the weight of water. It is a wonderfully evocative yet entirely mysterious and surreal scene where the physical and emotional senses combine – Tarkovsky’s mind taking a distinctive memory of his mother’s wet hair and replanting it on his beloved childhood home, destroyed in the aftermath of a painful reminder of his father’s abandonment. Symbolism in Mirror often functions in a similarly elusive manner – intensely personal yet embodying universal emotions.

Mirror is most often criticized for being impossible to piece together, but the fragmented structure is absolutely crucial to its deep connection to memory, the tortured Russian soul (particularly in the midst of the atrocities occurring during World War II), and Tarkovsky’s own complex relationship with his parents and his past. The film is meant to be experienced purely on an emotional plane - broken shards of thoughts, memories, dreams, and regrets that morph fact with fiction and make the real fantastical. An enormous CCCP hot-air balloon takes flight, a nearby cabin goes up in flames, Mother sits on the front fence enjoying a smoke and, by God, her dripping wet hair – in as much disorder as our minds can be said to be in disorder. Tarkovsky doesn’t cheapen them or risk their authenticity by constraining them to narrative, allowing them to retain their mystery, telling the story a man without telling a story at all. This is as insular as cinema gets, but it’s also very open and giving if one can resist the temptation to ruin it by reshaping it into something recognizable, understandable, mundane.

Melville

04-24-2009, 05:14 AM

Awesomeness.

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:20 AM

Random side note: Tarkovsky is one of only two directors I broke the equally random two-per-director limit for. Guess the other.

D_Davis

04-24-2009, 05:20 AM

D_Davis

04-24-2009, 05:21 AM

Random side note: Tarkovsky is one of only two directors I broke the equally random two-per-director limit for. Guess the other.

Michael Bay?

megladon8

04-24-2009, 05:22 AM

I've still only seen Tarkovsky's Solyaris, and while I found it quite profound, I still prefer Soderbergh's vision.

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:24 AM

I really wished I liked Tarkovsky's movies. They always look so nice, and they sound so amazing.

I just can't watch one all the way through.

I wish I could get into him more than any other filmmaker.

Someday...

I'd hate to even recommend it to you since I know how you hated Stalker, but have you seen his version of Solaris?

Michael Bay?

It was so gut-wrenchingly difficult to choose my favorite Michael Bay film that I decided to leave him off altogether. Plus, he's almost too elitist a choice with two Criterion titles to his name.

B-side

04-24-2009, 05:28 AM

There is a remarkable black-and-white sequence where, following his father’s brief return home on leave, his mother washes her hair in a water basin before the ceiling begins to cave in under the weight of water. It is a wonderfully evocative yet entirely mysterious and surreal scene where the physical and emotional senses combine – Tarkovsky’s mind taking a distinctive memory of his mother’s wet hair and replanting it on his beloved childhood home, destroyed in the aftermath of a painful reminder of his father’s abandonment. Symbolism in Mirror often functions in a similarly elusive manner – intensely personal yet embodying universal emotions.

Brilliant review. I'm thrilled you brought up this particular sequence as it had a similarly lasting impact on me. I never actually attempted any form of "analysis" of it like you have, but your thoughts on it really put it into perspective and make it that much more powerful in retrospect. My first viewing of this shot it straight to my #1, though it dropped to the bottom end of my top 30 on a 2nd viewing. I wouldn't mind seeing it again right now.

B-side

04-24-2009, 05:29 AM

I really wished I liked Tarkovsky's movies. They always look so nice, and they sound so amazing.

I just can't watch one all the way through.

I wish I could get into him more than any other filmmaker.

Someday...

I'd recommend Ivan's Childhood if you haven't tried yet. It's pretty short and definitely more approachable than any of his other feature length films.

D_Davis

04-24-2009, 05:29 AM

I'd hate to even recommend it to you since I know how you hated Stalker, but have you seen his version of Solaris?

I don't think I've ever seen the whole thing. I will one day. I plan on watching his films someday - that's a promise.

I also really want to like Von Trier. I think I will tackle Von Trier first.

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:31 AM

I've still only seen Tarkovsky's Solyaris, and while I found it quite profound, I still prefer Soderbergh's vision.

I can't argue much with that. I like Soderbergh's a lot as well.

Brilliant review. I'm thrilled you brought up this particular sequence as it had a similarly lasting impact on me. I never actually attempted any form of "analysis" of it like you have, but your thoughts on it really put it into perspective and make it that much more powerful in retrospect. My first viewing of this shot it straight to my #1, though it dropped to the bottom end of my top 30 on a 2nd viewing. I wouldn't mind seeing it again right now.

Cool, thanks. When I think of Tarkovsky, I immediately think of the dripping hair or the mother levitating above the bed.

I can understand this film shifting a lot amongst your favorites. Because of it's abstract nature, it's almost like watching a different film each time.

MacGuffin

04-24-2009, 05:37 AM

Random side note: Tarkovsky is one of only two directors I broke the equally random two-per-director limit for. Guess the other.

Godard.

Derek

04-24-2009, 05:45 AM

Godard.

Nope, but good guess.

B-side

04-24-2009, 06:23 AM

Cool, thanks. When I think of Tarkovsky, I immediately think of the dripping hair or the mother levitating above the bed.

Yup. Same here. I also tend to go to the image of the man walking with the candle in the drained pool.

I can understand this film shifting a lot amongst your favorites. Because of it's abstract nature, it's almost like watching a different film each time.

Yes. My first viewing I was just overcome by its oneiric feel and the surreal images. I was just blown away like I'd never been before. 2nd viewing was probably too clinical. 3rd viewing? We'll see.

B-side

04-24-2009, 06:24 AM

Random side note: Tarkovsky is one of only two directors I broke the equally random two-per-director limit for. Guess the other.

Herzog?

Derek

04-24-2009, 07:36 AM

Herzog?

Nah, Herzog wouldn't even be in my top 10 directors, although I do love him. Also, it's my second favorite director, not my favorite.

B-side

04-24-2009, 08:48 AM

Nah, Herzog wouldn't even be in my top 10 directors, although I do love him. Also, it's my second favorite director, not my favorite.

Obviously I'm guessing, but, uh... what about Cassavetes?

SirNewt

04-24-2009, 08:55 AM

Obviously I'm guessing, but, uh... what about Cassavetes?

Yeah, it's not like we care but come on just tell us.

B-side

04-24-2009, 09:06 AM

Yeah, it's not like we care but come on just tell us.

I'd say this, but I fear coming off like an enormous prick.:P:)

Raiders

04-24-2009, 11:32 AM

Nicholas Ray?

MacGuffin

04-24-2009, 01:24 PM

Hitchcock?

Russ

04-24-2009, 05:54 PM

Bresson?

Derek

04-24-2009, 08:07 PM

Yeah, it's not like we care but come on just tell us.

Heh, I know. :)

Hitchcock?

Yup.

Spaceman Spiff

04-24-2009, 08:16 PM

Derek

04-24-2009, 08:20 PM

Was going to say Bresson as well.

Hitchcock? Meh... I guess.

Mirror looks interesting, but I can't say that I've been too enthralled with the Tark that I've seen. Maybe I'll see it. Who knows. Not me, of course.

There will be no meh-ing of Hitchcock in this thread! I managed to cut Bresson down to two by going with Rosetta over Mouchette.

Spaceman Spiff

04-24-2009, 08:34 PM

I dunno. Hitchcock is good, but I find his movies to be a little too... I dunno... safe? Is that the word I'm looking for? I'm not the type of person that needs profound intellectual/philosophical stimulation the way I can surmise a few in this forum veer towards, but as far as genre flicks go, I think there are even better ones among his era. And by that, I mean more interesting/accomplished on a formal level and sometimes, yes, even meatier.

I dig Hitchcock and I can understand why people put him on a pedestal, but I've never been really wowed with him (other than perhaps Rear Window, but it's overexposure in film circles have taken away some of that film's lustre.)

::continues meh-ing::

Duncan

04-24-2009, 09:55 PM

Love Mirror. It's in my top 10.

Sycophant

04-24-2009, 10:39 PM

If anything, you should be hemming Hitchcock, because "hem" is the opposite of "meh."

Spaceman Spiff

04-25-2009, 02:46 AM

If anything, you should be hemming Hitchcock, because "hem" is the opposite of "meh."

I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll assume that you're wrong.

Melville

04-25-2009, 04:52 AM

I kept thinking I might rejoin this thread at some point, but it'll probably never happen. And I figure now is an appropriate time to just post my list...well, I guess I should have posted it right before the name change rather than right after, but whatever. So here it is:

Honorable Mentions: 8 ½, Army of Shadows, Bonnie & Clyde, Breaking the Waves, Duck Soup, Exotica, Hannah & Her Sisters, His Girl Friday, Love and Death, Naked, Nobody Knows, Pierrot le fou, Raging Bull, Raise the Red Lantern, Repulsion, Secrets & Lies, Spirited Away, Stroszek, Synecdoche, NY, The Servant, The Thin Red Line, Top Hat, Vengeance is Mine

100. Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (Parajanov, 1966)
99. Children of Paradise (Carne, 1945)
98. There Will Be Blood (PT Anderson, 2007)
97. Pas de Deux (McLaren, 1968)
96. The Forsaken Land (Jayasundara, 2005)
95. Werckmeister Harmonies (Tarr, 2000)
94. Bigger than Life (Nicholas Ray, 1956)
93. They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (Pollack, 1969)
92. Scorpio Rising (Anger, 1964)
91. Winsor McCay, the Famous Cartoonist (McCay, 1911)
90. Winged Migration (Perrin & Cluzaud, 2001)
89. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (Wiene, 1920)
88. A Zed & Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)
87. The Sweet Hereafter (Egoyan, 1997)
86. Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola, 2003)
85. The Big Sleep (Hawks, 1946)
84. The New World (Malick, 2005)
83. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (Forman, 1975)
82. A Time for Drunken Horses (Ghobadi, 2000)
81. Stardust Memories (Allen, 1980)
80. Princess Mononoke (Miyazaki, 1997)
79. Leaving Las Vegas (Figgis, 1995)
78. Woyzeck (Herzog, 1979)
77. All About Eve (Mankiewicz, 1950)
76. Gun Crazy (Lewis, 1950)
75. The Mascot, Starewicz (1934)
74. Pather Panchali, Satyajit Ray (1955)
73. Capturing the Friedmans, Jarecki (2003)
72. Metropolis (Lang, 1927)
71. Buffalo '66 (Gallo, 1998)
70. Leave Me Alone (Man Ray (1926)
69. The Good, the Bad & the Ugly (Leone, 1966)
68. The Good Girl (Arteta, 2002)
67. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (Gondry, 2004)
66. Crumb (Zwigoff, 1994)
65. Blood of the Beasts (Franju, 1949)
64. The Spirit of the Beehive (Erice, 1973)
63. Au hasard Balthazar (Bresson, 1966)
62. The Royal Tenenbaums (Wes Anderson, 2001)
61. Badlands (Malick, 1973)
60. The Act of Seeing w/ One's Own Eyes (Brakhage, 1971)
59. Koyaanisqatsi (Reggio, 1982)
58. Raiders of the Lost Ark (Spielberg, 1981)
57. The Conversation (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974)
56. Dr. Strangelove (Kubrick, 1964)
55. The Circus (Chaplin, 1928)
54. Rosemary's Baby (Polanski, 1968)
53. The Godfather Parts I & II (FF Coppola, 1972 & 1974)
52. The Seventh Seal (Bergman, 1957)
51. Boys Don't Cry (Peirce, 1999)
50. A Woman under the Influence (Cassavetes, 1974)
49. Psycho (Hitchcock, 1960)
48. The Battle of Algiers (Pontecorvo, 1966)
47. Napoléon (Abel Gance, 1927)
46. Hour of the Wolf (Bergman, 1968)
45. In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
44. Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941)
43. Dead Ringers (Cronenberg, 1988)
42. The Big Lebowski (Coens, 1998)
41. Requiem for a Dream (Aronofsky, 2000)
40. Diary of a Country Priest (Bresson, 1954)
39. Fitzcarraldo (Herzog, 1982)
38. The Son (Dardennes, 2002)
37. Days of Heaven (Malick, 1978)
36. A Clockwork Orange (Kubrick, 1971)
35. Woman in the Dunes (Teshigahara, 1964)
34. Fargo (Coens, 1996)
33. City Lights (Chaplin, 1931)
32. Aguirre, the Wrath of God (Herzog, 1972)
31. Edvard Munch (Watkins, 1974)
30. Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998)
29. Manhattan (Woody Allen, 1979)
28. The Passion of Joan of Arc (Dreyer, 1928)
27. Touch of Evil (Welles, 1958)
26. The Third Man (Reed, 1949)
25. In the Mood for Love (Wong Kar-Wai, 2000)
24. Punch-Drunk Love (PT Anderson, 2002)
23. The Aviator (Scorsese, 2004)
22. Schindler's List (Spielberg, 1993)
21. Blue Velvet (Lynch, 1986)
20. Taxi Driver (Scorsese, 1976)
19. Eraserhead (Lynch, 1977)
18. Unforgiven (Eastwood, 1992)
17. Lost Highway (Lynch, 1997)
16. Chinatown (Polanski, 1974)
15. Fanny and Alexander (Bergman, 1982)
14. Magnolia (PT Anderson, 1999)
13. The Mirror (Tarkovsky, 1975)
12. Mulholland Dr. (Lynch, 2001)
11. Ivan the Terrible Part II (Eisenstein, 1946)
10. Solaris (Tarkovsky, 1972)
9. It's a Wonderful Life (Capra, 1946)
8. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)
7. Lawrence of Arabia (Lean, 1962)
6. Cries and Whispers (Bergman, 1972)
5. Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
4. Persona (Bergman, 1966)
3. Ordet (Dreyer, 1955)
2. Andrei Rublev (Tarkovsky, 1969)
1. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968)

transmogrifier

04-25-2009, 05:28 AM

You know I'm just going to add that in to my database when I've finished the countdown, don't you?

transmogrifier

04-25-2009, 05:29 AM

I want Duncan's too.

Melville

04-25-2009, 05:35 AM

You know I'm just going to add that in to my database when I've finished the countdown, don't you?
Oh, yeah, that's when I should have posted it: when you were compiling the results for that megalist.

Sycophant

04-25-2009, 05:55 AM

Tarkovsky needed you, man.

Sven

04-25-2009, 06:13 AM

Melville, I'm actually quite interested in extended thoughts about 2001. It really doesn't seem like so much your type of film, so I'm definitely curious.

Edit: Magnolia too, for different reasons.

Duncan

04-25-2009, 06:25 AM

This is the list I have in excel, but I definitely didn't follow this order. I may have even replaced a few films at random.

1 2001: A Space Odyssey
2 The Spirit of the Beehive
3 The Mirror
4 Days of Heaven
5 La Jetee
6 8 1/2
7 The Passenger
8 Throne of Blood
9 Tokyo Story
10 Fata Morgana
11 F for Fake
12 The Passion of Joan of Arc
13 My Life to Live
14 The Conversation
15 Au Hasard Balthazar
16 Andrei Rublev
17 Naked
18 City Lights
19 Mulholland Drive
20 Strike
21 In the Mood for Love
22 L'Avventura
23 Beau Travail
24 Broadway Danny Rose
25 Exotica
26 Spirited Away
27 Lawrence of Arabia
28 Sans Soleil
29 Fitzcarraldo
30 Werckmeister Harmonies
31 Wavelength
32 Cowards Bend the Knee
33 Satyricon
34 The Empire Strikes Back
35 Once Upon a Time in the West
36 Eyes Wide Shut
37 The Big Lebowski
38 Winter Light
39 El Topo
40 Paris, Texas
41 Scorpio Rising
42 Badlands
43 Manhattan
44 Weekend
45 The Street of Crocodiles
46 Raging Bull
47 Chimes at Midnight
48 My Darling Clementine
49 Baraka
50 Los Olvidados
51 The Wildbunch
52 The Son
53 The Sweethereafter
54 Ivan the Terrible, Part II
55 Full Metal Jacket
56 Persona
57 For Daniel / Serene Velocity
58 The Last Temptation of Christ
59 Tokyo Twilight
60 The Fly
61 La Dolce Vita
62 Woman in the Dunes
63 Blue Velvet
64 Finding Nemo
65 Pulp Fiction
66 El Sur
67 Point Blank
68 Earth
69 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
70 Metropolis
71 Le Samourai
72 Stroszek
73 Five Easy Pieces
74 Stranger Than Paradise
75 Code Unknown
76 Blade Runner
77 The Killing of a Chinese Bookie
78 Flaming Creatures
79 Catch Me If You Can
80 Un Chien Andalou
81 Ordet
82 The Silence Before Bach
83 Fallen Angels
84 The Sacrifice
85 The Goat
86 Apocalypse Now
87 L'Eclisse
88 L'Intrus
89 The Royal Tenenbaums
90 Man With the Movie Camera
91 Double Suicide
92 Raising Arizona
93 California Split
94 Dog Star Man
95 Ali: Fear Eats the Soul
96 Life of Brian
97 Report
98 Playtime
99 The Battle of Algiers
100 Rear Window

Sven

04-25-2009, 06:27 AM

Duncan, I'd love your approach on Lebowski as well as Broadway Danny Rose (my favorite Woody).

transmogrifier

04-25-2009, 06:47 AM

Heh, after those two lists, Lebowski could be Top 5 :)

Derek

04-25-2009, 06:51 AM

I kept thinking I might rejoin this thread at some point, but it'll probably never happen. And I figure now is an appropriate time to just post my list...well, I guess I should have posted it right before the name change rather than right after, but whatever.

Yeah, get the fuck out of my thread!

But seriously, I'm glad you posted it and great to see Koyaanisqatsi on there after several posters meh'd it a couple weeks ago

Now, get the fuck out of my thread. ;)

Duncan

04-25-2009, 07:04 AM

I'm actually interested to see if we do any good for Tarkovsky and The Spirit of the Beehive. Erice's film is probably actually my favourite film, but 2001 won out in the rankings because it was my 'sentimental' fave, being the film that got me into film in the first place.

Melville

04-25-2009, 07:55 AM

Melville, I'm actually quite interested in extended thoughts about 2001. It really doesn't seem like so much your type of film, so I'm definitely curious.

Edit: Magnolia too, for different reasons.
Really? I would think it would seem just like my kind of film: ponderous and philosophical with a pronounced aesthetic. The scene in which Dave climbs through the ship, with a soundtrack consisting only of HAL's pleading and Dave's breathing, culminating in HAL singing Daisy, is the most mesmerizing thing I've ever seen in a film. But all of the ''space ballet" scenes are almost equally mesmerizing; they're pure, rarefied cinema: just the objects moving in space, set to transcendent music.

Thematically, I am endlessly fascinated by the final scenes and their presentation of humanity's evolution. In the freak-out scene with all the lights and landscapes, we experience with Dave the very edges of human perception—perception so overloaded that all notional views of reality are broken down. And in the scenes that follow that, we see Dave move to the next stage of evolution, going past time and space, the most fundamental aspects of our experience, as he sees himself at different times and places, all at once. What is so amazing about this is how Kubrick presents these concepts visually, so that we are almost transported with Dave; our senses are overloaded, and our experience of time and space are collapsed. And then Dave becomes a giant space-baby. What could possibly be better than that?

As for Magnolia, well, it's melodramatic and bombastic in all the right kind of ways, it displays the profound but tangential connections between people, and it provides the greatest, most grandly bizarre moment of catharsis in film. PTA's aesthetic, the propulsive editing, and the characters are all awesome, idiosyncratic without being one-dimensional or quirky, and the final shot is profoundly affecting in its simple hopefulness.

Heh, after those two lists, Lebowski could be Top 5 :)
Take that, anti-fanboy!

Yeah, get the fuck out of my thread!

But seriously, I'm glad you posted it and great to see Koyaanisqatsi on there after several posters meh'd it a couple weeks ago

Now, get the fuck out of my thread. ;)
Koyaanisqatsi is awesome. I never felt like it wore out its welcome. That scene with the fast-motion escalators was killer.

I'm actually interested to see if we do any good for Tarkovsky and The Spirit of the Beehive. Erice's film is probably actually my favourite film, but 2001 won out in the rankings because it was my 'sentimental' fave, being the film that got me into film in the first place.
I want to see if we helped out The Son. That didn't get nearly enough love. Oh, and your list is easily the best list I never wrote.

transmogrifier

04-25-2009, 11:10 AM

Take that, anti-fanboy!
.

Turned out it didn't in the end, because all the films in front of it got votes as well. Oh well.

Duncan

04-25-2009, 08:29 PM

Duncan, I'd love your approach on Lebowski as well as Broadway Danny Rose (my favorite Woody).

I think there are a lot of similarities between those two films. Both are fairly sympathetic comedies about guys who are, basically, losers. Both are framed by people who are even more anonymous than the films' protagonists. Both have their protagonists unwittingly drawn into criminal plots. And, most importantly, both end up sort of ditching and subverting their more "interesting" components (ie. the gangsters and mystery) for very small, day to day forms of living and connecting. Sharing a TV dinner with friends. Going bowling. They're about the people who are inevitably passed over, and giving those people a story. And the story isn't the noir plot, it's a little bit of forgiveness and a sandwich. It's about abiding. I don't think either is The Brothers K, but I think they say a lot about how people live, and I think they do so with plenty of empathy.

Duncan

04-25-2009, 08:34 PM

Although, since leaving New York I watched Manhattan, and I fucking love that movie. It probably tops Danny Rose just for nostalgia reasons.

Spaceman Spiff

04-25-2009, 10:24 PM

That's an amazing top 10, Melville. I think we have 4 (maybe 5) of the same movies in it. You rule.

You rule too Duncan.

Melville

04-25-2009, 11:01 PM

That's an amazing top 10, Melville. I think we have 4 (maybe 5) of the same movies in it. You rule.
Cool. Why didn't you submit a list? (Or did you?)

Spaceman Spiff

04-26-2009, 12:09 AM

I didn't. I was pretty busy at the time and wasn't very interested in compiling a top 100.

In any case, Cries and Whispers, Ordet, Apocalypse Now and 2001 would probably all crack my top 10. I also really love It's a Wonderful Life and Persona, but they're more top 50 than top 10.

Derek

04-26-2009, 05:15 AM

I'll throw a big fat meh at Cries and Whispers as petty revenge for Spaceman's indifference to Hitchcock and Talk Talk. :twisted:

Derek

05-06-2009, 09:37 PM

Kind of a half-arsed review, but let's keep this moving.

#64 - Metropolis (Fritz Lang, 1927)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/vlcsnap-80823.png

Who said Fritz Lang didn't foresee the rise of the Third Reich?

I do not subscribe to the theory proclaiming silent films as a purer form of cinema, as if their singularity and encapsulation of an era long past means they should categorized, enshrined even, as a different art form. The intention is often born of admiration, but the result leads to their all-to-prevalent classification as antiques to be treated with reverence, but like an expensive vase to be admired from distance rather than engaged with as living, relevant objects. None of this has anything in particular to do with Fritz Lang’s mesmerizing sci-fi epic masterpiece, but Metropolis’s timelessness always strikes a chord with me, not only because its jaw-dropping set design is still impressive, but its engagement in universal themes and genuine compassion for the human condition has as much to do with living in the 21st Century as it does the 20th.

It is no purer an expression of these ideals than many sound films, but neither is it a relic. Lang’s combination of science fiction tropes, social commentary and operatic scope gives the film the immediacy and intensity able to match (and best) most of the epic blockbusters thrown our way. Lang’s dystopian vision is not simply expressed through its scope of vision, but through a hodgepodge of experimental cinematic techniques – first-person point of view, unstable camera moves giving the impression of handheld shots, dissolves and rapid montages. None of those are groundbreaking in and of themselves, but the combination in Metropolis is remarkable for bringing the avant-garde and genre together – the mediator between head and hands if you will. Lang brings these various elements together in such perfect rhythm that the camera and actors, through incredibly efficient editing, seem to be dancing with each other.

Brigitte Helm’s dual performance as Maria and the man-machine is the ultimate expression of the de-humanizing effect of over-reliance on technology – the latter’s sharp movement, even in dance, resembling the unmanned gears chugging along in the opening montage. The melodramatic acting styles of the silent era are perfect for this as Freder’s grand, flowing gestures are lost when he takes over for worker 11811. Metropolis’s ultimate theme comes off as a bit simplistic, but the inhumanity of the working environment is expressed through every element of the film with movement itself – worker’s methodically entering an elevator to go down to the underworld, the graceful playfulness of the nymphs above, Rotwang and the Thin Man stuck invariably in between as their cold, calculating natures are seen in their mechanical gesticulations – acting as the uniting component. 82 years later and the film’s kinesis is still invigorating and its themes and cinematic fervor as relevant and enthralling as ever.

Spaceman Spiff

05-06-2009, 09:46 PM

It's too long, I think. Otherwise a good movie, although I've always felt the ending to be quite lacking (the "hand mediates the heart" ending.)

megladon8

05-06-2009, 11:31 PM

Metropolis is a film I always wanted to buy a better DVD of, but never got around to it.

The one I have is one of those awful transfers by Macy Entertainment or some company like that. It cost like $5.

Derek

05-09-2009, 03:13 AM

#63 - To Be or Not to Be (Ernst Lubitsch, 1942)

http://tremolina.blogia.com/upload/20060923122241-lubitsch0wh.jpg

To Be or Not to Be is not Ernst Lubitsch's funniest or most gratifying film, but its comical, humanistic approach in addressing the nature of Adolph Hitler and the Nazi Party and the value of communal activism in times of dire need may be the most impressive feat of his career. Jack Benny and Carole Lombard play Joseph and Maria Tura, the most famous acting couple in Poland who become involved in the anti-Nazi movement accidentally when their play is shut down and an overzealous lover of Mrs. Tura unknowingly mentions her status to a Nazi spy on his way to Poland. The setup is pure Lubitsch, complete with his uniquely sophisticated style of romantic comedy, critical examining of social rules and morality, and blending of genres and tones to create a compelling and completely original atmosphere for his characters to interact. Given the subject matter, it's not surprising that it's his most serious film and often walks the thin line between brilliance and disaster.

In the early 1940s, Hollywood produced more war films than any other period of time, yet their often blunt and simplistically patriotic tones only secured support for America's involvement. To Be or Not to Be, like Casablanca, the other great film of 1942, takes into account the complexities of war and the necessary sacrifices to bring peace. Within the modern context (at its time of release) of World War II, Lubitsch uses a myriad of hilarious situations and entertaining characters to provide the backdrop to his reflective meditation on the horrors of tyranny as an oppressive force condemning personal and artistic freedom. It's no coincidence he pits the Nazi's against a theater company, though it works as more than a convenient contrast. The success of the Nazi's relies heavily on loyalty to the good of the group, including blindly following orders and acting and reacting as they are directed, just like the actors. Lubitsch never presents them as inhuman, deftly mocking their behavior while always stressing the danger in the thought behind those human faces and the importance of meeting terror with dignity and humanity.

To completely ignore the comic side of To Be or Not to Be would be unfair and like many Lubitsch films, there are few characters that manage to escape his acerbic wit. Benny's uptight, borderline neurotic Joseph Tura is self-involved and his pomposity is met with his wife's acceptance of a handsome, young lover, not because he deserves it, but because his track record indicates he would likely be indifferent. Maria is coy and playfully cruel and while she's more appealing than Joseph, the ingrained arrogance in her demeanor is clearly a shot at the upper class tendency to put appearance and other trivialities above anything real. That Lubitsch can play with themes of marital discord, love circles, and redemption through action rather than words, purely in the short scenes where the sub-plot is allowed to shine is a perfect example of his knack for giving every situation or character a feeling of great importance no matter how much screen time it takes up. The lover, played with proper doses of innocence and arrogance by a barely recognizable Robert Stack, is responsible for creating a rift between Joseph and Maria (or at least making an existing one apparent to them), causing them to reevaluate their marriage until they set their own worries aside in favor of more important tasks. As they work to sabotage the work of Professor Siletsky, the Nazi spy, their true feelings work themselves out in a reaffirmation of love that stems not from honest communication, but the simple realization that the conveniences of their marriage outweigh everything else. Situations such as that one give a small indication of the depth of this film and work as an example of how difficult it is to determine who exactly is the target. It so effortlessly intertwines the comic and the tragic, the love story and the anti-war statement, the honorable actions with the ill-intentioned that every scene builds on existing levels and create new ones. It is the essence of the Lubitsch touch that these qualities are noticeable and indefinable and that his films are often better experienced than discussed.

Duncan

05-09-2009, 05:24 AM

One of my least favourite of your choices so far, but one of your best write ups, I think. Good stuff.

Philosophe_rouge

05-09-2009, 06:01 AM

One of my very favourite films, and your review is excellent, as always.

Derek

05-10-2009, 01:49 AM

One of my least favourite of your choices so far, but one of your best write ups, I think. Good stuff.

I wrote this review in 2004, so I guess you're saying that my taste and my writing is on the decline? Gee, thanks.

One of my very favourite films, and your review is excellent, as always.

Awesome, I knew you'd appreciate the Lubitsch love. :) You can count on one more showing up, but not for a while.

Duncan

05-10-2009, 03:08 AM

I wrote this review in 2004, so I guess you're saying that my taste and my writing is on the decline? Gee, thanks.
Haha, well, you made me reconsider a movie I only marginally like, and think that maybe I overlooked a bunch of things that make it a better film in retrospect.

Derek

05-10-2009, 03:11 AM

Haha, well, you made me reconsider a movie I only marginally like, and think that maybe I overlooked a bunch of things that make it a better film in retrospect.

I'm only kidding. Good to hear you at least marginally liked it. I was afraid you hated it, which I thought was impossible for even Lubitsch's more middling films. I do think it's a more complex film that it appears to be on the surface and a second viewing was kind to me.

Qrazy

05-10-2009, 03:19 AM

I'll throw a big fat meh at Cries and Whispers as petty revenge for Spaceman's indifference to Hitchcock and Talk Talk. :twisted:

I will support your meh.

megladon8

05-10-2009, 03:21 AM

I think I might watch To Be Or Not To Be tonight.

Kurosawa Fan

05-10-2009, 03:23 AM

I think I might watch To Be Or Not To Be tonight.

This is a wise decision.

Boner M

05-10-2009, 03:25 AM

Still haven't seen To Be or Not To Be. Major blind-spot. Really dug Design For Living and Trouble in Paradise, the latter not as much as I'd hoped though.

Derek

05-10-2009, 03:41 AM

This is a wise decision.

Indeed it is.

Trouble in Paradise, the latter not as much as I'd hoped though.

Watch it again. Trust me.

Sven

05-10-2009, 01:30 PM

Watch it again. Trust me.

Yeah. I wasn't wild about it until I saw it a second time. It's totally awesome.

Kurosawa Fan

05-10-2009, 01:35 PM

Hm. I was also lukewarm about Trouble in Paradise the first time around. Interesting.

Raiders

05-10-2009, 02:39 PM

Well, I did love Trouble in Paradise the first time around. I loved it just the same on a second viewing... and third...

SirNewt

05-11-2009, 12:42 AM

It's too long, I think. Otherwise a good movie, although I've always felt the ending to be quite lacking (the "hand mediates the heart" ending.)

With any luck it'll get even longer with the recent unearthing of a complete print, Muahahaha!

#63 - To Be or Not to Be (Ernst Lubitsch, 1942)

http://tremolina.blogia.com/upload/20060923122241-lubitsch0wh.jpg

good call, best thing Benny ever did.

Derek

05-15-2009, 06:20 AM

#62 - The Burmese Harp (Kon Ichikawa, 1956)

http://auteurs_production.s3.amazonaw s.com/stills/7599/Film_379w_BurmeseHarp.jpg

The opening 20 minutes of The Burmese Harp are wonderfully strange – a vexing combination of utopian humanism and stringent nationalism. As the film goes on, it becomes crystal clear on which side director Kon Ichikawa stands, but man, what a bizarre way to open. And yet, as potentially corny as British and Japanese forces joining one another in song once the war ends could have been, Ichikawa plays it so tonally perfect, striking the right balance of gritty realism and ever-so-slight surrealism, that its hopeful gesture is profoundly moving. From there, like its sister film, the far grimmer Fires on a Plain, The Burmese Harp is a portrait of post-war despair and the difficulty of coping with the aftermath of so much senseless death and suffering.

Following the peace treaty, protagonist Mizushima is sent on a mission to convince another Japanese platoon to surrender to the British troops. His pleading for reason is met universally with claims that fighting to the death would serve their country better than returning home in shame to help rebuild it. Trying to save them all from impending death, Mizushima runs outside waving a white flag, but is stopped short and the British let the bombs fly. The injured Mizushima is taken in by a monk before borrowing his clothes and making his way towards the rendezvous point with his men. The remainder of the film is one of the most moving and compassionate spiritual transformations committed to celluloid.

Mizushima’s discovery of scattered corpses by the sea is both haunting in its imagery and heartrending for the response it evokes in the young soldier. It has been said that a great anti-war film cannot depict war itself, but The Burmese Harp shows that at least in its case, it is an essential piece of its argument for pacifism. Its slightly nationalistic leanings are tempered by their being redefined in terms of humanistic principles that leave no room for its more reactionary principles. For Ichikawa, his pride in country is in direct relation to working for the betterment of all, restoring the value of life and freedom to a belief system that all but squashed the individual beneath the weight of the all-mighty State. In avoiding the anticipated finale, Ichikawa saves his grandest gesture for last – a thoughtful statement on individual worth in the international community. Like several other moments in the film, it borders on naïve, but is so beautifully rendered cinematically and with such intense sincerity and conviction that one can’t help but believe, even fleetingly, that maybe Ichikawa’s envisioned future isn’t somehow a possibility.

B-side

05-15-2009, 08:56 AM

I wasn't overly impressed with Fires on the Plain. Struck me as a very typical war film. Not bad, just nothing special. Not exactly in a rush to see more Ichikawa, but I'm tempted.

soitgoes...

05-15-2009, 09:13 AM

I wasn't overly impressed with Fires on the Plain. Struck me as a very typical war film. Not bad, just nothing special. Not exactly in a rush to see more Ichikawa, but I'm tempted.
The Burmese Harp is my 9th favorite film. I did enjoy Fires on the Plain, but it's nowhere near the same ballpark as this film.

Also I don't know too many war films that sink as far into the hell of war as what Fires on the Plain shows. Jesus, what a depressing film that one is.

Derek

05-15-2009, 04:59 PM

The Burmese Harp is my 9th favorite film. I did enjoy Fires on the Plain, but it's nowhere near the same ballpark as this film.

Also I don't know too many war films that sink as far into the hell of war as what Fires on the Plain shows. Jesus, what a depressing film that one is.

I'm with you here. Fires on the Plain is a notch below Burmese Harp, but I wouldn't call it typical either.

D_Davis

05-15-2009, 05:13 PM

I wasn't overly impressed with Fires on the Plain. Struck me as a very typical war film. Not bad, just nothing special. Not exactly in a rush to see more Ichikawa, but I'm tempted.

I've never seen the movie, but I did enjoy the book a great deal. I actually didn't even know there was a movie until a couple of years ago.

Qrazy

05-15-2009, 05:25 PM

I've never seen the movie, but I did enjoy the book a great deal. I actually didn't even know there was a movie until a couple of years ago.

Hey D have you seen Neo-tokyo? Kawajiri (Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust, Ninja Scroll), Otomo (Akira) and Rintaro (Metropolis) make an omnibus. The results are quite solid.

D_Davis

05-15-2009, 05:41 PM

Hey D have you seen Neo-tokyo? Kawajiri (Vampire Hunter D Bloodlust, Ninja Scroll), Otomo (Akira) and Rintaro (Metropolis) make an omnibus. The results are quite solid.

Oh heck yeah. It's fantastic. My 2nd favorite anime anthology, after The Cockpit.

Qrazy

05-15-2009, 05:49 PM

Oh heck yeah. It's fantastic. My 2nd favorite anime anthology, after The Cockpit.

Ooh I'll have to check it out. The only other two anthologies I've seen are Genius Party and Memories. I need to check out more of Kawajiri, Rintaro and others OAV's.

D_Davis

05-15-2009, 05:54 PM

I have not seen the Genius Party yet - and I have a feeling I will like it.

The Cockpit is great, especially if you are a fan of the Leijiverse.

Otomo's entry in Neo-Tokyo, "The Order to Stop Construction" is absolutely brilliant. Cinematic SF at some of its very best.

D_Davis

05-15-2009, 06:00 PM

As far as Kawajiri goes, I've seen (according to wiki, he worked on these):

Unico
Stinkbomb
Future Boy Conan
Dagger of Kamui (best ninja anime)
Barefoot Gen
Lensman
Midnight Eye Goku
Cyber City Odeo
The Cockpit (!)
Demon City Shinjuku
Ninja Scroll
A Wind Named Amnesia
Wicked City (awesome)

SirNewt

05-17-2009, 11:03 PM

I think 'Fires' is a, I don't know purer film (that's a horrible way of expressing it) more consistent maybe. But I think I might like 'The Burmese Harp' better. The idea of a man becoming saintly from burying the dead of war is just brilliant.

Derek

05-17-2009, 11:08 PM

I think 'Fires' is a, I don't know purer film (that's a horrible way of expressing it) more consistent maybe.

Well, it's a more focused film from what I remember, but I don't necessarily think its consistency makes it a better film. It's simply more concerned with exposing the horrors of war and is more direct in delivering it's message. I still like it a lot, but I do think Burmese Harp is on another level.

B-side

05-18-2009, 08:33 AM

The Burmese Harp is my 9th favorite film. I did enjoy Fires on the Plain, but it's nowhere near the same ballpark as this film.

Also I don't know too many war films that sink as far into the hell of war as what Fires on the Plain shows. Jesus, what a depressing film that one is.

I guess I'll have to make it higher priority, especially if yours and others on here's opinions are any indication.

Derek

05-26-2009, 02:18 AM

#61 - Shoe-Shine (Vittorio De Sica, 1946)

http://eurekavideo.co.uk/moc/images/stills/shoeshine/1.jpg

I take nothing away from Vittorio De Sica’s wonderful Bicycle Thieves and Umberto D., but there has always been something in their saintly protagonists that has prevented me from fully embracing them, an unbridled humanism whose compassion is seemingly unbound, yet lacking a certain moral complexity. It’s understandably a neo-realist trope to fight for the little guy in the face of overwhelming social iniquities, but De Sica got it right earlier in his career with Shoeshine, a film whose emotions span from the gleeful abandon of youth to tragic social injustice, while having the courage to throw its childhood friends into murkier moral waters, not to mention the instability and labyrinthine psychological terrain that is adolescence.

Guiseppe and Pasquale are victims, yes, but they are initially drawn into the scam that gets them sent to juvenile prison by their brother and their own desire to purchase the horse they often ride with one another. De Sica achieves the perfect balance of innocence and turmoil in their youthful indiscretions and through their separation from each another throughout much of the film’s second half, he is able to masterfully take on social institutions and examine the intricacies of the children’s psychological torments amidst the post-war environment where they are stripped of security and admirable authority figures. The new allegiance each boy forms with his cellmates is a remarkably poignant reminder of the fragility of children’s friendships and the ease with which their actions are shaped by their environment.

The prison as social microcosm is an undeniable symbol in Shoeshine, yet De Sica plays the drama so expertly on a small-scale level that it never betrays its more modest tale of tale of two friends with a simple dream. As the police, the prude old woman, Guiseppe’s brother and the boys’ own greed not only make this dream an impossibility, the film captures, with startling compassion and empathy, the passing of a simpler time. The callous, mechanistic legal and prison systems are indicative of the post-war landscape in Italy, order being thrust upon a world of chaos and compassion replaced by thoughtless enforcement of principles which ignore the crumbling, destabilized environment. The brilliant and powerful finale, which I won’t spoil, moves closer towards a eulogy for the death of innocence, a depiction of a world with no room for the simple things and where children no longer have the luxury to dream.

Beau

05-27-2009, 01:19 AM

I loved Fires on the Plain. I'll make sure to watch this Harp business.

Derek

05-27-2009, 02:48 AM

I loved Fires on the Plain. I'll make sure to watch this Harp business.

A wise business decision.

MacGuffin

05-27-2009, 02:49 AM

I'll be sure to watch both of them sometime.

Qrazy

05-27-2009, 02:54 AM

Derek

05-28-2009, 07:43 AM

I liked Shoeshine but I found the general craftsmanship to be much higher in Umberto D and The Bicycle Thief. But it's still my third favorite De Sica. I sort of cooled on him after seeing the crappy Garden of the Finzi-Continis and Terminal Station. I have Il Boom which I'll probably watch at some point. I'd also like to see The Roof. Other than that I've seen The Children are Watching Us, Miracle in Milan and Two Women all of which I liked but with reservations.

Eh, I don't really see that much difference in the craftsmanship. There are numerous wonderful shots in Shoe-Shine, but I've never really looked to De Sica for remarkable visuals. Finzi-Continis is great.

Derek

05-28-2009, 07:44 AM

After seeing this again, it should be a good 20-30 spots higher.

#60 - Touch of Evil (Orson Welles, 1958)

http://www.cinematographers.nl/GreatDoPh/Films/TouchOfEvil2.jpg

The opening shot of Touch of Evil, which has justifiably been slovenly praised for its technical prowess and its dual layering of action in what, I would say, is the pinnacle of Welles’ use of deep focus, is equally impressive for its thematic set-up of cross-border conflict, bringing Mike, yes, Charlton Heston as a Mexican, and Quinlan, the racist and corrupt yet highly respected American detective played so brilliantly by Welles himself, into immediate tension. Deceptively starting off with what appears to be a politically motivated assassination and a battle over national concerns, Welles methodically tightens his vision, reigning in suspicions related to the murder and allowing them to settle into the background in favor of the clash between Mike and Quinlan.

After catching Quinlan planting evidence to frame the young Mexican under suspicion, Mike sets out to bring Quinlan to justice, but is met with resistance from every side. Their psychological battle initially staged as a good/evil, just/corrupt dichotomy only to be ironically countered by the revelation regarding Welles instincts at the end, is enhanced by the increasingly intensified editing rhythms, breaking of the 180-degree rule and an array of angles and camera moves all of which disorient the viewer and render the clarity of vision of spatial and temporal reality, so stringently upheld in that opening shot (until the cut to the explosion and its impending destabilization in the following handheld shot of Mike running towards the crime scene), moot as time and place transform into an indefinable blur.

Parallel to Mike/Quinlan going mano-y-mano is Mike’s wife, played with equal doses of strength and vulnerability by the ever-beautiful Janet Leigh, who remains at the outskirts of town, though by the barrenness of her surroundings, she might as well be on the other side of the world. Mike’s insistence on pursuing justice to the T not only opens himself up to attempts on his life and character, but leaves Susie exposed to the whims of the even more vile and corrupt Grandi family who control various illicit and highly profitable interests across the border and do not take kindly to Mike’s presence. It is here that Welles is truly effective in exploring the moral quandary that lies beneath the obvious good and evil represented by the two men's divergent approaches to the law. Welles certainly doesn’t paint Quinlan’s greed and corruption in a positive light, but in some ways, the rigidity with which Mike adheres to his moral code is subtly revealed as a weakness when taking on such a powerful and contemptible group as the Grandi’s. The title can be interpreted in a variety of ways, but I see the touch of evil as the missing ingredient in Mike’s make-up that would, at least in the long run, prevent him from cutting it in this roughneck border town. He makes it out alive, but without Quinlan’s initial planting of evidence, the guilty party would have walked and because of this, Welles leaves us, oddly enough through his unflinching portrait of corruption and evil, with the nagging thought that maybe Quinlan wasn’t entirely bad after all.

B-side

05-28-2009, 08:06 AM

*goes to download for a 2nd viewing*

I needed a reason to watch this again outside of general desire to like it more. You gave it to me. Thanks.:)

Derek

05-29-2009, 04:53 AM

*goes to download for a 2nd viewing*

I needed a reason to watch this again outside of general desire to like it more. You gave it to me. Thanks.:)

It's in my top 2 or 3 noirs and certainly one of Welles' finest. I've only seen the restored version, but with the new DVD, I'll have to get around to seeing the shorter studio cut which some people actually prefer.

Spaceman Spiff

05-29-2009, 11:09 PM

Touch of Evil is a movie I really wanted to adore, but for some totally weird reason I didn't. The first 30 minutes (minus the brilliant opening shot, natch) is like something out of Reefer Madness. Mexicans in leather jackets causing a ruckus? It's because they're high on the pot!

Pathétique

06-07-2009, 03:12 AM

Some great thoughtful reviews in this thread. Kinda sad to see some of them come to an abrupt end though.

I don't know if this has been mentioned here since--it was a long time ago that the film was brought up--but The Forsaken Land is now available DVD and on Netflix. I think I will check it out sometime.

Qrazy

06-07-2009, 03:44 AM

Eh, I don't really see that much difference in the craftsmanship. There are numerous wonderful shots in Shoe-Shine, but I've never really looked to De Sica for remarkable visuals. Finzi-Continis is great.

Nope.

MacGuffin

06-07-2009, 03:45 AM

Nope.

Ha.

MacGuffin

06-07-2009, 03:45 AM

But really Qrazy, if we're going to nope someone, can't we nope Spaceman Spiff? I haven't seen him be right about nearly anything.

Qrazy

06-07-2009, 03:51 AM

But really Qrazy, if we're going to nope someone, can't we nope Spaceman Spiff? I haven't seen him be right about nearly anything.

Hey now let's not get to generalizing too widely. I just Noped Derek because I already voiced my thoughts on those films, he disagreed and I felt the need to succinctly reiterate my disagreement with his disagreement. I do disagree with Spiff about Touch of Evil but I would provide him with a more detailed reaction upon an initial negation... it's only the reiteration of disagreement where brevity is key.

MacGuffin

06-07-2009, 03:58 AM

Hey now let's not get to generalizing too widely. I just Noped Derek because I already voiced my thoughts on those films, he disagreed and I felt the need to succinctly reiterate my disagreement with his disagreement. I do disagree with Spiff about Touch of Evil but I would provide him with a more detailed reaction upon an initial negation... it's only the reiteration of disagreement where brevity is key.

I asked him to defend his position to Godard's Masculin, feminin, which is a pretty simple movie to defend either way, because Spiff called it a piece of shit. He refused to, so I don't know if I will be taking his posts seriously anytime soon!

Qrazy

06-07-2009, 04:18 AM

I asked him to defend his position to Godard's Masculin, feminin, which is a pretty simple movie to defend either way, because Spiff called it a piece of shit. He refused to, so I don't know if I will be taking his posts seriously anytime soon!

Fair enough.

Derek

06-14-2009, 05:58 AM

#59 - Raising Arizona (Joel Coen, 1987)

http://burbanked.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/02/raising_arizona_meals.jpg

There is a certain segment of the critical masses that finds it necessary to harp on, with each new release from the Coen Brothers, the general disdain with which they treat their characters and their lack of empathy and pathos. Every year or two, the same tired argument is regurgitated instinctively, like as mother bird feeding her chicks who can’t seem to comprehend the point of a film where identification with the characters is not of chief importance. The Coens’ films have always been about surfaces – and by that I don’t mean shallow, but rather that they are hyper-aware of audience expectations and genre and cinematic conventions and use this awareness in a extremely playful ways to manipulate the audience us in very blatant yet confoundingly complex ways through visual and narrative strategies. What appears to some as callous indifference to humanity or cruel, megalomaniacal relationship between the artists and their creations is all part of the brothers’ end game. Through taut narratives and an expansive yet efficiently controlled cinematic vocabulary, the Coens are perhaps the greatest American magicians working in movies today, for few directors remain as carefully balanced on the edge between sincerity and utter mockery and so constantly make their presence felt within a film without breaking stride. They are the invisible manipulators who so often frustrate yet never come out from behind the curtain to take their bow. Are they genuine or is it all just a big trick? Well, some people don’t like leaving the theater with that question lodged in their brain, so it’s easier to say they hate their characters - those mean, nasty men.

I’ve never understood the notion that directors have any responsibility to treat their characters with the utmost care, as if they are literal rather than fictional beings. The Coens’ characters are often cardboard cutouts, a fact that ultimately will dissuade some altogether. What is so fascinating is usually not the depth of characterization, but the worlds they inhabit and the way the Coens are able to weave them into their complex narratives. The dissonance between these two-dimensional characters and a fully realized world is never greater than in Raising Arizona. These small town folk sure do take a beating, but this is a world of Looney Tunes references seen through fish-bowl lenses – a plastic world that is stretched in every direction as if the brothers smushed a ball of silly putty on a desert town and spent the next 95 minutes playing with it. I could care less whether the Coens really do hold these kinds of people in contempt because Raising Arizona uses the foolish, exaggerated behavior on hand for a higher purpose than simple mockery.

H.I. (remember when Nicholas Cage could be so good, he’s good?), the convenient store robber who struggles with his seemingly innate desire for criminal misdeeds and the worldly pressures to conform to social norms (create and maintain the family unit, turn to the right!) is thrust into Reagan’s America and into the hunt for an American Dream he never even wanted. The Coens are normally classified as apolitical, but the central conflict of the film (the Arizonas have more than they can handle, so Ed and H.I. have the right to their piece of the pie) is clearly an allusion to the political environment of the time and interestingly enough, the McDunnoughs come to the conclusion that they have no right to that which is not theirs. Are the Coens closet Republicans? Of course not; the “warthog from Hell,” is the enforcer of market principles and the photonegative of H.I. – working within the constructs of the capitalist system without a trace of compassion for others, yet unwilling to take what is not his without supplying what the market needs.

H.I.’s destruction of this alter-ego (the matching tattoos and his whispering “I’m sorry” before blowing him to bits seal the deal regarding that symbolism) along with the tonally unsettling and bizarre dream ending leave nothing but questions. Is H.I.’s dream an achievable reality or is it as much of a perpetuated myth as “trickle down” economics? Are the Coens giving them a happy ending or merely pointing out the absurdity of confusing cinematic realities with the real world? And then there’s the marriage of Nathan Arizona and his wife which seems cold and loveless as all of Nathan’s energy is put into promoting Unpainted Arizona. And yet, in the end, his final gesture towards her when imagining if she left him (“I do love her so.” *cue music*) is presented with stone-faced earnestness despite all evidence beforehand making such a sentiment seem impossible. One might say the Coens are having their cake and eating it too, being both sincere and insincere, mocking and loving, but their knack at hiding which one they are at any given time renders such a complaint moot.

What is even more incredible about Raising Arizona is that none of these questions need be asked, pondered or answered to enjoy the film. It is one of the rare comedies that not only becomes funnier each time I see it, but also provides a richer experience with jokes and vexing contradictions that pop up so quick, they’re easy to miss. It’s undoubtedly a bit rough around the edges, but this only adds to its charm and humor and it’s hard to fault a film that leaves me laughing ‘til my stomach hurts while still revealing new layers whenever I return to it.

Qrazy

06-14-2009, 04:53 PM

Good call, tied with and perhaps even above Lebowski as the Coens funniest film. I love that chase with the dogs through the house.

Spinal

06-14-2009, 05:04 PM

the “warthog from Hell,” is the enforcer of market principles and the photonegative of H.I. – working within the constructs of the capitalist system without a trace of compassion for others, yet unwilling to take what is not his without supplying what the market needs.

You mean ... he's Barty? :eek:

Derek

06-14-2009, 05:24 PM

Good call, tied with and perhaps even above Lebowski as the Coens funniest film. I love that chase with the dogs through the house.

Yup. I love Lebowski, but this one edges it out in terms of laughs.

You mean ... he's Barty? :eek:

:lol:

Spaceman Spiff

06-14-2009, 06:48 PM

Nah, Lebowski is the (much) funnier film. Love 'em both, natch.

Derek

07-07-2009, 01:26 AM

Ok, sabbatical's over. Getting back on track...

#58 - Rules of the Game (Jean Renoir, 1939)

http://laceysfilms.files.wordpress.co m/2009/02/regel.jpg

In his introduction to Rules of the Game, Jean Renoir calls France “a society rotten to the core.” The title of his masterpiece clearly conveys his intention to deconstruct the nature of this rottenness and examine the deeply embedded roots present in every aspect of the class system. Renoir’s film, however, is not considered one of the all-time greats only for exposing the rules (as amazingly as it does just that), but for the remarkably humanity and humor seamlessly integrated into his presentation. Two years before Orson Welles filmed Citizen Kane, Renoir employed his own subtle yet complex and thematically relevant use of deep focus to portray the world as a stage upon which his various romantic entanglements and class clashes play out. Within the frame, there are often multiple dramas occurring at once, often with the veneer of secrecy yet whose true motivations would be obvious to anyone not engrossed by their own backroom dealings - that being the audience, certainly not the characters. The deep focus along with a careful attention to the importance of spaces (both public and private, natural and artificial/domestic) allow Renoir to reveal the quietly destructive repercussions of the rules of social interaction and class entitlement that not only dictate the limitations of behavior, but have become the sole driving force behind it.

Robert‘s obsession with mechanical birds and the mansion’s ancient African sculptures function as the film’s major thematic motif – reminders of past connections to genuine, instinct-driven living that have been rendered cold and lifeless; objects that represent the conquering of more basal, survivalist mode of life in favor of a more proper and refined one. Existence in this society is performative and honesty is bent and shaped by the duties each character has accepted based on their prescribed social status. The central love triangle, which is quickly revealed as a more web-like structure within which many other characters have been ensnared, is the most fully developed representation of the extent to which artificially constructed modes of conduct cause the characters to act counter to their own feelings or best interests. André’s public declaration of love for Christine is one of the few times a character explicitly breaks the rules by speaking his or her mind - a single act that is ultimately the catalyst for the tragedy which caps the end of the film. The misunderstandings sprinkled throughout the film are born of the inherent insincerity of their conversations and relationships, yet what at first is seemingly innocuous eventually becomes lethal. What is truly the tragedy of the film, and what I imagine Renoir himself was getting at when he spoke of French society being rotten to the core, is how stringently the characters enforce the restrictions that prevent their own happiness and, even more importantly, that these codes of behavior are so deeply ingrained in their society, that rebellion leads not to freedom but outright rejection, either on an individual or a social level. It is inescapably circular, a snake eating its tail and no matter which direction you run, you’re either victim or victimizer. If Octave learns anything in the end, it’s that it’s sometimes safer to remain still.

Sven

07-07-2009, 01:27 AM

Watched this film again recently. Derek: awesome. Brilliant film.

Qrazy

07-07-2009, 01:29 AM

Agreed, far and away my favorite Renoir. I have La Chienne and The Golden Coach to watch, perhaps in the next month or so.

Derek

07-07-2009, 01:34 AM

Watched this film again recently. Derek: awesome. Brilliant film.

*Hugs Sven*

We're gonna be okay, you and me.

Agreed, far and away my favorite Renoir. I have La Chienne and The Golden Coach to watch, perhaps in the next month or so.

Not much of a fan of La Chienne (didn't care for Lang's Scarlet Street either, so I think it's more that I don't find the story all that compelling), but The Golden Coach is at least interesting from an auteurist perspective for pretty blatantly, though often beautifully, expressing many of Renoir's beliefs about the function of art and the world/stage dichotomy.

If you haven't seen French Cancan, do so now. My second favorite Renoir with one of Gabin's finest performances. A distant second, but a damn fine film in its own right.

Sven

07-07-2009, 01:36 AM

Yeah, I definitely recommend making Golden Coach a priority. I love that movie so much. This sounds a joke, believe me it is not, but do not miss Charleston Parade (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_gtMTnKNxY). It is wonderful.

Spaceman Spiff

07-07-2009, 01:43 AM

I would also like to chime in on how awesome that movie is. Huzzah!

B-side

07-07-2009, 04:26 AM

I've been anxious to rewatch that. You're pushing me even further in that direction, Derek.

MacGuffin

07-07-2009, 04:26 AM

I've been anxious to rewatch that. You're pushing me even further in that direction, Derek.

Yeah, I'm kind of baffled at how anybody could not like that movie, let alone not find anything in it to like at all.

B-side

07-07-2009, 05:36 AM

Yeah, I'm kind of baffled at how anybody could not like that movie, let alone not find anything in it to like at all.

I was far from disliking it when I saw it, I just was relatively indifferent. Keep in mind, this was a few years ago, so I was only just getting into the classics.

Derek

07-08-2009, 02:12 AM

Have to write another review this week, so I plowed through this to get it out of the way. Apologies for the roughness.

#57 - An Actor's Revenge (Kon Ichikawa, 1963)

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReview/actorsrevenge/1.jpg

The utter sincerity and humanity reflected in every scene of Kon Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp is replaced here with a cold yet playful post-modern distance. A revolutionary revenge film in its own right, it’s very difficult to believe that the Ichikawa responsible for so many memorable yet bleak post-war images in the 1950s is the same man who directed this formally audacious and vibrant cinematization (this should be a word) of the kabuki theater. Ichikawa transforms a rote concept, a man looking to avenge his parents death, from a cliché into something otherworldly, and downright transcendent really, through his invigorating use of color, negative space and self-reflexive stylistic flourishes. The dichotomy of actor and avenger is fleshed out wonderfully in the complex examination of the effects of revenge on identity, particularly sexuality. For Yukinojo, his entire life has been a performance at the service of his quest for blood, thus Ichikawa presents a world continually stuck between the stage and reality with the screen as mediator between the two.

Yukinojo‘s revenge tale is effective first and foremost because of the delicacy and restrained anger of Kazuo Hasegawa, whose performance is as strange as it is awe-inspiring. Playing a well-respected female impersonator in a traveler theater troupe, Yukinojo’s feminized nature is an extension of his rejection of his true identity, literally shrouding himself behind lies to the point that he has become one himself and Hasegawa conveys all of this with enigmatic grandeur. The film’s heightened style reflects the artifice of Yokinojo’s projection of himself, his intentions and everything he stands for; it’s all a set-up, a chess game, and Ichikawa’s distinctively expressive mise-en-scene allows the emotional battles to play out perfectly on a visceral and representational level. Dragging the kabuki theater kicking and screaming into the post-modern era of the 1960s, An Actor’s Revenge remains a challenging film and where it could easily have been little more than an experiment in form and genre, it retains all of the effectiveness of the bombastic melodrama inherent in the theater it so lovingly steals from. It’s as if Ichikawa broke down kabuki into its most essential elements and reconstructed it in his own vision, giving it a newfound energy and uniqueness that only the cinema can give us. It’s not always perfect, but it’s one ballsy film that still feels like nothing else I’ve ever seen.

Qrazy

07-09-2009, 10:35 PM

*Hugs Sven*

We're gonna be okay, you and me.

Not much of a fan of La Chienne (didn't care for Lang's Scarlet Street either, so I think it's more that I don't find the story all that compelling), but The Golden Coach is at least interesting from an auteurist perspective for pretty blatantly, though often beautifully, expressing many of Renoir's beliefs about the function of art and the world/stage dichotomy.

If you haven't seen French Cancan, do so now. My second favorite Renoir with one of Gabin's finest performances. A distant second, but a damn fine film in its own right.

I've seen at least part of French Cancan but it was over a decade ago before I knew anything about Renoir or film, so it's time for a rewatch. I remember enjoying what I saw.

Derek

07-22-2009, 04:33 AM

#56 - Apocalypse Now (Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)

http://bhdaamov.hp.infoseek.co.jp/pic/apocalypse_now2.jpg

I’ve heard it said that Apocalypse Now loves war and as insane as that once sounded to me, I can actually understand such an interpretation now. Few films wrap their arms around the pure insanity and hypocrisies of war, embracing its paradoxes so entirely and looking the beast directly in the eyes. The connection to Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness cannot be overstated, but I find Coppola’s vision of the perversions of imperialism to be far more disturbing and haunting in its juxtapositions of an American sense of privilege and cultural superiority and the primordial chaos of the Vietnamese and Cambodian jungles. I am instantly struck by its unique strangeness, using Sheen’s Willard as the viewer’s silent surrogate whose gaze is distanced, almost completely removed, from the experience of the war.

The entire Lieutenant Kilgore sequence in the first act is masterfully self-reflexive, presenting the cinematic representation of war as a similarly fictional construct as the equally constructed realities that Kilgore creates for and with his men and Imperialism itself creates within the countries it supplants. The camera crew on the beach, the soldiers surfing amidst the dropping bombs and the famed “Ride of the Valkyries” sequence could all easily be seen as aggrandizing, even celebrating, the madness of war if they were not so perfectly aligned with Conrad and Coppola’s representation of the deformed hybrid that is born of notions of cultural and moral superiority that are put into place through the most violent and barbaric means necessary. For Coppola, war is by its very nature an unending series of contradictions that slowly but inevitably unearth the darkness within man, but what fascinates about the film is the representation of the resulting hyper-reality that is gradually revealed as the PBR Street Gang heads down the river, not only to the heart of darkness, but to the ultimate paradox of war and absurd contradictions of civilization.

What lurks in the jungle is not barbarism or primitive madness, but a part of mankind’s nature that the forces in power are constantly striving to cover up and make us forget. The USO Tour sequence is particularly brilliant in its irony – presenting itself as a, obviously false and somewhat twisted, reminder of home, civilization, yet it does little more than play to the same primal instincts and emotions that the Army finds so terrifying and threatening in Kurtz and the natives. It is surreal not only because it is out of time and place, but also the juxtaposition of the false allure of glamour and an environment that represents its true intentions. The theme of transforming everything into a show runs throughout the film, a distinctly American way of distancing themselves from the true nature of their exploits (a distance found even until the very end; for example, Hicks’ line about the savagery of the natives guarding Kurtz’s hideout ignores that he and the other men have committed similarly atrocious acts). These feelings of inherent supremacy simply mask the fact that the arrogant implementation of a policy of cultural theft relies on the same basal instincts (aggression, fear, violence) played out in ritualistic form. The horror is not as much the darkness that lies within man as the atrocities he leaves behind through his arrogance, hypocrisy and cruelty.

Qrazy

07-22-2009, 04:39 AM

Loved it, need to rewatch it though just for the hell of it because it's been so long. Maybe I should watch Redux simply to have seen it.

Rowland

07-22-2009, 05:18 AM

One of my very favorites, and easily Coppola's most interesting film.

transmogrifier

07-22-2009, 05:48 AM

Loved it, need to rewatch it though just for the hell of it because it's been so long. Maybe I should watch Redux simply to have seen it.

Don't listen to any of the naysayers - Redux is just as good as the original cut. I need to see it again to decide if it is even better.

transmogrifier

07-22-2009, 05:50 AM

One of my very favorites, and easily Coppola's most interesting film.

Not much of a competition, really. Apart from this and The Godfather I and II, I find his films somewhat embalmed and prosaic. I doubt I'll ever muster the energy to see Tetro or Youth Without Youth.

Boner M

07-22-2009, 06:13 AM

Not much of a competition, really. Apart from this and The Godfather I and II, I find his films somewhat embalmed and prosaic. I doubt I'll ever muster the energy to see Tetro or Youth Without Youth.
The Conversation... prosaic? :| The Rain People is a tremendously interesting film as well, and I hear the same things about One From the Heart from many sources.

transmogrifier

07-22-2009, 06:17 AM

The Conversation... prosaic? :| The Rain People is a tremendously interesting film as well, and I hear the same things about One From the Heart from many sources.

I've seen The Conversation once when I was young, and found it kind of sleepy, but I have absolutely no recollection of it otherwise. The other two I haven't seen. But

Rumble Fish
Peggy Sue Got Married
Tucker
The Rainmaker
Godfather 3
Dracula
Jack
Gardens of Stone
The Cotton Club
New York Stories

are evidence enough for me.

Qrazy

07-22-2009, 06:28 AM

I don't see how Dracula is embalmed or prosaic... it is a bit crap though.

transmogrifier

07-22-2009, 06:29 AM

I don't see how Dracula is embalmed or prosaic... it is a bit crap though.

It's lifeless, bloodless, and joyless. And yes, a bit crap.

Boner M

07-22-2009, 06:42 AM

Youth Without Youth is indeed crap, though.

Qrazy

07-22-2009, 06:46 AM

It's lifeless, bloodless, and joyless. And yes, a bit crap.

I remember blood, and joyful exuberance but I also remember being put off by it's garish eccentricities.

Dukefrukem

07-22-2009, 03:10 PM

This list reminds me I still need to finish my list(s)

Derek

08-07-2009, 02:29 AM

#55 - The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1939)

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j94/DSmith724/vlcsnap-90205-1.png

What’s in a name? Status, power, adulation? In 19th Century Japan and thus, Kenji Mizoguchi’s The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums, it is more than just that. For Kikonusuke, the adopted son of a beloved actor who has inherited his father’s adoring fans without fine-tuning his craft, it is the burden of having his identity thrust upon him, sycophants glorifying his mediocrity and relatives ensuring that he stay within the confines of the relatively advantageous but stringent and narrow path his good family name has laid out for him. It is not until he encounters the family’s wet nurse, Otoku, on a late night walk that he presumably hears the truth from anyone and his reaction of shock quickly blooms into self-reflection after she bluntly criticizes his acting talents.

Mizoguchi uses the kabuki theater as a means of exploring the nature of the individual amidst the oppressive social roles of Japanese culture, the perfection of one’s art equated to a form of self-realization. Because of their encounter, innocent as it was, Otoku is sent away merely because of the appearance that something may have happened between her and Kikonusuke. Even once the family accepts that at first it was simply a burgeoning friendship, their relationship is forever forbidden solely due to the stigma that it would carry in the community. Mizoguchi’s concern lies precisely within the inherent injustice of these social forces, leading his characters headstrong against conventionality and the seemingly inescapable pressures of societal expectations. After being shaken out of his stupor, Kikonusuke decides to leave his family, and all the benefits that come with it, with Otoku in an attempt to find success on his own. Otoku, who at first was prevented from leaving with him by Kikonusuke’s family, does eventually joins him, providing a sense of purpose and direction, all-giving yet strong in her own right despite flirting with martyrdom on occasion.

Otoku is not simply the supportive wife providing encouragement, but the sole impetus for Kikonusuke’s transformation into a great actor and the life force giving him the energy to continue on. While it’s not likely to invite praise from hard-line feminists, Mizoguchi truly does empower his female protagonist, especially given the historical period, even though her efforts and energy are poured almost entirely into her male counterpart. In a sense, Otoku is co-creator, an artist in her own right, if only by proxy, and The Story of Late Chrysanthemums is a celebration as much of art and love as it is individuality. In fact, they are all deeply intertwined as only through the process of deep self-examination can Kikonusuke begin to grow as an artist and the love between him and Otoku remains a veritable foe against the long-standing traditions that push obedience and conformity at the expense of truth and happiness.

B-side

08-07-2009, 02:59 AM

That sounds really good. I'll have to check that out.

Qrazy

08-07-2009, 03:22 AM

Yeah I've had and been meaning to watch that for a while, don't have subs yet though.

Derek

08-07-2009, 03:39 AM

Yeah I've had and been meaning to watch that for a while, don't have subs yet though.

There are subs on the Karagarga version. I tried to attach the SRT file here, but it's too big. If you can't get them, I can send it to you via e-mail.

megladon8

08-07-2009, 03:45 AM

I feel bad that I've seen so few of these...

Qrazy

08-07-2009, 03:49 AM

There are subs on the Karagarga version. I tried to attach the SRT file here, but it's too big. If you can't get them, I can send it to you via e-mail.

Thanks there weren't on mine version but DL'd it like 2 years ago. I'll just DL the subs from KG separately, small file so it won't hurt my ratio, hopefully it will fit my copy.

Derek

08-12-2009, 04:18 AM

#54 - Yi Yi (Edward Yang, 2000)

http://blogs.indiewire.com/images/blogs/reverseshot/archives/images/yi%20yi%202.jpg

Edward Yang’s tender, heart-rending Yi Yi is an epic whisper, a soft-spoken masterpiece that carefully observes the core members of the Jian family in the wake of the wedding of the family’s black sheep and an accident that puts the grandmother in a coma. Shot almost entirely in medium and long shots with minimal camera movement, Yang allows the separate yet interrelated stories to come to life organically and mysteriously, always in tune with his characters humanity yet respectfully distant, providing them with an indelible inscrutability and a sovereignty upon which their creator does not impinge. And yet, despite this, what Yang does show us is so full of compassion and an innate curiosity about and concern for the human condition that the result is not merely a fully realized portrait of family but, perhaps unwittingly, a treatise on modern existence and human relationships. Lavish praise, I know, but this is unquestionably one of the most important films of the new millennium so forgive me for getting a little carried away.

The family’s patriarch, NJ, anchors the film in several ways - as the head of the family, the embodiment of Yang’s belief in human decency amidst inherent imperfections, and as a parallel to the changes his two children go through (Tin-Tin, a teenager coping with the thrills and disappointments of first love and Yang-Yang, a 9-year old struggling to comprehend his feelings towards an older female and developing a unique brand of artistic expression). As NJ attempts to cultivate a working relationship with brilliant and personable Ota, the president of a company his company is considering purchasing, he fights the shallow short-sightedness of his co-workers who lean towards a less expensive imitation called Ato who also happens to be run by, much to the chagrin of NJ’s boss, a large-breasted woman. NJ and Ota’s burgeoning friendship embodies Yang’s perspective that communication, both personal and professional, is becoming diluted, rendered secondary amidst the speed with which the modern world moves and changes. It is this quandary that every character meets down the line, resulting in an array of comic and tragic outcomes.

As one can tell from the film’s title, the reversal of the business name and many of the characters names (there’s also a Li-Li and Min-Min), doubling, repetition and reflections play a critical role in the film. Even Yang-Yang’s obsession with taking pictures of the back of people’s heads in effort “to show them what they can’t see” is explicitly linked to Yang’s thesis on the dual nature of our lives – the possible outcomes vs. the actual ones, what we see vs. what we don’t, our ideals vs. the reality of putting those ideals into practice, the real vs. the fake and so on. This theme is coded is nearly every aspect of the film, from its structure to its visual scheme. Characters are often shot through glass windows with faint reflections of what opposes them in a deceptively subtle attempt to capture what is both in and out of the frame, using the camera to embody this duality and the depth of reality not captured in a typical shot. The faint “reflected reality” overlying reality itself is also indicative of the motif of doubles and repetition, most notably through NJ’s encounters with an old flame where he discovers another possible path his life could have taken. In a remarkably bold and humane gesture, Yang doesn’t allow NJ to wallow in regret and instead, and fortunately without going so far as to suggest divine forces or predestination of any form, presents his characters as the totality of their experiences and these other possibilities not as missed opportunities, but rather opportunities to examine ones own happiness and self-worth on the path to a better understanding of ones place in the world.

If I make the film seem oppressively structured or remote and inaccessible, I assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Yang is a true humanist and the emotions of his characters are never obscured by his formalism, only enhanced and enlightened by it. It nothing short of a minor miracle that a film so carefully structured and pieced together can also seem so realistic and flow so naturally, almost casually at times. It is the rare work of art that is equally potent emotionally and artistically, never bending one at the will of the other, instead using art to elucidate the human experience and vice versa.

Qrazy

08-12-2009, 05:25 AM

Still haven't seen any Yang, just procured this one a few days ago oddly enough.

dreamdead

08-23-2009, 02:02 AM

I've long been impressed with Yi Yi's ability to present both internal (psychological) and external (social) space. Even the pic you include here reflects both psychological distance, in that Yang presents us a character who's seen from the outside and not from within her work relationships, as well as a cityscape that remains reflected, faintly expressionistic (and thus not fully objective) and not seen as its own reality, but as a mirror of reality. On my revisiting the film, I was impressed with how often Yang depended on this divide between the internal/external space, and how often it splits the individual.

Though the video game intercut in the third act is a bit silly, it's the film's only false note for me. Everything else captures the sense of three generations trying to come to terms with what is valuable to them in their family crisis--especially haunting are those moments when the black sheep uncle visits the family grandmother and finds himself struck silent, and when the daughter has the dream about the grandmother's return, which carries most of the spiritual weight of the film, however brief.

Indeed, the element I once thought so interesting, its critique of commercial capitalism (the everpresent McDonalds still which I still love) have faded in my mind, though the NJ/Ota relationship is still one of the most fascinating and rewarding relationships I've seen in film released in this decade. So masterful and so haunting. Great thoughts!

soitgoes...

08-23-2009, 06:59 AM

Still haven't seen any Yang,

Teehee.

Derek

08-24-2009, 03:22 AM

Not really happy with (or finished) with this one, but I'll be short on time this week so onward Christian soldiers.

#53 - Underground (Emir Kusturica, 1995)

http://www.ucca.org.cn/portal/file/preview.798?id=402885722031095 4012061254040001f&size=m

Emir Kusturica’s masterful Underground sinks its teeth into the history of the former Yugoslavia and feasts on its contradictions and tragedies. The grandiosity of its comic vision can barely be contained with its 165 minutes filled nearly to the brim with slapstick humor, broad displays of emotion and a constant sense of motion embodied in its energetic performances wonderfully captured through its wildly imaginative mise-en-scene. With a dash of Fellini’s raunchy surrealism and Terry Gilliam’s go-for-broke absurdism, Underground’s relentlessly energetic pacing leaves ample room for high and low art in a fascinating combination of thoughtful political allegory and broad comedic strokes.

The tale begins towards the beginning of World War II when the Nazis made their way into Yugoslavia. Blacky and Marko, staunch anti-fascists involved in arms dealings to support the revolution, hide away in Marko’s grandmother’s basement with a large group of workers who continue producing weapons in the hope of saving their country. Marko remains deeply involved in the revolutionary strategies outside the shelter, but eventually betrays his friends and neighbors, leaving them to believe the war continues on through the 60s all the while raking in the profits of their labors and stealing the famous actress for his bride despite her being the object of Blacky’s desire. Kusturica’s tale of epic betrayal mirrors the deceptive nature of Communism in Yugoslavia that, at least in Kusturica’s eyes, led his country astray through the deceptive tactics of real-life Yugoslav president Josep Broz Tito.

Much of the film’s central allegory is expressed through a motif of illusion. Over the 20 years trapped underground, a microcosmic world of willful ignorance has developed and the newfound community has happily accepted its role of facilitator in a movement they know increasingly little about. Kusturica often plays their ridiculous determination and dedication to the cause for laughs on the surface but a deep-seeded sense of regret and anger pervades the film. The self-reflective, and obviously completely inaccurate and wildly propagandic, film being made to honor Marko’s heroic exploits further satirizes the illusory tactics of the Tito regime, while also forcing Marko and his wife to directly confront the extent of their lies and the damage they’ve done as the actors portraying them and Blacky in the bio-pic are literal doppelgangers. It is one many deceptively clever choices made by Kusturica in a film that is relentless entertaining, proving that cinematic representations of history can be passionate and full of energy and experimental techniques.

Derek

08-24-2009, 03:24 AM

#52 - Once Upon a Time in the West (Sergio Leone, 1968)

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/dvdcompare/onceuponatime3/OnceUpon7.jpg

The opening sequence of Once Upon a Time in the West is one of the best sequences in the history of cinema, as well as one of the most referenced. For over 10 minutes the soundtrack consists of nothing more than the naturalistic sounds of creaking windmills and dust blown wind and the screen filled with three characters performing the most mundane tasks imaginable as they wait for a train to arrive. What makes the opening so essential is not only how beautifully it is executed, but how it sets up the rest of the film. Much of the film consists of the characters waiting and Leone films this to create an increasing amount of anticipation and tension until the cathartic explosions of violence. Through his bold compositions and abundance of close-ups, it becomes a hyperbolic expression of the legend of the Old West where the heroes and villains are bigger than life and the background characters and the vast landscape around them are dwarfed. Leone's West embraces the legend of these men to the point where it is not remotely realistic, but an artistic expression of how the West is remembered.

The framing and composition is used as a means of expression to create tension, develop characters, externalize the characters internal experiences and paint Leone's vision of myth on the screen. He borrows more techniques from silent and art films than from other westerns and without hearing a single line of dialogue the intensity of the film would not be lost. Though there are long stretches with little or no dialogue, the dialogue that is there is sharp, witty and sarcastic leaving plenty of room for the humor that pops up at just the right moments and works even better at the more seemingly inappropriate moments such as right before a shoot-out. The intense atmosphere pervades the film and even the quieter romantic or reflective moments are filled with a sense of energy that comes from the expectation that at any given moment something huge is going to happen. There is a sense of immediacy unlike any other western because every action and reaction is monumental. When Henry Fonda, Charles Bronson or Jason Robards are on screen, it is for a reason and that reason is usually because someone is about to die. Claudia Cardinale's screen presence is also greatly felt (which could take us into a completely different topic!) as the determined widow and former prostitute trying to hold on to her last threads of hope.

For all of its revisionist tactics, Once Upon a Time in the West also embraces the genre clichés. The story of good vs. evil, the creation of a new town, and the train representing the arrival of modern civilization and all of the good and bad things that come along with it are all important parts of the story. It is this last aspect that the film tackles most intelligently. Leone is very preoccupied with comparing and contrasting the "man" with the "businessman". As the crippled businessman suggests, the only thing more powerful than a man with a gun is a man with money. While Leone doesn't condone the violence in his films, one gets the feeling that he has a great deal more contempt for the dishonorable tactics of businessmen since there is no honor in their methods and the responsibility of their actions is continuously passed down the line. Here the businessman is safe from the world, never leaving his train and mobile only to the degree that he can drag his deformed body from one side to the other. His money weighs him down and leaves him power-hungry for more, but he is unable to act on his own. His money gives him the power to purchase not only land, but people as well. His kind comes with civilization and Leone reminds us just how similar capitalist is to a man with a gun. This is one of the minor pieces of the film, but important enough to mention along with everything else that make this an amazing, one-of-a-kind film.

Qrazy

08-24-2009, 03:53 AM

Great picks.

Rowland

08-24-2009, 07:02 AM

Derek

08-24-2009, 02:54 PM

You know, I have owned Once Upon a Time in the West for at least three years, and I've never watched it. I'm going to make a pledge that within the next week, I'll finally watch it and share my thoughts.

Awesome! What are you feelings towards Leone? I'm sure you know, but this one oddly enough was co-written by your boy Dario Argento.

D_Davis

08-24-2009, 02:58 PM

#52 - Once Upon a Time in the West (Sergio Leone, 1968)

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/dvdcompare/onceuponatime3/OnceUpon7.jpg

Great pick. But it's 51 spots too low. :)

Derek

08-26-2009, 04:07 AM

#51 - Eyes Wide Shut (Stanley Kubrick, 1999)

http://kubrick77.free.fr/Kubrick/ews.jpg

If an artist lives on through his art, then there is something perversely humorous about Stanley Kubrick’s final word forever be remembered as “fuck.” A perfect ending to an admittedly challenging and distancing film that leaves itself open to multiple interpretations, including ridicule, Eyes Wide Shut ends on a shockingly direct note with a definitive answer to a enigmatic, amorphous question. If there’s one thing the film captures perfectly that few others dare to, it’s the pervasiveness of sex throughout our daily routines and seemingly innocuous interactions with friends and strangers alike. Even in the midst of tragedy, sexual desire, now matter how inappropriate the individual considers it, cannot be suppressed. The nature of this need to suppress sexual instincts, the outward representation of self as dictated by social norms, vs. the inevitable and innate desire to fulfill sexual needs is perhaps as central a question as any.

The opening sequence ends with Alice shattering of Bill’s illusions of female sexuality and forces Bill into self-examination via surreal journey into the New York cityscape where he must confront the conflict of identity, an influx composite of internal thoughts and desires and the external reactions to them, and fidelity head-on. Each encounter is decidedly more sexually charged than the last, from his patient’s daughter to the prostitute to the secret society orgy that punctuates the second act. The symbolism of masks does at first seem overly simplistic, but Kubrick digs deep into its ritualistic roles and the reasons individuals require them rather than presenting it as a black/white, off/on dichotomy. Eyes Wide Shut is all gray area and invariably leaves a trail filled with more questions than answers.

The result of Bill’s unmasking at the ceremony is both a deep sense of shame for his thoughts of betraying Alice and a certain empowerment in the aftermath of both parties honest confessions (Bill’s coming towards the end of the film). While Eyes Wide Shut has been and could be interpreted and parsed by the nitty-gritty details, keeping it succinct, I find its most effective argument is in favor of a demolishing of the ideals that lead to secrecy and shame being intertwined with sexuality and the simple value of open communication as opposed to repression. A gross over-simplification of an extremely complex, multi-layered film, but it is part of Kubrick’s ingenious treatment of the subject matter that it lends itself to multiple interpretations to be gleaned from broad and detailed analyses alike. In the past 10 years, no other film has matched its effectiveness in frankly dealing with the nature of sexual relations and desires.

Derek

08-26-2009, 04:10 AM

We're half way there!!!

http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2007/10/27/arts/jovispan.jpg

transmogrifier

08-26-2009, 04:18 AM

Yi Yi: Yes, Yes
Once Upon a Time in the West: there was an awesome movie that did awesome things and generate awe
Eyes Wide Shut: orgies tightly controlled, desire artfully deadened, Kidman gorgeously naked

Rowland

08-26-2009, 07:08 AM

Awesome! What are you feelings towards Leone?

A Fistful of Dollars - ~70
For a Few Dollars More - ~75
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly - ~90

Hopefully that trend will continue.

soitgoes...

08-26-2009, 10:34 AM

A Fistful of Dollars - ~70
For a Few Dollars More - ~75
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly - ~90

Hopefully that trend will continue.

It should continue through OUaTitW, but once you see Duck, You Sucker the trend will die.

Spaceman Spiff

08-26-2009, 09:06 PM

I absolutely adore the past 2 films. Good show.

I will never understand EWS haters. Top 3 Kubrick for me.

dreamdead

08-27-2009, 01:46 PM

Wonderful write-up on EWS. Of all the films from 1999 that have been seen by these eyes, this is the one most in need of rewatching (note, not necessarily re-evaluation). I have, however, watched the opening party scene multiple times and have always been struck by how tightly controlled Kubrick forces his camera and voyeuristic impulse to be as he flits in and out of conversations.

It also goes down in history as having one of the 5 best trailers that I've had the pleasure to see and then anticipate the actual film.

Melville

12-07-2009, 02:39 AM

Hey Derek, tell us your top 50.

Derek

12-07-2009, 04:25 AM

Hey Derek, tell us your top 50.

Woops. Yeah, working 55-60 hours a week has made it pretty much impossible to keep this going. Oh well, at least I made it halfway.

50. Blue Velvet (David Lynch, 1986)
49. Three Colors: Blue (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1993)
48. The Life of Brian (Terry Jones, 1979)
47. Casablanca (Michael Curtiz, 1942)
46. Werckmeister Harmonies (Béla Tarr, 2000)
45. Punch-Drunk Love (Paul Thomas Anderson, 2002)
44. Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)
43. The Conformist (Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970)
42. Code Unknown (Michael Haneke, 2000)
41. Distant Voices, Still Lives (Terence Davies, 1988)
40. Sherlock, Jr. (Buster Keaton, 1924)
39. The Earrings of Madame de... (Max Ophuls, 1953)
38. L'Argent (Robert Bresson, 1983)
37. Sunrise (F.W. Murnau, 1927)
36. La Jetée (Chris Marker, 1962)
35. Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966)
34. It's a Wonderful Life (Frank Capra, 1946)
33. L’Avventura (Michelangelo Antonioni, 1960)
32. Throne of Blood (Akira Kurosawa, 1957)
31. In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950)
30. The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang, 1933)
29. The Conversation (Francis Ford Coppola, 1974)
28. Make Way for Tomorrow (Leo McCarey, 1937)
27. Contempt (Jean-Luc Godard, 1963)
26. Solaris (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972)
25. Rushmore (Wes Anderson, 1998)
24. Once Upon a Time in America (Sergio Leone, 1984)
23. Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946)
22. Taxi Driver (Martin Scorsese, 1976)
21. Dersu Uzala (Akira Kurosawa, 1975)
20. Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999)
19. Nostalghia (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1982)
18. Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2001)
17. City Lights (Charles Chaplin, 1931)
16. Sunset Blvd. (Billy Wilder, 1950)
15. Sansho the Bailiff (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1954)
14. Bitter Victory(Nicholas Ray, 1957)
13. The Seventh Seal (Ingmar Bergman, 1957)
12. Woman in the Dunes (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1964)
11. Trouble in Paradise (Ernst Lubitsch, 1932)
10. Pierrot le Fou (Jean-Luc Godard, 1965)
9. The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928)
8. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968)
7. McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Robert Altman, 1971)
6. L'Atalante (Jean Vigo, 1934)
5. The Trial (Orson Welles, 1962)
4. Rear Window (Alfred Hitchcock, 1954)
3. The Decalogue (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1987)
2. Playtime (Jaques Tati, 1967)
1. Au hasard, Balthazar (Robert Bresson, 1966)

Melville

12-07-2009, 05:08 AM

Woops. Yeah, working 55-60 hours a week has made it pretty much impossible to keep this going. Oh well, at least I made it halfway.
You knocked out an impressive number of in-depth reviews. Your list is great too; I especially like the high placements of It's a Wonderful Life, Solaris, and Woman in the Dunes. There are 20 films I haven't seen, and which I will now place high on my figurative queue:
99. Trust (Hartley, 1990)
97. The Shop on Main Street (Kadar/Klos, 1965)
96. Mother & Son (Sokurov, 1997)
94. Parade (Tati, 1974)
90. A Grin Without a Cat (Marker, 1977)
88. Deep Red (Agento, 1975)
87. Decasia (Morrison, 2002)
82. The Last Laugh (F.W. Murnau, 1924)
67. Floating Clouds (Mikio Naruse, 1955)
62. The Burmese Harp (Kon Ichikawa, 1956)
61. Shoe-Shine (Vittorio De Sica, 1946)
57. An Actor's Revenge (Kon Ichikawa, 1963)
55. The Story of the Late Chrysanthemums (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1939)
42. Code Unknown (Michael Haneke, 2000)
41. Distant Voices, Still Lives (Terence Davies, 1988)
38. L'Argent (Robert Bresson, 1983)
30. The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang, 1933)
14. Bitter Victory(Nicholas Ray, 1957)
11. Trouble in Paradise (Ernst Lubitsch, 1932)
3. The Decalogue (Krzysztof Kieslowski, 1987)