Like Anna Karina's Sweater

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 4

"The son of a gun is nothing but a tailor!" Screen capture entrants exhibited an unusually high level of confidence last week as they submitted their answers. Interesting, considering that so few managed to guess it correctly. Many were sure it was Dames, though 42nd Street, The Great Ziegfeld, and The Merry Widow had strong showings as well. The answer in fact was Love Me Tonight, Rouben Mamoulian's better-than-magnificent musical starring Maurice Chevalier and Jeanette MacDonald. If you haven't seen this bit of pre-code naughtiness, go, now, and put it at the top of your Netflix queue. You won't be disappointed. There's an incredible musical sequence set to Rodgers and Hart's Isn't It Romantic, where the song is passed from one stranger to the next, ultimately bridging two characters together in a way that only cinema can. The film features a solid cast, including Myrna Loy as a bored, oversexed Countess, who, when asked if she thinks about anything other than men, responds with, "Yes, schoolboys." Love it. Andrew Sarris referred to the film as "imitation Lubitsch with too many camera angles" -- an unfair charge. While the film certainly has quite a bit in common with Lubitsch's musicals, Mamoulian's direction here is far more fluid, and the pacing livelier than that of, say, The Smiling Lieutenant. This week: The New Yorker's Roger Angell spent most of his review imaging the satire that Mad Magazine could make from this film. He may think of it as "hokum of a very high, rich order" but I think it's a masterpiece. This one is too easy, but I feel I owe it to you after last week. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

STDs and Prostitution – For Kids!

Welcome to No Use High School, a multi-religion private school where students study atheism, the teachers beg to be spanked, and the principal might very well be a mythical beast. Dasepo Naughty Girls is Korea's entry into the hyper-stylized candy-colored absurdist comedy genre that has been popular of late in Japan, and it fits nicely alongside films like Survive Style 5+, Yaji and Kita: The Midnight Pilgrims, and Funky Forest. Based on the Internet manhwa Multicellular Girls, this comedy-musical (yes!) is surprisingly quite chaste, given its title and subject matter. Granted, students are either prostituting themselves or riddled with sexually transmitted diseases (or both), and there are transvestites, transsexuals, and something called instant virgin chips, yet there's little to be found that appeals to the prurient interest. After a catchy opening credits song and dance number, Dasepo Naughty Girls introduces us to a group of (mostly) unnamed students who are learning to cope with differences that separate them from their classmates. Sexually frustrated (and eponymous) Cyclops is the class' lone virgin, whose drop-dead gorgeous sister Two Eyes is the object of affection for Swiss exchange student Antony, who struggles with his own sexuality when he learns that she is in fact a he. Then there's Poor Girl, a sweet, destitute teen who literally carries poverty around on her shoulders. Her relationship with cross-dressing gangster Big Razor Sis just might be the key to providing financial support for her sickly mother who is involved in a pyramid scheme selling.....yep, pyramids. Like its source material, the film has an overwhelmingly episodic feel to it. Though this segues into a more traditional narrative by the third act, some early scenes actually close with the "wah-wah" of a muted trumpet, right out of some second rate sketch comedy. It's somewhat of a mixed bag, but there are a handful of clever, hysterical sequences to make up for those that fall flat. Credit must be given to the cast of young actors who play it straight throughout, no matter how absurd the material gets. Same goes for their performances during the musical numbers, which are presented karaoke style, with highlighted lyrics for those who wish to sing along. In some ways the film is a tremendous departure for director Lee Je-yong, whose last film, Untold Scandal, was a Chosun Dynasty-era rendition of Dangerous Liaisons. However, in that film (as well as his earlier An Affair) Lee exposes a certain hypocrisy in Korean moral attitudes towards sex, and that criticism can be found in Dasepo Naughty Girls as well, though exaggerated for comedic effect. The kids of No Use High are a product of our times, where access to the Internet is a requirement for all but the most basic life functions. When not relying on their portable devices to answer questions in class or arrange dates, they use it for everything from sexual advice to quickly learning the difference between yin and yang. Is Lee making a statement about the co-dependent relationship between today's youth and new technology, or how the Web has become something of a surrogate parent? I tend to think so, but I'm not entirely sure. The difficulty in determining exactly what Dasepo Naughty Girls is meant to be might explain its extremely poor showing at the Korean box office. It's too intelligent to be a simple teen sex comedy, yet not edgy enough to attract a wider spectrum of viewers. Still, it is unquestionably one of the most original, memorable, and funniest Korean films of 2006. Dasepo Naughty Girls will be shown in the Panorama section of this year's Berlinale.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 3

Years before the radical right claimed him as one of their own, and Mel Gibson turned his final days into a homoerotic snuff-porno film, "Someone Christ" was somewhat of a poster child for the hippie movement, a point not lost on Norman Jewison when he filled a chartreuse microbus full of long-hairs for his cinematic take on the Andrew Lloyd Webber - Tim Rice musical, Jesus Christ Superstar. Regular entrant Paul C. asked, "when and how did Jesus fall out of favor with the left?" That's a good question. On paper, at least, he doesn't seem to represent the values of those who invoke his name the most. But what do I know...I'm a bad Buddhist at best. Quite a few people went the Xanadu route, an understandable mistake. The shot used is an extremely brief moment in the film, and can be found during the showgirls-in-heaven staging of the title song. This week: Ah, those wonderful pre-code years! This film contains one of my all-time favorite musical sequences, set to one of the greatest American standards of any era. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 2

Gotta dance! In the December 1963 issue of Cahiers du Cinema Jean-Luc Godard ranked Singin' in the Rain as the fifth greatest American sound film of all time, an assessment I fully agree with. No matter how many times I've seen it, Jean Hagen's first vocal outburst never fails to crack me up. There was the odd guess of An American in Paris or Pal Joey, but overall an impressive 99.4% of the submissions were correct. I did find one individual – a cinephile in fact – who hasn't seen the film: fellow blogger, critic, filmmaker, and friend-of-Filmbrain, Cinephiliac. Join me as we point the finger of shame at him. Though it's still early in the round, I'm going to have to start weeding some folks out, lest we end up with a 600-way tie. This week: nope, it's not a low-rent version of Dreamgirls. There's not a shot in this film (outside of this one) that wouldn't be a dead giveaway. Think about it, but don't get hung up over it. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Queens – The Musical!

Last night I dreamt an entire film. It was a musical of sorts, set in one of the ugliest neighborhoods in the borough of Queens, NYC. It featured a trio of actors from The Sopranos (James Gandolfini, Steve Buscemi, Aida Turturro), as well as Kate Winslet, Susan Sarandon, Christopher Walken, and a handful of other cast members you'd never expect to find in the same film, including Eddie Izzard, Elaine Stritch, Mary-Louise Parker, popstar/irritant Mandy Moore, Fassbinder protégée Barbara Sukowa and Wes Anderson regular Kumar. It was full of raunchy, sexually explicit dialog, and musical numbers that found the actors singing along to such 60s chestnuts as Tom Jones' Delilah, and Engelbert Humperdinck's A Man Without Love. I awoke this morning to discover that it wasn't a dream at all, but merely the result of watching John Turturro's Romance & Cigarettes at 2:00 AM. Produced by the Coen brothers, Turturro first came up with the idea for the blue-collar musical while working on Barton Fink, and one could say that Romance & Cigarettes truly has "that Barton Fink feeling.") Made in 2005, the film has yet to see the light of day here in the States, a casualty of the Sony acquisition of MGM. It's a shame, for this utterly insane musical deserves to be seen. But by whom, I'm not so sure. Set in the working-class community of Rosedale, Queens (directly in Kennedy Airport's landing path), Romance & Cigarettes can best be described as Mike Leigh meets Dennis Potter – a dysfunctional family dramedy with fantasy musical interludes. Gandolfini plays Nick Murder, a schlubby construction worker saddled with a wife, Kitty, who hates him (Sarandon), and a Greek chorus of daughters, Baby, Constance, and Rosebud, who mock him at every opportunity when not performing bad rock and roll in their cement garden. His only pleasure in life is his red-headed mistress Tula (Winslet), a potty-mouthed Brit with an exaggerated Yorkshire accent who casually tosses off lines like "you can knock on me back door, Marlon Brando style" as if she was talking about the weather. When Kitty learns of the affair, she turns to Cousin Bo (Walken, in a caricature of himself), an ageing, over-sexed Gene Vincent/Elvis wannabe, who suggests they kill Tula. What the film lacks in plot it more than makes up for in sheer inventiveness. As in Dennis Potter's work (The Singing Detective, Pennies From Heaven), the musical numbers are waking fantasies, where characters express what they dare not say in words. Yet instead of lip-syncing, Turturro has the actors singing along with the songs, regardless if they are off-key, flat, etc. Supporting the second-rate singing is the choreography, which (I'm assuming) is intentionally amateurish and rather slapdash, coming off like a bad high school production of a Broadway musical. There are exceptions, including Christopher Walken's brilliant interpretive dance to Delilah, and Kate Winslet's fearless rendition of Connie Francis' Do You Love Me Like You Kiss Me?, which finds the chesty actress bouncing and shimmying in only a tiny bra and short skirt, her breasts fighting a losing battle to stay put. Still, what impresses most about the film is how accurately Turturro has captured this tiny section of the city, an area that hasn't changed in decades. This is the Queens of Archie Bunker, where aluminum siding dominates, and houses are spaced only inches apart. Positioned at the geographical edge of New York City (it borders Long Island), its proximity to Kennedy Airport explains the cheap, ugly motels that line Conduit Boulevard, and acres of undeveloped land that have become unofficial dumping grounds. Turturro, who was raised near there, is on familiar turf, and his portrait would be a masterpiece of realism if it wasn't wrapped around this absurdist musical. This is a warts-and-all look at the working class, which like the films of Mike Leigh, manages to be honest while avoiding a derisive tone. There is a healthy level of cynicism, particularly about relationships and the desperation behind most of them, but the film's bittersweet conclusion offers at least a hint of salvation. I honestly can't decide if Romance & Cigarettes' genius is planned, or a simply a case of happenstance. One thing for sure though, it is a film of unforgettable moments; Barbara Sukowa belting out Prisoner of Love in front of a garbage pile, Kate Winslet's underwater rendition of Nick Cave's Little Water Song, and a calf running through the streets of queens are but a few of the film's striking images. Equally as impressive is Turturro's razor sharp screenplay, which finds characters conversing in song titles, engaging in Pinter-esque exchanges, or uttering sexually explicit dialog more silly than salacious. (The Coen's influence is evident.) Romance & Cigarettes isn't a film for everyone. It's not a crowd pleaser, is at times uncomfortable, and might come across as too off-kilter for many. However, this experimental musical that both subverts and transcends genre conventions is a 21st century treasure. Somebody needs to rescue this from the Sony vault, and soon.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 1 - Musicals!

Welcome to the eleventh round of Filmbrain's weekly screen capture quiz, the all-singing, all-dancing edition! You can thank (or blame) the comment thread on this post over at Cinemarati for planting the idea of a musicals-only round. The release of Dreamgirls, an immensely entertaining albeit lightweight film was responsible more chest-thumping discourse than any other film this year, prompting one critic to go so far as referring to it as soul-rotting. (And I thought Cats was the only musical guilty of that crime.) "But it's a musical!" is a line I must have uttered a hundred times in the month of December. Yet the hate and the endless criticism of what the film wasn't never let up. So, I thought it would be a good idea to pay tribute to one of my favorite cinematic genres by dedicating an entire round to musicals – some classics, others outright bombs, but each with some level of merit (enough, at least, to wind up in my DVD collection.) Twelve weeks of hoofers, belters, and a whole slew of jazz hands. The rules are the same as always. A  new quiz goes up every Wednesday morning, and answers can be submitted until the following quiz appears. Top three scorers at the end of the twelve weeks can pick any film used in the round as a prize. Answers are to be submitted by email only, not in the comments section. For this, the inaugural week, I thought I'd keep it simple. Is there anyone who hasn't seen this film? Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Froth on the Daydream

When it comes to filmed adaptations of literary works, I'm of the opinion that there are some books that will never lend themselves to the medium, regardless of the director, cast, screenwriter, etc. Mind you, that hasn't stopped people from trying, but has there ever been an adaptation of a Faulkner or Dostoyevsky novel that even approaches the greatness of the source material? Billy Bob Thornton learned the hard way that what was special about Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses wasn't its compelling storyline, as did Neil LaBute when attempting to turn A.S. Byatt's Possession into a simple academic thriller. In the case of Chloe, director Go Riju's adaptation of French surrealist Boris Vian's L'Écume des Jours, the problem is further magnified by a cultural remove, with modern-day Tokyo substituting for late 40s Paris – and it's more than just language that's lost in translation. Raymond Queneau may have been laying it on a bit thick when he called Vian's novel "the most heartbreakingly poignant modern love story ever written," but beneath its surreal playfulness lies a truly touching (and imaginative) tragic romance. However, to place emphasis solely on the love story (as Chloe does) is to ignore its giddy spirit, and the result is a work bogged down with a heavyness nowhere to be found in the novel. L'Ecume des Jours (there are three English translations – Mood Indigo, Froth on the Daydream and most recently, Foam of the Daze) is the story of the young, handsome and wealthy Colin, and his relationship with the beautiful, fragile and tragic Chloe, whose name is a reference to the melancholic Duke Ellington song of the same name. Caught up in a case of l'amour fou, the couple soon settles into marital bliss. However, it's not long before Chloe is diagnosed with a peculiar illness – a flower (a water lily, to be precise) is growing in her lungs, slowly killing her. Though there's no cure, Colin learns that the presence of other flowers make the water lily wilt in fright, thereby slowing its growth. This need for wall-to-wall bloomage soon eats through Colin's savings, and he is forced to take on menial jobs to earn francs for fleurs. C'est vraiment French, non? In Chloe, Colin (here Kotaro) is an astronomer who wanders through life as in a daydream. Actor Masatoshi Nagase (Mystery Train) seems at a loss when trying to breathe life into this puzzled somnambulist of a character. His emotionless performance isn't Bressonian -- it's just dull. As Chloe, Rie Tomosaka relies too heavily on her experience as a television actress, and the handful of sad faces she pulls is just one of the many factors that sadly keep Chloe in the realm of the J-Drama. (The tinkly piano score helps as well.) Chloe's failure as an adaptation lies with director Go's decision to do away with the novel's more inventive elements – including a piano that makes cocktails when you play it, a very smart mouse, and brilliantly funny episodes inspired by the cartoonish violence of Chuck Jones or Tex Avery. Vian's love of jazz (he was also a musician) is evident throughout the novel, especially in the flow of his prose, which swings like a Charlie Parker solo. While this might be difficult to capture on film, Chloe's leaden tone couldn't be further from Vian's bop-tempo. Go's direction is equally as languid, with nearly every scene sharing the same over-exposed diffused lighting, and somber mood to match. It should be noted that Boris Vian died while watching a filmed adaptation of one his other novels (I Spit on Your Graves). One can't help but wonder if a screening of this overly melodramatic take on L'Écume des Jours wouldn't have yielded the same result.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 10 - The Winners!

"I know it was you, Fredo. You broke my heart" Those lines certainly put a damper on Fredo Corleone's Cuban New Year's Eve, from the better-than-the-first The Godfather: Part II, but there is an upside to it all. His death meant he didn't have to be around to see Sophia's acting in the ill-fated Part III. While all of you were out celebrating the arrival of 2007, partying the night away with Carson what's-his-name, Filmbrain was tied to his computer, diligently combing through the thousands of entries received in Round 10 in search of the winners. Well, that's not entirely true. And by not entirely, I of course mean not at all. No, it was shortly after watching The Daily Show (rerun, shucks) that the realization struck that it was Tuesday night, and not Monday. So, after a quick run-through of the emails, it seems we have a first -- four perfect scores of 12 out of 12! Rather than have a tiebreaker round (for I'm far too lazy to start capturing something right now), I'll happily award each member of the quartet a prize. A round of applause to Erin S, Max G, Paul C, and Will P -- any DVD used in this round is yours for the asking. Thanks to everyone who participated. Be sure to check back next week for the start of a very special Round 11 -- this time it's nothing but musicals. Should be fun. See you then!