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Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 8

Fair enough dubarry – Russian Natalie Wood is about as far from Puerto Rican as you can get, and, yes, Richard Beymer does indeed lack in the luster department, but nonetheless West Side Story still stands as one of the finest filmed musicals of all time. However, I can't help but wonder what the film would have been like had Wise's original choices been cast – Elvis Presley and Audrey Hepburn. For some reason I just can't picture Ms. Golightly belting out I Feel Pretty. (But then again, perhaps Marni Nixon would dub her as well.) That's Tucker Smith as Ice in front of that Citizen Kane-ish political poster that's seen throughout the film. Smith, as I only recently learned, has a minor part as a dancer in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. (I believe he can be seen in the screen cap I used.) This week: from the sublime to the unbelievably ridiculous. Yes, I own this on DVD. Why, I'm not so sure. Blame the drugs. If you recognize the guy in white, you'll be able to name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 3: Two Old Masters in Fine Form

[I know, the festival is long over by now, but the burnout of watching thirty-seven films in ten days was greater than I expected. Festival reviews will likely follow for some time now...] Two names that stood out in this year's (dare I say it?) mediocre competition lineup were Jacques Rivette and Jirí Menzel – key figures from the French and Czech nouvelle vague that are, fortunately for us, still making fine films. Though it's unlikely that Ne Touchez Pas La Hache (Don't Touch the Axe) or Obsluhoval Jsem Anglického Krále (I Served the King of England) will be remembered as either director's greatest work, both films approach filmmaking and storytelling in a way that reveals a tremendous gap between the old masters and many of their contemporary peers in competition. A trend I noticed at this year's festival were films that made a concerted effort to eschew traditional cinematic narrative and aesthetic techniques – the very constructs that both Rivette and Menzel happily embrace, yet do so in a way that that still manages to feel fresh. As much as I admire the directors who opted for an alternate, more contemplative route, it soon became obvious that not everybody can (or did) get away with this. Gorgeous cinematography and long takes does not a Bela Tarr make, and many of the films suffered from stripping away too much, leaving us with pretty pictures, but otherwise uncompelling stories, characters, ideas, etc. The most common response I heard when asking people their thoughts on Don't Touch the Axe was (after a pregnant pause), "Well, it was Rivette." A flippant reaction that isn't incorrect, for even if the film was without credits there'd be no question as to who helmed this remarkable (albeit imperfect) film. This isn't the first time Rivette turned to Balzac as a source, but unlike Out 1or La Belle Noiseuse, which were "inspired by," Don't Touch the Axe is very much a literal adaptation of the novella The Duchess of Langeais. (I've been told that the dialog is lifted verbatim from the original text.) Best described as a romantic duel, Balzac's novella tells of the tumultuous relationship between a French General, Armand de Montriveau (Guilluime Depardieu) and the coquettish but married Duchess Antoinette de Langeais (Jeanne Balibar). Their story is less a traditional romance than it is an ill-fated dance between two equally passionate characters who are undone by machinations of their own making. When the Duchess first meets the heroic but dull General, she is fascinated by his tales of travel and adventure. Underestimating his character, she quickly sets out to win his affections, only to sternly rebuke him when he lets his feeling be known. Yet we soon learn that the seemingly simple Armand is far more cunning than we first realized. Kidnapping the Duchess results in her yielding to his demands, which ultimately takes the fun out of it for him. With the shift in power now in his favor, Armand does little but torment her for weeks on end – refusing to see her or answering her many letters. Naturally, things go too far, and extreme choices are made that will destroy them both. Don't Touch the Axe is a study of two individuals for whom the game is more interesting than the outcome; where the act of conquering is more satisfying than the victory. Beyond Balzac's dialog, Rivette masterfully utilizes a handful of cinematic techniques to capture the introspective nature of the story – the yearning, the waiting, and the tormented passion. From his use of varying degrees of light (primarily from candle and/or hearth) to reflect mood, to the exaggerated ambient sounds of squeaky floorboards or crackling fireplace that almost compete with the dialog, there isn't a single facet of the direction that is superfluous or without intention. There's also something very theatrical to the whole affair – from the opening of a curtain that leads into a scene, to the many intertitles Rivette employs, which range from the descriptive, "Five years earlier" to the editorial, "If the previous scene was the civil period in this sentimental war, this is the religious one." With the exception of a few external scenes that bookend the film, most of the action takes place in the confined spaces of sitting rooms, parlors, or bedrooms. Working once again with cinematographer William Lubtchansky, Rivette positions his actors to create a series of beautifully staged tableaux that are at times breathtaking. Lubtchansky's camera work is astounding in its economy, with every camera movement married to Rivette's choreography of the characters. The one weakness in the film is Depardieu fils, who lacks the depth required for his many moments of quiet contemplation, especially when compared to Balibar, who turns in the finest performance of her career. Though short by his normal standards (137 minutes), Don't Touch the Axe isn't likely to create a new breed of Rivette fans. This is a slow film, and will no doubt leave many agitated. (Even the press screening saw a large amount of walkouts.) However, die-hards won't be disappointed. This is a film that begs repeated viewings, and I sincerely hope it manages to find a US distributor. Though Rivette's titular axe was used to cut off the head of Charles the First, it is another king of England that is also anecdotally referred to in Jirí Menzel's charming and very funny I Served the King of England. And like Rivette returning to Balzac, so Menzel has once again turned to an author whose work he's adopted several times in the past – Czech author Bohumil Hrabal. One of the first things that struck me while watching the film was that it was one of the few times at the festival that I found myself smiling and laughing – a welcome and much-needed relief after all the dour heaviness. That's not to say Menzel's film is simply fluff, but it was refreshing to see a lighthearted and satirical look a difficult and troubled bit of history. It was also great to see that Menzel has lost none of his comic ability as a director. A classic "rise and fall of..." story, I Served the King of England follows the life of Jan Ditie, who goes from a closely watched train station hot dog vendor to multi-millionaire to exiled prisoner over the course of four decades. With its visual humor (including inspired moments of slapstick), brilliant incorporation of music, and naive but likable pint-sized lead character, Menzel has created a decidedly Chaplinesque farce with a very modern flair. Jan has but one wish in life – to become incredibly wealthy. After learning that even the richest man will get down on his hands and knees to pick up scattered change, our hero soon plots his path to plenty with the aid of a wealthy meat-slicer salesman who gets him a job at a prestigious hotel cum brothel for the über-wealthy – those captains of industry who light their cigars with thousand Crown notes, and who dole out tips larger than their tabs. A series of comical (and unlikely) events finds Jan with ever-increasing wealth, which allows him to pursue his only other interest – sex. The women in Hrabal's world are all commodities – objects for sale that gladly sprawl nude on a rotating centerpiece while the wealthy engage in an orgy of culinary delights. Though technically still a servant, these women find Jan's boyish charm irresistible, and soon his sexual conquests begin to rival his piles of cash. Not long after Hitler's rise to power, Jan meets and falls in love with Liza, a propaganda-spouting Nazi (Julia Jentsch, last seen, amusingly enough, as the lead in Sophie Scholl) who only agrees to bed Jan when she learns he has German blood. (A lovemaking scene beneath a huge portrait of der Führer is disturbingly hilarious.) Scorned by his countrymen for marrying the enemy, Jan is all but oblivious to current events, even when he is hired to work at a mating center where Teutonic goddesses are employed to breed a new generation of Nazis. It's here that the film veers somewhat close to Roberto Benigni territory, but Menzel cleverly opts for bittersweet over schmaltzy sentimentality. The sequences which feature Jan as an older man (following his release from prison) living in poverty under the Soviet regime are perhaps a bit too obvious in their depiction of Jan's redemption, but his relationship with a free-spirited young woman is handled with a charming sincerity that makes for a nice balance to the film's many madcap moments. I Served the King of England is a sexy bit of satire that fits nicely in Menzel's oeuvre, and is easily one of the cleverest  and wittiest comedies to come out of Europe in recent years.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 7

[Still in Germany, decompressing from the fest for a few days. Several Berlinale reviews to follow.] Just about everything that was wrong with 80s cinema can be found in Richard Attenborough's supremely awful take on A Chorus Line, a musical that at one time held the record for longest run on Broadway. Granted, its single setting (a bare stage) presents quite a challenge for the filmmaker, but Attenborough made some dreadful, unnecessary choices that only made things worse. The first problem is the less-than-inspired casting -- including Michael Douglas, Audrey Landers, and a handful of unknowns who just weren't meant for the big screen (Tony Fields, Jan Gan Boyd, etc.) Worse than that was the decision to excise one of the better songs (Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen, Hello Love) and replace it with the unlistenable Surprise, Surprise, and the overwrought and cringe-worthy Let Me Dance For You. Congrats to all that got it. I really got a kick out of the various suggestions for songs from the Glengarry Glen Ross musical. (He's the machine/Shelley Levene...) This week: a true classic, and I ain't kiddin'. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 2: OK Cyborgs, Hollywood Swedes, and a Pair of Walkers

[Extremely far behind on posting. Just got out of back to back screenings of Rivette's Ne Touchez Pas La Hache and the documentary on Wim Wenders' early years, Von Einem der Auszog. Will catch up over the weekend, hopefully.] The plan was to spend a few moments each night writing up a brief summary of the day's viewing. Yet by the time my tired body returns to the East Berlin apartment in which I'm staying, sleep is the only thing I can muster. Today (Wednesday) has been a slow day -- several productive EFM meetings followed by a screening of one of the better films I've seen at the festival -- Christian Petzold's Yella. I also saw forty minutes of what will undoubtedly go down as one of the worst films of 2007, Zack Snyder's unbelievably awful 300. In between, a pleasant lunch with critical duo Hudson and Hudson, Karsten from Rush Blogg, and Eric of Cinematical, where the topic of conversation was (obviously) what to see and what to avoid. Without hesitation, the best thing I've come across is Maria Speth's Madonnen (Madonnas), the Dardenne-esque drama that delivers in a way L'Enfant never did. Gut wrenching and tense, but directed with incredible restraint, the film tells the story of Rita, a single mother with five kids (from different fathers) and the continual bad choices she makes. Speth allows the drama to unfold without a hint of manipulation, which is all the more impressive considering the "kids in danger" element throughout. She doesn't judge Rita, she merely documents. The lead performance by Sandra Hüller is riveting. Again, one of those films I'll take the time to reflect on when the fest is over. Some brief comments on other films: I'm a Cyborg But That's OK (Park Chan-wook, Korea) -- Park Chan-wook's latest is certainly creative, original, and a grand departure from the vengeance-themed films he's been making since 2002. However, its handling and depiction of mental illness is hardly enlightened, and though the film is a sweet romantic comedy, it has at its core a young woman suffering from childhood trauma who now refuses to eat. That she believes she is a cyborg might up the cuteness factor, but I found the film on a whole to be terribly depressing. When Darkness Falls (Anders Nilsson, Sweden)-- The Swedish Crash. Seriously. This slickly-directed, beautifully shot, well-acted two-and-a-half-hours is an exercise in didacticism and god-awful screenwriting. Like Haggis' Oscar winner, Nilsson's film also weaves together multiple plot strands, though here the unifying subject is not racism, but violence as a means of intimidation. What we are taught, explicitly (and repeatedly), is that a) spousal abuse is a bad thing, b) gangsters will hurt you if you testify against them, and c) generic dark-skinned Middle-Eastern types in Sweden who habitually murder their daughters by forcing them to run back and forth across a busy highway in Germany are not Muslims, but in fact Christians. Nilsson's handling of that last thread is both smarmy and insulting -- he never identifies the culture these people belong to (rendering them simply "not-Swedish"), and you can practically hear him saying "Gotcha!" as he tosses out that final reel reveal. It's a cheap trick with racist overtones. When Darkness Falls is pure 21st century Hollywood bullshit, and it wouldn't surprise me if Nilsson one day remakes the film in the US with an A-list cast. Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (Stephen Kijak, US/UK) --  Aaron and I strongly disagreed on this one. I found it to be a more than satisfactory portrait of the man and his music, while Aaron felt it was more like a primer, best suited for those unfamiliar with his work. In retrospect, I think he's correct, but as a longtime fan I still found it fascinating to hear Walker speak about his career, as well as his methods and approach to composition. The choice of talking heads (including Jarvis Cocker, Hector Zazou, David Bowie and Johnny Marr) is inspired -- instead of empty accolades, nearly all of them have something substantial to offer. Scenes of the interviewees listening to and commenting on various Walker songs are among the film's finest, and most candid, moments. Walker himself comes across as an extremely eloquent (albeit camera shy) perfectionist who is tremendously dedicated to his art. Don't miss this one. The Walker (Paul Schrader, US) -- Seeing that he's president of this year's Berlinale jury, it's my guess that the festival felt obligated to screen the director's latest film, a slight but somewhat serviceable quasi-political thriller set in the nation's capital. Woody Harrelson stars at Carter Page III, an effete fop who escorts bored, wealthy DC society ladies to parties, cultural events or canasta games. He's a modern-day Truman Capote -- always ready with a bon mot, anecdote, or appropriate quote from Tennessee Williams. His southern gentleman accent is pure Scarlett O'Hara, and his wardrobe would make Oscar Wilde proud. After getting mixed up in a murder investigation, Carter becomes an easy target for right-wingers who are more than eager to bring down the notorious homosexual on a perjury charge. Given recent events in Washington, Schrader is presented with a terrific opportunity to expose hypocritical attitudes towards homosexuality, yet chooses to keep his political criticisms at arm's length. There are references to Iraq, and the Vice President is somehow tied to the murder, but it's all rather superficial. Lauren Bacall, Kirstin Scott Thomas, and Lily Tomlin are quite good as the ladies who lunch, but overall the film feels too much like a made-for-TV affair. The Walker is Schrader at his safest, and mellowest. Finally, a few words about 300, mostly to come to the defense of Erik Davis, who is taking quite a beating for his negative review. Remember that scene in David Lynch's Dune where Sting, at his overacting worst, screams "I will kill him!"? Now imagine a film where every single line is uttered with the same bombastic fervor, whether deserved or not. This is what 300 delivers, and ridiculous doesn't begin to describe it. With laughable attempts at Shakespearian dialog, this is a film that will appeal only to adolescent fanboys or enthusiasts of greased, half-naked men fighting each other. Forty minutes was all I could manage. 300 might just be the new Showgirls

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 6

Robert Morse's overly hammy performance in David Swift's How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying might work wonders on stage, but on film comes across as a wee bit overdone. There are some nice supporting performances in the film, including Michele Lee as love interest Rosemary Pilkington, and Rudy Vallee as CEO J.B. Biggley, but its depiction of then-contemporary office politics (sexual harassment and all) simply hasn't aged that well. It's difficult not to cringe during A Secretary is Not a Toy, or at Maureen Arthur's performance as the nymphomaniacal Hedy LaRue. Some of the songs are quite catchy, however, and I've not been able to get Been a Long Day out of my head for days now. I prepared this post before leaving for Germany, so I can't comment on the submissions, though I gather the office setting made it a fairly easy guess. Speaking of office settings, this week's quiz isn't from Glengarry Glen Ross: The Musical, though that would be something, wouldn't it? This is but one example of a great Broadway musical that became an absolute disaster of a film. The capture may not seem like much, but there's enough information there to deduce the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Berlinale Diary 1.5: A Quick One Between Screenings

When you see many films in the course of just a few days, it's only natural that you begin to notice commonalities between them. For example, I've seen at least four films that feature women being hit by cars or trucks on a busy street/highway. Odd, to say the least, but purely coincidental. However, one element I've noticed in several films is some form of explicit anti-Americanism. Rarely is it an integral part of the plot -- it's usually just an utterance like, "I hate America/Americans/American products/etc." Normally this doesn't bother me -- Bush & Co. have gone to great lengths to irritate just about everybody on the planet, so perhaps it's to be expected that this frustration manifests itself even in an otherwise non-political film (i.e., La Môme.) That said, I just got out of a film that perhaps overdoes it a bit. Not a bad film at all, but one where the 30-something lead character (a Canadian actor playing a German, no less) justifies his relationship with a 12 year-old girl because of the horrible experiences he had while living in the States. Something along the lines of how "everybody there thinks only of money or themselves," and how this pre-teen Lolita is more real/exciting/challenging than any woman he had a relationship with while over there. Um.....yeah.....huh? 18 films so far, and a lot more to go. . .

Berlinale Diary 1: No Regrets

[NB: These posts are being written at awkward times in awkward places. Forgive an even greater level of sloppiness than usual.] The best thing I've seen in Berlin so far? The snow that has blanketed the city for the past two mornings. It melts away by midday, but it's lovely to look at under the early morning grey sky of this magnificent place. Perhaps it will take a couple more days to get into the Berlinale groove, but the selection of films I've seen so far have been far from enthralling. Day 1 was met with the usual delays of picking up the festival badge, getting a SIM card for the mobile, and fighting a losing battle in the quest for a (free) hotspot. A nice perk from two years ago, free wireless Internet is now a thing of the past. Sure, there are the public workstations, but standing in a hallway with people queuing up behind you is hardly conducive to creative blog posting. The solution: give in to T-Mobile and their special 'rape-me' rate of 2 Euros per 15 minutes of Internet time. Lovely, and oh-so justifiable. As tired as I was, I still managed to catch one film on that first day -- Faces of a Fig Tree, veteran Japanese actress Momoi Kaori's directorial debut. It sounded great on paper, and did have a few winning moments, but this off-kilter family dramedy suffered from simply having too many ideas lumped into it. Momoi utilizes every camera trick she learned, but for seemingly no reason other than trying something new in each scene. She also has the leading role in the film, giving the entire project more than a hint of a narcissistic air to it. Feh. Day two, still jetlagged, but somewhat rested. The day began with an early morning screening of the festival's opening night film, Olivier Dahan's Piaf biopic, La Môme (or, La Vie en Rose -- not sure which is the official title.) Thoroughly entertaining, and an often-remarkable performance by Marion Cotillard that is at times marred by poor direction. Dahan (who last film was The Crimson Rivers II) is somewhat out of his league here, and that's what makes the film so frustrating. I enjoyed its non-linear narrative and attention to detail, but overall the film sticks too close to the template of the modern biopic. Piaf did experience more than a fair share of hardships and loss, but the film does little more than chronicle these events while paying scant attention the people who surrounded her -- friends, lovers, etc. Dahan doesn't shy away from portraying little sparrow in a less than flattering light, but it seems to lack the courage to dig a bit deeper into how these events helped shape her into the artist she was. A good bit of fun, but leaves you wondering what it would have been like in the hands of another director. My first market screening of the festival was the Danish comedy Sprængfarlig Bombe (literally Exploding Bomb, though the English title is rather poor Clash of Egos), a film with a fantastic (and timely) premise that unfortunately opts for a mainstream delivery that reduces it from a biting satire to merely a clever comedy. Tonny, a divorced father of two with anger management issues takes his kids to see a film that received rave reviews ("A Masterpiece!") and won an award at the Berlinale. However, the film is a nothing more than a bit of art-wanking, and Tonny decides he wants his money back. Through an odd (and rather funny) series of events, Tonny finds himself working with the director on a new film -- one that he is determined to take his kids to. Poking fun at everything from international film festivals, the poor taste of audiences, and even the critics at The New York Times, director Tomas Villum Jensen has created a film that skewers the current state of cinema, both high and low, as well as the critics vs. popular taste argument that has been all the rage as of late. It's just a shame that the film plays down its cleverness, choosing a safer route that guarantees wider appeal. (There's room for a whole meta discussion here, but I'll save that for another time.) Getting shut out of the press screening of I'm a Cyborg, But That's OK, Aaron and I ducked into the next closing screening, which happened to be Hal Hartley's Fay Grim, a sequel (of sorts) to his greatest film, Henry Fool. As nice as it was to see many of the characters return after almost ten years, this globe-trotting espionage adventure story has sadly little to do with the brilliantly written character study set in good ole' Woodside Queens. Come back Hal Hartley, all is forgiven. More on all three films post-fest.

Filmbrain's Screen Capture Quiz: Round 11, Week 5

"It's showtime folks!" I've written in the past about my undying love for Bob Fosse's All That Jazz, and watching it again this past week I realized that it's a film that manages to get better as the decades go by. Winner of the 1980 Palme d'Or at Cannes (it tied with Kagemusha), Fosse's film is probably the last gasp of great 70s filmmaking (save for 1980's Raging Bull), and is without question one of the best films of the decade, an opinion shared by many of you, judging by the comments in your submissions. This week -- a film that I loved as kid, but one that time hasn't been kind to. Some great moments, and some charming songs, but overall an overlong and under-funny dated comedy. Name the film. Submit your answers to this address. Good luck!

Ich bin ein Berlinaler!

In a few days time I'll be boarding a plane bound for the Internationale Filmfestspiele Berlin, or as it's commonly known, the Berlinale. Unlike my last appearance back in 2005, I go this year not as a blogger, but as a buyer. That's not to say I won't be providing coverage here (and perhaps elsewhere), but a good chunk of my time will be spent at the European Film Market (EFM) meeting with sales agents and seeking out titles for distribution. Joining me will be Aaron 'Cinephiliac' Hillis, who has of late become an integral part of this new venture, but more on that anon. With 400 films in the festival, and a whopping 700+ films at the Film Market, I've been doing what I can to prevent my head from exploding as I attempt to organize my screening schedule for the ten-day festival – a somewhat Sisyphean task. Though there are several competition titles I'm looking forward to, particularly Zhang Lu's Desert Dream, Rivette's Don't Touch the Axe, and of course Park Chan-wook's I'm a Cyborg, But That's Ok, it's the festival's Panorama, Forum, and Perspektive Deutsches Kino sections where you'll find more cutting-edge fare. This year's lineup has some very promising titles, including Anders Nilsson's When Darkness Falls, Srdan Golubovic's The Trap, and the (yes!) Scott Walker documentary, 30 Century Man, to name but a few. There are a few wonderful retrospectives, including a one day, fifteen-hour marathon screening of the restored Berlin Alexanderplatz, but I doubt I'll have the time. Still, it would be great if I could manage to catch Arthur Penn's Mickey One on the big screen. Not sure when or how often I'll manage to post, but I should be able to bang out some stream of consciousness thoughts every now and then. The Wednesday screen quiz should appear as usual, barring any foul-ups from Typepad. Oh, and if any Filmbrain readers are going to be at the fest, please drop me an email at this address – it would be great to meet up and compare notes on what's worth seeing or avoiding. Tschüss!