Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Lars von Trier c'est moi (or: how the Sunday NY Times angered Filmbrain, again)

There's something about the Dogville article by A. O. Scott in the Sunday New York Times that rubs Filmbrain the wrong way. Even though it has many good things to say about the film, Scott feels the need to drive home the point that only a non-American could imagine America in this way. From the print edition:

"Lars von Trier's ruthlessly deconstructed take on small-town life is a fantasy of America no American would ever dream up."

What exactly does he mean by that? Is it beyond Scott's imagination that an American could actually be as critical as that? Would nobody dare attack the 'image' of small town life as Lars has? Well Filmbrain has -- countless times, in fact!

Perhaps Filmbrain is overreacting -- maybe he's reading too much into the article. But then he remembered that A. O. Scott's favorite film of 2003 was Romper Stomper On a Boat, and now feels completely justified in his anger.

'It' Girl? And how!

Ever since Filmbrain upgraded to a digital recording cable box he has been obsessed with recording films (usually from Turner Classic Movies or The Fox Movie Channel) that are not readily available on DVD. Many have been forgotten with good reason, but occasionally he unearths a gem -- or at least something worth mentioning. The pre-code melodrama Call Her Savage (1932) is one of those films. The film stars Clara Bow, best known as the 'It' Girl from the silent screen. Talkies weren't kind to her, given her incredibly thick Brooklyn accent. Yet she persevered, and this film was somewhat of a comeback for her. It is a particularly odd film, with more melodrama than you would think possible in 92 minutes. Filmbrain sat through most of the film with his jaw gaping, for even though it is pre-Hayes Code it contains quite a catalog of shocking events. In the film, we see: a man step on another's throat until dead a Native American man whipped repeatedly by a woman a woman wrestle with a dog attempted rape attempted child molestation a child die in a fire most likely the first gay bar ever to appear in a Hollywood film The film suffers from the wooden, stiff readings, the lengthy pauses, and the near-screaming that was common in the early talkies. But never mind all that. This film is all about Clara Bow. The former 'It' Girl plays Nasa (quite a rocket, even though this is decades before the agency) an untamable 'half-breed' (her mother had an illicit affair with a Native American) that has all sorts of adventures with men, money and mayhem. The story is too convoluted (and frankly, not interesting enough) to address here, but Filmbrain still highly recommends the film. If voyeuristic thrills are your thing, then the first third of the film will leave you....satisfied -- bra-less Clara Bow running around in a sheer, unbuttoned blouse that results in more costume reveals than Janet Jackson could ever dream of. The scene where Nasa wrestles with a St. Bernard (which finds the camera trained on the dog's testicles more than anything else) is reason enough to seek this film out. Best bit of dialog that proves some things never change -- Nasa asks her date where he's taking her for dinner. His response: "You said you wanted to go slumming, so I picked a place to eat in Greenwich Village. Only wild poets and anarchists eat there. Pretty tough." (This is where the gay bar comes in.) If you've never seen a pre-code Hollywood film, here's a great place to start.

The apocalypse according to Michael Haneke

Michael Haneke's latest film, The Time of the Wolf (Le Temps du Loup), begins with a near replay of his earlier film, Funny Games. A family drives up to their country house and begins to unload the car. The idyll is quickly shattered as they are confronted by a man who becomes a source of terror. At this point the two films radically diverge. The Time of the Wolf takes place shortly after a never-explained apocalyptic event. Anna (the ever-amazing Isabelle Huppert) and her two children are struggling to survive in the countryside, with very limited resources. They wind up at a train station full of other refugees made up of a cross-section of contemporary Europe (rich and poor, East and West Europeans). At this, the film turns into an almost Bergman-esque study of human nature. Naturally, there are tensions in the station, especially as the population increases. Yet Haneke avoids showing the violence that one often associates with this situation. Unlike the horror of Funny Games, where the audience was simply a voyeur to the events unfolding, the source of fear this time is that we identify with the characters -- ordinary people confronted with an exceptional situation. The story unfolds primarily from the children's point of view, which adds a greater tension -- suddenly they are confronted with acts and behaviors they are clearly not accustomed to, and Haneke presents these scenes accordingly. Filmbrain noticed a few connections with some of Haneke's earlier films. The mother and father characters are Anna and Georg(e) in three of his features -- the brilliantly depressing first feature The Seventh Continent, Funny Games, and this film. The daughter here is Eva, as she is in The Seventh Continent. The son, Benny, shares the name of the titular son in Benny's Video. Is this pure coincidence or is Haneke interested in continually reinventing this family in various difficult situations? Filmbrain really doesn't know. . . This is Haneke's most optimist- and humanistic work, but it's no less unsettling than his previous films. Those that are expecting a greater shock value than Funny Games or The Piano Teacher will undoubtedly be let down. The Time of the Wolf is a slow burn -- it hits you a day later and stays with you. Check out the trailer here.

Weinstein-ism of the week

Filmbrain has been devouring Peter Biskind's latest book Down and Dirty Pictures, even though he's not a big fan of Biskind. (Filmbrain took great umbrage with the shallowness of Easy Riders, Raging Bulls.) However, any book that dishes dirt on Harvey Weinstein is an automatic read.

As a screenwriter, loathing Miramax and Harvey Weinstein is probably something of a career-limiting move. However, "films come first" is Filmbrain's motto, and the acts and methods of Harv & Co. are beyond the pale. Whereas once upon a time Harv may have loved films, today it's all about the bottom line. His strong-arm techniques, his bullying, his policy of buying foreign films and shelving them -- the man is a menace.

This is the man who said the following about himself:

"If I didn't exist, they'd have to invent me -- I'm the only interesting thing around."

Each week, Filmbrain will bring you choice selections from the book. Think of it as a public service, of sorts.

This week: Spike Lee, one of the few directors willing to speak candidly about Harvey:

"I'll speak my mind. I'm not scared of a' that fat fuck, he can't whiteball me out of the industry."

See ya next week. . .

Study in White, Part II

Just as it was in Inquiétudes (see below), white is once again at the center of a contemporary French thriller. Set in a mysteriously quiet hospital somewhere in the French countryside, Qui a Tué Bambi? (Who Killed Bambi?) is decked out in white from head to toe. The seemingly endless corridors, the lights, and the doctors and nurses outfits create a mood that is at once both antiseptic and terrifying. The directorial debut of screenwriter Gilles Marchand (Harry, He's Here to Help), it was screened this week as part of the Rendez-Vous With French Cinema festival at Lincoln Center. Filmbrain's initial reaction to the film was "Coma with a lot of nudity." The plot is fairly simple -- young, pretty, innocent student nurse Isabelle (Winona Ryder-esque Sophie Quinton) begins work at a hospital. She suspects something is amiss after a few run-ins with a chief surgeon, the devilishly handsome but sinister Dr. Philipp (Laurent Lucas), who dubs her Bambi after a fainting spell -- given her inability to stand with her own legs. Indeed Dr. Philipp is harboring a dark secret, but nobody pays heed to Isabelle's warnings. (Just what is he getting up to with the young female patients at night?) This is well-traveled territory, and unfortunately Marchand doesn't bring much new to the table. The most interesting character in the film is the hospital itself -- a menacing cube that sits atop a hill. The world of the film is limited to this, and most of the action takes place between the hospital, the parking lot, and the nurse's dorm rooms. There is hardly any indication of life outside the hospital, which is a nice touch. It is a rather unique hospital, where the staff outnumbers the patients, and all the patients (save for one elderly woman) are beautiful, young, attractive females requiring surgery. Go figure. There are some standout moments that sharply contrast with the icy coldness of the hospital's corridors, including a party sequence and a few dreamlike scenes in a forest glade where the excess white is replaced by anything but. Though fairly cookie-cutter, it does reject certain rules of the genre, namely any sort of explanation as to why the young doctor does what he does, and for this Filmbrain is thankful. The real problem with the film is that by the end of its 120+ minutes, the answer to the titular question doesn't seem that pertinent.

Korean Cinema Rocks!

It's only been two years since Filmbrain discovered Korean cinema, but it's been a very rewarding experience. Directors such as Hong Sang-soo, Park Ki-yong, Kim Ki-duk and Lee Chang-dong have created films that are intelligent, challenging, and beautifully crafted. They breathe new life into old genres, and while their films are distinctively Asian, they are often very open about displaying their Western influences. (More so than their Chinese, Taiwanese, or even some Japanese counterparts.) This unique blend works perfectly -- the resulting films have been some of the most compelling cinema Filmbrain has seen in years.

Filmbrain plans on devoting future posts to individual films that have rocked his world, but wanted to share the news that the latest film from Im Sang-soo won the Golden Lotus at the Deauville Asian Film Festival on Sunday. The head of the jury was Olivier Assayas, the former Mr. Maggie Cheung, and a huge fan of Asian cinema himself.

The film, A Good Lawyer's Wife, caused quite a bit of controversy in Korea even before the film opened (see trailer - large, but worth it.) The film, which dissects the traditional Korean family, touches on such subjects as infidelity, alcoholism, and death, and focuses on a relationship between a older married woman and a teenage boy. Said by some to be terribly unsettling, it is no doubt another fine example of the brutally honest portrayal of relationships and human weakness that is so often depicted in contemporary Korean cinema.

It's doubtful that this film will get a US release, so Filmbrain thanks Buddha for DVD Asian. Should have this in about 2-3 days. . .

That's the sound of Akira Kurosawa turning in his grave

Filmbrain's heart sank on Sunday morning when he read this article in the New York Times. The classic 1954 epic Seven Samurai has been turned into a video game -- Seven Samurai 20XX. Sigh. Why associate the game with a film that the average Playstation user will never see? Better yet, why not a tie-in with that travesty starring Tom Cruise? Even more depressing is news that Ryuichi Sakamoto is involved with the project. Sigh again. Perhaps this is just the beginning. Video game designers are at this moment grabbing classic films off video store shelves, searching for inspiration. How about Ingmar Bergman's Seventh Seal Action Chess 3D or Jean-Luc Godard's Weekend: Traffic Adventure? Filmbrain is holding out for the Ikiru game, as pictured here.

Study in White

Beyond the obvious cultural and stylistic differences, there's a moment in Gilles Bourdos' latest film (the French psycho-thriller Inquiétudes) that radically separates it from it from its Hollywood counterpart (i.e., any one of the numerous Ashley Judd vehicles from the last few years.) Right after a character has been murdered, the killer (no spoilers here!) sits down and cries. The displaying of emotion (any emotion) after such an event has become so rare in this genre that even this minor moment stands out. It is the little nuances like this that show how Bourdos has transcended the standard thriller. The film is loosely based off the Ruth Rendell novel A Sight For Sore Eyes (the English title of the film) though the squalor of North London has been here replaced by Nice. The film centers around Bruno (played by Gregoire Colin, who Filmbrain thinks of as a French Keanu Reaves), an art student that is obsessed with white, primarily as a means of wiping clean the ugliness of his past. He meets up with Elise (Swiss model turned actress Julie Ordon) an eighteen year-old shoe store clerk who also suffers from a childhood trauma. Each sees in the other the very thing that they have been lacking. For Bruno, Elise's beauty is the perfect embodiment of his artistic dreams, whereas he represents both an escape from the pain of her past and the smothering she experiences from her father and stepmother. That their relationship is a perfect case of l'amour fou is evident from their first meeting, yet it's interesting how Bourdos brings two characters together that have had completely opposite (and perhaps unlikely) reactions to their individual traumas. The story is structured like a twisted fairy tale -- there's the captive princess, the wicked stepmother, and prince (not so) charming. Though Bourdos can be a bit heavy handed with his symbolic metaphors, the film is far from pretentious. An entertaining film that sadly has no distribution deal in the US (yet).

Lost in Wong Kar-Wai

Filmbrain was thrilled that Sofia Coppola, during her Oscar acceptance speech, mentioned Wong Kar-Wai as an influence when writing Lost in Translation. There are quite a few nods to Wong in the film, but none stronger than the scene at the karaoke bar. Bob steps out into the hall where Charlotte sits queitly smoking. He places himself right next to her on the sofa. Not a word passes between them. They both take a drag off her cigarette (another great smoking scene -- see below) as Charlotte slowly rests her head on Bob's shoulder. The camera lingers on them in this position for some moments. How can one not but think of near identical scenes from In the Mood for Love and Happy Together? All three films contain relationships that, for one reason or another, are just not meant to be. The gesture in all three cases, as insignificant as it appears, speaks volumes about the nature of the relationship, the longing one has for the other, and at the same time a sense of comfort and safety they feel when nestled like that. Whereas both Wong Kar-Wai scenes take place in the back of a taxi, Sofia's occurs just before a taxi ride that finds Bob and Charlotte on opposite ends of the seat. Very nice touch. Perhaps Filmbrain is reading too much into this, and it's all just coincidence. Have a look at all three and decide for yourself.

Ingrid Bergman: Rated 'R'

From the "Almost too ridiculous to be true" file -- Dr. Stanton Glantz spent the last five years of his life watching 775 American films and noting which ones contain some form of tobacco use. (Dig the nifty pie charts!) Glantz, a professor of medicine at the University of California, San Francisco would like to see these films slapped with an R rating. "What we're simply asking for is that smoking be treated by Hollywood as seriously as it treats offensive language." Glantz has an ulterior motive -- he knows that R rated films don't rake in as much cash as their PG-13 brothers, so his ultimate goal is to convince studios to stop making films with smokers. A 13 year old can watch the hero blow away the villain at point blank range with an uzi, just as long as he doesn't light one up afterwards.

This is insanity. It's almost as ridiculous as the over-reaction to the Janet Jackson costume reveal. Yet another example of the crass christianization of America, where we become good citizens that don't smoke, drink, fuck, or vote Democrat. Just as seeing a breast is not going to encourage kids to perform in a half-time show, seeing Ingrid Bergman smoking in Notorious or Casablanca is not going to have them racing to the corner store for a pack of Lucky Strikes.

One of the finest moments in American cinema is centered around smoking. In the final scene of Now, Voyager, Paul Henreid lights two cigarettes, hands one to Bette Davis who says "Oh Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon when we have the stars." Quick pan up to the heavens -- sheer beauty.

Surely Dr. Glantz could find better use of his time than campaigning against 102 Dalmatians. At the moment, studios don't seem to be buying into his suggestions. Steve Elzer of Sony Pictures said "We are aware of the health hazards posed by smoking and while we do not advocate our filmmakers to use smoking in our films, we can not endorse guidelines that promote censorship or restrict creative freedom." That's somewhat of a relief.