Whispering City (Fyodor Otsep, 1947) is the English language version of La forteresse produced simultaneously by the same crew. Ostep is a Russian expat. The main actors in Whispering City are American, but the rest are French-Canadian. Many reviews claim that the French version is much better, but I have not yet seen it.
It is a peculiar movie. It appears to me to be feeding off of conventions of Hollywood genre cinema, but gets them mixed up. The majority of the film, including the premise, is very much rooted in the Film Noir tradition. It tries its best to use as much Noir iconography as possible (decanted liquor, cigarettes, hats, guns, etc..).
Some important aspects of the Film Noir are missing. There is no 'femme fatale'. Instead, the witty, fast-talking, news reporter main female character, Mary Roberts (Mary Anderson) seems to be pulled straight from a screwball comedy (à la His Girl Friday [Howard Hawks, 1940]). There is some use of light/shadow, but very little. There is no real sense of claustrophobic spaces. The concept of the 'mean streets of the urban city' is underplayed by the picturesque location of Québec City.
There are some scenes that work extremely well, and make for a compelling story. There are other though, that seem so contrived, and make such an attempt to be 'Hollywood' that they are merely laughable. It is an entertaining film, that may leave a viewer that is conscious of Hollywood conventions, and that this film was made in Canada chuckling.
10 February 2010
09 February 2010
In Bruges (McDanagh, 2008)
Martin McDonagh's 2008 film, In Bruges feels a little like a poorly made Hollywood hit-man or buddy flick, but is much more. The coarsely offensive dialogue, and painfully contrived action sequences (which garner zero attention from law enforcement) act as evidence of the absurdity of life in the existential character study.
After a job goes wrong, and a young boy gets killed by Ray's (Colin Farrell) stray gunfire, Ray and his older, calmer partner Ken (Brendan Gleeson) are sent to the purgatory-on-Earth that is Bruges, Belgium. It is not too surprising that a British film about two Irishmen would have such strong religious overtones. While they are not religious men, they are searching for the meaning of life. Through all of the absurdity they encounter, Ray begins to believe there is no meaning and that there is nothing to live for, especially after killing a child. Ken seems to take the side that there may not be something inherently meaningful in life, it is what you do with it that counts.
Ray's interest in the film set is a meta-filmic reminder that the world he is in is, in fact, fiction. Through the people he meets on set, Chloe (Clémence Poésy) and Jimmy (Jordan Prentice), he is brought into an entirely ridiculous world of drugs, racism, prostitution, and criminal on criminal violence. Even when it seems as if he has made it out of Bruges, and moved onto salvation, the first and only sign of law enforcement removes him from his train for a scuffle in a restaurant with a 'Canadian'. His absurdity comes to a climax when, after being shot he stumbles back onto the film set and does not recognize it as such and literally enters into a "fairytale".
Ken's attempt to save Ray by sacrificing himself to warn him and provide a weapon for his protection is ultimately in vain. Ken attempts to, after all of the bad things he has done, do something to help someone, thereby giving meaning to his life. He is not so much a Christ figure, as another victim of this existential tragedy.
After a job goes wrong, and a young boy gets killed by Ray's (Colin Farrell) stray gunfire, Ray and his older, calmer partner Ken (Brendan Gleeson) are sent to the purgatory-on-Earth that is Bruges, Belgium. It is not too surprising that a British film about two Irishmen would have such strong religious overtones. While they are not religious men, they are searching for the meaning of life. Through all of the absurdity they encounter, Ray begins to believe there is no meaning and that there is nothing to live for, especially after killing a child. Ken seems to take the side that there may not be something inherently meaningful in life, it is what you do with it that counts.
Ray's interest in the film set is a meta-filmic reminder that the world he is in is, in fact, fiction. Through the people he meets on set, Chloe (Clémence Poésy) and Jimmy (Jordan Prentice), he is brought into an entirely ridiculous world of drugs, racism, prostitution, and criminal on criminal violence. Even when it seems as if he has made it out of Bruges, and moved onto salvation, the first and only sign of law enforcement removes him from his train for a scuffle in a restaurant with a 'Canadian'. His absurdity comes to a climax when, after being shot he stumbles back onto the film set and does not recognize it as such and literally enters into a "fairytale".
Ken's attempt to save Ray by sacrificing himself to warn him and provide a weapon for his protection is ultimately in vain. Ken attempts to, after all of the bad things he has done, do something to help someone, thereby giving meaning to his life. He is not so much a Christ figure, as another victim of this existential tragedy.
Sexy Beast (Glazer, 2000)
In many ways, Sexy Beast (Jonathan Glazer, 2000) is a standard 'heist' film. There is a place containing an abundance of valuable material, but has the best security system. The boss wants to pull together a team of all-star burglars to do the job. Our protagonist is the retired veteran that the whole plan hinges on. In reality though, it is much different. Sexy Beast not only plays with the conventions of the heist film, it incorporates stylistic techniques that are completely foreign to the genre.
Glazer uses flashback to fill in the background for much of the story, which opens after Gary 'Gal' Dove (Ray Winstone) has retired to a fantasy-like Spanish villa. This technique is not new to the heist film, but does stir up the story, revealing crucial information to the audience in small bite-sized doses. We even cut away from scenes before the climax and get the rest of the information through flashback, such as the last few moments of the super-disturbed Don Logan (Ben Kingsley).
A more uncommon stylistic choice is the use of fantastic or elements that are do not fit in our world. The most notable of these elements is the recurrence of the demented rabbit figure that haunts Gal and eventually is damned to eternity with Don underneath Gal's pool. This creature, which puzzlingly bears more than a striking resemblance to 'Frank' from Richard Kelly's film from the same year, Donnie Darko, does not seem to exist strictly in a 'dream' world. The final shot that takes us underneath the repaired broken heart at the bottom of the pool, while revealing the Dove families proverbial skeletons in the closet, also suggests that the rabbit is more of a living symbol than a dream fantasy. The rabbit figure seems to represent many things in this film, including innocence, secrets, lies and guilt.
Glazer uses flashback to fill in the background for much of the story, which opens after Gary 'Gal' Dove (Ray Winstone) has retired to a fantasy-like Spanish villa. This technique is not new to the heist film, but does stir up the story, revealing crucial information to the audience in small bite-sized doses. We even cut away from scenes before the climax and get the rest of the information through flashback, such as the last few moments of the super-disturbed Don Logan (Ben Kingsley).
A more uncommon stylistic choice is the use of fantastic or elements that are do not fit in our world. The most notable of these elements is the recurrence of the demented rabbit figure that haunts Gal and eventually is damned to eternity with Don underneath Gal's pool. This creature, which puzzlingly bears more than a striking resemblance to 'Frank' from Richard Kelly's film from the same year, Donnie Darko, does not seem to exist strictly in a 'dream' world. The final shot that takes us underneath the repaired broken heart at the bottom of the pool, while revealing the Dove families proverbial skeletons in the closet, also suggests that the rabbit is more of a living symbol than a dream fantasy. The rabbit figure seems to represent many things in this film, including innocence, secrets, lies and guilt.
07 February 2010
Alice in Wonderland (Geronimi, Jackson, Luske, 1951)
Wandering through the stacks at UBC's Walter C. Koerner library a few months ago, a title caught my eye. I was not reading a book at the time, so I decided to grab it. Once I had finished Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland I had to go back to see the Disney film, Alice in Wonderland (Clyde Geronimi, Wilfred Jackson, Hamilton Luske, 1951)
Upon watching the film, I was disappointed to find out that it takes episodes from both the aforementioned novel, as well as Carroll's other Alice story, Through the Looking-Glass. There are several adventures that I rather enjoyed from the novel that are left out as well, such as the flood in the room with the table and the locked door or her encounter with the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon.
The film takes instances from two stories and weaves them into a wonderful story all its own. It does not quite tackle the existential turmoil that Alice experiences in the book, nor does it contain the play with words or science to the extent that Carroll does. It does not leave these out completely though. Along with the beautiful animation and score Alice in Wonderland stays true to Carroll's work as well as making it truly Disney (and not in a bad way).
03 February 2010
Gates of Heaven (Morris, 1978)
Errol Morris' directorial debut Gates of Heaven (1978) is a peculiar documentary concerning pet cemeteries, and the people associated with them. It starts out introducing a man whose life long dream is to open a pet cemetery, because when he was young he buried his dog in a beautiful place on his property, and then buried the neighbor's dog there as well. He believed that people's animals deserve a proper burial because of the love they give to their 'masters'.
Floyd and his buddies tell the story of the cemetery that they put together, and how it was shut down. The film then moves from where these guys are in the south SF bay area to Napa, California where there is another pet cemetery. We get interviews with various people involved with this one.
Gates does not seem to have a clear thesis, or even focus. It feels exploratory more than anything. It is, more than anything, a very clear beginning to Errol Morris' filmmaking style.
The interviews are very 'real'. When interviewees are talking, it is not clear what the question they are answering is. It seems really as if there was no question at all, that Morris just turned on the camera and let these people speak. In this way we get what feels like moments of 'truth' the way film rarely can capture.
In one interview there is an old woman who begins talking about her dog that was buried in the cemetery, but soon begins talking about her life in general. With no cuts we watch this woman essentially rambling about her experiences for several minutes. She is not answering guiding questions, she is speaking from her heart. In a moment of absolute reality, a car starts off-screen and startles the woman. We see a completely honest reaction to an actual event in the context of a set-up interview.
Morris uses people's own words to construct a film that has a topic, but is ultimately about human beings. We hear people's thoughts on love and the nature of the human-pet relationship. We also hear about people's own passions, philosophies and goals, apart from their pets. It is a look into true human emotions.
Floyd and his buddies tell the story of the cemetery that they put together, and how it was shut down. The film then moves from where these guys are in the south SF bay area to Napa, California where there is another pet cemetery. We get interviews with various people involved with this one.
Gates does not seem to have a clear thesis, or even focus. It feels exploratory more than anything. It is, more than anything, a very clear beginning to Errol Morris' filmmaking style.
The interviews are very 'real'. When interviewees are talking, it is not clear what the question they are answering is. It seems really as if there was no question at all, that Morris just turned on the camera and let these people speak. In this way we get what feels like moments of 'truth' the way film rarely can capture.
In one interview there is an old woman who begins talking about her dog that was buried in the cemetery, but soon begins talking about her life in general. With no cuts we watch this woman essentially rambling about her experiences for several minutes. She is not answering guiding questions, she is speaking from her heart. In a moment of absolute reality, a car starts off-screen and startles the woman. We see a completely honest reaction to an actual event in the context of a set-up interview.
Morris uses people's own words to construct a film that has a topic, but is ultimately about human beings. We hear people's thoughts on love and the nature of the human-pet relationship. We also hear about people's own passions, philosophies and goals, apart from their pets. It is a look into true human emotions.
02 February 2010
The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen) (Donnersmarck, 2006)
Sound is an extremely important component to Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's 2006 film, The Lives of Others. We learn crucial plot points through sound. The musical score gives clues and guides the viewer. Sound even becomes a major theme around which the story hinges.
Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) is doing surveillance for East Germany's secret police, and spends his life
listening. He moves his gear in above writer Georg Dreyman's (Sebastian Koch) apartment in order to find out if he has any ties to West Germany. He pieces together the story of Dreyman's life through what he hears hidden microphones and phone taps. Dreyman believes that he and his friends have a freedom to speak in his apartment, but their voices betray them through Wiesler's eavesdropping.
Music also plays a large role in the film. The title of a musical piece "Sonata of a Good Man" later becomes the name of a book Dreyman writes. The music lifts the spirts of Dreyman, and even Wiesler through the wires. Dreyman quotes Lenin in regards to music as saying if he listened to music he would not be able to finish the revolution. Art, whether it be drama, literature, or music can change people. Things that are inherently good inside people are brought out by art.
The 'Stasi' big brother tactics rely on recording of sound to serve as incriminating evidence. Along with Wiesler, we learn things about about Dreyman and his wife, Christa-Maria Sieland through their voices. Donnersmarck does give the audience the privledge of seeing as well as hearing much of the time, but the aspect of the importance of sound is never down-played.
Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) is doing surveillance for East Germany's secret police, and spends his life
listening. He moves his gear in above writer Georg Dreyman's (Sebastian Koch) apartment in order to find out if he has any ties to West Germany. He pieces together the story of Dreyman's life through what he hears hidden microphones and phone taps. Dreyman believes that he and his friends have a freedom to speak in his apartment, but their voices betray them through Wiesler's eavesdropping.
Music also plays a large role in the film. The title of a musical piece "Sonata of a Good Man" later becomes the name of a book Dreyman writes. The music lifts the spirts of Dreyman, and even Wiesler through the wires. Dreyman quotes Lenin in regards to music as saying if he listened to music he would not be able to finish the revolution. Art, whether it be drama, literature, or music can change people. Things that are inherently good inside people are brought out by art.
The 'Stasi' big brother tactics rely on recording of sound to serve as incriminating evidence. Along with Wiesler, we learn things about about Dreyman and his wife, Christa-Maria Sieland through their voices. Donnersmarck does give the audience the privledge of seeing as well as hearing much of the time, but the aspect of the importance of sound is never down-played.
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile) (Mungiu, 2007)
4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Cristian Mungiu, 2007) displays extraordinarily simple cinematography and editing. This brings the audience much closer to the characters, and lets an already extremely tense situation speak for itself. More complicated camera work and editing might distract from the raw emotional impact of this film.
The camera in this film is most often either sitting still or following Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) in an anxious, hand-held fashion. Both of these give a sense of immediacy to the situation, especially the shaky hand-held shots. This story takes place in the span of one day, and quite a bit happens in these young girls' lives. There is no time for tracking or cranes.
The story does not follow a girl who is having an abortion, or the doctor performing it, it follows the girl's friend who is helping her. This is reflected in the stationary shots. Much like Otilia, we do a lot of sitting and watching. These kinds of shots can also convey a sense of contemplation. There are hard decisions made in this film, and we are able to see the characters making them.
The editing is equally as simple and possibly more effective. There are so few cuts in this film it is astounding. Shots are regularly held for minutes. This truly gives a sense of the tension involved in this story. At the dinner table at Adi's house we get one long take of Otilia becoming more and more anxious. She is preoccupied with helping Gabriela and what she had to do for her, her relationship with Adi and the quarrel over Otilia's comparatively insignificant act of leaving the party before his mother serves the meringue, and having to listen to Adi's upper class family defame the social class of her upbringing.
Through extremely simple cinematography and editing, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days takes a microcosmic look at intense issues of oppressive government and class struggles in a post Cold War Romania. Rather than learn about these issues through a preachy message, we see how the characters are forced to deal with them in one harrowing day.
The camera in this film is most often either sitting still or following Otilia (Anamaria Marinca) in an anxious, hand-held fashion. Both of these give a sense of immediacy to the situation, especially the shaky hand-held shots. This story takes place in the span of one day, and quite a bit happens in these young girls' lives. There is no time for tracking or cranes.
The story does not follow a girl who is having an abortion, or the doctor performing it, it follows the girl's friend who is helping her. This is reflected in the stationary shots. Much like Otilia, we do a lot of sitting and watching. These kinds of shots can also convey a sense of contemplation. There are hard decisions made in this film, and we are able to see the characters making them.
The editing is equally as simple and possibly more effective. There are so few cuts in this film it is astounding. Shots are regularly held for minutes. This truly gives a sense of the tension involved in this story. At the dinner table at Adi's house we get one long take of Otilia becoming more and more anxious. She is preoccupied with helping Gabriela and what she had to do for her, her relationship with Adi and the quarrel over Otilia's comparatively insignificant act of leaving the party before his mother serves the meringue, and having to listen to Adi's upper class family defame the social class of her upbringing.
Through extremely simple cinematography and editing, 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days takes a microcosmic look at intense issues of oppressive government and class struggles in a post Cold War Romania. Rather than learn about these issues through a preachy message, we see how the characters are forced to deal with them in one harrowing day.
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