Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Godard's children of Marx and Coca-Cola

An incredible treat arriving in the midst of the winter new-release doldrums is a restored print of Jean-Luc Godard's Masculine Feminine opening on February 11 in New York (Film Forum) and Los Angeles (Nuart) (other cities to follow). Originally released in 1965 (on the heels of Pierrot le Fou), the film is a portrait of youth and youth culture, broken up into fifteen episodes (or "precise facts", as Godard calls them). The story centers around Paul (Jean-Pierre Léaud, in one of his greatest performances), a young man recently returned from his mandatory military service, and Madeleine (yé yé girl Chantal Goya), an up and coming pop singer. A relationship ensues between the poet/pseudo-revolutionary and the chanteuse, but rather than offering a traditional narrative, Godard uses the relationship as a starting point for a series of extended dialogs between characters on topics such as politics, sex, and pop culture. Godard often films these scenes in long, single takes, with the camera fixed on the interviewee (usually in close-up). The film is also punctuated with scenes of meaningless violence (a girl and a gun, and more than once!) as well as various cinephile in-jokes. The dichotomy that Godard presents is extremely straightforward -- the masculine world is dominated by political thought while the feminine one is about anything but. Paul and his friend Robert (Michel Debord) spend most of their time discussing Vietnam and Socialism, while Madeleine and her roommates are often shown primping, while discussing pop stars and being asked if they are part of the Pepsi generation. Yet Godard's men are still boys -- both will take turns reaching across a table for sugar just so that they can rub their arm against a woman's breasts. They will ride the metro (which goes by Madeleine's apartment) in hopes of catching her and her friends undressing. His female characters are more mature about matters of sex and relationships, yet throughout the film women will be portrayed as murderers, whores, and utterly clueless about world affairs. In one of the film's lengthiest sequences, Paul interviews a teenage model (Elsa Leroy) who was recently crowned "Miss 19" of 1965. (In real life she was voted Miss Tender Age (Mademoiselle Age Tendre) of 1965.) In the interview (which seems unscripted), Paul discovers that she loves America, has never heard of socialism, can't define reactionary, and has no idea where a war is currently being fought. (She does, however, know a bit about birth control, but is uncomfortable speaking about it.) Godard titles this chapter DIALOGUE WITH A CONSUMER PRODUCT. Might this be Godard's critique of the commodification of women in a capitalist society? Is Madeleine's dream to buy a Morris Cooper from the royalties from her records a statement about feminine tendencies towards consumerism, or has she, as a pop star, simply become part of some capitalist machine? Or is all of this less about differences between the sexes than it is about the indifferent attitude of youth as a whole? Masculine Feminine is peppered with many comedic moments, and quite a few of the jokes refer to other films, including Pierrot le Fou, The 400 Blows, Jules and Jim, and The Rules of the Game. But the funniest moment occurs when Paul, Madeleine and some friends decide to see an erotic film (which happens to be a reworking of Godard's early short Une Femme Coquette). Paul, unable to enjoy it, runs up to the projection booth to lecture the disinterested projectionist about proper aspect ratio. (Something many cinephiles have no doubt dreamt about doing.) The film takes a sudden shift in tone in the final minutes, ending on an almost tragic note. This is a technique Godard has used before, and it works here to great effect -- it doesn't come off as contrived. The characters are thrust into a reality that they had until this moment managed to avoid, and the circumstances behind it are perhaps Godard's strongest political statements in the film. Masculine Feminine has been described as the realist counterpart to the romantic Pierrot le Fou, and this is a very astute reading of the film. Even the high contrast black and white is the polar opposite to the warm, natural colors of Godard's escapist fantasy. Masculine Feminine can also be viewed as a bridge (of sorts) between periods in Godard's career -- just one year after its release he would go on to direct La Chinoise, the start of his work with the Dziga Vertov group, and a radical new direction for him. Don't miss this opportunity to see a beautiful print of a film that might very well be one of the best you'll see all year. Click here to watch the seductive trailer -- you'll want to see the film right away! Opens February 11 at the Film Forum in NYC and at the Nuart in Los Angeles.

Not even kitsch-worthy: Cannabis

Paris, 1970. You are director Pierre Koralnik. It's been three years since your last film -- the charming made-for-TV musical Anna, starring Serge Gainsbourg, Anna Karina, Jean-Claude Brialy and Marianne Faithfull. One of the sexiest couples in Europe at the moment is Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin. Their hit single, Je t'aime, moi non plus, with its breathy, lovemaking sighs is still causing a sensation. An idea strikes you -- build a film around them -- one that gives them ample excuse to spend a lot of time in bed. Preferably without clothes. You convince some third-rate production companies in France, Italy, and Germany to foot the bill. "What's it about?" they ask. You tell them it's a complex story about the mob and international drug smuggling with an all-star international cast. They're skeptical. You tell them Jane Birkin will be nude for a good portion of it. Checks are cut. The resulting film, Cannabis (aka French Intrigue), is an absolutely awful piece of Euro-trash that has next to nothing going for it, save for a soundtrack by Monsieur Gainsbourg. It has a promising opening -- Serge (one of the few men who can successfully get away with wearing a fur coat) riding the Staten Island Ferry, wandering around Manhattan, and having a meeting with a fellow gangster on the Brooklyn Bridge. Unfortunately, the New York scenes end there. On a plane to Paris, Serge meets the beautiful and mysterious Jane (many of the characters have the same names as the actors playing them - what a coincidence!) Shortly after arriving in France, Serge gets shot several times, and coincidentally bumps into Jane, who of course takes him home to nurse him back to health. This solves the "how to get them in bed" problem. (It also helps that every outfit Jane Birkin wears completely falls off at the slightest tug.) After a handful of sex scenes and about a hundred cigarettes, the plot returns (somewhat) by the arrival of Serge's crazy American friend Paul (Paul Nichols - best known as Cousin Kevin in Tommy) who spends most of the film staring at himself in the mirror or watching Serge and Jane get it on. Throw in B-movie staple Curd Jürgens, a cannabis-induced hippie orgy, and a shootout in a chicken coop, and you've got the makings of a truly bad piece of cinema. The bootleg DVD Filmbrain got his hands on seemed to be zoomed in to fill the frame -- there were many instances where you couldn't even see the character who was speaking. This actually served to make the film slightly more interesting. Gainsbourg completeists (such as Filmbrain) needn't worry about missing this, and Jane Birkin fans can find her equally as naked in the much more interesting Don Juan ou Si Don Juan était une femme...

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 3, Week 9

"How would Horatio Alger have handled this situation?" So sayeth Johnny Depp, who was fantastic as the great Hunter S. Thompson in Terry Gilliam's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (that's him draped under the flag.) Only a half-dozen of you were able to identify both the film and the Alger quote -- Filmbrain had no idea it would be so difficult. Many of you guessed Fight Club/Hemingway -- not a bad guess, as Traven's book does appear in there as well. There were quite a few submissions for Winter Kills, Greaser's Palace, and The Last Movie -- three quasi-forgotten films that would make for a great triple feature! The actor in this week's quiz was born in Germany and has appeared in films by Wim Wenders and Ingmar Bergman. But what's he up to here? Send your guesses to this address. Good luck!

House Invaders

As mentioned last week, Tony Rayns (writing in Film Comment) accused Kim Ki-duk of plagiarizing Tsai Ming-liang's Vive L'Amour for his latest film 3-Iron (Bin Jip). This is on par with saying it steals from Caddyshack because both films feature golf clubs. A ludicrous charge that has Filmbrain convinced Rayns' article was rooted in some deep personal gripe he has with the director. So be it. While 3-Iron isn't a great film, it does herald the arrival (for the time being, at least) of a slightly more mature Kim Ki-duk. Far more restrained than his previous films, 3-Iron can almost be classified as lighthearted, with a dry sense of humor that works quite well. Though there is some nastiness to it (usually involving a golf ball), it never approaches the sexual/violent extremes of The Isle, Bad Guy, Address Unknown, etc. That said, the film is still a bit too simplistic (naive?), and Kim's metaphors (freedom vs. imprisonment - of both the literal and domestic kinds) are about as subtle as being hit in the head with the titular iron. Still, the story is very original, and if you're willing to look past a few of Kim's conceits, it's a pleasurable ninety-minutes with a payoff that is as clever as it is creepy. (Unfortunately, Kim throws up a line of text on the screen at the end that is entirely unnecessary, and nearly spoils the effect.) Tae-suk is a young (homeless?) man who drives around on his BMW motorcycle looking for houses/apartments where the owners are away. (The literal translation of the film's title is Empty House - another of Kim's blatantly obvious metaphors.) Breaking in to these homes, he makes a wonderful meal for himself, takes a relaxing bath, and then proceeds to repair broken items and carefully hand wash the owner's laundry. He tends to favor luxurious houses, and in one of them he discovers that he's not alone. Former model (naturally) and abused housewife Sun-hwa spies on Tae-suk for a whole day before making her presence known. Her husband is a golf-playing BMW-driving businessman who seems to enjoy hurling verbal and physical abuse at her. Seeing Tae-suk as a means of escape, she becomes his partner in crime, and the two of them enjoy a successful run on several homes without ever exchanging a single word. When their luck runs out, the film takes an unexpected turn and leads to a surprising but satisfactory conclusion. The non-verbal communication between the two leads is more of a conceit by Kim than anything else. That's not to say it doesn't work to good effect, but seeing 3-Iron on the heels of Vive L'Amour made Filmbrain appreciate Tsai that much more. Tsai's characters are silent mostly due to an absence of somebody to talk to, or a complete inability to connect on even the simplest level. Several critics have praised Kim for the extended silence, and how he skillfully manages to get the point across. However, the point itself isn't that challenging or compelling. This is where a comparison between Tsai and Kim is valid -- both 3-Iron and several of Tsai's films deal with alienation, yet Kim is far more superficial about it. This isn't necessarily a strike against it, but results in a film that requires (and demands) less interpretation, or reflection. 3-Iron comes off as smarter and deeper than it actually is, but it's still a worthwhile experience. With wonderful cinematography by newcomer Jang Seong-back, 3-Iron is a visual treat that will no doubt be as appealing to Western audiences as Kim's previous outing, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring. The film is having its US premiere at Sundance this week, and Sony Classics has picked it up for distribution.

Kim In-sik's sophomore slump

One of the most daring and unique Korean films in recent years was 2002's Road Movie. Kim In-sik's gritty piece of neo-realism is one of the few South Korean films to have openly gay lead characters (not to mention fairly explicit sex scenes), and an unflinching, unsentimental portrait of the homeless in Seoul. Yet it's not the taboo theme alone that makes the film notable -- it also happens to be an excellent entry in the road movie genre (Filmbrain was at times reminded of Wim Wenders' Im Lauf der Zeit), as well as an impressive first feature. 2004 found Kim returning to the big screen with a bigger budget and slick production values, but with sadly an empty shell of film that takes itself way too seriously. It's almost hard to imagine that Hypnotized (aka, Faceless Beauty) was helmed by the same person that gave us Road Movie, for this film is almost the antipode of the other. Hypnotized falls somewhere between Zalman King and Adrian Lyne -- the kind of film you find on Cinemax late Saturday night. Without question, part of the film's success was due to the first-ever nude appearance of the well-endowed Kim Hye-su, a popular actress who has been making films (clothed) for over fifteen years. What begins as a potentially interesting domestic drama quickly turns into a heavy-handed psycho-sexual-thriller. Min-seok is a Forex trader who lives with his unstable wife Ji-su (the aforementioned Kim Hye-su), who suffers a nervous breakdown as the film begins. Sent to a mental hospital, she meets Seok-won (Kim Tae-woo), a psychiatrist whose interest in her extends beyond the professional. Sharing their respective dark pasts with each other, the two soon wind up in a relationship that....well, without giving anything away, just look at the film's title, and imagine. The story continues to grow more and more convoluted, and has an ending that is desperate for you to go "wow!" Unfortunately, "oh" is more like it. Filmbrain's first problem with the film was the actors -- Kim Tae-woo, so wonderful in Hong Sang-soo's Woman is the Future of Man, here seems as if he is searching for guidance from the director. His character's decline is handled with subtlety (until the end that is), but it's as if Kim didn't know how best to utilize him. Big hair fans won't want to miss Kim Hye-su, who is decent in the role, but Filmbrain couldn't help think how she's no Moon So-ri (Oasis, A Good Lawyer's Wife). Though the relationship between the two is far from normal, there still wasn't much in the way of chemistry between the two actors. Characters live and work in rooms out of the pages of Architectural Digest -- beautifully designed, full of interesting gadgets that are all about form over function, but utterly lifeless. (Such a stark contrast from the rough edges of Road Movie.) Add to this a sleazy down-tempo soundtrack, painfully obvious visual metaphors, and an expository-laden script, and you end up with a film that might appear to have some depth to it (many are referring to it as an "art" film), but is really just a by-the-numbers erotic thriller. Filmbrain hopes that Kim In-sik has exorcised his big-budget demons, and that future films will return to the promise he showed in his debut.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 3, Week 8

The guesses for last week's quiz were extremely imaginative -- everything from Life of Brian to Cremaster 5, as well as one lengthy email that explained, with appropriate scripture quoted, why Filmbrain is a heathen who will suffer the fires of damnation for "promoting the worshiping of false idols". Filmbrain is only a part-time worshiper at the temple of Ken Russell, but Altered States (with that amazing screenplay by Paddy Chayefsky) is one of his favorites. ("He's a fucking gorilla!") Though many of you correctly identified the 1980 film, an almost equal number of you insisted (with confidence) that the shot came from Russell's 1988 pic, The Lair of the White Worm. It's been ages since Filmbrain has seen the Hugh Grant oddity, so he can neither confirm nor deny. Any White Worm experts out there? Is Russell quoting himself? Please feel free to comment below or send an email with any evidence. This week - a film that references one of the greatest unread authors of the 20th century, B. Traven. Name the film, and, for a bonus point, another American author who is directly mentioned in the film. Send your guesses to this address. Good luck!

Loveless

In a recent issue of Film Comment, Tony Rayns penned a rather scathing attack on Korean director Kim Ki-duk (The Isle, Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring) that came off as being far more personal than professional. In it, he accuses Kim of (amongst other things) plagiarizing Tsai Ming-liang's Vive L'Amour for his latest feature, 3-Iron. Giving Rayns the benefit of the doubt (does he deserve it?), Filmbrain thought he would watch Tsai's film again before checking out 3-Iron. Vive L'Amour explores ideas of loneliness, alienation, and the inability for people to connect -- a theme Tsai would return to in The Hole, and the excellent What Time Is It There?. The story concerns three lonely people who, though living under the same roof (well, sort of) have little in the way of contact. May Lin is a real-estate saleswoman who spends her days in empty apartments waiting for prospective clients to turn up. Hsiao-kang (Tsai staple Lee Kang-sheng) is a cremation urn salesman who steals a key to one of the vacant apartments and clandestinely moves in. The third in the triangle is Ah-jung, a street vendor who May Lin brings to the same apartment for desperate sexual encounters. As in most of Tsai's films, the story unfolds with the barest minimum of dialog (it's nearly thirty minutes before the first line is uttered), yet the actions of the three tell us all we need to know. Though lonely and in desperate need for human contact (in one scene, Hsiao-kang passionately kisses a melon), Tsai's characters are never portrayed as pathetic or helpless, nor is he interested in making sweeping statements about how hard life is in the modern-day metropolis. He's mastered the art of portraying alienation, and manages (not just in this film, but nearly all of them) to draw us into the lives of his characters without any heavy-handed melodrama. Still, there are heartbreaking moments in the film, such as the final, lengthy shot of May Lin that is pure perfection, and easily one of his most powerful endings. The thought of Kim Ki-duk lifting anything other than the basic premise from Vive L'Amour is hard to imagine, for he is sort of the anti-Tsai. Kim's characters don't contemplate or internalize, they act out -- they scream, they fight, they degrade themselves, etc. Filmbrain should be seeing 3-Iron in the next few days, and will report back when he does.

A Movie Club for the rest of us

This year's Slate Movie Club was both an entertaining and frustrating experience. Some of the best-known NY film critics (plus a few guest appearances from west of Broadway) rehashed the year in film, and spoke of the state of film criticism today. While each had at least one interesting point to make, much of what was written had Filmbrain muttering unpleasantries under his breath, especially in reaction to their condescending view towards film bloggers. (Filmbrain : Hipster :: Ben Affleck : Actor)

So, in the spirit of "if you can't join 'em, beat 'em", a new Movie Club was birthed. Initiated and led by the inimitable Cinetrix, the CONVERSATION is (at the moment) five amateurs discussing the very same topics the pros did, just with more passion. Filmbrain is delighted to be part of the group, especially given that it consists of David Hudson (GreenCine), Liz Penn (The High Sign), and Brown Bunny hater (and Yang to Filmbrain's Yin), Aaron (Out of Focus). The site is open to all, and comments are strongly encouraged.

Please drop by and join the CONVERSATION.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 3, Week 7

[Sorry for the delayed post - Typepad problem.] "We'll always have Paris." It must have been the Parisian setting that led many of you to guess À bout de souffle or Jules et Jim for last week's quiz. However, that's none other than Ingrid Bergman behind that newspaper (with Bogart's hands on the far right) from the flashback sequence in Casablanca. Filmbrain is once again seriously impressed with those that got it -- well done! Before moving on to this week's quiz, a brief announcement. No doubt many of you were following the Slate Movie Club last week, and if you're anything like Filmbrain, your reaction was a mixture of anger, frustration, and confusion. Well, now it's the bloggers turn. Check back later today for an exciting announcement. For this week's quiz -- whoa! -- what sort of drugs would you have to be on to see this? A hint -- it's not The Passion of the Christ. Send your guesses to this address. Good luck!

The prescience of Gore Vidal

Filmbrain recently caught up with the hitherto unknown (to him at least) 1964 film The Best Man, directed by Franklin J. "Planet of the Apes" Schaffner. Based on the stage play by Gore Vidal, it's a welcome discovery that seems very current despite it being forty years old. Set entirely during one day of the unnamed party's national convention, it focuses on the two leading candidates and their willingness (or lack thereof) to sling mud in order to win the nomination. Henry Fonda plays William Russell, a liberal who is also an intellectual -- a pairing that makes you suspect in the eyes of the American people, as we recently learned. When asked in interviews if being an intellectual is a strike against him, he freely quotes Bertrand Russell and Oliver Cromwell ("Who?", asks one journalist), and refuses to ever invoke god in any of his speeches. Level headed and charismatic, his one character flaw is a long line of mistresses, though it's no secret to anybody, including his nearly estranged upper-class British wife (Margaret Leighton). His leading opponent is Joe Cantwell, played wonderfully by Cliff Robertson. Clearly leaning to the far right, Cantwell is the younger, good looking, liberal hating, commie chasing, god-fearing, "no-more-taxes-yet-larger-military" conservative that has lied to the point of believing his own bullshit. With his trophy wife at his side (Edie Adams), he's determined to garner the nomination, no matter how dirty he has to play. Each candidate obtains dirt on the other -- Cantwell learns that Russell suffered a nervous breakdown, Russell hears of Cantwell's homosexual relationships during the war -- but only Cantwell is willing to use it. Russell, the idealist, wants the election to be about issues, not gossip. An admirable stance, but futile. Most of the film consists of secret meetings, as well as conversations with a former president (Lee Tracy) who is playing both sides. Fonda is excellent as Russell -- a far more interesting character than the president he played in Failsafe from the same year, and quite easily one of his best performances, at least of that decade. His continued determination to not sling mud is played out in a series of extended scenes between him and those closest to him. Many of the conversations take place in odd locations throughout the hotel (so as to escape the eyes of the press), including a meeting between the two candidates in a pipe-strewn basement. Schaffner creates some claustrophobic tension with this, and it never comes across as simply a filmed stage play. The screenplay is rife with choice Vidal lines -- "The nice thing about you Joe is that you can sound like a liberal, but at heart you're an American" -- but it's hard to watch the film and not think about the recent election. (Though Filmbrain is not about to begin rehashing the mistakes of the democrats.) Robertson's character is like Bush and Rove rolled into one -- he wants that nomination and is willing to do anything (even threatening delegates) but on the outside he's the down to earth, simple, wholesome American boy who is so gosh darn likeable. While The Best Man may have come off as a bit extreme in 1964, it seems tame when compared to the ploys used in recent elections. Another film that's not available on DVD, this one pops up every so often on the Turner Classic Movies channel.