Movies: The Official "Movie of the Week" Club Thread II

[kihei]

I went through the same thing. Saw Rififi first. Assumed he was French. Later found out he wasn't.

The funny thing is that I always thought he was Greek. Don't ask me why.

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

Night and the City is as good as any as an example of film noir, illustrating the corruption, desperation and cynicism of life in the shadows of the underworld. But there is one good guy, we see him briefly in a framed photo on a shelf--Harry Fabian and his wife Mary in a rowboat, possibly their honeymoon. But that photo was shot in daylight, on a lake. And this movie takes place at night. In the city. They're a world away from where (and who) they want to be.

Harry is a hustler and con man, and seems to be a good one too. Opportunities are all around him and he has a natural gift for deceit. He has his role in the criminal underworld but unlike the cab drivers and doormen, who have a legit presence even if they're in on the con, he wants more. So he tries to scam one of the top scammers in the city, the wrestling promoter Kristo. Not only that, Fabian's play (any relation to Kay Fabian?) will expose Kristo's scam by bringing integrity and competition back to the sport with Gregorious, a legendary wrestler who believes the bear hug to be an art form, as his ally. For a while he really does have it all in the palm of his hand. But live by the sword, die by the sword.

I also saw a lot of The Third Man in this movie, but then many films of the era had this noir style. A more surprising comparable is De Sica's Bicycle Thieves, where an unsympathetic protaganist goes up against the criminal underworld and discovers that the whole world, it seems, is crooked. In Night And The City even the crippled beggers aren't really crippled. Both films secure the audience's sympathy through a supporting character, the cute little kid in Bicycle Thieves, a wholesome, pure-hearted wife in Night And The City.

 

[kihei]

The Lion in Winter (11968) Directed by Anthony Harvey

There is a grand theatrical tradition in movies and The Lion in Winter is a prime example of it. This tradition goes back to the dawn of cinema when early in the silent era movies were little more than filmed stage plays. Though the camera learned to move and the benefits of editing soon emerged, film has owed theatre a debt of long standing. Every now and then, film returns to its early roots, and a big, successful West End or Broadway play finds its way to the screen transformed into a lavish and prestigious movie. Think A Streetcar Named Desire; A Man for All Seasons; Becket; Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, and so on. All these movies have great dialogue going for them in a big way and such works very often attract actors with a background in theatre. In fact, it sometimes seems like such movies provide evidence of how classically-trained Shakespearean actors spend their time in the off-season.

Even by theatrical standards, The Lion in Winter relies heavily on language because there is not much of a plot. Set in late 12th century England, King Henry II (Peter O'Toole) has allowed his banished Queen, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Katharine Hepburn), out of exile to celebrate the Christmas season and to be at Court during the visit of the young French King Phillip (Timothy Dalton, looking like he stepped off of a playing card). Also she will be briefly reunited with Henry and her three remaining sons, Richard (a young Anthony Hopkins), Geoffrey and John, all of whom seek the throne though each is unsuited for the honour in his own way. The plot simply deals with massive amounts of court intrigue of the talky kind and endless family squabbles that have people saying really nasty things to one another one moment and then professing their undying love for one another the next. There are two issues at hand; the sons jockey for position to succeed Henry, sometimes with their mother's support, often not, and, as well, a deal must be struck with Phillip to prevent war. In the latter instance, striking a deal with Phillip is just Henry's idea of fun. He relishes doing this sort of thing, and is far older and far better at royal negotiations than the inexperienced French King who nonetheless has a few arrows in his quiver that Henry will not see coming.

In lieu of action, we have Peter O'Toole and the great Katharine Hepburn sparring with one another. Although O'Toole is the Abbey Theatre of Dublin trained actor, Hepburn has absolutely no trouble whatsoever holding her own in all of their many scenes. For O'Toole it is the second time that he has played Henry II on screen in four years, the earlier film being Becket (1964) with Richard Burton as his principle sidekick. His Henry here is an extension of his Henry there: confident to the point of arrogance, intelligent, ready and willing to be unscrupulous, kingly in command and dangerous to cross, though with moments of tenderness and self-deprecating humour. Hepburn plays Eleanor as an old dowager, languishing in exile, trotted out for Christmas each year, age having dulled her once potent charms. Yet she is as intelligent and unscrupulous as her estranged husband, willing to do anything to get her way. Hepburn is magnificent--she practically wallows in her wrinkles. In fact there are some scenes that emphasize her relative decrepitude that must have been difficult to play. However, she never lets her ego get in the way of her performance.

The play is middle-brow fun as it is full of zippy one-liners and gives everybody ample opportunities to chew up lots and lots of scenery. O'Toole periodically bellows as only he can whereas Hepburn's stock in trade is more the acidic one liner. The movie is filled with playful anachronisms--"It's 1183 and we're still barbarians."; "What family doesn't have their ups and downs?", et al--that guarantee easy laughs. It takes a while to realize that at the end of the movie not much has changed in this world at all, which tends to underscore the fact that The Lion in Winter is an actors' showcase rather than a great or even very good play. Still, no complaints on my part. Watching Hepburn and O'Toole display their vast talents in such entertaining fashion is pleasure enough for me.

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

Looking for that perfect holiday gift for the family? How about a set of knives to stab each other in the backs with? Such is The Lion In Winter. Set during Christmastime 1183 in the court of Henry II, who has placed his mistress Alais on the shelf in order to bring conniving Queen B Eleanor out of mothballs and settle on a plan of succession. He has three sons from which to choose but he and the Mrs can't agree on which. There's mama's boy Richard, full of repressed rage and other repressed things, middle son Geoffrey, a smarmy upperclassman and the brains of the operation, he is the favourite of neither parent and seems to be out of the running simply because they know how much it pisses him off, and finally John, a loutish dimwitted teenage punk. Modern audiences will easily recognize their type. This sets up so much scheming, dealing, and allying that I lost track of which were phony and which if any were sincere. But that's half the fun. It's like a medieval episode of Survivor.

It is basically a caustic family drama; though they share the castle with various peasants, chickens and dogs, the movie doesn't really involve anyone outside of this family. While in reality we'd expect a royal court to involve a small army of servants, ladies in waiting, officials, diplomats, etc., they're keeping this Christmas a small intimate family affair. Not even a jester. Oh right, the King of France-- a wild card in all the strategizing--is in the house too, also without any entourage, it seems he just shows up like the neighbour kid who's always hanging around.

The Lion In Winter is an actor's movie with a high quotient of quotable quotes: the dialogue is full of snappy one-liners and comebacks, with the occasional strikingly vivid phrase…"he came from Paris with the mind of Aristotle and the form of mortal sin, we shattered the commandments on the spot"--among mostly cringeworthy or laughable quips--"she chewed with real distinction"..."you're a stinker and you stink"..."I know you know I know, Henry knows, and Henry knows we know." All these bon mots are delivered with relish as if they were written by Shakespeare, but then Peter O'Toole and Katherine Hepburn could read the phone book and it would sound magnificent.

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

Next pick will be Kirsten Johnson's Cameraperson.

 

[kihei]

If anybody is having trouble finding the movie, there is a good copy of Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors on youtube with English subs.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

The Lion in Winter
Harvey (1968)
“Henry, I have a confession — I don’t much like our children.”

Christmas Eve, 1183. Henry II is aging and ready to name an heir. He shares his predicament with his mistress (also, the sister of King Phillip of France who is on his way for a visit not to mention a potential betrothal to one of Henry’s three sons). He also lets his feelings about his wife Eleanor of Aquitaine clear. I believe “Medusa” and “bitch” are mentioned within just a few scant sentences. She’s been locked up for a decade after supporting another son in an attempted coup. She too is on her way to the castle for the holiday. There might be some hard feelings there. This is shaping up just like all those cheesy American-dysfunctional-family-gathers-at-the-holidays-and-comes-to-an-awkward-understanding-about-each-other sorta flicks. But with swords! And live chickens! Of his three son’s, Henry’s preferred choice is slack-jawed John, his clear favorite, obviously the least threatening and least capable it is probably worth noting. There’s also Robert and his brilliant military mind and Geoffrey who might be the shrewdest of the bunch. Schemes and plots and deals abound. Who wants what and why? Alliances form and crumble. Understandings seem to be met only to be revealed as cruel jokes. Nary a drop of blood is shed (save for one poor anonymous guard) but it feels as if violence could lunge out at any moment (maybe from behind one of those tapestries ...). In the end though, despite all his bluster, Henry can neither keep his children jailed nor can he kill them. Henry and Eleanor laugh and bid their goodbyes, back to the corners in which they began this little drama. Both Richard and John would eventually be king.

This, Beckett, A Man for All Seasons, etc. ... anything old and British and talky, kinda pseudo-Shakesepeare are things I’ve never much had interest in despite the talent often involved. I don’t have a good reason for this. I love Shakespeare and have nothing against this era of history of film. I love actors just going at it with gusto. But I’ve never seen any of those movies. It isn’t an aversion, but it has never been an interest either. I did not know what I was missing. The Lion in Winter was an absolute delight. I give high marks to most of the cast including a young Anthony Hopkins and an even younger Timothy Dalton (my thought process: WAIT, THIS IS 69? HOW OLD IS TIMOTHY DALTON???? The answer is 71, which makes me feel old), but the entree in this delectable meal is Peter O’Toole vs. Katherine Hepburn who devour every bit of dialogue as if it is their last meal and proceed to shred each other with their words for about two hours. It’s like Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? But with swords! And live chickens! And to top it all off, in the end there is a pointed message about parents reaping what they sew when it comes to their children. Despite Henry’s triumphs, he’s left with line of succession mess of his own, cold, neglectful creation.

The only complaint on the acting front is Nigel Terry’s John. In a movie with a lot of actorly bombast, I found his doofus act a bit much. Only afterward did I learn that the real John is the one often fictionalized equally unflatteringly in the Robin Hood tales. Well, the ending struck me a bit funny too. Wait, what? They just laugh at each other and are basically like, shrug, “this crraaaayyyzy family!” Caught me a bit off guard.

 

[kihei]

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (1965) Directed by Sergei Parajanov

When I saw Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors for the first time, some time in the mid-‘70s, the movie was like nothing that I had ever seen before. Forty plus years later, I still haven’t seen anything quite like it. Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors doesn’t seem like a reference to folk art; rather it seems like a genuine piece of folk art that has been rendered in cinematic form. The story plays like a sad fable about lost love. After the murder of his father, Ivan finds his life transformed by his love for childhood sweetheart Marischka, a love she fully returns. Their innocence is such that when they first meet as children their bond is immediate and their first impulse is to take off their clothes and splash about in a river. However, their families are mortal enemies as Marischka’s father has murdered Ivan’s dad who, to be fair, had murder on his mind, too.

Later when Ivan is away trying to make a life for himself as a young man, Marischka faithfully waits for him back home. But an attempt to rescue a lamb ends in her death by drowning. Ivan continues on with his life, tries to start a family, but it is clear that he has never recovered from the loss of his soulmate. In the end after losing one last battle, he stumbles into the spooky woods still haunted by memories of his beloved. And it turns out that she still waits for him as well. Their reunion may be the sweetest of dreams or the stuff of nightmares. A solitary scream is ambiguous.

The story is direct and tragic, but not so simple that it doesn’t include references to two of Shakespeare’s greatest tragedies Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet. The star-crossed lovers’ reference from Romeo and Juliet is obvious; however, the Hamlet reference is a little more subtle. Ivan, like Hamlet throughout most of that play, fails to take revenge on the murder of his father. Given his feeling for Marischka, vengeance is impossible. But ironically Marischka suffers essentially the same fate as Ophelia in Hamlet, death by drowning. After this unexpected and untimely death, like Hamlet, Ivan is at a loss about what to do next with his life. To underscore the Hamlet reference, there is even a brief grave digging sequence in a cemetery for good measure.

But what makes this story memorable is not its classical references, but how the movie seems like a relic from a 19th century Carpathian folk culture. There is very little direct dialogue in the film. Much of the time we see images of Ivan walking around or keeping busy while we listen to the conversations of bystanders who are talking about him. Most of the information we get is hearsay, spoken by gossiping villagers whom we don’t know how far to trust. Meanwhile the images look rough, rudimentary, yet strangely beautiful, occasionally even dreamy. This is accomplished by both risky choices on the part of the director (who never met a camera lens that he didn't want to try) and by some inspired decisions that look amateurish but probably aren’t. The movie relies heavily on close ups that sometimes seem cramped, often shot with wide-angled lenses. Camera movement is sometimes erratic, with scene after scene a a mad swirl of colour and image. A transition between a raft on a river and the shoreline must first encompass trees and sky in a wild, swinging arc. Dim available lighting is contrasted with the extreme brightness of the snow on the winter landscape. The progression is brazenly choppy—the images finding a way to tell the story unfettered by standard editing practice. The whole visual package conveys a roughhewn, almost primitive quality that underscores just how different director Sergei Parajanov’s approach is. It works, though, because Parajanov knows exactly what he is doing--style and content seem perfectly melded together. Combined with a unique approach to sound editing, the film seems like an artifact from a whole different world.

So many images in Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors mesmerize, disorient, enthrall. Ultimately I find it impossible to put my experience of the film into words. If Jung is right (which I doubt) and there is a collective unconscious, it feels to me like this movie and its beguiling images somehow plug right into it.

subtitles

 

[kihei]

Well, it's not exactly a seasonal-appropriate choice, but my next pick is Roman Polanski's Repulsion (1965).

 

[Jevo]

The Lion In Winter (1968) dir. Anthony Harvey

The year is 1983 and Henry II's (Peter O'Toole) three remaining sons, Richard (Anthony Hopkins), John(Nigerl Terry) and Geoffrey(John Castle), all plan to succeed him, and Henry has his mind set on John, the youngest son. During a Christmas court at Chinon castle, Henry, his three sons, his wife in name only Eleanor (Katherine Hepburn) as well as the newly crowned French king Philip (Timothy Dalton). Eleanor who is being kept in captivity due to an earlier revolt against Henry together with Geoffrey and Richard, has her mind set on Richard as the new king. Philip has given his younger sister Alais to be married to the heir, only Philip is not too happy about the slowness in appointing a new heir, and is demanding a marriage or his dowry returned. Philip is also interested in attaining the British possessions on the continent. Problem is that Henry doesn't want Alais to marry either of his sons, nor does he want to send her back, as he has started a very intimate affair with her. Over the Christmas at Chinon various plots are being planned and attempted executed as all try to bargain for a deal that puts themselves in the lead.

Based on a Broadway play this is very much an actors film. The movie is basically just scenes which allows the actors to get out there and do lengthy monologues, fiery dialogue and stingy one-liners. Visually there's really not much to come for in this movie. The cinematography is nothing to write home about, and there's several scenes that feel like they were filmed on a stage. Which is never a good sign in a movie. You have the ability to do stuff with the camera, and you should try and take it in my opinion. In found the wedding scene particularly jarring, because everyone is just standing on a line and Henry and Richard are yelling at each other, with a few people in between them, and none of them thought to move off the line. It felt incredibly unnatural to me. It's something that might work on a stage but not in a film. Another bad scene was the one in Philips quarters where everyone ends up hiding behind various curtains as yet another character enters his quarters. First of all the whole gimmick with more and more people hiding in different places in the room didn't work that well on film. It can work on a stage because constraints of space are quite fluid on a stage, which can make it more believable, but not on film. Another thing is that the tone in the film felt way off to me. It was a dramatically very important scene, with Henry and his sons confronting each other head on, instead of skirting around it, as the characters were able to hear things that they weren't supposed to hear. But at the same time the hiding gimmick felt like a cheap comic relief thing. You could have sped up the scene and put on the Benny Hill theme and it would have fit perfectly. I thought that mix of tone made the whole scene fall flat. I do want to praise the costume and set design. The castle and costumes feel dirty, just like you'd expect a 12th century castle to be, and the costumes are coloured to match. I thought that was a nice decision.

But to be fair, you aren't coming to this film for the great visuals, nor even the story, even if it isn't bad. What makes this film attractive is the two big names on the poster. Peter O'Toole and Katherine Hepburn. Two of the greatest film actors ever, and they aren't phoning it in either. The rest of the cast aren't bad actors, and they all went on to have good careers after this film. But they are out of their depth when up against these two, and you almost feel bad for them. One sticking point I have about the acting in this movie, and many like it with many ensemble scenes. Is that the ensemble scenes often turn into a contest of who can act the biggest so to speak. Peter O'Toole can fill up a whole castle without making it look bad. The big problem is that most other people can't do that, and they fall flat when they try to keep up with him. I really the scenes where it's just O'Toole and Hepburn, especially when they get more to be more intimate instead of just shouting at each other. This is where I think their talent is just amazing to watch. The movie is maybe a bit long, but those two are well worth every minute they are on screen.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors
Parajanov (1965)
“Where are my goats? Where are my goats?”

We follow Ivan from a violent childhood – his father is killed in the film’s opening moments with his childhood love soon to follow – to a morose adulthood where he is married to a beautiful woman but they cannot conceive, which leads them to turn to sorcery. It’s broken into numerous segments with titles like Ivan and Marchika, Meadow, Loneliness, Tavern, Sorcery, etc. It is a pretty somber affair, but it ends with a happy ending of sorts as the lovers are reunited in death.

I went into this about as blind as I’ve ever gone into a movie. I had never heard of Parajanov and know zilch about Carpathia (save its Dracula connections) or the Ukrain and its customs. This proved to be a fascinating watch. I’m not sure how much of it I understood, but it was compelling throughout – the costumes, the glimpse at a culture’s history and traditions was new to me and kept me engaged.

As for Parajanov himself, his camera never stops moving. It’s seems to be in constant motion, panning through the woods, circling individuals repeatedly, falling from trees. That coupled with its woodsy setting really recalled a previous movie club entry in Andrzej Zulawski’s The Devil, a film I recall kihei absolutely adored (ha, ha). This one isn’t quite as … um, abrasive … as that Polish treat, but I couldn’t run from that mental association. Beautiful landscapes and cinematography too. Fascinating. I'd be eager to watch again sometime.

 

[Jevo]

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (1965) dir. Sergei Parajanov

In a small mountain village Ivan falls in love with the neighbours daughter Marichka. Problem is that the neighbour killed his father. Even though there's much animosity between the two families, the two love and care for each other, and they plan to get married. But because neither family approves of their marriage, neither family is going to help them financially. Therefore Ivan leaves the village to become a travelling worker until he gets enough money to marry Marichka. However while Ivan is away, Marichka dies tragically while trying to rescue a run-away lamb. When Ivan returns and finds out about Marichka's fate, he goes into mourning and returns to life on the road. Until one day he meets a woman and gets married to her in traditional fashion. From here on the movie slowly takes a turn for the supernatural as Ivan can't shake the memory of Marichka.

Parajanov was inspired by Tarkovsky's Ivan's Childhood, to go out and create his own cinematic vision. Stylistically he certainly takes after Tarkovsky, and perhaps later it was the other way around as well. But Parajanov's style really is something of its own. Although he does tell a story in this movie, and it's somewhat coherent, he tells it in an untraditional fashion. There's no three act story structure here as in most movies. Rather it's told in a series of smaller chapters, or perhaps stanzas are a better word. Because I think the movie is quite poetic in the way that it uses it's visual component in an abstract way. I think you can say that the visual side of this film tells the same story as the surface narrative, but it tells it in a significantly different way and with much more depth.

Parajanov uses colour to mirror the characters emotions. During times of happiness Parajanov uses very intensive colours, especially reds and blues and yellows, as contrast the otherwise bleak visual landscape. In Ivans time of mourning the movie is in black and white to mirror his feelings during that time. I've not seen many other directors try to use colour in this way, and very few as successful as Parajanov. Tarkovsky for example never thought to be so daring in his use of colours, and I'm sceptical he could make it work if he tried. It is just very far from how Tarkovsky thought about and used colours in his films. The visual side is also highly symbolic with both christian symbols and what I assume are local folkloric symbols that I'm not quite familiar with, but they still add something to the movie for me.

One viewing of a Parajanov movie is not enough to get a proper reading of the film, in fact I don't think 5 or 10 is enough. There's so much depth that I think there'll always be new things you can discover in the films. But sadly I have only watched it once. Several years ago I watched his other 'big' movie The Color of Pomegranates', I didn't understand everything I watched, perhaps I didn't even understand most of it. But I knew I had just watched something special and unique, something that I had never seen anyone else do before. I don't think I've seen anything quite like it since then either until I watched this movie. But I liked it very much back then, and I liked this one very much as well, even though there was much I didn't understand on a first viewing. One day I'll watch it again, hopefully I'll understand more then.

 

[Jevo]

Vive Le Tour (1962) dir. Louis Malle

In 1962 the young director and cycling fan Louis Malle decides to make a short documentary portraying that years Tour de France, the biggest cycling race in the world. Malle's focus is not on the racing itself, you can read about that in the newspapers anyway. His focus is on all the peculiarities surrounding the race. In under 20 minutes Malle manages to cover an extraordinary amount of topics, which he manages to pair with appropriate commentary, either visually or via narration supplied by pro-turned-journalist Jean Bobet. There's no time to dwell on any of these topics, but that isn't what Malle set out to do either, although many of them would do for an interesting documentary of their own.

Malle starts out by showing the great contrast of the Tour de France and professional cycling in general. Already back then a hyper commercialised event with a big sponsor caravan ahead of the race, with cars for every sponsor of the race. Every jersey has their sponsor names on them to be displayed. Even the ambulances and medical helicopters have sponsor names on them. But the race also uses the country side as it's race track where admission is free, with locals and everything from monks and nuns to school children lining up on the side of the road to catch a glimpse of the racers.

Tour de France started as a gimmick to sell newspapers, like almost any big cycling race, and in 1962 as well as today, cycling would be nothing without the media. So the race is followed by a hoard of print journalists, radio journalists and photographers on motorcycles, which also still happens today, although followed by a bit more controversy than back then.

Malle even shortly covers nature breaks with a 15 second silent montage, not bringing unnecessary attention to it, but also showing exactly how it happens. Nature breaks leads into what causes nature breaks, which is fluid intake and the most iconic scene of the film, which shows how racers acquired drinks back then. Luckily now an archaic practice, but back then getting drinks from your teams support car was banned, so racers had to get drinks from elsewhere. That Malle isn't focusing on the race itself is shown by the fact we are more than 7 minutes into the film before the name of any racer is mentioned, and this by an announcer in the background calling a sprint finish. In fact the narration never mentions any racer if I am not mistaken. By my count the later winner Jacques Anquetil is only mentioned once when a journalist in the background dictates "Anquetilissimo" to a typist over the phone. The only time Anquetil, normally a man who wasn't camera shy, is shown is at the end as he stands atop the podium.

Much of the film is somewhat upbeat in tone, with a delightful sarcastic and black humoured flavour to the narration and editing. Which is something that I really like about the film. Malle is obviously a fan of the sport, but he is also so much a fan that he is able to laugh at the ridiculous parts of the whole ordeal, and he is not beneath calling out the things that he thinks are bad about it. Such as racers having to steal drinks from local cafees, doping and the bad excuses employed when it goes wrong, even though doping wasn't yet banned in 1962, and the bravado of the sport, where racers are almost hard wired to get back onto their bike after a crash like cyborgs with only one programmed objective. The scene focussing on crashes and injuries is the only not upbeat part of the movie, much more somber and with the soundtrack slowed down. Malle takes out two minutes of the film to focus on a delirious racers who almost unable to walk on his own, crawls back onto the bike and continues up the road, only to fall over in a ditch some time later. No narration is needed for this sequence, Malle's point is all to clear on its own.

At the end of the film Malle focuses one of my favourite part of cycling, the mountains. Mountains makes some of the most beautiful shots of the scenery, which is something no other sport can offer. Although Malle doesn't focus much on this he has a couple of beautiful shots, one showing the racers going up a mountain road like a trail of ants slowly snaking it's way up the naked mountain side, the other showing racers and spectators bathed in sun in the foreground while the sky in the background is pitch black, perhaps showing what is to come for the racers. Malle also uses this segment to show close ups of climbing cyclists writhing in pain, intercut with pictures of the final podium in Paris, which I thought was really well done.

Vive Le Tour is what I feel should be the prototypical cycling documentary. It probably isn't though, I can only think of two other movies which are like it. Jørgen Leth's Stars and Water Carriers from 1973 and A Sunday in Hell from 1976, both full length documentaries which takes a very similar approach as Malle but with Leth's own style to it. But I do think Malle has made a completely timeless movie, especially because he never focuses on the actual racing. The movie simply chronicles a time in history and how cycling was then. As a cycling fan I find it utter fascinating to watch, because there are so few pieces of film like it from back then, and watching it on film is just something completely different from reading about it. It's also very fun to see how cycling has evolved in some areas, and how it hasn't evolved at all in other areas. Drinks looting is now long archaic and a fun relic from the past to watch, while crashes are almost completely the same nowadays, just with more helmets. The focus on concussions have also reached cycling, but we still see riders completing stages and races with injuries that must leave them in unthinkable pain. Another small thing that still happens is racers taking a newspaper from a fan on top of a climb and putting under their jersey to shield from the wind on long descents. A very low tech solution that still works just as well in 2017 as it did in 1962.

As I said, as a cycling fan I love this film, but I'm very unsure how interesting it is for people who are not fans of the sport, but I hope you all enjoy it. Otherwise I guess I just opened the door for Kihei to make us all watch old nerdy tennis documentaries.

 

[Jevo]

My next pick is Holy Motors by Leos Carax.

 

[kihei]

Vive le Tour (1962) Directed by Louis Malle

I had never heard of this short work by Louis Malle, but the only complaint I have about this sampling of the Tour de France is that I wish it had been considerably longer and gone into more detail. As it stands, it is a tantalizing slice of one of the great sports events in history. To a non-cyclist such as myself, the challenges the racers face seem insurmountable. I don't know why hearts don't explode on those mountain climbs. It was also interesting to find out that although doping was indeed a problem already in the early '60s, the cheating seemed much less scientifically sophisticated, almost more naive than morally culpable, than it does today.

Maybe the best part of the documentary for me was what it showed about the fans. I always wondered why the sport attracted fans. I mean, you stand on the side of the road and wait and then a big gaggle of bikes go by, and then what? Pop open another Cotes du Rhone? Check out picnic spots? Go hunting for truffles? This documentary, though, showed how passionate people could be about the sport. How "spectating" sometimes mixed with "participating,"; how there was a very real human connection between athlete and fan, a kind of empathy even that I sure don't recognize in all sports. In a way, as Mallle demonstrates, the Tour has a lot of different angles. So many that I am surprised no one has ever tackled a feature length documentary on the subject, at least that I know of. All in all a very worthwhile behind-the-scenes peek at a great event.

Later: No worries. Tennis has never been dealt with very effectively in the movies. For starters nobody ever looks like they can play a whit. The closest I might come to picking a movie with even a hint of tennis in it would probably be Strangers on a Train,. which would be a pretty good choice actually.

 

[kihei]

Taking off tomorrow to spend Christmas in Maui. Unlikely I will be getting to any movies for a while (except for the new Star Wars probably). But I will try to catch up quickly when I get back in about three weeks. Season's best to all.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

Vive le Tour
Malle (1962)
“You mustn’t miss your musettes.”

Not a follower of the sport of cycling, so I was interested in what this was going to be, especially at such a short length. What I got was a fascinating little snapshot of a sport that, at least in my understanding, maybe hasn’t changed all that much as time has moved on. Vive le Tour really grabbed me from the jump with the jaunty opening music and the POV shot moving down a road as the key credits come toward the screen. As Jevo noted, the short isn’t so much about the race itself as there is little commentary on the events and few riders are even mentioned. It’s more about the practicalities and logistics. That sucked me in even more, being a novice. Bathroom breaks, hydration breaks, techniques to tighten up footwear. Malle is right there in the mix recording it all. There is carnage — the aftermath of several wrecks is shown including a rider being airlifted out as he ominously tells the aid provider that his head is warm, one who collapses in a ditch from exhaustion and one who, in the most gruesome yet impressive shot, is having a headwound stitched while he rides and blood streams down his face. That doctor’s hands! Holy crap. I was surprised to learn that doping was an issue with the sport even back then. I suppose I shouldn’t (as long as sports has existed, I have no doubt athletes have been looking for that extra edge). That bad fish excuse. Whatever works, my man.

Agree with kihei. I would totally watch a longer version of this. I am a fan of sports documentaries and despite this one being decades old, it was refreshing to see one that took a focus/approach that Malle does here. It isn’t about an individual personality or a climactic event. It’s just about how it works, how they get it done. So many times the success of sports documentaries hinges on the subject or event and not so much the style. (I guess this would apply to docs in general too). I wonder if such a view on the practicalities of other events or ventures might make for equally interesting viewing? Was I so taken with this because of my unfamiliarity with this sport and world? Maybe. Would a similar idea applied to something I know better like football or soccer be intriguing or simply banal? I suppose it depends on whose hand’s it is in. A shame Malle isn’t around any more.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

Taking off tomorrow to spend Christmas in Maui. Unlikely I will be getting to any movies for a while (except for the new Star Wars probably). But I will try to catch up quickly when I get back in about three weeks. Season's best to all.

Safe travels. Have fun. The movies will always be here.

 

[NyQuil]

Taking off tomorrow to spend Christmas in Maui. Unlikely I will be getting to any movies for a while (except for the new Star Wars probably). But I will try to catch up quickly when I get back in about three weeks. Season's best to all.

Maui is fantastic. Been there twice now.

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

There's something in the blurb on the back cover of Shadows Of Forgotten Ancestors' DVD case that you don't see very often. While many movies may tout award-winning direction, an inspiring musical score, breathtaking cinematography and other thrills, Shadows promises "lucid anthropological detail". And it delivers. A gold mine if you're into Ukranian ethnography, this story of doomed lovers set in the Carpathian mountains in some bygone century--it's hard to nail down even an approximate time period (which thus gives the story a timeless quality)--has magnificent costumes, local folk music both on the score and within the film--played on period instruments like pipes and big-ass trumpets, rituals and ceremonies both religious and pagan, workday routines and folk tales within folk tales. It's all a fascinating glimpse into a long gone world but to be honest I'm not that interested. I'm more interested in lucid cinema but again Shadows delivers.

Despite the specifics of the folk elements, the story is universal, even primal. Mostly shot outdoors, sets consist of snow, sky, forests, fire and water. The emphasis on natural elements lends a kind of archetypical Eden-like weight to the story.

The payoff for me are the fanciful visual touches that are sprinkled throughout the film like spice in the goulash. First one comes at Ivan's father's death, which we see from the victim's POV. He receives an axe-blow to the head, blood splatters across the screen, and from out of (and to) nowhere a band of red monochrome horses jumps across the screen. Dazzling images such as these pop up like easter eggs as movie goes along. One sequence--which looks to me like a Carpathian Mardi Gras parade--is shot with the camera swiftly panning left, pausing momentarily to focus on one of the revellers, then quickly panning some more. It appears mostly as a blur of colours and images but it matches the music and laughter of the festivities. I kept thinking: what does it say in the script? "Scene 23: mirth ensues"? Shadows Of Forgotten Ancestors is highly imaginative poetic filmmaking.

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

As for Parajanov himself, his camera never stops moving. It’s seems to be in constant motion, panning through the woods, circling individuals repeatedly, falling from trees. That coupled with its woodsy setting really recalled a previous movie club entry in Andrzej Zulawski’s The Devil, a film I recall kihei absolutely adored (ha, ha). This one isn’t quite as … um, abrasive … as that Polish treat, but I couldn’t run from that mental association. Beautiful landscapes and cinematography too. Fascinating. I'd be eager to watch again sometime.

I was reminded of Zulawski's film also...and who can forget kihei's review It's what drew me into this thread. The most negative review that I've seen from him! Speaking of Zulawski I recently saw Cosmos, the film he made before he died last year. Hasn't mellowed with age--still plenty bizarre. (Still prefer Devil.)

 

[Ralph Spoilsport]

My next pick is Holy Motors by Leos Carax.

Oh no!

I hated that movie!

But I trust your judgement Jevo so a second viewing should be worthwhile.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

I was reminded of Zulawski's film also...and who can forget kihei's review It's what drew me into this thread. The most negative review that I've seen from him! Speaking of Zulawski I recently saw Cosmos, the film he made before he died last year. Hasn't mellowed with age--still plenty bizarre. (Still prefer Devil.)

Did you ever see Possession? Isabel Adjani is bonkers. I prefer it to Devil.

 

[Jevo]

Oh no!

I hated that movie!

But I trust your judgement Jevo so a second viewing should be worthwhile.

I'm sorry. I think it's very much a love it or hate it kind of movie. And if a second viewing doesn't help with that, feel free to trash it.

 

[KallioWeHardlyKnewYe]

Ed Wood
Burton (1994)
“Don’t take it too seriously. We’re all doing great work!”

When we first meet Ed Wood (Johnny Depp) he’s standing offstage silently mouthing the words to the play he has written as the actors stiffly recite for a paltry audience. Eddie is a believer — in himself, in art, in stories. The problem is that he isn’t what anyone would consider talented. Drive and good intentions can only get you so far. This is the plight of Edward D. Wood Jr., aka maybe the worst director in film history. This is his story. Wood transitions from stage to film by talking his way into writing and directing what will become Glen or Glenda, the story of a man and his wife coming to grips with the man’s desire to wear women’s clothes. Wood is ideal to write and direct it, you see, because he too shares that passion. This revelation creates the first visible cracks in his relationship with his girlfriend Dolores (Sarah Jessica Parker). Though that isn’t the focal relationship of the film. That distinction belongs to none other than horror legend Bela Lugosi himself (Martin Landau). The novice director forms a bond with the aging star (“Lugosi? I thought he was dead?”) who joins Wood’s cast of misfits. They make Bride of the Atom, another failure. Then they make Grave Robbers from Outer Space (to be retitled Plan 9 From Outer Space and eventually earn the title of worst movie ever made). Lugosi dies in the interim, but that doesn’t stop plucky Ed from including his old friend in the film anyway with the help of a body double. It was ingenuity like that that makes Wood both likeable and maddening. He is creative and determined but there is a low ceiling on his abilities that the poor man, at least as portrayed here, just could never see. The film ends on a lighter note than reality leaving Wood and his ragtag company before they fully experience the rejection of their third film. Wood died never knowing one day he’d be embraced albeit for reasons he may or may not have enjoyed.

This is a big, fat, squishy love letter to Wood and a certain type of charming cheap-o movie you used to just happen upon on TV at odd hours by director Tim Burton. Wood, as written and played by Depp, isn’t a particularly complex man and given other aspects of Wood’s life (his WWII service, his eventual descent into poverty and alcoholism) a very different movie could have been created. But that wouldn’t feel appropriate. This feels right. Do you really want to ask more of a man who gleefully thought painted plates would be good doubles for flying saucers? Let the man have his dream and let us come along for the ride. From the technical side, the black and white cinematography is beautiful. I really dig the Howard Shore score and its 50s sci-fi influence.

It’s easy to slot Ed Wood into yet another of Johnny Depp’s menagerie of weirdos. But this one, along with Edward Scissorhands, is the rare character of his whose earnestness and heart outweighs any grotesquerie. It’s a shame he and Burton’s collaborations have gone so far afield into nonsense because their early work really brought out the best in each other. Subsequent team-ups feel like typical Hollywood sequel problems — we need to take some of what we did before, but be BIGGER! and MORE! They learned the wrong lessons creatively. Their paychecks have probably been good though. My guess is your tolerance for the movie hinges on how much of a chipper, mugging Johnny Depp you can handle. Depp is fairly broad here, but it is probably my favorite performance of his. It’s among Burton’s best work too. Certainly his most grounded and I suspect it is because there is a real life reason for that. It’s widely known that Burton developed a similar relationship as Wood-Lugosi to Vincent Price in that horror legend’s later years. That experience and tenderness shows here.

On to Lugosi. Despite portraying a real person, Martin Landau plays a type of character I have grown to dislike in movies — irascible old coot who is prone to some foul mouthed declarations. But Landau does it great. Maybe best. Worthy of all the accolades he received for careening from his loud anti-Boris Karolff proclamations to his sad, drug-addled weariness. It’s the only full character in a movie filled with distinct faces and quirky behaviors. As a younger person, I remember being appalled that Landau beat Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction for the best supporting actor Oscar that year. Though I remain a big fan of Jackson’s performance, I have reversed my stance over the few times I have seen Ed Wood in the years since. I know Hollywood is prone to honor its old male actors with these faux-lifetime achievement honors, but this is a case where I have no quibbles. Come to thing of it, Landau hits the triumvirate of award role cliches I hate — old actor, real person, irascible old coot. He rises above.

When I picked the film, I noted I was inspired in part by The Disaster Artist, another loving portrait of a deluded artist who can’t see his work of genius is in reality far from it, but also the excellent podcast series You Must Remember This, which did a seven-part series on Lugosi and Karloff covering their beginnings, their intersections and their ends. Karloff, of course, got a more dignified (comparatively) final artistic act in life working with Roger Corman. It’s a great listen. I highly recommend if you’re a podcast consumer and lover of movie history.