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Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10, Week 8

Altman fans came out in droves for last week's quiz, which was, of course, the closing shot from his final film, A Prairie Home Companion. Special thanks to all of you who shared thoughts and personal anecdotes about the late director's films. I paid a visit tonight to a local independent video store, in hopes of renting a copy of Scoop, which I missed (well, avoided) in theaters earlier this year. As I entered the store, two Cobble Hill twenty-somethings were standing in front of the newly erected Altman section, having a bit of a pissing contest over how many of his film they'd seen. As I searched in vain for a copy of the second Allen-Johansson outing, I found myself gritting my teeth over comments like "The Gingerbread Man is his true masterpiece. This is auteurism in action! Nashville is far too populist to be taken seriously." It was when the conversation turned to the "sublime truths of Quintet" that I made a hasty, empty-handed retreat. This week -- Well, Thanksgiving may be over, but this giant inflated version of Simon Bar Sinister's nemesis will no doubt bring back memories to some. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10, Week 7

"Tracy!.....Tracy!....Tracy!" These are the first words uttered by scene-stealer Virginia Weidler at the start of George Cukor's magnificent The Philadelphia Story. The "How do you spell omelet?" line (the most popular submission) is uttered not by the young Dinah, but by Ms. Hepburn, moments later. Partial credit, perhaps? Well, it's just going on 3:22 AM, and I'm still in a bit of a funk over Altman's death. I spent the past two hours watching scenes from his films while raising a glass and drowning sorrows in multiple pours of Lagavulin. (You know, sometimes I forget just how amazing Elliot Gould is.) There are DVDs scattered all over the room, and a still shot on the TV of the lunatics from Les Boréades, Altman's segment in the uneven Aria. Not the best conditions for me to prepare a quiz, but here goes. Oh wait....first, here's Annie Ross singing Conversation on a Barstool from Short Cuts. What a great song to listen to at 3:30 AM. I'm tired, so tired, I can hardly stand. . . (Right click to save.) For this week's quiz (special soaked in whiskey edition): how could I not? Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

“Filmmaking is a chance to live many lifetimes"

Robert Altman, one of the greatest American directors of any era, died Monday at the age of 81. I missed A Prairie Home Companion when it was in theaters earlier this year. It wasn't a conscious decision, it was just one that I never got around to seeing. Watching it on DVD a few weeks ago, I was completely taken by surprise, for it felt like I was discovering a lost film of his from the 70s. Here was Altman returning to the quirky ensemble format of films like Nashville, A Wedding, and Health. Yet unlike the mess that was Prêt-à-Porter, this one worked. Magnificently. After watching the film, itself a meditation on death, I emailed a friend and commented that should this be his last film, it would be a fitting, perfect, and graceful exit. And indeed it was.

Twenty Years of Korean History, One Trick at a Time

Though his directing career dates back to 1962, it wasn't until the mid-1980s that Im Kwon-taek began to receive international recognition as one of Korea's true masters of cinema. Popular on the festival circuit, films such as Gilsoddeum (1986), The Surrogate Mother (1987), and his greatest achievement , Seopyeonje (1993) received critical praise (plus a few awards), but rarely found their way to these shores. Im's breakthrough in the States would come in 2000 with the release of Chunhyang, followed by 2002's Chihwaseon – two very good films, but certainly not his best. Prior to Chunhyang, Im wrote and directed his 96th film, Chang (aka Downfall), a flawed but earnest melodrama from 1997 that tackles Korean history from the rise of industrialism in the 70s to the economic slump of the 90s, as viewed from the underworld of brothels and prostitutes. The film begins during the great modernization period under the Park Chung Hee regime – a time, as we learn, when women were mostly forced, or coerced into prostitution. Such is the case with teenaged orphan Young-eun (Shin Eun-kyung), who mistakenly believes she is being hired simply to sell soda in exchange for room and board. Raped by the brothel owners, and threatened with physical violence if she runs, Young-eun is quickly transformed from an innocent teen full of terror and disgust to just another savvy, desensitized professional working the narrow, crowded street. The sudden shift is a bit disconcerting, though it's a far cry from the misogynistic fantasies dreamed up by Kim Ki-duk in films like Bad Guy or Samaria. Like the "hostess films" that were popular in the 70s, Chang chronicles Young-eun's many vicissitudes, including several aborted attempts at marriage, and a brief stint as a brothel owner herself. It also follows her long-term friendship with Gil-young, a kind, selfless man she no doubt truly loves, but can never be with. If the film offered nothing more than this, it would be easy to dismiss it as just another formulaic melodrama, but fortunately Im brings much more to the proceedings. Key events in Korea's history during the film's twenty years period – including the assassination of President Park, the military coup that led to the rise of President Chun Doo-hwan, and the 1988 Olympics – appear on cheap televisions located in the brothels. The women are indifferent to these events, and most don't even bother paying attention, yet not out of apathy. As societal outsiders their role is limited to generating capital with their bodies, and paying back a seemingly never-ending debt to the brother owners. Political and social changes are meaningless to them, unless of course it affects their trade (as the introduction of AIDS will, late in the film.) Economic swings, however, are mirrored in their industry – during the peak years we learn that the demand for prostitutes was at a record high, and that there were 400,000 brothels, and over one million women working in them. It would be wrong to consider Chang progressive in its views. In fact in some ways it is downright regressive – in both it's method of storytelling, as well as its conceit of representing Korea's tumultuous history through the commodification of women. Its sexual explicitness is anything but erotic, and at times feels vaguely exploitative. Yet even with these flaws, Chang finds Im in top form as a director, and it is visually one of his most fascinating films. Shot primarily in tight, cramped spaces, Chang is the aesthetic opposite of Seopyeonje, which emphasizes the vastness of the landscape, and often maintains a distance from its characters. Here Im often crowds his frame, placing characters simultaneously in fore- and background, and making great use of deep focus. (The film requires several viewings just to catch everything.) His compositions are nothing short of masterly (see above, bottom picture), and his framing is strangely reminiscent of Fassbinder's. The use of cutaway walls allows for epic tracking shots through the brothels, and the end result is chillingly powerful. The few scenes shot outside the city draw sharp distinctions in light – the almost blinding rays of the sun versus the dim, artificially colored glow of the brothels. Im also utilizes several visual motifs that are repeated throughout the film – an extremely nice touch. Though closer in tone to his early genre films than to his masterpieces of the 80s and 90s, Chang is still worth seeking out for the visuals, as well as a remarkable lead performance by Shin Eun-kyung. A subtitled Korean-released DVD, which looks great, is available here.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10, Week 6

It was amusing to learn that many of you first encountered last week's film in a High School history class. Well, obviously you were paying attention, for few had difficulty identifying this overhead shot in the Library of Congress from Alan Pakula's infinitely watchable All the President's Men. (Mr. Neuschafer would be proud.) A film that has stood the test of time, this is one that makes you nostalgic for a time when journalists had cojones, and when a President was actually held accountable for his high crimes and misdemeanors. Sigh. As we enter the second half of the round, there will be a concerted effort to make the quizzes a tad more difficult. And by concerted I mean -- spending more than ten minutes on preparation. For this week's quiz: this moppet utters the first line in this classic film. Name the film, and for a bonus point, tell me the opening line. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Distant

"I love men – we're so stupid" - John Cassavetes There are times – and it's not terribly often – when a film grabs hold of you and hooks you in from the first frame, and doesn't let go until the very last. Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Climates is one of them. In the sweltering heat of western Turkey, a couple (Ceylan and real-life wife Ebru) wander through ruins. He's taking photographs, she sits on a rock. After some minutes he asks, "are you bored?" She slowly begins to cry, the camera never leaving her face. This lengthy pre-credit sequence speaks volumes about their relationship – a feat not easily achieved, and a testament to Ceylan's gift as a director. It's the kind of scene that in the hands of a lesser director would come off as pretentious, or even pointless, but here manages to fill us in on all we need to know about the doomed couple. Told over three seasons in three locales, Climates is an unflinching and uncompromising portrait of male behavior in a John Cassavetes by way of Hong Sang-soo vein. Like many of Hong's leading characters, Ceylan's Isa is a middle-aged man who finds himself at standstill, both in his career as well as his personal life. An architect who has procrastinated for too many years over completing his thesis, his job as a university professor seems to bring him little satisfaction. His self-obsession is no doubt responsible (in part, at least) for his bachelor status, and he carries himself with a masculine bravado that would make Cassavetes proud. His relationship with the much younger Bahar (Ebru Ceylan), a successful TV art-director, is more an ego-boost than anything else, as evinced by his utter lack of concern for her on their summer vacation. Isa is a man who takes what he needs from people, unable to give anything in return. (Distant, the title of Ceylan's previous feature, fits suitably here as well.) Even a visit to his parents is prompted by a need to have his pants sewn. He wants what he does not have, but only to feel victorious for having obtained it – the act of winning the game (at it were) is what satisfies his desire. Seducing an ex-girlfriend on his terms (in an uncomfortably aggressive sex scene) brings greater pleasure than the sex itself. When, on their next meeting, she becomes the aggressor, he offers a laughably lame excuse for avoiding intimacy. (Sort of a dark variation of Hong's Turning Gate.) Isa's pathological behavior drives the film's final act, which finds him pursuing Bahar once again, this time in the snowy mountains of eastern Turkey. With an increased sense of desperation disguised as a desire to change, Isa makes a concerted effort to reclaim Bahar's heart, but is he even capable of knowing what he wants? Climates' quietly devastating conclusion is somewhat like a paper cut – a simple act that leaves a disproportionate sting. There's no question that their real-life relationship is a factor in the film's success. The film is practically a love letter to Ebru Ceylan, who is simply radiant throughout, and whose performance stems out of an incredible trust. Not since John and Gena has a director gazed so lovingly at his spouse. That the couple made the film just two months after the birth of their son (the film is dedicated to him) is also remarkable, adding yet another emotional layer to the proceedings. I'd be lying if I said the film was optimistic – it opens in ruins and ends in a graveyard – yet great breakup films shouldn't be, by design. With the beauty of La Notte combined with the brutal honesty of films like 5x2, Climates is a masterpiece of the breakup genre (is there such a thing?), and without question one of the best films of 2006. Climates is currently playing in New York and California, and will be rolling out to other states in coming months. Click here for details. Do not miss this one.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10, Week 5

No, the pint-sized police officer from last week's quiz was most certainly not Tim Kazurinsky from Police Academy 3: Back in Training. It was in fact Mickey Gubitosi, better known as Robert Blake, from the great (and neglected) American masterpiece, Electra Glide in Blue. Booed at the 1973 Cannes Film Festival (with cries of "fascist"), director James William Guercio's only feature is not without its controversy, but is one of the most gorgeous Panavision films of the decade, with a visual style that recalls John Ford. If you haven't seen this film yet, you simply must. The DVD looks great, and there's a fantastic audio commentary by the director. I've been meaning to write about this one for ages -- perhaps I'll do so in the upcoming weeks, for I'd love to hear some other thoughts on the film. As I write this, the election results are just beginning to trickle in, and it's far too soon to tell if the mighty warlord George Walter Bush will be reduced to un canard boiteux. In the spirit of the day, this week's screen cap comes from a political film set in a time when....well, you know. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10, Week 4

I'm guessing that Guy Maddin would be pleased if he knew just how many of you were convinced that last week's quiz came from one of his films. His spot-on recreations of silent-era cinema are magnificent, and it can only be complimentary when a genuine artifact is mistaken for one of his reproductions. In this case it is the 1929 British silent film, Piccadilly, staring the inimitable Anna May Wong, who fled Hollywood when she grew tired of losing out on leading Asian roles to non-Asian actresses. There's something very Pabstian about this erotic melodrama, and Anna May Wong's performance as the unstoppable Shosho is certainly on par with Louise Brooks' Lulu. The DVD looks great, and it's well worth a rental if you haven't seen it. Several of you inquired about the clue, and a quick glance at a map of the London Underground reveals that the Piccadilly line is the one in dark blue. This week -- from the dark blue line to the thin blue one. Who is this peace officer, and in what film will you find him? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!