One of Filmbrain's earliest forays into the world of "real" literature began when he pulled Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle off his father's shelf at a young, highly impressionable age -- it was the start of a relationship that has continued all the way up to the present. Though several of Vonnegut's novels have been turned into films, most of them are curiosities at best (Mother Night, Breakfast of Champions) and outright failures at their worst (Slapstick -- an incredible novel that is an utter mess of a film). The one exception is Slaughterhouse Five, a good (great?) film that Filmbrain plans to revisit in the near future.
Two Vonnegut-based films that have for many years resided on Filmbrain's want-to-see-somehow-someday list are the 1972 TV film Between Time and Timbuktu and 1971's Happy Birthday, Wanda June. Filmbrain recently tracked down the latter, and it was even better than he had expected.
Directed by Mark Robson (who has given us such diverse films as Peyton Place, Von Ryan's Express, Valley of the Dolls, and Earthquake), and starring Rod Steiger, Susannah York and William Hickey, the film has the production values (and similar looking sets) of an episode of The Odd Couple. Based on Vonnegut's first stage play, it tells the story of Harold Ryan (Steiger), adventurer, hunter, and war-hero (presumed dead), and his unexpected return home to his wife Penelope (York), and son Paul (Steven Paul). Harold had been trapped in an African jungle for eight years with his friend Looseleaf Harper (Hickey), the man who dropped the bomb on Nagasaki. The two return to an America that they no longer recognize -- the peace movement and women's liberation are just two examples of changes they are unprepared for. Penelope has moved on with her life, and when we first meet her she is about to choose between two of her beaus -- Herb Shuttle (Don Murray), a brash vacuum cleaner salesman, and Dr. Norbert Woodley (George Grizzard), a peacenik violin-playing doctor who lives next door. The return of her husband naturally complicates matters, and much of the film addresses the changes in social and sexual politics occurring at that time.
Harold is the classic modernist hero -- a gun toting macho who believes that a woman's place is in the kitchen, bedroom, and nowhere else. He's a stark contrast to the new men in Penelope's life: though Herb fancies himself a man's man, his total admiration of Harold results is his becoming a sycophantic lackey who takes on the role of surrogate wife. Norbert is perceived by both Harold and Herb as a homosexual -- given his belief in non-violence and his choice of musical instrument. All three of these men try to be a father to Paul, who is understandably quite confused by the whole affair. A parallel thread running throughout the film is the story of Wanda June (70's film and TV staple Pamelyn Ferdin), a little girl killed by a drunk driver on the day Harold returns home. Wanda is up in heaven, which is depicted as an amusement park where everybody is happy and plays shuffleboard all day. Vonnegut's heaven is indiscriminatory -- innocent little girls and Nazis play side by side.
The theatrical roots are clearly evident -- most of the action takes place either in the Ryan's apartment or up in heaven. And though the look of the film is rather TV-esque, the performances more than make up for any aesthetic shortcomings. Steiger's ability to overact is put to great use here, and at times his performance seems to be channeling the two Richards -- Burton and Harris. Constantly moving to and fro, his non-stop barking of orders and platitudes ultimately reveals him to be (as Penelope points out) a clown. His ideas of manhood are sadly outdated and his threats of violence are empty -- but he's a tremendous asshole nonetheless. (At one point he chides Herb, "Don't say pass the ketchup, say pass the fucking ketchup!") This is Steiger at his best, by far, and he should have received greater recognition for the role.
The 70's were good to Susannah York, and she is marvelous here as the woman loved by three very different (though equally pathetic) men. (Dig the haircut, above.) Made just a year before her star turn in Robert Altman's Images, she skillfully handles the comedic and dramatic elements that the role calls for, and her scenes with Steiger rival the best pairings of that era. The same can be said for the rest of the cast as well, particularly William Hickey who plays the mournful, reluctant bomber.
Though some of the issues the film addresses are a bit dated, Happy Birthday, Wanda June is probably the best adaptation of a Vonnegut piece, and the dialog is razor sharp throughout. Genuinely funny, this is a film that deserves to be resurrected from wherever it's been buried -- the performances by Steiger, Hickey and York simply must be seen to be believed.
If Filmbrain should ever need to compile a list of films that feature assassinations and/or sniper rifle scenes, he could easily use the many guesses submitted last week. The Day of the Jackal, Z, Targets, Le Petit Soldat, etc. Of course, the correct answer was Seijun Suzuki's 1967 hard-boiled masterpiece Branded to Kill. The actress in the shot is Annu Mari, and Filmbrain would like to thank Patrick K for forwarding some interesting information about what became of her. Congrats to all that got it correct. For those that haven't seen it, you owe it to yourself to check out this ultra-stylish assassin-noir -- one of the coolest Japanese films of the 60's. (Criterion has released it on DVD.)
This week -- one of Filmbrain's favorite films of all times, as potentially embarrassing as that may be to admit. Yes, that's who you think it is, but can you name the film? Send your guesses to this address. Good luck!
On Primer: With only $7000 and some 16mm film, writer/director Shane Carruth has created an intelligent time-travel film. However, it's perhaps too intelligent. Think of Donnie Darko for a moment. When you first see it, it's a bit confusing, but you really want to piece it all together. It's the kind of film you look forward to seeing again, looking for all the little clues. The problem with Primer is that the story is so convoluted, that after a while you just give up trying to sort it all out. (At least Filmbrain did.) That's not to say it's an impossible task, but it would probably take several viewings to do so. Yet Primer lacks the needed emotional hook, and as a result, the desire to sit through it again just isn't there.
Final thoughts on the New York Film Festival: Filmbrain came across many people who felt that this year's festival was the best in years. While on paper it certainly seemed impressive, many of the films fell short of the mark in Filmbrain's opinion. Woman is the Future of Man was easily Filmbrain's favorite, though admittedly he saw this weeks before the festival began. Though there was only one truly unpleasant experience (Palindromes), Filmbrain too often found himself feeling unsatisfied -- these are directors that clearly can do better! In that regard, Vera Drake was probably the biggest disappointment -- has Mike Leigh gone soft? There was no "wow" film this year, something that hasn't happened in a long time.
One film that left Filmbrain cold was Lodge Kerrigan's Keane. As a fan of both Clean, Shaven and Claire Dolan, Filmbrain had high hopes for this tale of a father who loses his daughter at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Though Damien Lewis turns in a gripping performance, the film doesn't afford us a moment to seriously reflect on the situation. This is clearly intentional, and does work to some extent, but Filmbrain found himself looking at the film more as an exercise in filmmaking than as a tragic tale. Additionally, Filmbrain knew exactly how the second half of the film was going to play out, and that too took away from the emotional involvement he craved.
Tropical Malady was Filmbrain's third trip with Apichatpong Weerasethakul, and the third time that he felt utterly lost by the film's end. For some unknown reason, Filmbrain just isn't able to "get" his films. They are beautiful to look at (especially this one) and certainly have their share of memorable moments, but they always seem to drift off somewhere beyond Filmbrain's grasp. Though many critics praised Tropical Malady, Filmbrain has yet to come across a review that has anything concrete to say about it, other than pointing out the myth and mystical elements, both of which are obvious. Please feel free to comment below -- Filmbrain really wants to hear from others who have seen the film.
Jia Zhangke's The World is a film that caused a fair amount of discussion, and though there was a pretty even divide between those that liked and disliked it, almost everyone was in agreement that it comes nowhere close to his far superior Platform. Phyrephox's review on Milk Plus pretty much sums up exactly how Filmbrain felt about it -- well worth reading.
Filmbrain's utterly subjective list of the top five NYFF films:
Woman is the Future of Man
Café Lumière
The Big Red One Reconstruction
Sideways
Saraband
Filmbrain needs a break from the heady stuff for a while. Time to dive into The Critic and SCTV box sets. . .
Here it is, nearly the end of October, and Filmbrain is sitting on a huge pile of unfinished pieces. Between traveling, film festivals, social functions, work (ack!), and trying to get his short film into production, there hasn't been a whole lot of spare time to dedicate to the blog. (Not to mention how he's fallen behind on his blog reading -- Aaron, Marleigh, Cinetrix, Cinecultist, Cynthia, Jonathan, and all the rest -- Filmbrain humbly apologizes and promises to be a better citizen of the blogosphere going forward.)
What follows is a sampling of these pieces, including comments on other NYFF films that just never turned into full-fledged reviews.
First off -- a coda to the Palindromes review. In the last few days, Filmbrain has received an alarming number of angry emails from rabid Todd Solondz fans, none of whom have actually seen the film. While some argue (rather eloquently, in cases) that Filmbrain might not be hip enough to get the director's "vision", others simply choose to spew invective. To all of you, Filmbrain offers the following -- see the film first before mounting your defense. (Unfortunately, the film is not slated to be released until April 2005.) Sure, it's hard to see a director you admire fall from grace, but it happens to all of us. (i.e., The Million Dollar Hotel, Prêt-à-Porter, Jack, etc.)
The return of adult cinema: No, not a paean to porn, but a celebration of some recent (wonderful) studio films targeted to people outside the all-important eighteen-to-whatever demographic. Not the small feel-good piffle that shows up in tiny theaters and appeals to Filmbrain's mother (i.e., anything with Joan Plowright and/or Americans traipsing around some exotic European locale), but rather beautifully written, acted and directed films that address the post-thirty human condition. Two films that exemplify this are We Don't Live Here Anymore and Sideways. The former, a strong contender for Filmbrain's top ten of 2004, is an adaptation of two stories by Andre Dubus that focuses on a pair of married couples and the complex dynamics between the four of them. Rarely has a (recent) American film addressing this subject been so brutally honest while at the same time avoiding any and all moral clichés (Unfaithful), and without becoming larger than life (again, Unfaithful). The film's greatest strength is its actors -- all four of them are superb, especially Laura Dern (so good to have her back) and Mark Ruffalo, who Filmbrain considers one of the best American actors working right now.
Sideways, while significantly lighter than We Don't... provides further proof of Filmbrain's belief that Alexander Payne is one of the most important writer/directors working today. With an extremely well honed screenplay (co-written with regular partner Jim Taylor) and some fine performances, this is dramedy (Filmbrain can't believe he just used that word) at its finest. With the success and recognition of About Schmidt, it's a testament to Mr. Payne's character that he chose to do something this small, and with a cast devoid of any A-list names. The film is a sheer pleasure to watch, and it seems to be a role custom-made for Paul Giamatti, who is even better here than he was in American Splendor. The film also heralds the triumphant return of Virginia Madsen, an actress who (sadly) has been under utilized for too many years. Filmbrain needn't go into a description of the film -- it's been getting blanket coverage everywhere else.
Though the tone, subject matter, and approach of the two films are entirely different, both We Don't Live Here Anymore and Sideways are centered around relationships between two men and two women. While the former is about four people who were forced to grow up sooner than they would have liked, the latter finds characters of the same age who have yet to do so. Filmbrain highly recommends seeing both films -- you don't even have to be over thirty.
Miike's best?: Some months back, Filmbrain thankfully caught Takashi Miike's Gozu before it disappeared from New York, and he's very eager to see it again. A bizarre film (even by Miike's standards), its surreal absurdity has a Beckett-like quality to it (Waiting for Gozu?). It's not as violent as his other films, though it is as disturbing. Once again we have excessively lactating women, Yakuza zombies, and odd sexual practices. What begins as a simple Yakuza tale quickly turns into a twisted ghost story that words cannot describe. A much slower film than the hyperkinetic Dead or Alive or Ichi the Killer, its punchline (for lack of a better word) is well worth the wait. At the moment, Gozu has surpassed Audition as Filmbrain's favorite Miike film, though he really wants to take a second look to be sure.
Tomorrow - Filmbrain's (belated) reviews and final thoughts from the New York Film Festival.
One of the benefits of seeing films at the New York Film Festival is that there is (in most cases) a question and answer session with the director after the screening. Though the questions asked at these sessions are often asinine, there is usually an interesting tidbit or two gleaned from the director. However, there are cases where listening to the director can actually worsen one's opinion about the film -- and that's exactly what happened to Filmbrain after seeing Todd Solondz's latest, Palindromes.
Filmbrain was a huge fan of both Welcome to the Dollhouse and Happiness, and he feels the latter is one of the best American films of the 90's. Though 2001's Storytelling was pretty useless, Filmbrain retained hope for the director, and he was excited when he read about Palindromes earlier this year. [Note that what follows reveals some details about the film -- not any plot spoilers (there are none), but rather the "conceit" (his word) that Mr. Solondz employs in the film.]
A palindrome, as defined by the director, is an expression that collapses in on itself -- a fair assessment of the film, for that's exactly what happens. Palindromes touches on several themes that the director has explored in the past, particularly awkward pre-teen girls and pedophilia. In fact, the film has a direct link to Welcome to the Dollhouse -- it opens at the funeral of Dawn Wiener and follows the exploits of the palindromic Aviva, who happens to be Dawn's cousin. Though just twelve years old, Aviva has decided that she wants to have a baby, and she wants it now. Her self-centered New Jersey parents (Richard Masur and Ellen Barkin) will have none of this, and force Aviva into having an abortion once it is discovered that she is pregnant. Determined to try again, she runs away from home, where she meets and has exploits with a truck-driving pedophile and a family of evangelical Christians. Aviva will also become a pawn in both sides of the abortion issue, though that is one of the film's greatest failings.
The film is broken up into short chapters, with each named after a character relevant to that scene. The first thing we discover is that the actress playing Aviva changes from scene to scene -- over the course of the film she'll be portrayed as white, black, skinny, thin, a boy, a 400-pound woman and even Jennifer Jason Leigh. While this is a bit disconcerting at first, it really doesn't add up to much in the end, and comes off as more of a gimmick than serving some actual purpose. The director, in an extremely condescending manner, told the audience that we have become complacent from watching Hollywood films, where the actors and actresses are all beautiful, do brave and proper things, and as a result we positively identify with them. He was going to have one over on us by having a 400 pound woman portray a child -- subtle, huh? He uses the same ham-fisted technique in the sequence with the Christian family -- Mama Sunshine is an evangelical woman who takes in all sorts of unloved and unwanted children, and she and her husband are pro-life activists (which includes planning the murders of abortion doctors). Yet in Mr. Solondz's hammer to the cranium approach, all of the children suffer from some sort of physical disability, but still manage to dance and sing to self-composed Christian pop. These are painful sequences to watch (but not in the clever way that Happiness was) and they border on exploitation. When asked at the press conference if he felt any responsibility for the kids, he answered, "Their parents are responsible for them."
"You just feel uncomfortable because it offends your liberal sensibilities" was an accusation thrown at Filmbrain by a Solondz apologist. That statement makes no sense -- what Solondz does in this film is take cheap, easy shots that are beneath him. It's as if his misanthropy has manifested itself as contempt for the audience. There's a speech given in the film by Mark Wiener (Dawn's brother -- now accused of being a pedophile) on the predetermination of life and how people don't and can't change, no matter what outward modifications they may make (hair, face, even sex). It's simply a question of genetics or radomly assigned fate. At the Q&A the director said that this is his philosophy in a nutshell, and it shows. But whereas in Happiness he explored these ideas with slight traces of self-recognition (enough to draw us deep into the characters), the resulting effect in Palindromes results in our inability to get close to anybody in the film. Perhaps his disgust with the world has overtaken his artistic vision.
The controversial subject matter (namely pedophilia and abortion) seems to be included solely for controversies sake. His handling of the pedophile as tortured soul in Happiness was both brave and deftly handled, but in Palindromes, it's just downright creepy. When Aviva tells Mark that she doesn't believe he's a pedophile because "pedophiles love children", what are we to take away from that? That a twelve year-old girl who has had anal sex with a truck driver in a motel room is sympathetic to the pedophile? There was a certain audacity in Solondz's responses, and the audience wasn't really buying his argument that Aviva was simply "an innocent" and was therefore unable to see these people for what they were. As one audience member put it, how can you proclaim simple adolescent innocence on a girl who encourages and assists in a murder?
Though Solondz wanted to address both sides of the abortion issue, the resulting irony (if you can even call it that) is so overtly simplistic that it borders on the embarrassing -- the pro-choice family that forces an abortion versus the pro-life family that murders. Is this the best he can come up with?
Palindromes is a bitter film, full of the director's loathing of just about everything. Where once he was able to turn those feelings into works of art that allowed us to reflect on our own lives, he now only seems capable of creating freak shows, full of hateful characters whose misery exceeds that of his own.
In a weird six-degrees-of-separation kind of thing, many of you incorrectly identified last week's film as Denis Lavant in Les Amants du Pont-Neuf. The correct answer was, of course, Claire Denis' take on Billy Budd, Beau Travail, which also stars Denis Lavant, but that's Grégoire Colin lying in the salt. (Filmbrain was pleased to hear that many of you adore this film as much as he does.) Round 1 winner Sal C was first in with the correct answer.
At the halfway point in the quiz, there is no clear frontrunner -- there are a couple of hundred of you that have correctly guessed three out of five, so the contest is still wide open.
This week's entry is a bit harder, but Filmbrain has learned not to second-guess any of you. . . As usual, send your guesses to this address. (Please leave a comment below if you are having difficulty sending email to that address.) Good luck!
Filmbrain's immediate reaction after watching Saraband, Ingmar Bergman's latest (and purportedly last) film, was that this should be required viewing for every filmmaker (and screenwriter) under the age of forty. It's been a while since Bergman has given us a film of such intensity, and though the production values are far from his best (this is a made for TV film, shot entirely in a studio, and it looks it) the dialog, acting, and way in which the drama unfolds is echt Bergman. Time and old age has not softened him a bit, and the film is a reminder that no amount of PoMo posturing can compare to the power of what a couple of great actors with brilliant dialog can do.
A sequel of sorts to his 1973 masterpiece Scenes From a Marriage, Saraband is bookended by the continuing story of Marianne and Johan (Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson, beautifully reprising their roles). As the film begins, Marianne has decided to pay Johan a visit after not seeing him for thirty-plus years. Older, but not necessarily wiser, Johan is still quite cantankerous around Marianne, and though he might not show it, is happy to have her around. From there, the story quickly drifts to Henrik (Börje Ahlstedt), Johan's son from another marriage, and Karin (Julia Dufvenius), his teenage daughter. Henrik is still suffering from the death of his wife Anna, who died two years earlier. To say that Johan and Henrik have a contentious relationship is an understatement -- if it weren't for his granddaughter, Johan would have no use for Henrik. Karin, a gifted cellist about to enter the conservatory, is being taught by Henrik, who has her life already planned out. Karin has other ideas for her future, but feels a responsibility towards her grieving dad, even though their relationship extends beyond normal father-daughter relations. With nowhere else to go, she turns to Marianne, who feels compelled to help Karin through her predicament.
Consisting of ten scenes with chapter headings (each scene a different pairing of characters), Saraband is structured much like a theatrical piece, though we could never get as close to the characters on-stage as we do in the film, given the small spaces many of the scenes are set in. The nature of the conflict here is less "meaty" than earlier Bergman -- there are no crises of an existential or religious nature. The issues at stake are familial responsibility, loneliness/isolation, and the struggles of being an artist -- all of which Bergman has addressed in the past. Though it may not burn as white-hot as his earlier films, several sequences are as powerful as anything he did back in his prime. Special note must be made of Ms. Dufvenius's performance -- it's not many young actresses that can hold their own against such greats as Ullmann, Josephson and Ahlstedt.
As for the old couple, Marianne and Johan are still struggling with love, and the infidelity that ultimately broke up their marriage. Though neither has the strength to fight as they did thirty years ago, there are wounds that time did not heal. (For anyone familiar with Scenes From a Marriage, it is nearly impossible to watch the first scene between the two without welling up a little -- Filmbrain certainly did.)
Like the slow, dignified dance it is named after, Saraband, unfolds in a deliberate, measured pace, and the result is a perfect farewell from one of the greatest directors of our time.
Anyone familiar with the films of Hou Hsiao-hsien can detect the influence of Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu on his work. The long takes, aesthetic composition, and even Hou's occasional subject matter (family issues, generational conflicts) can all be traced back to the works of the Japanese master. Though Hou has included a direct reference to Ozu (Late Spring is being shown on a television in 1995's Good Men, Good Women), he's only now directed a film that is an acknowledged homage, made to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Ozu's birth. Café Lumière (Hou's first film to be made in Japan), may lack when compared to the sheer perfection of Flowers of Shanghai, but it is a quiet, beautiful, touching film.
The plot (what little there is) concerns Yoko (JPop sensation Yo Hitoto), a writer who is researching materials on real-life Taiwanese composer Jiang Wenye. As the film opens she has just returned from Taiwan, and announces to her father and stepmother that she is pregnant by her Taiwanese boyfriend, whom she has no intention of marrying. Her father, not at all pleased with Yoko's situation, is unable to communicate with her, try as he might. Yoko's good friend Hajime (the very busy Tadanobu Asano), who runs a second hand bookshop and records train sounds in his spare time, is secretly in love with Yoko, but he too is unable to express his feelings.
The family in crisis theme is pure Ozu (Filmbrain was reminded a bit of Tokyo Twilight), and virtually all of his films deal with this in one form or another. Hou, whose films are often very un-Ozu-like in terms of the dramatic conflict, does a wonderful job adopting Ozu's style. The composition of the family scenes, shot at tatami-level from an almost voyeuristic point outside of the room (door frames often take up a portion of the screen), can be found in nearly all of Ozu's films. There's also a tremendous attention to detail, including several items that appear multiple times and in multiple places throughout the film -- clocks, umbrellas, fans, and even milk. There are extensive shots of the complex network of trains that run through Tokyo, and a fair portion of the film is set either on trains or at train stations. (Hajime even creates computer art that envisions him floating inside a womb of trains.) Though Hou doesn't take advantage of 360-degree space within a single scene (as Ozu often did), he does use this, with interesting contextual effect, in two different scenes set in Hajime's bookstore.
Filmbrain was discussing Café Lumière with a fellow film friend (somebody better versed in both directors) who felt that it was neither Ozu- or Hou-esque enough, and the resulting hybrid left him a bit cold. He would have preferred that the film contained more of the trademark elements one usually finds in a Hou film. Though Filmbrain concedes it's not a perfect film, there are some moments of pure poetry that rank up there with Hou's best. In particular, the dinner scene where the father is unable to say a single word to his daughter, and the final ten minutes of the film, which, without a line dialog, speaks volumes about the future of the characters. Perhaps it's best to consider Café Lumière as cinema qua cinema. In that context, it is without a doubt one of this year's best cinematic experiences.
At the moment the film is without distribution, which is a crime. Let's hope that is soon remedied. (Wellspring -- you've bought everything else. . .)
Café Lumière is showing at the NYFF on Saturday, October 16 @ 4:00PM. Filmbrain is giving away two tickets -- they are still available!
Two-Lane Blacktop, Buckaroo Banzai, Jaws, Electra Glide In Blue, Thelma & Louise, The Limey, Zabriskie Point -- just a small sample of the interesting and creative guesses received for last week's quiz. Though Filmbrain thought it would be easy, only a handful of you were able to correctly identify Robert DeNiro in Martin Scorsese's Casino. Round 1 champion Sal C was first in with the correct answer.
This week -- Easy? Hard? Filmbrain clearly can't say anymore. Who is that lying there in the...whatchamacallit? Name the actor and the film.
As usual, send your guesses to this address. Good luck!
Early this morning, Filmbrain had the opportunity to see Hou Hsiao-hsien's latest film, Café Lumière, a loving tribute to the films of Yasujiro Ozu. (Review to follow.)
As a gesture of thanks to his readers, Filmbrain is offering two tickets to the NYFF screening on this coming Saturday, October 16 at 4:00PM to any Hou/Ozu fan in the NYC area. The film does not yet have a distributor, so there may not be many chances to catch this theatrically. If you can make the 4:00 screening on Saturday, please contact Filmbrain via email. The tickets will be given to the first person that replies.
Filmbrain's immediate reaction after watching Saraband, Ingmar Bergman's latest (and purportedly last) film, was that this should be required viewing for every filmmaker (and screenwriter) under the age of forty. It's been a while since Bergman has given us a film of such intensity, and though the production values are far from his best (this is a made for TV film, shot entirely in a studio, and it looks it) the dialog, acting, and way in which the drama unfolds is echt Bergman. Time and old age has not softened him a bit, and the film is a reminder that no amount of PoMo posturing can compare to the power of what a couple of great actors with brilliant dialog can do.
