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Tuesday, May 31, 2022

Collected Criterion Movie Reviews: July-August 2013

Collected Criterion Movie Reviews: July-August 2013


  When I was in college I took a handful of film classes.  Assigned movies would be viewed on video cassette on these tiny 10 inch televisions that my university had installed in a windowless room in the basement of the library.  The videos were themselves often in bad shape- it would be another 20 years before I saw Alphaville on a non-scratched up videocassette copy, to give one example.  Thus, that first couple of years of streaming seemed like an exciting opportunity to simply view all these great old movies, and that's really what I was doing here, going in numerical order to the best of my ability based on what was available on the Hulu Criterion Collection channel

Vagabond (1985) d. Agnès Varda (7/1/13)



Agnès Varda

Movie Review
Vagabond (1985)
d. Agnès Varda
Criterion Collection #74

  Vagabond is not a "fun" watch.  It starts out with the Vagabond in question dead, frozen to death in a ditch so you get to watch the entire movie wondering "is this THE ditch where she dies, or just another ditch that this poor young woman has to trek through in the faceless French landscape.

 Agnès Varda also directed Cleo From 5 to 7, which was released in 1962 and Vagabond is conclusive prove that Varda did not lose the plot Francis Ford Coppola in the 90s style.


  Sometimes I watch these Criterion Collection titles and read the accompanying essay at the Criterion Collection site and I'm tempted to simply provide the link and leave it at that because the essay is so good.  I wish there was a comparable site for the 1001 Books To Read Before You Die, but of course that series doesn't make critical editions, or editions at all, it's just a list.

  Varda had a back ground in photojournalism and documentary film when she made Cleo From 5 to 7 and if you look at her IMDB Director credits the documentaries and shorts overwhelm the features.

  The more titles I watch out of the Criterion Collection, the more I appreciate the revolutionary ramifications of the collaboration between streaming film and the appreciation of the history of cinema.  In 2013, we take for granted that all music from all time should be available for free instantly, but when it comes to film that is simply not true.  It's certainly not available for free, if it's available at all.  The very existence of the Criterion Collection essentially demonstrates the flaws in the existing system for distributing film art, so it's natural that bringing the Criterion Collection to streaming video via Hulu Plus would represent the correction of those flaws.

 And it does.  One of the major reasons I don't like films as much as novels is because the good ones are hard to find and often expensive to watch.  Criterion Collection on Hulu Plus solves that, instantly, for eight bucks a month.  For me, just trying to sit still and watch reality television with someone is enough to drive me batty.  I have to mentally restrain myself from leaving the room.  If you're going to suffer through that experience, why not make it a classic movie instead? Bad Girls Club Atlanta and Vagabond: They both make me super uncomfortable, but I feel better at the end of Vagabond.


Sisters (1973) d. Brian De Palma (7/3/13)



This is an example of the split screen technique that Brian De Palma uses in Sisters (1973) to generate narrative tension


Movie Review
Sisters
d. Brian De Palma
1973
Criterion Collection #89

  Film director Brian De Palma, Auteur? Hollywood Hack? Both? Neither?  It's a question which has sorely vexed an entire generation of film critics, but certainly his work during the 1990s, which included Mission Impossible (1993), Snake Eyes (1996) and Mission to Mars (2000) pushed the argument towards the "Hollywood Hack" side of the argument.   As someone who essentially formed his taste during that decade, it was hard to square the De Palma of Scarface and Carlito's Ways with the De Palma of MI/Snake Eyes/Mission to Mars.  It's not so much that he made those movies, it's that he made those movies with so little passion or flair it was like watching a robot De Palma direct- or not direct, as in the case of Nicolas Cage's lead performance in Snake Eyes.


 Any auteur who signs up for a Nic Cage action picture set in a Vegas casino is clearly a man who gives exactly no fucks about his critical reputation, so I guess, ultimately, you can't blame him for being involved in a movie that literally embodies every crappy stereotype about Hollywood high concept film making in a single picture.
This is what Margot Kidder looked like in 1973 when she was shooting Sisters directed by Brian De Palma.


 I was pleased to watch Sisters (1973), and early pre-Scarface film that brought him to the attention of the mass audience in America.  Sisters saw a Quebec-ois accent sporting Margot Kidder as Model/Actress/Recovering Siamese Twin Danielle Breton.  When a one night stand she picks up is murdered in her apartment, Danielle, her creepy ex-husband Emil (played by Bill Finley) and local Staten Island investigative newspaper journalist Grace Collier are swept into a psychic horror show.  To describe much more would ruin the "twist"- and I do recommend this film to watch.

  It is easy to see the directorial techniques that brought De Palma to wider attention after this film.  Particularly, he uses the split screen to simultaneously show actions taking place in two different places at the same time.  This serves to compress the run time and heightens the tension relative to the standard technique of cutting between the two locations in alternating takes.
Margot Kidder as erstwhile Siamese twin Danielle Breton in Sisters (1973), directed by Brian De Palma.

 Also notable is the score by frequent Hitchcock collaborator Bernard Herrmann.  It's a nice touch that adds some depth to the flat Staten Island location shots.  Finally, Sisters goes totally off the rails in the last 1/3rd of the film and it is worth sticking around to that point just to see De Palma go bonkers.

Movie Review: The Harder They Come (1973) d. Perry Henzell (7/10/13)

Movie Review:
 The Harder They Come (1973)
 d. Perry Henzell
Criterion Collection #83

 The Harder They Come is one of those works of art where the concept/identity of the work is better then the reality of the work itself.  You get that situation a lot when a mediocre movie has a kick-ass sound track, or kick-ass cinematography or whatever.  People associate the film with the best part of the film, even though the film as an over-all work isn't particularly note worthy.

 Reggae star Jimmy Cliff plays Ivan, a country boy who moves to the city to find work, has trouble finding work, cuts a reggae hit, then gets mixed up with a drug gang during a period of the film where I literally couldn't understand what was going on, then gets killed at the end and becomes a Robin Hood style folk hero.

 Most of the movie is set in the pungent slums of Kingston Jamaica, and this gives The Harder They Come an almost documentary feel.  There is one scene before Ivan really gets going where he is kind of hanging around a dump and there is this long tracking shot where you see scavengers and children playing in the garbage and it's particularly moving.

 Not until the final shoot out practically does the film leave the city for the country, and by then the country feels like a one-off location shot.  Production values are low all around, and the actors are either non-actors or (certainly) local actors- although putatively in English you need to strain to hear the actual lines in the film. I'm not even talking about the accents, I'm talking about the sound quality of the recording.

The Blob (1958) d. Irwin S. Yeaworth Jr. (7/12/13)

Steve McQueen in the Blob directed by Irwin S. Yeaworth Jr.

Movie Review
The Blob
d. Irwin S. Yeaworth Jr.
1958
Criterion Collection #91

  It's hard to really get into a groove with the Criterion Collection because the numerical sequence on the spine has no relationship to chronology, or really to anything, it just represents the order in which the films were released.  One aspect of the Criterion Collection is clearly to provide a solid DVD release for titles which haven't already gotten one.  Thus, the early part of the collection (1-100) is filled with older foreign movies and more recent American movies that are almost uniformly what you call "cult classics."

 One attribute of the Criterion Collection that I infer from the selection of titles available on Hulu Plus is that Criterion obtains different rights for different titles.  I get the sense for the more well distributed titles in the Criterion Collection that they only have the right to make the DVD- no permission to stream on line.  On the other hand for the more poorly distributed films they "own" the movie- and can do whatever they want.

  The Blob stars an unknown Steve McQueen as the hero- a borderline "delinquent" teen (in the tradition of James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause, and by "in the tradition" I mean "direct copy of the performance of;")
who is the only one who believes that their sleepy town is being terrorized by a gelatinous, slow moving Blob.

   As the description over at the Criterion Collection helpfully points out:  Strong performances and ingenious special effects help The Blob transcend the schlock sci-fi and youth delinquency genres from which it originates.  For me, the real joy is in how The Blob features as a cross over between sci fi and the "youth delinquency genre."  Were it not for the Criterion Collection, I never would have known the pleasures of this film.

Kwaidan (1965) d. Masaki Kobayashi (7/15/13)

Still from Kwaidan, this shows the Woman in White and the woodcutter


Kwaidan (1965)
d. Masaki Kobayashi
Criterion Collection #90

  This film is a compilation of four traditional Japanese ghost stories adapted for the big screen.  The source material are the writings of Lafcadio Hearn, a folklorist of Greek-Irish ancestry who emigrated to the United States and then moved to Japan n 1869.  There he adopted a Japanese name and became a citizen.  Each of the four tales centers around ghostly visitations.

  The first story "The Black Hair" is about a Samurai who leaves his wife in Kyoto because he can't make ends meet.  His second wife is a wealthy noblewoman, but he tires of her and returns to Kyoto where he experiences a full reconciliation with wife number one only to find upon waking up the next morning that she is a corpse.

  The second episode, "The Woman In White" concerns a hunter who sees a ghostly woman take the spirit of his friend when they are marrooned in the wilderness during a snow storm.  The spirit spares his life but makes him promise never to tell anyone about his experience.   Ten years later, he is happily married with three kids, when he tells his wife the story after thinking that she resembles the Woman in White.  As it turns out, he's married to the Woman in White and she is pissed off that he broke his promise.

 Hoichi the earless is about a talented blind musician who lives in a monastery.  One night he is visited by a spirit who summons him to serenade the spirits of a deceased royal lineage, in a grave yard.  When the temple priest finds out they explain that he needs to resist their calls the next time the spirit shows up, and they inscribe him with sacred text to make him invisible to the spirit...only they forgot the ears.  You can guess the rest.

  Although the narrative is not particularly moving, the director uses color like a painter, and it is hard not to stop the film just to appreciate the cinematography as one would a painting in a museum.  Unfortunately, Kwaidan is almost three hours long and it is a slow, slow, slow three hours.  I'm not saying I didn't appreciate it the film, but it took me three days to finish it up- watching one hour a day.

  The Criterion Collection has already been a brief education in Japanese cinema with literally dozens of films left to go.  I can't say that I've ever been interested in the subject of Japanese cinema but it appears that the Criterion Collection has decided that yes, I am interested in Japanese cinema.

Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto (1954) d. Hiroshi Inagaki (7/19/13)

Toshiro Mifune in Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto (1954)


Samurai I: Musashi Miyamoto (1954)
d. Hiroshi Inagaki
Volume One of the Samurai Trilogy
Spine #14

  As I mentioned the other day it's a mistake to think of streaming video as some kind of monolithic, unchanging edifice.  Not last month I wanted to watch Samurai I: Murashi Miyamoto because it has a low spine number and I was thwarted.  I went so far as to go to Amazon Instant Video and put it on my to watch list- but it would have cost four bucks.

  Then, in early July Hulu Plus updates the Criterion Interface and blammo- there is Samurai I: Murashi Miyamoto, staring me smack in the face.  It really makes me think I should watch all the Hulu Plus Crtierion Collection Titles with low spine numbers- there is something about the first 100 of any collection of titles that really sets the tone for the future.

  Soooo yeah... never thought I'd be one of those guys who watched Samurai movies but here I am.  The notable aspects of the Samurai trilogy are one) they are star making performances for Toshiro Mifune who is "the man" of 50s and 60s Samurai pictures and two) Musashi Miyamoto was a real dude who wrote a read-until-today book of Zen buddhist philosophy and military strategy.  Chapter 1 is about his awakening, during the film he is transformed from a wild eyed bandit to a zen buddhist master samurai thanks to the helpful guidance of a Buddhist monk, who does helpful things like hanging him from a tree for a week and locking him a prison cell with a library of books for three years.

  But at the end he walks out enlightened, so it is all worth it.  The depth of the spiritual awakening experienced by Miyamoto belies any facile "the Samurai movie is a Western" comparisons.  

Samurai II: Duel at Ichijoji Temple (1955) d. Hiroshi Inagaki (7/22/13)

Kaoru Yachigusa as Otsu


Samurai II: Duel at Ichijoji Temple (1955)
 d. Hiroshi Inagaki
Criterion Collection #15

  Yeah so there is a wikipedia entry for "Samurai cinema."  The Samurai trilogy by Hiroshi Inagaki was a critical part of the initial break out of the 1950s (despite the fact that Samurai films date back to 1925.)  The three films of the Samurai trilogy were 54, 55 and 56.  Kurosawa did Rashoman in 1950, Seven Samurai in 1954, and the Hidden Fortress in 1958.  That is quite a run.  Toshiro Mifune starred as the main character both in Inagaki's Samurai trilogy and most (all?) of Kurosawa's Samurai films.



































                 The films of the Samurai trilogy are perhaps not as sophisticated as Kurosawa's, but perhaps it is precisely their conventionality that is the key to their long term value.  Here we are looking at Samurai films that were hugely influential and successful in Japan itself- with everyone- not just film fanatics.  The Samurai trilogy were not brought to the United States until a decade plus later, so Inagaki has nothing on Kurosawa in America.

   Episode two of the trilogy finds Musashi Miyamoto as the noted Samurai,  juggling the affections of two women: Otsu and Akemi and also trying to best Seijuro Yoshioka and meeting his legendary rival Sasaki Kojiro (who is the focus of the third and concluding film.)
      So yeah, sword fights, posturing, women being treated with very little respect and tons and tons and tons of kimonos.  Is there a different word in Japanese for kimono when a dude is wearing one? Because these dudes are wearing kimono.

   Another fun fact about this time period is that the Japanese used small blocks of wood as their pillows.  Yes, they slept on small wooden blocks.  The more you know.

The 400 Blows (1959) d. François Truffaut (7/26/13)

Movie Review
The 400 Blows (1959)
d. François Truffaut
Criterion Collection #5

  The story I heard about the origin of The 400 Blows by François Truffaut is that Truffaut was a critic writing for the Parisian film criticism journal Cahiers du Cinema in the 1950s, when a film maker essentially challenged him in print by saying, "If you are so smart, why don't you make a movie."  And Truffaut made The 400 Blows in response, which many argue is the greatest movie of all time.

  That's enough to make you the top Artist/Critic cross-over of all time, especially if you include the fact that as a critic, Truffaut was part of the highly influential avant garde French New Wave, and then he became a leading film maker in the movement which followed the criticism... that he wrote.  Godard and Truffaut play an out-size role in the minds of 21st century avant gardes of all nations because they worked in the international medium of film.  The 400 Blows may require sub-titles for a non French teacher, but the cutting edge grammar/composition requires no translation, and The 400 Blows remains as fresh and dynamic today as it must have been in 1959.

  The 400 Blows is the first in a series of films Truffaut made about Antoine Doniel, played here by Jean Pierre Leaud.  Doniel would serve as Truffaut's filmic alter ego, and he figured prominently in a whole series of films which reportedly were inspired by Truffaut's actual life story.  In The 400 Blows it is Doniel as a child, going to school, embarking on a life of petty crime and eventually getting sent away to juvie and having his Mom tell him that she does't love him anymore.

  Although the subject matter is heavy, the film itself is anything but;  Truffaut dazzles with a variety of techniques that give eternal life to his story of a hard knock youth.  It is no wonder that The 400 Blows has such a low spine number within the Criterion Collection.  Indeed, one could say that The 400 Blows is a central reason why the Criterion Collection exists in the first place.

The Seventh Seal (1957) d. Ingmar Bergman (7/29/13)

Movie Review
The Seventh Seal (1957)
 d. Ingmar Bergman
Criterion Collection #11

   Finally, a Criterion Collection title streaming on Hulu Plus that comes with one the featurettes that are a hallmark of the Criterion Collection.  The extra is an afterword by Bergman expert Peter Cowie- about ten minutes long.  The Seventh Seal is one of those titles without which the Criterion Collection itself likely wouldn't exist.  Like The 400 Blows, The Seventh Seal helped to create the Audience for Art House Cinema in the United States.

  The idea of the a knight playing chess with death on a beach has been so deeply disseminated in American popular culture that I would bet there are tons of people who would be able to recognize that image and not know from whence it came.  This chess match opens the movie and throughout we see the Antonious Block (Max Von Sydow) dueling with Death on the chess board during quiet moments during his journey homeward.

  Cowie's video afterword notes that within Sweden Bergman was not as popular as he was outside Sweden because Swedes could actually understand the dialogue, and the dialogue was terrible.  Watching The Seventh Seal for the third or fourth time I tried to listen to the Swedish language dialogue to see I could hear what Cowie was talking about, but of course, I couldn't.

  Bergman is often stereotyped as being pretentious and dull but there is plenty going on in the Seventh Seal to keep the viewer interested.  In fact, I'd rather watch a Bergman films then a Fellini any day.  There, I said it.

Häxan (1922) d. Benjamin Christensen (8/2/13)

Movie Review
Häxan (1922)
d. Benjamin Christensen
Criterion Collection #134

  Häxan is a Danish film about witches and witch-craft, written with the idea of exposing the ridiculousness of medieval beliefs about witches.  While watching this movie I was thinking that it was made less then 30 years after 1895- which is where I'm at in the history of the Novel.  In other words, if Häxan was made in 2013, twenty seven years ago it would have been 1986.  I think it is fair to say that everyone recognizes the influence that Art in the 1980s has on Art today, so there surely was a similar relationship between Novels of the late 19th century and the developing medium of film.

     Häxan is interesting because it is more of a "documentary" then a narrative film, and the documentary is something that film essentially brought into literature as a separate art form.  Of course, non fiction books dwarf fiction/literature, but they have not been historically considered art/literature.  Documentary film, on the other hand, has an artistic status separate and apart from the narrative film, and is recognized as a distinct kind of film literature.

  Häxan is also interesting because it deals with witches and witch craft.  Christensen uses actual illustrations from actual medieval texts that strike pretty close to the pagan roots of witchcraft related beliefs.  Of course, in the 1920s, you couldn't talk about witches without talking about the devil, but it is clear today that witch type believes pre-dated Christianity and were hold overs from the Indo-European/pre Christian era.

 If you consider the "Witches Sabbath" a corner-stone ritual of witch craft trials in the Middle Europes, the description is basically a Dionysian revel of the type common to pre Christian culture with a Satanic spin thrown on top.  That connection is made very clear by the narrative portions of Häxan, where Christensen actually shoots a witches sabbath complete with a guy dressed up as the Devil.

  My take away from Häxan was simply to reinforce how utterly ridiculous religion and religious beliefs are at a basic level, and at how much harm they can do to vulnerable parts of the population.  Witches tended to be old, poor, marginalized women who had little or no voice in society.   They were inevitably easy targets, and almost by definition had no one to speak up for them.

  It is a sad chapter in history, though an interesting one, particularly if you focus on the links to pre-Christian/pan Indo European religious rituals.

Ivan the Terrible part 1 (1944) d. Sergei Eisenstein (8/7/13)

This still from Ivan the Terrible part 1 is a good example of the excellent use of shadow and general influence of German Expressionist films on Eisenstein



Ivan the Terrible part 1
1944
d. Sergei Eisenstein
Criterion Collection #86
Box Set, Eisentstein the Sound Years

  Russia is an interesting place.  I can't think of another place that has played such an outsize role in the cultural history of the West without developing into a Western market for Art products.    Russia is like a weird bizarro culture that has absorbed all the lessons of Western Art and Culture without becoming the west at all.

  Even if you compare Russia to Japan- the other major non-Western representative in the World Film Canon, they lag. For many cultural products Japan is the number three or even number two market, Russia is barely top 20. I think that's what makes Russian art so interesting.
Ivan the Terrible with his rival/vassal, the idiot Prince Vladimir

  Take Ivan the Terrible part 1.  Russian filmmaker Sergei Eisenstein is best known for his work in the silent era, where he helped to introduce the basics of film editing and grammar to the entire world.  In 1944 he was currying favor with dictator/genocidinaire Josef Stalin.  Stalin was a huge fan of Ivan the Terrible, and this film is clearly made with a Stalin pleasing agenda.

 Specifically, the meat of Part 1 concerns Ivan the Terrible's struggle to unify Russia over the opposition of the Boyars.  Bear in mind that Stalin had the analogous class in Soviet Russia brutally murdered- all of them- they were called the Kulaks.  Thus, watching Ivan the Terrible is probably similar to a viewing of Leni Rifenstahl's Triumph of the Will:  A good time at the movies, but raises uncomfortable questions about the intersection of film and totalitarianism.

 After all, if you look at the great Dictators of the 20th century: Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini- they all had a deep understanding and appreciation for the power of Cinema in modern life, but they were hardly going around promoting different novelists etc.   Movies are more powerful because you don't need to read to appreciate a movie- assuming that the technology has been disseminated, the Audience for film is essentially everyone vs. for a novel it's everyone who can read.

  Leaving aside the queasy making moral implications, Ivan the Terrible is a watchable film despite the mid 1940s creation date.  Part of this comes from Eisenstein's skill as a film maker- though his style seems closer the the German Expressionist films of Fritz Lang and FW Murnau then those of his early avant garde/silent period.  Eisentstein's use of shadows on the set really stand out in my mind.

  I should probably reveal at this point at least one of the other blogs that has attempted this same feat of watching all the Criterion Collection titles- the Criterion Contraption- authored by Matthew Dessem- did really thorough work on 1-118 before abandoning work in 2012 (probably got married? had a kid? realized the utter futility of existence in a meaningless world?) But his write ups are super duper thorough and contain a ton of stills- and his entry on this movie is worth a look because he shows all the different set ups that Eisentstein uses- they are quite striking.

  He talks so much about the movie though it makes me feel like I don't need to watch the movie itself.

Ivan the Terrible part 2 (1958) d. Sergei Eisenstein (8/9/13)

Movie Review
Ivan the Terrible, Part II
(1958)
 d. Sergei Eisenstein
Criterion  Collection #88

   A huge percentage of education is text selection and guided reading. Any traditional educational scenario involves drastic time constraints, requiring a maximum of attention focusing on the selected texts- whatever they may be.  As long as those texts remained primarily in book or paper copied format that represented a huge bottleneck in the path between individuals and education.  The nexus of teachers and texts in the field of education is something much darker and deeper then the analogous role that a major label plays in music or a  Hollywood studio plays in film.

   This didn't use to be the case.  Education was fairly dispersed among the population until the growth of the State Research University model that became popular in the mid 20th century. That the American state research university is fundamentally opposed to the diminution of their monopolist role in education is simple to demonstrate- why don't you try taking a look at the pan-Academic JSTOR database?  There is nothing free on JSTOR.  That hacker,  Aaaron Swartz who killed himself after being prosecuted in federal court in Massachusetts?  His theft was of these articles- and he was prosecuted by the database.

 Thus it behooves interested individuals to be interested in the liberation of foundational educational texts whatever the field of learning.  In the area of Literature, those texts are now available for free or close to it because of the long history of bringing those works to the market place in new formats created by advances in technology.

 I would argue that Hulu Plus/Criterion Collection collaboration is perhaps the most far reaching source for a specific area of education (literature/film studies), perhaps followed by the Gutenberg E Book project- or Gutenberg is first and Hulu Plus/Criterion is second.

  Ivan the Terrible part 2 is a fine, fine example of what this collaboration brings to the table.  Here we have a film that was commissioned by Josef Stalin, and shot by Sergei Eisentstein.  It was suppressed in Russia and didn't see the light of day until the end of the 1950s.  Because of the dramatic Cold War/Dictator glorifying nature of Ivan the Terrible parts 1 & 2, reception in the West was always going to be a dicey affair.

 So, the Criterion Collection/Hulu Plus arrangement began in February of 2011.  Then at some point, probably not on day one, Ivan the Terrible, part 2 was uploaded. Let's say mid 2012.  Before that moment, you could buy it on DVD or maybe see it in a film school somewhere if you took a course in Russian Cinema (and good luck with that, dear sir.)  The DVD was 30 bucks, and it was rare for video stores to carry even a single Criterion Collection title- remember the Criterion Collection section at Blockbuster? No?

 I would have never paid 30 bucks- let alone 60 for both- to watch these films, but now I'm so glad I did because in Part 2, Eisenstein dramatically switches from black and white to color and there is this the fucking bonkers dance scene- it's about 55 minutes into this Youtube video, and all of a sudden you realize why everyone compares this movie to a Disney movie. Ha! Win!  I like, sat up on my couch when this happened- I had no idea- so great.

Pygmalion (1938) d. Anthony Asquith and Leslie Howard (8/12/13)

Pygmalion (1938)
d. Anthony Asquith and Leslie Howard
Criterion Collection #85

  Yet another thoroughly enjoyable film I would have never, ever watched without the Criterion Collection on Hulu Plus.  This play by George Bernard Shaw is better known in America under the name My Fair Lady- which starred Audrey Hepburn as the woman/project at the heart of the film.

 However, this version was actually written by George Bernard Shaw himself and shows it.  The dialogue is sparkling- standing up to 80 years of subsequent film comedy.  The idea at the center of Pygmalion: that anyone can be trained to "pass" as something they are not, is a deep subject and one that continues to be relevant today.

   In this version, there is no dilution of Professor Henry Higgens' aggressive intellectualism.  He is a fervent apostle for the know-it-all style of early 20th century science- the attitude that intellectuals had before two World Wars shook their faith in the ability of humans to accomplish anything they wanted.  Eliza Doolittle, here played by Wendy Hiller is a Cockney flower girl from Covent Garden who Higgens takes under his wing to win a bet with noted Sanskrit expert Colonel Pickering.

 For me, it was Doolittle's initial cockney accent that was worth preserving- it is a true cinematic classic, like the voices I used to do with my ex wife when we wanted to poke fun at something unapologetically English.  As Henry Higgens, Leslie Howard is fantastic, he is an arrogant prick to be sure, but he's an arrogant prick who doesn't give a fuck about making waves in English society and that is a winning trait.

  Pre World War II English cinema is terra incognita on my cultural map and it is one of the areas where Criterion Collection is active.Pygmalion was very rewarding and easy to watch- it is recommended.
    
L'Avventura (1960) d. Michelangelo Antonioni (8/14/13)

L'Avventura (1960)
 d. Michelangelo Antonioni
Criterion Collection #98

  I think it is pretty commonly accepted that there is a well trodden path between the avant garde and canonical status in the world of Art.   Today's fringe Artist is tomorrow's Artist selling a work of art for twenty million dollars is next year's Artist being studied by students in school.

 The other main path to an Artistic canon is having a huge Audience for a specific work and then either initially generating or later generating critical acclaim to accompany the popularity.  Two main routes.  L'Avventura is an interesting case of Audience reception of a work that begins as Avant Garde and ends up Canonized.  Initially shown at Canned in 1960, the Audience booed and the Director and Star (Monica Vitti, va va va vooooom.) stormed out of the theater.  Then, as the story goes, the film was shown a second time and ended up winning the special jury prize.

  Watching L'Avventura today is like seeing what a half century of commercial art directors undoubtedly list as their favorite film.  Antonioni's sneaky assault of the grammar of film making up to that point caught the Audience- even a highly educated audience like the one at Cannes, off guard, and it maintains that ability to discomfort till today.  I had a rough time sitting through the whole film, though there were moments of beauty and of course Monica Vitti lights up the screen every time she does anything.

  On the whole though I would argue that L'Avventura is a dark path for film: characters standing around, gazing into the sea.  It's boring...on purpose, and that is a troubling development.  Worth seeing for Monica Vitti though.

Cries and Whispers (1972) d. Ingmar Bergman (8/16/13)


Liv Ullmann is smoking hot in Cries and Whispers (1972) d. Ingmar Bergman


Cries and Whispers (1972)
 d. Ingmar Bergman
Criterion Collection #101

  Couple of things I'm figuring out via the Criterion Collection.  First, if you want to break an art house picture in the US between 1960 and 1970 it helps if you cast a bombshell female in a leading role.  In L'Avventura it was Monica Vitti, here you've got Liv Ullmann looking divine.  God damn she is fine.  I could watch an hour and a half of her face.  Second, Ingmar Bergman makes watchable movies.  I enjoyed watching Cries and Whispers more then I enjoyed, say, Seven Samurai.   Cries and Whispers, in particular, resonated with me.

  Filmed in color- for once- Cries and Whispers is known and Bergman's most financially successful film.  It was also nominated for an Academy Award, oh and it features self mutilation of female genitalia decades before Lars Van Trier did it in Antichrist.  The plot of Cries & Whispers is minimal: Three sisters are together in an opulent house in the 19th century, two of them watching the third die a slow, painful death.  During the film the two watchful sisters are tormented by memories of the past- including the scene shocking self mutilation of female genitalia.

  After the third sister dies she returns to life for a spooky coda that leaves the other two sisters wondering, "Hey, what the fuck is going on here?"  Clocking in at 93 minutes it's eminently watchable and Bergman's use of color film-specifically his use of the color red- should remind contemporary viewers of the way David Lynch used the same color in Twin Peaks.


The Big City (1963)d. Satyajit Ray (8/19/13)


The Big City d. Satyajit Ray is out 8/20/13 in Criterion Collection edition.

Movie Review
The Big City (1963)
d. Satyajit Ray
Criterion Collection #668
Out August 20th, 2013

  Major epiphany this weekend when I realized I was going in the wrong direction vis a vis the Criterion Collection Spine numbers.  Obviously, there is more interest in the new releases vs. the back catalog DUH.  The Big City is actually coming out today, so this is literally a "new release" review.

  Of course, it's not a review of the Blu Ray DVD since I watched it on the Criterion Channel on Hulu Plus, but surely the day of the release of the Criterion Collection edition is the proper time for a blog post on the film itself.  Also being released today is another Satyajit Ray film, Charulata (1964.)  I don't think I'm being controversial by saying that Ray is by far the most famous Indian film maker outside of India.  Personally, I couldn't name another even though I have an above average level of knowledge about the history and cultures of India.

  Something specifically Indian to understand about Ray is his Bengali ethnicity. India is a majority Hindu speaking country.  Bengali is a separate language, different then Hindu, and speakers are concentrated in Eastern India and Bangladesh. In Bangladesh Bengali is THE language and Bengalis are the absolute majority.  Within India Bengali is the majority language in the state of West Bengal but is a minority language in the rest of India.   So the fact that the language of Ray's films is Bengali and Hindi is significant, somewhat analogous to a Quebecois film maker making a movie in French, or a Mexican-American film maker making a film in Spanish.

   The use of language in The Big City is worth pulling out of what is essentially an interesting but conventional "Woman in the work place" melodrama that grapples with issues familiar to any viewer of American movies and television of the 50s and 60s.  First of all, the characters themselves speak Bengali but will switch into and out of English when they want to use a phrase that is specific to the English language, "This is none of my business but...." for example.

Arati Mazumdar (the first role of Bollywood leading lady Madhabi Mukherjee)


































 
    One of the co-workers of the female star of the film, Arati Mazumdar (the first role of Bollywood leading lady Madhabi Mukherjee) is an Anglo-Indian, which is an actual ethnicity in India, the children of relationships between British workers (often Scottish and Irish industrial workers)  and Indians.   These Anglo-Indians were citizens of India, but spoke English as their first language- despite having no history in England or outside of India.  They were not typically "Upper Class" since the parentage often stemmed from working class relationships. In The Big City, the Anglo Indian character is named Edith, and she speaks to Arati in English, and Arati answers in Bengali.

  In one scene, Arati goes to Edith's apartment and meets her Mother, and Anglo looking woman who speaks her English with a heavy and distinct "Indian" accent.  It is Arati's defense of this Anglo-Indian friend that cues the ultimate resolution at the end of the film, so the appearance is hardly a throw-away.

 Ray was supposedly inspired to take up Film after seeing the Italian neo-realist film The Bicycle Thief on a visit to London, so it is no surprise that The Big City has a distinctly realist feel. There's none of the cartoonish song and dance routines that exist in the minds of Westerners as a Bollywood stereotype.

  That being said, I actually lived with a guy from India who was from West Bengal and he endlessly watched Bollywood films and they were all of the song and dance variety- he didn't have any Ray films. The Criterion Collection description of the new release says that the English subtitles are new to this edition.  I would argue that it is the use of language by Ray in this film that is the most interesting aspect.  That, and the performance of Mukherjee who fairly sparkles with her expressive face and mannerisms.   In almost every scene I found myself thinking that she was really nailing the complicated role. 

Charulata (1964) d. Satyajit Ray (8/21/13)



Madhabi Mukherjee, screen goddess of India

Movie Review
Charulata (1964)
 d. Satyajit Ray
Criterion Collection #669
Release Date: August 20th, 2013

  This is the second of two Satyajit Ray classics that Criterion Collection is releasing this week.  The other film is The Big City, which was released in 1963. Where The Big City was a film about a contemporary issue, "women in the workplace;"  Charulata is a period piece set in the 1870s. Shailen Mukherjee plays Bhupati, a wealthy, liberal newspaper owner who is obsessed with politics.  Madhabi Mukherjee plays his bored wife. the Charulata of the title.  If this were a Western film you would expect adultery to ensue, but this Indian film in released in 1964 is about as tame as you would expect from a hypothetical movie shot in the 1850s.

  The plot of Charulata revolves around the heroine's efforts to free her soul from the monotony of existence by writing.  It's impossible to understand Charulata without at least knowing that the Bengali Renaissance was a spiritual/political/artistic movement that swept Bengal in the 19th century, that the film maker, Satyajit Ray, was from a family that was part of this movement, and that the characters in Charulata also represent individuals from this movement.

  Like The Big City, the Bengali-ness of the film is obviously a topic near and dear to the heart of Satyajit Ray.  At the same time Ray's subtle, neo-realism influenced style belies the national/ethnic emphasis and creates something that is more universal.  Other then the language spoken by the characters, Charulata has a plot that wouldn't be out of place in an English Victorian novel from the 19th century.

   Charulata has a gentle touch and has none of the edginess or existentialist influence that characterize so much of Auteur type cinema from the the mid to late 20th century, but at the same time it is impossible to deny Ray his well earned Auteur status.  Despite the clunky, retro plot I found myself transfixed by Charulata in much the same way I was transfixed by The Big City.  There is something about seeing Indian society so well described that I find it impossible to look away.  I just want to drink it all in.

Cronos (1993) d. Guillermo del Toro (8/30/13)

Movie Review
Cronos (1993)
d. Guillermo del Toro
Criterion Collection #551
Uploaded to Criterion Collection Hulu Streaming on August 26th, 2013.

  One of the many cool things about Criterion Collection/Hulu Plus is that they pop a new movie up every single day.  Not all of them are Criterion Collection titles proper, but every so often you get a big score.  Such was the case earlier this week when Guillermo del Toro's first feature, Cronos, went up- along with multiple of the DVD extras.

  It's clear to me now that one of the things Criterion Collection does is advocate on behalf of some directors who are arguably Auteurs.  They are clearly all in on Guillermo del Toro, having now given two of his films the Criterion Collection treatment.  The other film is The Devil's Backbone.  That films recent release was probably the impetus for Cronos being uploaded this week.

  If you watch the included DVD extras, you can see the case being made for del Toro as an Auteur.  Particularly compelling in that regard is the included interview with Director of Photography Guillermo Navarro, who describes the young del Toro as having "everything ready to go" before production even started.  He also discusses how del Toro, working in Guadalajara Mexico, designed his own special effects because there was no one else to do it.

  I've been a del Toro fan from the drop.  I remember watching a regular old VHS version of Cronos back in the 1990s, and I positively leapt at the chance to interview del Toro when he was doing press for the regrettable flop Mimic (starring Mira Sorvino!)  Of course, it was Pan's Labyrinth (2006) that really brought him to the attention of the Hollywood elite and then there are a handful of mass market films: Blade II, Hellboy I and II and Pacific Rim from this summer.

  In his own interview that is included in the Hulu Plus stream package, del Toro discusses how all of the themes from his later work are present in his first feature, and how that's how he wanted it to be- to have everything from his universe present in the first film.  Particularly germane to his later success is his connection to the dark side of a fairy tale- how a child can be a part of a dark story (Cronos is about Vampires) and still infuse the proceedings with a gentleness that belies the subject matter.

  He also discusses how he likes "sad monsters" and uses the example from this film of the vampire from Cronos, Jesus Gris (played by Argentinian actor Federico Luppi) licking up blood for the bathroom floor.  It's true, you can't get sadder then that.  The jury is still out on del Toro as an Auteur. Methinks he needs a little less Pacific Rim and a little more Pan's Labyrinth, but it is still too soon to judge.  I'm sure there will be more personal films like Cronos, The Devil's Backbone and Pan's Labyrinth in the future, intermixed with his more predictable genre exercises.  Personally, I liked Pacific Rim.


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