Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Forgotten Gems of the 70's: Slaughterhouse-Five

Between the hugely successful Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and the even more successful The Sting, George Roy Hill directed the 1972 oddity Slaughterhouse-Five, based on the Kurt Vonnegut novel. Far less commercial than any of the director's other works, it was made during that brief period where Universal Pictures was flirting with slightly edgier fare, including a handful of films that were influenced more by the European masters of the period as opposed to the plot driven excesses of Hollywood. (The film was in the running for the Palme d'Or at Cannes, and walked away with the Jury Prize.) One of Vonnegut's most personal novels, Slaughterhouse-Five deals with (amongst other things) the bombing of Dresden in WWII, which Vonnegut experienced first-hand as a prisoner of war. The short novel tells the story of Billy Pilgrim, who has "come unstuck in time", and takes place simultaneously in the past (Dresden), present (the fictional Ilium, NY) and future (the planet Tralfamadore). The time-tripping structure of the novel lends itself perfectly to the medium -- the jump cut (one of cinema's great achievements) allows for the continuous leaps across time and space in a way that is even more striking than the novel itself. It's unsettling, for we're never quite sure which time period is the narrative "present" -- it's as if Billy is traveling in some sort of Escher-like time loop. The casting is truly inspired -- rather than settling for the big names (as Hill did in every film leading up to and following this one), he instead chose actors who are living embodiments of the richly detailed characters from Vonnegut's novel. Michael Sacks is ideal as the wide-eyed Billy, and though he appeared in nearly a dozen other films (before leaving the biz entirely -- he's now a bigwig at Morgan Stanley), he was never as good as he is here. There are a handful of familiar 70s character actors (Eugene Roche, Kevin Conway, Richard Stahl) as well as a few newcomers (including Sharon Gans, absolutely perfect as Billy's wife Valencia) who all rise to the challenge of this offbeat work. Ron Liebman is spot on as the psychotic Paul Lazzaro ("from da Bronx") as is a young Valerie Perrine as the oft-nude starlet Montana Wildhack. Screenwriter Stephen Geller manages to capture almost all of those wonderful Vonnegut nuances, and it's an extremely faithful adaptation of the novel. Even the brief appearances of recurring characters Eliot Rosewater and Howard Campbell, Jr. (later to be portrayed by Nick Nolte in 1996's Mother Night) are included, and are actually two of the film's stronger moments. Slaughterhouse-Five looks and feels like no other George Roy Hill film, and is far more successful (and interesting) than his other forays into adaptation (The World According to Garp, Hawaii, and The Little Drummer Girl). Beautifully shot by Czech New Wave cinematographer Miroslav Ondrícek and with music by none other than Glenn Gould, this is one of those films that a major studio would never touch today. Though not as stellar as the ultra-rare Happy Birthday, Wanda June (Filmbrain's review here), Slaughterhouse-Five is an unjustly overlooked 70's film that deserves reconsideration. (Available on DVD.)

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 5 -- Week 4

Filmbrain most definitely has that Barton Fink feeling. Yes, that was his bible with the alternate opening passage, thanks to a severe case of writer's block. (Note: Filmbrain also accepted "The Gideons" as a correct answer -- it was a hotel bible after all. . .) Joel and Ethan Coen's 1991 Palme d'Or winner is Filmbrain's personal favorite of the brother's oeuvre, and one of the best films ever on the subject of writing. This week -- an opening shot. Name the film that begins with this lizard climbing this wall. . . Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

A lucky discovery for $3.50

Filmbrain was in Chinatown the other day, seeking out the latest Ozu releases on cheapie Hong Kong label Panorama (An Inn in Tokyo, What Did the Lady Forget, There Was a Father, and the wonderful Passing Fancy). While the quality of the Panorama Ozus is hit or miss, they are (currently) the only available option if one wishes to see these classics (with english subtitles). In one of the stores, Filmbrain spotted a basket of DVDs of classic Chinese films from the first half of the 20th century. He grabbed a handful of the $3.50 discs, even though there wasn't a word of English on any of them -- the cover photos looked interesting enough, and it would be an opportunity to put Alexander Mackendrick's theory to the test -- that one should be able to understand 60-80% of a film without subtitles. As luck should have it, the first film in the bunch happened to be the 1937 classic, Street Angel, directed by Yuan Muzhi. (Filmbrain figured this out with Google and a halfway-decent understanding of kanji.) Considered one of the greatest Chinese films of all times, it was one that he had heard of, but never seen. Digging a little deeper on the net revealed this, a set of subtitles as translated by Andrew F. Jones. Pages in hand, Filmbrain sat down and watched the film. Street Angel is certainly worthy of all its accolades. This Maoist melodrama (made shortly before the Japanese shut down most Shanghai studios) is an absolute wonder to behold, and director Yuan Muzhi was clearly influenced by American, European and Russian cinema of the time. The opening credits montage of extravagant Shanghai nightlife, with its rapid dissolves and skewed angles would have made the surrealists proud. The film itself, set in the slums of Shanghai and focusing on the lower classes, can be considered a precursor to the Italian neorealism movement. The film tells of two sisters who wind up in Shanghai after fleeing from Japanese-occupied Manchuria. Bought by an unscrupulous couple (he's a musician, she's a madam), the sisters are forced to work for their owners -- one as a tea-house singer (Zhou Xuan), and the other as a prostitute. Chen, a poverty-stricken trumpet player, falls in love with the singer, yet is crushed upon learning that her owner is about to sell her to a wealthy gangster. Enlisting the help of his fellow street friends (with whom he has signed a sworn oath of brotherhood), they devise a plan to help the sisters escape their enslavement. Of course, this ragtag team (which includes a newspaper salesman and a barber) is no match for the forces of capitalism, and the tragic ending comes as no surprise. Far less propagandistic than later Chinese cinema, it has an almost Capra-esque feel to it -- with its members of the poorest of the poor banding together to help the two sisters in spite of their own personal hardships. The depiction of the wealthy class (including a lawyer whose office is in a skyscraper that resembles Rockefeller Plaza) is hardly the stuff of revolution -- it's a far cry from Eisenstein. And though its narrative method may have been influenced by Hollywood (some claim it was inspired by the Frank Borzage film of the same name), its constantly moving camera, high contrast lighting, and fast-paced editing gives it an almost experimental feel. Street Angel is a truly a masterpiece of early Chinese cinema, and it's a shame it's not better known (in the States, at least). If you're in NYC, head down to the Bowery and pick up the DVD -- only $3.50, and region-free. On a related note, Filmbrain found a list of the 100 greatest Chinese films of the 20th Century, as selected by film professors, archivists, and critics from China, Hong Kong and Taiwan. Some great films on there, and many unheard of. Filmbrain's goal is to see them all. What are some of your favorites?