05.21.08
Posted in Movies at 10:55 pm by Ice Princess
This past March, on Sunday morning at Norwescon, as we were packing up to check out of our room, I saw the trailer for Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
I’d been deliberately avoiding the trailer for this movie. Despite how often I ran across it posted on blogs and forums, despite how excited friends were getting about it, I refused to watch it. I hadn’t been to any movies at which the trailer was screened. I had not wanted to see this trailer, had not wanted to get a (very carefully shaped) preview of the film. But without warning, there it was on Sunday morning on the convention’s in-house channel, and despite my prior avoidance, I couldn’t help watching it.
As the first shadowed scenes played, one by one, with the hint of music from past films playing under them, I found a lump rising in my throat. As Indy’s hat landed on the ground, I found my eyes filling with tears. And by the time the entire thing had run its course, with music and motifs and characters that were intimately familiar to me and yet put in new settings, I was openly weeping.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks and said to my husband, half-angrily and half-wistfully, “Dammit, I am supposed to be too old for this kind of fangirl nonsense.”
Gently, and with great understanding, he replied, “But you’re not.”
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07.02.07
Posted in Experiences at 1:01 am by Ice Princess
This was originally written four years ago. The summer-evening nostalgia mentioned in it has been powerful this year, and caused me to revisit it, and I decided it was worth sharing and adding to, since I have four more summers now to speak of.
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05.13.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:04 pm by Ice Princess
When an item popped up in a local weekly a few weeks ago talking about a special tasting evening at a local business, all I had to say to my husband was “port and chocolate” and he said “Make a reservation.” And thus we signed ourselves up for a tasting this past Thursday at Theo Chocolate, a new Seattle chocolate-maker that specializes in organic and single-origin chocolates, with ports from Warre’s Port, the oldest maker of port in the world, and featuring Dominic Symington, one of the partners of Warre’s.
It seemed at first that we were destined to not make it to the tasting. Although we’d thought we’d left ourselves plenty of transit time, we managed to get trapped between openings of two of the bridges over Seattle’s Ship Canal and the associated traffic, and then it turned out I’d gotten the location of the Theo factory wrong. When we finally got there, 10 minutes late, the tables were all full and they had no record of our reservation. Fortunately, the organizer took my word for it that we had, indeed, signed up, and told us that we could sit on one of the couches in the back and they would set us up with glasses. And thus we got to have a remarkable tasting experience.
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04.26.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:04 pm by Ice Princess
Anyone who has ever been the “weird kid” or felt out of place in a community probably has some affinity for the works of Tim Burton, and most especially for his 1990 film Edward Scissorhands, a sweet, melancholy fable about a gentle but undeniably freakish creature who attempts to live in a “normal” suburban world. I’ll readily allow to being one of those people; Edward Scissorhands resonated powerfully with it when I first saw it as a young adult, with the scars of adolescent wounds still visible on my psyche and the struggle of figuring out how to fit my goth-geek yearnings into the “grownup” world in full force. Time and maturity have made me more critical of it, but no less fond. And so when Matthew Bourne’s adaptation of it to stage and dance came along–and most particularly with the recommendation of Rachel E. Pollock, a theatrical artisan whose opinions, both professional and personal, I regard highly–I knew that I (and my equally goth-geeky husband) needed to see it. We did so last night, as a celebration of our second wedding anniversary. It was an ideal way for us to celebrate.
(What follows can be spoilery if you’re unfamiliar with the film.)
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04.16.07
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:23 am by Ice Princess
I really and truly had no intent of letting this lie fallow for seven months. Life got complicated enough that I could use it as a good excuse to not write, but really, it was more about having set up this obligation to myself to write, and suddenly finding the writing not so fun. That’s a completely ridiculous response from someone who has breakfasted on the written word since childhood, and it’s not as though I’m new to writing online, nor to the concept of blogging; I just didn’t blog here on my site until serendipities of technology made it doable.
Since I really hate ridiculous responses in myself, it’s time to get back on track. This is as much a reminder to myself to get this going again as it is an apology. So, worthwhile content within the week. Really.
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09.17.06
Posted in Experiences, Food and drink at 9:27 pm by Ice Princess
Yesterday, we went to Leavenworth. There were a couple of reasons for this.
The first reason is that my husband is from Florida, and though he’s lived here for the better part of three years now, he hasn’t had much chance to really explore the area. And while I’m a Seattle native and have lived in the Puget Sound area for most of my life, I often get into that native mindset of taking where I live for granted. Having a non-native around who wants to explore the area is a great excuse to get me off my butt and out into things so I can show him around. The trip to Leavenworth is a beautiful one, and Leavenworth itself is an…experience, so it seemed a good option.
The other reason is that there are a whole lot of wineries in the region, and a number of them have chosen Leavenworth as a good location to showcase their wares, as it’s reasonably close to their location and a tourist cynosure. My husband might charitably be called a fanatic about wine (he skips the charity and calls himself a wino), and his enthusiasm has folded me into the interest. So here we had an opportunity to take a gorgeous road trip to an interesting spot and check out wines–it was pretty much a positive choice all around.
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08.07.06
Posted in Movies at 8:49 am by Ice Princess
(Note: There are some things in here that could be considered mildly spoiler-ish if one knows nothing about the film.)
I loved the first PotC movie. I loved it enough to see it multiple times, something that’s become increasingly rare for me with mainstrem Hollywood releases. I loved it in part because it was so unexpected; who would have thought that a movie based on a theme park ride, of all things, and with Jerry Bruckheimer’s name on it, would have been such fun, loaded with such richness of character and place and a genuine sense that the people who made it had a really good time, rather than it just being an empty exercise in noise and branding?
And so, while I definitely looked forward to Dead Man’s Chest, I also came at it with trepidation, because it’s a sequel.
Dead Man’s Chest is very, very much a sequel. It suffers from the sequel motto of “bigger, louder, MORE” that most sequels do, and thereby sums up for me what is precisely the problem with the sequel model. I think the core appeal of a sequel is that there’s something about the story or the characters that people are attracted to; they want to see what else happens to those characters or what more goes on in the world that the first movie created, and if the story is well-written, it shouldn’t need anything else. But Hollywood, with its perpetual combination of greed, arrogance, and insecurity, rarely seems to trust the characters and story on their own. It has to lard sequels up with more action, more comedy, more noise, more toys, out of fear that the audience won’t come back without greater flash. And over the past couple of decades, we, the audience, have become complicit with that, accepting empty sequels that all too often cheat the characters and stories we loved in the first place for the sake of all that extra flash, and the cycle perpetuates.
DMC doesn’t cheat the characters and story, not exactly. But it does load up with action and comedy and noise and toys that aren’t really necessary. We get an extended sequence on an island of cannibals that is little more than an excuse for Jack and Will to meet cute, and for cheap, shallow laughs. We get a big, flashy swordfight that is a great set piece, but exists solely to be a set piece (and seriously shorts the actual swordfighting; I’m deeply disappointed at the poor quality of the fight scenes in this film). We get lots of bang and flash on board ships that rarely feels like it adds up to much. We get glaring, beat-you-over-the-head references to the ride that was the film’s inspiration, just in case our attention spans are so ludicrously short that we forgot. We get a Jack Sparrow who is too often (especially at the beginning of the film) a parody of himself; there are times when the dialogue put in Johnny Depp’s mouth doesn’t feel like part of the character but like someone making fun of what they think the character is. And, most seriously, we get villainy that is gorgeous to look at but not nearly as shiver-inducing as it should be.
I’ve got a serious problem with Davy Jones. For all the wondrousness of technology applied towards the character (and for all of Bill Nighy’s astounding expressiveness underneath the CGI tentacles), he never feels believable. He’s neither as horror-yarn frightening as the story wants him to be (there’s no moment equivalent to Barbossa’s “You’d best be believing in ghost stories…You’re in one” from the first movie), nor given a convincing sense of the bereft, lovelorn human he was that the main plot point hinges on. He’s a joy to watch, to be sure, an unmitigated triumph of the blending of actor and technology; but I just don’t really buy him as a threat so horrible that Jack would go to any lengths to escape him. I’m also bothered by the way the film slows to a tortuga’s lumbering in most of the Flying Dutchman scenes. Perhaps the intent is to give us plenty of opportunity to marvel at the creativity of the character design (which I will readily admit is damned impressive) and the skill of the makeup and CGI artists; but those scenes do as much as the extraneous set pieces to drag the film out longer than it needs to be, and not as much as they should in moving the story along.
I’ve also got a problem with the film’s other villain, the East India Company bureaucrat Beckett. Some have complained that this is a pointless character, but I disagree. He’s the perfect foil for Jack Sparrow, a man to whom freedom matters more than anything and whose very appeal lies in that uncompromising, unfettered activity. Beckett doesn’t just want to shut Jack down; he wants to bind Jack’s actions, bury them under layers of rules and bureaucracy, and thus remove the essence of what Jack is. His earliest scenes are some of the most efficient in the film, elegantly laying out the specificity of this threat. Unfortunately, the fact that he’s stuck back in Port Royal (rather than being out on the water chasing our heroes, as Norrington was in the first film) somewhat limits the effectiveness of his villainy, and he becomes less and less compelling as the movie goes on. I think this is a terrible shame, as his potential scariness is definitely equal to that of Davy Jones, just in a different way.
And then there is the Orlando Problem. It’s much more clear in this film than it was in the first one that Will is meant to be the hero; the amount of time devoted to his interactions with his father and the number of opportunities he gets to show off make that clear. But Orlando Bloom isn’t up to the demands of being the hero, particularly when he lacks anything close to the charisma of his co-stars (never mind that he’s way prettier than even Keira Knightly, a fact that becomes distracting at times). In the first movie this didn’t matter so much, because he was always paired up with someone else. This time, he’s expected to carry large swaths of the story all by himself, and too often he drops them. This is particularly noticeable in his scenes with Stellan Skarsgard, who strives mightily to hand Bloom the sense of epic fate a hero ought to have; instead, Bloom doesn’t seem to be able to pick it up, and comes off more as a rebellious adolescent fighting with Dad about a curfew. It’s unfortunate.
Now, all of that said…I enjoyed the movie. No, really, I did, more than I expected to, in fact. For all the things that are wrong, there are still plenty of things that are distinctly right. Despite the parodic elements, Johnny Depp remains a wonder; we’re no longer surprised by Jack (which was one of the delights of the first film), but he’s still a compelling character, nicely balancing the complicated and sometimes problematic elements of the rogue, and earning our affections and concern. I’m not particularly a fan of Keira Knightly, but the ferocity of her performance here is worthy of serious respect (save for one pointless and idiotic sequence where she abruptly reverts to a shameful girliness that is completely out of character). Elizabeth spent much of the first film being a victim of circumstance, and finding her way out of it. Here, she’s the one in charge nearly all of the time, and it makes for some complex and fascinating developments. While Will might (technically) be the hero of this one, Elizabeth is its conscience, and that’s really more interesting.
There’s also an absolute wealth of secondary characters. Mr. Gibbs was a figure of low comedy as much as anything else in the first film; while he has such moments this time, he also has a great deal of gravity and dignity. We understand better his loyalty to Jack and the way the two of them work together, and why, to some extent, “Captain” Jack Sparrow is as much a creation of his first mate as of himself. I found the comedy-relief duo of Pintel and Ragetti to be more annoying than anything in the first film; they were given way too much screen time and way too many gags (particularly involving Ragetti’s glass eye). While I think DMC could have gotten by just fine without them, their presence here is more enjoyable–they’re not overused, there’s only one gag with the eye, and their patented ridiculous arguments over things they can’t possibly understand have a little more bite (particularly when taken as background notes to the issue of Elizabeth being the film’s conscience). Jonathan Pryce, who I often felt exasperation with in the first film (indeed, I maintained for a long time that the character should have been played instead by Robert Lindsay, who is much better at that kind of helpless neurotic wittering), absolutely owns his few scenes as Governor Swann; he’s far more believable here as a father trading for his daughter’s life than he ever was the first time around. We get the return of Norrington, no longer a commodore, and his character arc is in many ways the most natural-feeling of anyone in the film; he was always a character poised between honor and malignity, and Jack Davenport gets the chance to demonstrate both sides of that. Before the first film, Davenport was best known for light comedy, and it’s a treat to get a real taste of what he can do beyond that. I already mentioned Stellan Skarsgaard; what is most notable about him (aside from his attempts to make Orlando Bloom a better actor than he is) is the profound, bone-deep sense of melancholy he gives Bootstrap Bill, and doing it with barnacles and starfish plastered to his face in the bargain. His performance communicates more of Davy Jones’s evil than Jones himself does–it’s not the fate itself that’s so horrible, it’s the hopelessness that comes with it.
And then there is Tia Dalma. For a character with only two scenes, she casts a long shadow over this story, because there is clearly much, much more going on with her than we are allowed to see in this particular movie. Naomie Harris gives her everything she should have and then some; no stereotyped cackling witch (a characterization that would have been all too easy to engender), she is instead a figure of enormous, unspoken power, both mystical and sensual. She commands the screen when she’s on it, a presence who can reduce even Jack Sparrow to submissive respect, yet without doing anything but cocking her head or her hip, or modulating her voice. We don’t need to be told what she’s capable of; we can see it, in the way she moves and the way she speaks, and we understand her importance–she might not be the one who can solve the conflict between Jack and Davy Jones, but she’s an integral part of whatever will happen, even from the obscurity of her house hidden in the swamp.
She is also perhaps the starkest representation of something that I haven’t really seen addressed much, which is that these films are, at their core, dark fantasy, a genre Hollywood has often found problematic. (I’m reluctant to call them “horror,” as there’s too much good-naturedness for them to be truly, deeply scary, but there’s no question of the darkness at the core of the stories.) It wasn’t necessary to make them that; pirate stories offer ample opportunity for rip-roaring adventure and belly-laugh comedy, and it would have been just fine to go with that paradigm. Instead, the decision was made to thread darkness and fantasticness through them, to set the films in a universe where the undead and human-crustacean hybrids are entirely plausible, where magic and mysticism and the presence of powers bigger than ourselves are taken as fact. Certainly that choice ups the entertainment factor, especially for those of us who like some cthonic leavening in our adventures (even as we recognize that the forces of the upperworld are almost certainly going to prevail). But it’s also a choice that honors the mythology and superstition that surrounds the sea and that has long been woven into the lives of those who work upon it; and it brings in elements of the region in which the films are set in ways that manage to communicate the gravity of the belifs and traditions that have hold in the area. The first film’s Aztec curse (cheesy as it was on its face) was presented as the despairing horror it would be; Tia Dalma’s presence speaks of the fearsome allure that Afro-Caribbean religions carry for many, in their sense of mystery and direct power, and again, it’s not done just as cheap thrills. Hollywood is very prone to turning such things to overbearing cheese, meant to be mocked to relieve the sense of unease. Undead monkey notwithstanding, that’s not the case here. It’s a tough line to walk and a difficult thing to carry off, and one of the things that pleases me about both Pirates of the Caribbean films is that they manage it as often as they do.
Will I see the third film? Oh yeah. I gotta see how Jack gets out of his predicament, and how Elizabeth deals with her conscience. I need to see Tia Dalma again. And I definitely have to see Chow Yun-Fat. Most of all, I have to see how they carry through those threads of darkness and bring them together with the world of the everyday.
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08.04.06
Posted in Food and drink at 9:48 pm by Ice Princess
I invited my mother to dinner on less than 24 hours’ notice. This is distinctly uncommon for me, as entertaining of any sort is usually a massive production that requires several days, if not weeks, of preparation. To add to the uncommonness, I didn’t really have time to go shopping and had to make do with what we had in the house. Fortunately, I can get pretty creative with what’s on hand.
Final menu: “Turkish” salad and roasted pepper and mushroom penne. We’d initially thought about going to the nearby farmer’s market for bread and fruit, but we were both kind of wiped out by the time she arrived, so we bypassed that and I just made the salad and pasta.
“Turkish” salad
This salad is based on the ones we had while living in Istanbul and traveling along the Mediterranean coast. It always brings up thoughts of balmy summer evenings and backyard dining.
1 English/hothouse cucumber or 2 regular cucumbers
1-1/2 to 2 cups small firm tomatoes (grape, pearl, or cherry)
2-3 ribs of celery (including leaves)
Seasoned salt or salad seasoning
Garlic powder
Fresh parsley
Olive oil and lemon juice or vinaigrette dressing
Slice the cucumber(s) in half lengthwise. If using regular cucumbers, peel and seed. Slice each half into three sections lengthwise, then chop into bite-size chunks. Place half of the chopped cucumber in a serving bowl. Season lightly with salt/salad seasoning and garlic powder. (You’ll be repeating this for each step, so don’t be too heavy-handed.)
Slice about half of the tomatoes into halves and place on top of the cucumber in the bowl. Repeat seasoning.
Roughly chop about half the celery, and place into the bowl. Repeated seasoning.
Repeat the first three steps until all ingredients are in the bowl.
Pull a small handful of parsley off the bunch and mince. Sprinkle over the salad.
Dress with about a couple of teaspoons or so of olive oil (a mister is ideal for this) and about the same amount of lemon juice. (If you don’t have these, you can use a vinaigrette dressing.*) Toss.
For a somewhat heartier salad, toss in a few tablespoons of crumbled feta cheese before adding the dressing.
Serves…oh, probably about 6 if they’re dainty eaters, more like 2 or 3 with hearty appetites.
*I was out of lemon juice, so I went ahead and used my own homemade balsamic vinaigrette. I don’t make it as a true vinaigrette, but the idea is the same:
Roughly equal amounts of olive oil and balsamic vinegar
Pinch of sea salt
A few grinds of fresh black pepper
Garlic powder to taste
Generous pinches of dried herbs; I used thyme and rosemary, and I sometimes use dill–others can be substituted as well
Put it all in a glass bowl in this order and whisk vigorously, or in a glass cruet or jar with a lid and shake vigourously, then pour over salad. Remember that you only need a small amount of dressing–toss the salad well to coat everything, so that you don’t have to drench it.
I use this basic recipe for most salads. It’s infinitely variable; other combinations of oils, vinegars, and herbs will give different but delicious results. A little honey can also be added to the basic recipe for a sweeter dressing.
Roasted Pepper and Mushroom Penne
This was completely made up out of what was on hand in the fridge and the cupboards.
1 garlic bulb
1-1/2 cups whole wheat penne
Olive oil
1/2 yellow onion
1 large or 2 small portobello mushroom caps
1 8-oz. jar roasted red peppers
Basil (dried or fresh)
Salt and fresh ground pepper
Fresh soft goat cheese
Cut off the top of the garlic bulb and drizzle or mist with olive oil. Wrap in foil (or use a garlic roaster) and bake in a 425-degree oven for about 15-20 minutes.
Bring a large pan of water to boil. When it’s at a full rolling boil, toss in some salt and the penne. Cook until al dente; drain.
Chop the onion roughly. Heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a large saute pan over high heat and cook the onion for 1-2 minutes.
Slice the mushroom(s) into strips, then chop into chunks. Add to the pan with the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until the mushroom is just browned. During this, add a dash of pepper and some dried basil (if using dried).
Add the entire contents of the jar of peppers, including the liquid. If necessary, chop the peppers into smaller pieces with your spatula, right in the pan. Reduce heat to medium and cook until the liquid is reduced by about half, maybe 5-7 minutes or so.
Remove the garlic from the oven and pop out from 4 to 8 cloves (depending on size and your garlic preferences). Chop roughly and add to the pan.
Add the pasta to the pan and toss. Crumble in the goat cheese to taste and stir until the cheese is mostly melted and coating the other ingredients. Add salt and pepper to taste, and more dried basil if using dried; if using fresh, mince or chiffonade 2-3 leaves and stir in.
Serves 4-6 dainty eaters (or as a side dish) or 2-3 with hearty appetites (as a main dish).
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07.21.06
Posted in Movies at 5:53 pm by Ice Princess
Yoji Yamada’s latest film is a follow-up to his previous film, The Twilight Samurai, and hits the same themes: the changing of the feudal system with Japan’s opening to the West, the decline of the samurai, conflicts of class, love, and honor. Munezo (Masatoshi Nagase), a minor samurai, nurses a quiet, secret love for his family’s maid (Takako Katsu), a love that’s wildly inappropriate due to their differing stations. As he watches the system he was trained into morph away around him, including profound change in what it means to be a samurai, he struggles with how to reconcile his desires with what he believes and what he sees happening. Yes, this is film about men who carry swords, but swordfighting is just about the last thing on anyone’s mind; this is a drama, not an action film, although the fight that does happen is a little gem of mood and moment.
This is a lovely, tender, and melancholy film, with sympathetic characters carved with precision and performances to match. The main problem with it, from my viewpoint, is that it’s too much like its predecessor; I found myself continually comparing its plot to the same notes in The Twilight Samurai, and generally finding them less effective. The sense of change and loss was much stronger in that film, the melancholy of its central character more pronounced, the issues of love and class keener and more heartbreaking. This isn’t a bad film by any means; it just comes up lacking in comparison to its forebear. If someone hadn’t seen the previous film, I think this one would seem outstanding, and it is definitely worth seeing for its glimpse at a world-changing time drawn at the miniature level and the warm it shows to its characters.
The most interesting thing for me in seeing this was seeing Masatoshi Nagase as a figure of gravity. Ever since he became my Japanese-movie boyfriend over a decade ago, in The Most Terrible Time in My Life, a jumpy, jangly take on film noir gilded with the neon of modern Japan, he’s represented for me defiant, uncageable energy with the hint of a refusal to grow up. To see him in this role, grave and composed, straitened by the strictures of culture and decorum, and carrying it so beautifully, was a bit of a shock. What happened to that energetic, vaguely disreputable young man? And then I realized: he grew up after all, just as I did. And while growing up might mean a tradeoff in energy, the result is usually that sense of wisdom and authority that I saw in his performance. Thinking that I’ve gained that, just as he did, is a pretty cool thing.
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06.16.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 8:38 am by Ice Princess
The Last Communist
Malaysia
This novel approach to documentary filmmaking delightfully relates the tale of the exiled leader of Malaysia’s banned communist party, not through fact and fiction but through testimony and song, without benefit of footage of the central character, and in a way that most musicals would be proud of!
There is no way I could call this a good film. It’s poky and meandering; not only does the central character never appear, but most of what’s said in the film has nothing whatsoever to do with him. Instead, a good portion of it is people in various cities and professions simply talking about their jobs (I learned how charcoal is made and that there are two types of pomeloes–we Westerners apparently prefer the sour ones), though there is a chunk dealing with some of the members of the CMP (most of whom now live in exile in manufactured “refuges” made especially for them just across the Thai border). Interspersed with this are weirdly cheery musical numbers describing the history of communism, the dangers of malaria, which machine guns are best in the jungle, Malaysian industry, and identity cards. Not just a strange mash of elements, but not assembled well, and this screening bled audience members steadily (and it’s not like the crowd was large to begin with).
But I have to say that I mostly enjoyed it. I like hearing people tell stories and talk about their work when it’s done with enthusiasm, and there were enough bits of history in this that my curiousity was engaged and I want to go learn more about the topic. I don’t think I could recommend this to anyone, but I don’t feel that I wasted my time seeing it.
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06.15.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 10:04 am by Ice Princess
Madeinusa
Peru
For one devout Peruvian village, God dies on Good Friday and is born again on Easter; between those days there is no sin. During these strange Holy Days young Madeinusa (Magaly Solier) falls for a gringo stranger against her father’s wishes, in this stunningly photographed take on the classic American Western.
First of all, this has nothing to do with Westerns, not one frickin’ thing. It is instead a weird kind of sexual-religious fantasy tale; it could possibly be folded in under “magical realism,” but it’s a little out there even for that. There are some great elements here, but most of them are just glanced at and never truly explored or folded effectively into the larger whole of the story; and while I’m hard to shock, there were numerous moments that hit the “was that really necessary?” marker for me. I felt like the film wasted some potentially gripping concepts in search of sensationalism and quirkiness. The Andes and the valley in which the story is set are pretty, though, and the religious imagery was fascinating in its own way.
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06.13.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 10:55 am by Ice Princess
Delwende, leve-toi et marche (Get up and walk!)
Burkina Faso
A rash of deaths in a West African village leads to a beautiful young dancer being exiled to a mysterious community of witches. Based on true events and skillfully utilizing a supporting cast of non-actors, this is an intriguing look at the persistent power of superstition.
Well, now I’m certain the people who wrote the blurbs haven’t seen the films. Here’s what actually happens: the “young dancer” (the dancing happens only in the opening sequence) tells her mother that she’s been raped, but won’t say more. Her mother tries to get her father to deal with the issue, and the father refuses. However, he does abruptly decide that it would be best, due to all the mysterious deaths, if the daughter were to be married off and gotten out of the village, for her own “safety.” After she’s gone, the village elders (all men) decide that the deaths mean the village must have been cursed by a witch–and as it happens, the ritual used to make the identification (in which the father participates) identifies the girl’s mother as the witch, and she’s driven out; no other community will take her in due to the stigma. When the girl learns of this, she leaves her new husband and vows to find her mother and get to the truth, a task that has many pitfalls of superstition and sexism along the way. (The film’s subtitle refers to the fact that the girl walks, powerfully and purposefully and long distances, in her quest.)
I make efforts to catch every African film that shows up at SIFF, particularly ones from sub-Saharan countries. SIFF is, in part, a cultural enrichment program for me, and American knowledge of the countries and issues of Africa is so woefully inadequate that every bit of exposure I can get is helpful to me. This does raise a problem for me, though, which is that the films taken purely as works of art and skill are often below the standards I expect, and yet I feel hideously imperialist and snobbish by saying so. I did think at one point that this film could have been a much more dramatically effective effort in the hands of more skilled filmmakers. However, I’m not sure that it would necessarily have been a better film. Telling this story, which ends up with an huge wallop of criticism against the traditions of its culture, from within the culture is what makes it so strong, and that outweighs the level of skill involved. The girl is almost a force of nature in her determination to not succumb to the horrible hidebound traditions, and yet she always feels like a genuine person, not a symbol, and all the moments that condemn the way tradition treats the women of the country add up to strong emotion without being embroidered or tricked out. Sure, the pacing and the dialogue and the overall performance level could be more sophisticated. But they didn’t need to be for this film to register strongly with me.
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06.11.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 8:31 pm by Ice Princess
Shinobi: Heart of Blade
Japan
In hopes of ending centuries of feuding, two warring Samurai clans choose their top warriors—including two star-crossed lovers—to duke it out in a final, no-holds-barred battle. ROMEO AND JULIET goes blissfully chop-socky gonzo, featuring ninjas as far as the eye can see.
I don’t think the people writing the blurbs have actually seen the movies. This? This is X-Men in feudal Japan, and no I’m not really joking. Yeah, there’s a R+J vibe in there too, but it’s ultimately less of a presence than everybody’s freaky powers and all the fighting.
I actually enjoyed this quite a lot once I realized it wasn’t, as I’d expected (since all I’m reading is the blurbs), a serious swordfighting drama. The CGI is questionable and it’s sometimes silly, but I found some good solid entertainment in it. It’s very nice to look at (and not just the backgrounds; I much liked the pretty boy in black with the loooooooong sleeves); the fight sequences are fun, and the freaky powers are an interesting assortment that make for lots of entertainment. It moves briskly and is just the right length. A great way to spend some time on a Sunday afternoon.
Seven Swords
Hong Kong
From HK action king Tsui Hark (PEKING OPERA BLUES), this lush period piece sees a village beset by a cruel military official. Realizing they’ll need help if their community is to survive, two young men set off in search of Master Shadow-Glow atop the mystical Mount Heaven.
What happened to the Tsui Hark who made Peking Opera Blues and Time and Tide? The one who made the dreary, colorless The Blade is the same one who made this film, and I fear that’s the Tsui Hark we’re now stuck with it.
This isn’t a bad film, necessarily. But there are way too many plot threads, almost no humor and a rather grim, overly-somber tone, as well as a surfeit of artsy camerawork and lighting that serves mainly to obscure the fight sequences. Its pleasures come almost entirely from the cast; there is almost no circumstance where the presence of Donnie Yen or Lau Kar-Leung (who I didn’t even know was still alive!) doesn’t bring some enjoyment to a film, and the rest of the cast was nice to watch as well. I also liked the costuming (particularly the “ghost army” in their grim, spiky black armor and white-and-black makeup–who’d have expected an army of goths in ancient China?) and the locations. As for the fighting, well, it was good when it wasn’t heavily shadowed and quick-cut. The film is also quite a bit longer than it needs to be (something that might not have registered so strongly if I hadn’t seen it right after the economical Shinobi). I certainly don’t regret having seen this. However, a good wuxia film should leave me exhilarated and kinetic. This mostly left me drained and wishing it had been more exhilarating.
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06.08.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 10:48 am by Ice Princess
Black Orpheus
Brazil, 1959
Unmissable. New print of the colorful Brazilian classic that updates the Orpheus-Eurydice myth to Rio with the carnival in full bloom. The score by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Luis Bonfa sent the bossa nova beat around the world. Winner of the 1959 Palme d’or in Cannes.
Initially, this was something of a “spinach” movie for me. The term comes from Salon’s art-film columnist, and it means a movie that you know you ought to see, for various reasons, but enjoyment isn’t necessarily one of those reasons. The “spinach” aspect of this one was that it’s one of those things a well-rounded cinephile should have in his or her viewing repertoire due to its reputation, and because I was feeling kind of tired and cranky and not certain I wanted to make the effort of going to the theater (especially since I know I could drop by Scarecrow Video any time and rent it). But then again, I like spinach.
And I liked this, and I could not possibly have gotten the same effect if my first viewing had been on a little TV screen. The reputation is completely deserved. It is gorgeous (sometimes almost absurdly so, in the literally baroque costumes of the dance groups at the Carnival parade), passionate, emotional, full of vitality and energy–in the world of this film, dancing is the essence of life–and it makes the myth work beautifully in a totally contemporary setting. Even as I reveled in the beauty and emotion of it, my inner scholar was checking off the plot points of the myth, and nearly all of them were handled well and creatively, fitting into the contemporary setting without sacrificing the fundamental mythos. A movie that satisfies both emotion and intellect for me is a rare thing. I’m so glad I went for the spinach this time.
Blood Rain
South Korea
In this imaginative, period detective thriller, a series of gruesome murders takes place on medieval Dongwha Island, apparently fulfilling a shamanist prophecy. Lavish costumes and vivid production design grace this riveting story of what later centuries will call forensics.
So I like costumed things, and I like mysteries. This ought to have been a home run. And aside from the gratuitously gruesome violence (a constant in South Korean filmmmaking, I’ve found), I liked the first hour and a half of this. I appreciated the attempts to create some kind of forensic science in a feudal setting. I found the lead character very appealing. I did figure out who the murderer was well before it was revealed, but I didn’t get the reasons quite right, so props there. And yes, the costumes were great–I especially liked the ceremonial outfits that appeared to be made of paper (a paper mill figures prominently in the story). And it caused me to ponder the thought that traditional Korean dress seems to be built largely on circles, as opposed to the angular lines of Japanese costume. However, in the last half hour everything just started going completely over the top, with overwrought emotion and bizarre motivations; and the last ten minutes completely blew the philosophical underpinnings of the story out of the water, and for no good reason but spectacle and cheap emotion. Instead of enjoying the modest success of a decent mystery, I left the theater irked and disappointed at how it let itself down.
VishwaThulasi
India
A beautiful dance instructor returns to her childhood village and renews ties with her first sweetheart. Unfortunately for the couple a once-thwarted, insanely jealous suitor still lurks there. Almost indecently gorgeous to behold, poet Sumathy Ram’s knowingly old-fashioned directorial debut is bolstered by ultra-lush songs, costuming and scenery.
Very pretty, definitely. I greatly enjoyed the scenery and the dancing. Modest in ambition and execution and it was enjoyable to see a love story that didn’t revolve around dewy young’uns (not that the leads aren’t pretty enough, they’re just not spring chickens). A bit meandering. Dumb (though not really unexpected, since I know the conventions of the genre) ending. Aside from enjoying the visual aspects, I kind of wish I hadn’t gone to it.
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06.06.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 12:22 pm by Ice Princess
Joni’s Promise
Indonesia
A cocky film canister delivery boy makes a bet with a beautiful woman that he can assemble the perfect viewing experience for her one reel at a time, even as his clock-racing quest to make it back to the theater hits a series of hilarious snags.
The blurb isn’t terribly accurate. The setup is that there’s only one print of a film to share between two theaters, so he goes back and forth between theaters delivering the reels, trying to make sure that the next reel gets there before the previous one runs out. The pretty girl tells him that she’ll give him her name if he can make sure all the reels for the screening she’s at are there on time. Of course, chaos and absurdity ensue.
This is a really cute little movie, with very appealing characters, tangy dialogue, situations just silly enough to be funny without being completely unbelievable, and the right amount of sincere sweetness. Lots of movie-going jokes–the “10 Types of Audience Members” bit, featuring such specimens as the cell-phone user, the dimbulb who needs the whole film explained to her, and the snob who will only go on opening day, brought much knowing laughter. (The number of references to Hollywood films kind of bothered me, though; I hate being reminded of how much we’re taking over the world.) There were more passholders than ticket-buyers at this screening, which didn’t surprise me in the least–we’re a ridiculously self-referential bunch.
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06.04.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 1:51 pm by Ice Princess
The Nightly Song of the Travellers
Iran/France/Turkey
An aging Turkish tailor, just released from an Iranian jail, sets off with a 12-year-old companion in search of his Anatolian home only to find the village has vanished without a trace. The quest gives an evocative glimpse of an age-old world filled with traditions, faith and history.
Sometimes you just have to take a movie on its own terms. Symbolic, opaque, and existentialist, this would likely drive most people crazy in short order. (And judging by the silly questions and irritated accusations thrown at the director after the screening, it apparently did.) I decided to just accept it for what it was–which is a largely plotless ramble through the landscape of eastern Turkey, near its borders with Armenia, Iraq, and Iran–and enjoy the scenery and draw my own conclusions. It’s nice to look at and calming and an interesting experiment in viewer interpretation. (It was also a pleasant little game to see how many Turkish words I remember. Not very many, it turns out.)
The Five Venoms
Hong Kong, 1978
An eager martial arts apprentice must fulfill his dying master’s final wish and track down his five most lethal students, each armed with a separate, animal-inspired fighting method. Kicking ensues. Responsible for defining a genre, director Chang’s 1978 classic is a lush, colorful chop-sockie masterwork. Toad Style!
All hail the Shaw Brothers. I’m still viewing and learning about the older Hong Kong martial-arts films, and it’s really interesting to see how dramatic a shift in production values there was in the mid to late 1980s. This one is very definitely a marker on the way to the lusher, better-produced films I fell in love with, but it also has the cheap, silly aspects that everyone associates with “classic” kung fu films: fakey sets, cheap and inauthentic costuming and makeup, grotesque overacting. None of that takes away from the fundamental pleasure of it, however, and the kung fu–while a little slower than would become true later–is definitely worthy of awe. And how nice to see Phillip Kwok (who I know best as “Mad Dog” in Hard Boiled, where he is awesome) in a starring role. I had a lot of fun at this, and so did The Husband, who fell into my evil trap in agreeing to see this and is now going to be subjected to a barrage of my favorite more recent martial arts and wuxia movies.
The Prince Contemplating His Soul
Tunisia
A tapestry of brilliant imagery and Sufi music unfolds as a blind old sage and his spirited granddaughter wind their way to a rumored gathering of dervishes. Are the travelers they meet along the way real or just manifestations of ancient legends and fables?
This is a really beautiful film, both visually and in story and emotion. The relationship between the old man and his granddaughter feels very true, and each tale folded into their journey has its own special feeling. It also uses music and images together wonderfully; a great deal of the emotion I took away from it came from that aspect.
Unfortunately, I don’t know how any of the stories in the film end. The print of the film was detained by Customs, so the distributor sent SIFF a DVD of it; sadly, the DVD is damaged, and started stuttering and freezing a little over halfway through. The staff stopped it and tried to get it fixed three times, and nothing worked, so they just ended the screening.
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06.03.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 11:15 am by Ice Princess
Lunacy
Czech Republic
A joyously pessimistic masterpiece from Jan Svankmajer, the master of Czech surrealism, Lunacy introduces us to a man whose horrifying dreams make his nights unbearable. An offer of assistance from a sadistic nobleman leads the man into an asylum where the doctors are even more dangerous than the patients.
Masterpiece? No. So, so, so disappointed in this. I knew I would be disappointed from the introductory prologue, which very carefully explained the entire film to us–influences, intent, and ideals. I am generally of the opinion that any film the director feels the need to explain to us is not thought to be strong enough to stand on its own and is therefore a failure before it starts. Plus, as soon as the words “Marquis de Sade” were mentioned as a source, I knew exactly where it was going, and I just find de Sade tired, numbing, and childish (yes, for all the perversion, childish in attitude and emotion).
This hardly even feels like a Svankmajer work (aside from his trademark unflattering held-too-long closeups and stop-motion animation with meat products, which didn’t really fit into the story on even an allegorical level this time). There’s very little humor and no originality; every plot twist was telegraphed. It’s not even particularly outrageous, at least to my jaundiced Western-secular sensibilities. There is definitely cynicism and a sense of defeated outrage, and I wonder if Svankmajer has had some kind of crisis of faith. Perhaps that’s the ultimate statement of the film, that there is so much disappointment that there’s no point in trying. Either way, it makes for a sad experience.
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06.01.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 7:54 pm by Ice Princess
The Porcelain Doll
Hungary
Based on three fairytales by the Hungarian fabulist Ervin Lázár, the earthy, lovable farmers of PORCELAIN DOLL live by their own laws, at least until they come up against the laws of the surrounding world. Resurrections, magical villages, music and bureaucratic bogs ensue.
Magical realism in Hungary. Very pretty, but I didn’t really understand what was going on a lot of the time. There wasn’t much in the way of context for why some (real-world, not magical) things happened, especially in the last episode; while I suspect this works well on the page (and I’d like to read the stories), it doesn’t seem to go over as well on screen. Then again, maybe I was just tired. Not a bad movie, but I didn’t enjoy it as much as I was hoping to.
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Posted in Movies, SIFF at 12:44 pm by Ice Princess
Carmen in Khayelitsha
South Africa
I’m not going to waste time copying and pasting the blurb because I can explain it myself: This is Carmen–as in, the opera by Bizet–set in a modern-day South African township, and performed in Xhosa. If that sounds gimmicky, well, so did Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes a gimmick is what a story needs to be seen anew.
(Stop reading here if you don’t want the plot of Carmen spoiled for you.)
The bad points first: They have nearly removed Escamillo (called here Lullamile, and a famous singer rather than a toreador) from the story; there’s only one brief flirtatious moment with Carmen, and the attempt to fit in his killing of a bull is awkward. The film would have been stronger, if less faithful to the source, if they’d removed him entirely rather than having him as an almost incidental presence.
The film’s Don Jose (called here Jongi, a policeman rather than a solider though the distinction doesn’t mean much in practical terms) has a pretty tenor, but is not a good actor. His passion and obsession with Carmen are hardly noticeable as his expression rarely varies, and it weakens the story. Also, the incident with the captain that convinces him to join the smugglers is handled badly, almost as a sidenote, and doesn’t carry the wallop that it should.
I really love that they included South African music and dance in the film, but it doesn’t always mesh as well with the operatic aspect as it could. Also, the pacing is weird and not as efficient as it could be; The Husband commented that they took too long to tell what story they used, and I was surprised when we left the theater to discover that it had only been about two hours, since it had felt much longer than that.
So, bad points aside…with Escamillo and the jealousy he introduces largely out of the picture, what we get instead is a story of abuse and control, and it works well. Carmen doesn’t realize what she’s bought herself until Jongi has become hers, and his actions towards her are clearly those of a controlling, violent, abusive man. Her death isn’t the just dessert of a manipulative strumpet, but the result of an abuser who can’t stand losing control over his “property.”
This is also a story that matches well with the hopelessness of township poverty–in Lullamile’s story we get a flashback to apartheid that sets the scene for why those in the townships have so little way out. Crime, abuse, and violence are part of the landscape here, and it’s no wonder tragedy results.
This story of course rests on the shoulders of whoever plays Carmen, and whooooooooooooa nellie, Pauline Malefane is stunning. She has a rich, powerful voice, and her physical presence is awesome–this Carmen doesn’t flamenco, she shimmies, slinks, and stomps, and when she does you understand exactly what men see in her. Her “Habanera” is a wonder, sung with a sneer that anyone ought to be able to see, except that the men are so enthralled by her sheer force of personality that they never register her contempt for them. She’s less a frivolous sexual gameplayer than a woman who takes men only when she needs something, which makes the way she falls to Jongi more poignant.
From a purely cinematic standpoint, I found this middling. From a performance standpoint, though, a terrific experience.
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05.31.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 9:04 am by Ice Princess
Huldufolk 102
Iceland/USA
Beyond the quiet cities and towns of Iceland lies an invisible nation of mystical “hidden folk” who reveal themselves only to those who can “see beyond their stomachs.” Icelandic historians, writers, politicians, sorcerers, farmers and public road workers talk about the effect that the “invisibles” have on their culture.
Translation of the above blurb: A lot of people in Iceland believe in elves, or are at least unwilling to dismiss the possibility that they share their country with elves. This is not a particularly good film, I could have done with far less shaky hand-held footage of interviews and more solid scholarly background. However, from a folkloric and sociological standpoint, it’s fascinating and I really enjoyed that aspect (particularly when a professor of folklore compared the Icelandic viewpoint to that of the Irish–it had already occured to me that there seemed to be similarities in the Icelandic and Celtic depictions of and attitudes toward “hidden folk”); and of course, Iceland is heart-stoppingly beautiful and I never, never get tired of looking at footage of it.
I would like to note that I came up with a theory years ago, long before I ever heard about this aspect of Iceland, that Bjork is really an elf, and this film has only strengthened that theory for me. Also, I’ve had her “Human Behavior” stuck in my head for the past day as ironic commentary on the whole thing.
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05.29.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 4:36 pm by Ice Princess
The Method
Spain
Donald Trump could learn from the Grönholm method, created to separate the weak from the strong in the corporate world. In THE METHOD, several highly competitive candidates are up for a single high-level position at a multinational corporation. How far are they willing to go?
Essentially, this is just an ongoing series of mind games to show up how ruthless people can be in pursuit of something they want, put into a not-entirely-comfortable framework of criticizing the very nature of corporations. This ended up being neither as dark nor as funny as I was hoping, though it has a few wonderful sharp moments. Also, I am not the sort of person who should see movies that have me questioning every moment of them, because I’m far too prone to examining every conceivable side of an issue anyway; wondering if what we’re seeing is what’s really going on ends up distracting from what is going on. A nice ensemble cast, though, and the moments that are funny are worth it.
Princess Raccoon (Operetta Tanuki Goten)
Japan
This stylish visual phantasmagoria—with a flair for the ridiculous—follows a banished prince who falls in love with a mystical princess (Zhang Ziyi). A musical unlike anything you’ve seen before from cult auteur Seijun Suzuki (BRANDED TO KILL), who is stronger and stranger than ever at 82.
I…I have no idea, really, how to write about this. I know how I feel about it, which doesn’t mean I know how to put it into words. I can say that I spent much of this film with my mouth literally hanging open in wonder; the last time I did that at a film was Happiness of the Katakuris, which should tell those of you I inflicted that film on something about this one, as there are certainly similarities in tone and ambition. It also reminds me somewhat of “Beat” Takeshi’s Zatoichi, in the way it uses incongruous music and elements to communicate the emotion of the story.
That word “Operetta” in the Japanese title is a clue about what it is, but that’s not anywhere near the whole of it. It’s a fairy tale, and a fantasy, and a musical that spans everything from ska to ’60s Japanese ballads, and a parable, and traditional Japanese theater (I’m not educated enough about the forms to say what kind). It is completely stylized, all the sets blatantly and obviously false; we’re not meant to believe for a second that any of what we’re seeing is realistic. It is sumptuous, gorgeous costumes and lighting and backgrounds. It is deeply weird, and I suspect it would be even if I had the cultural background to grasp all the references. And it made me feel glorious, brilliant and happy and breath-taken and teary-eyed and fired with the wonder of what film can achieve. Is this a “good” movie? Hell if I know, and I bet a whole lot of people will hate it. For me, though, “good” isn’t the point; all I know is that my world broke open and let this thing in, changing everything for a couple of hours.
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05.28.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 8:06 pm by Ice Princess
Early in the Morning (un Matin bonne heure)
Guinea
A raw and critical story rooted in the economic exploitation of Africa, Early in the Morning follows Yaguine and Fodé, schoolboys who try in vain to find work to help their poor families. Lured by the symbols of Western affluence and power that surround them, the two stow away on a flight to Europe.
Imagine being 14 and living in a place so dead-end you can think of nothing but how to get out. Now imagine that the place is the entire country, and by some measures the entire continent. That’s the core idea in this film. There are no fancy cinematic tricks at work, no sophisticated storytelling, just a straightforward look at the despair of two teenage boys trying to find an escape. Their desires aren’t even particularly grandiose; Yaguine wants to give his older sister a chance to leave the country without having to worry about his future, while Fode hopes to get his young twin brothers into school, which costs money. The steps they ultimately take are grandiose, and reflective of how desperate they feel. This doesn’t hit you over the head. It just shows us how little these kids have in comparison to our own existence, and how the despair of that feeds on itself. I make a point of seeing films from Africa–particularly sub-Saharan nations–when I can, because I need to be reminded of things like this. This one also happens to be a fairly good film, which in this case is a bonus.
Au Bonheur des dames
France, 1930
Denise moves to Paris where her uncle’s struggling store is threatened by the glamorous “Au Bonheur des dames” department store across the street. Ironically, this is the only place she is able to find work. Based on the novel by Emile Zola, this is a fascinating glimpse of a past economic era. A rare archival print from the Cinémathèque Française, Paris.
The information I heard beforehand on this one called it “experimental,” “avant-garde,” “film noir”–it really doesn’t warrant any of those labels. Rather, it’s a good solid drama (some might say melodrama) with a dollop of social criticism that goes completely off the rails at the end. (I have to be reminded sometimes that pointless happy endings are not a modern phenomenon.) Before the ending, though, it’s most enjoyable, nicely weaving together several storylines that revolve around the store–the store is almost a character in itself. The cinematography is lovely and sometimes breathtaking, using montage techniques that were more common at the time in Soviet cinema and some innovative wide and overhead shots. The print is gorgeous, an amazing restoration job; there are only a few places where any deterioration is even noticeable. And of course I enjoyed staring at all the period clothing. (I did find myself rather distracted by how much star Dita Parlo looked like Janet Gaynor, though.) As with yesterday’s presentation, there was a live performance of the score, which greatly added to the experience. On the whole, I found this a better film and a more enjoyable screening than The Scarlet Letter.
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05.27.06
Posted in Movies, SIFF at 7:47 pm by Ice Princess
Wah-Wah
South Africa/UK
Richard E. Grant (WITHNAIL AND I) steps behind the camera for the first time for this semi-autobiographical dramedy about English colonial life in Swaziland. Teenage Ralph’s resentment towards his family brews during two years of boarding school, only to come to a head on his return when he meets his new American stepmother.
My Richard E. Grant fangirlness approaches the level of my Stephen Fry fangirlness, for the same reasons: he’s smart, witty, talented, a great writer, and has an excellent sense of perspective about his place in the world. He also has an utterly unexpected and fascinating background, which is that he grew up in colonial Swaziland. Combine all that, and this movie (which he wrote in addition to directing) was a no-brainer for me. Happily, I really enjoyed it, though I’m sure that’s in part my bias showing. Grant’s writing definitely holds up here, communicating wit, warmth, absurdity, and pathos at the right times, and providing characters who never come off as caricatures. He neatly nails the ludicrous classism and hypocrisy of British colonial bureaucrats. He’s not quite as assured as a director; some scenes wander off uncertainly, or seem to be jammed into the story without any real context, and his attempt to match the blossoming of his (or, rather, Ralph’s) love of performing doesn’t fit as comfortably with the family story as it should.
This movie is stuffed with reliable British performers giving the kind of reliable performances they’re all known for (even Gabriel Byrne, who I normally find near insufferable). Emily Watson is the real standout; you expect to hate her, as Ralph expects to, and yet she undercuts that almost immediately with the warmth and openness of her character (leaving aside the wildly wandering American accent). Julie Walters manages her usual trick of being funny, warm, and heartbreaking all at once but without it feeling stale, and Miranda Richardson once again pulls off the ice-cold bitch who is well-meaning and vulnerable underneath (though I’d really like to see her in some other role for a change–the woman’s damned funny, could she have a comedy again please?). And the kids who play Ralph (at different ages) both manage to seem like real, hurt, confused boys without feeling like they’re acting.
This movie definitely has potential for being cloying and precious to a sensibility less biased by the source. But I found it genuinely touching and enjoyable.
The Proposition
Australia
In this brutal and uncompromising Australian western written by Nick Cave, Irish outlaws Charlie and Mikey Burns are captured by newly appointed lawman Captain Stanley, who then offers Charlie a simple proposition: find and kill his older brother Arthur within ten days or Mikey will be executed.
Okay, so apparently day 1 was “fangirl day.” Yeah, I saw this in part due to the Nick Cave screenplay (and for other fannish types, note that he and Warren Ellis did the music for it). But really, I can’t imagine anything more perfectly suited to Nick Cave’s artistic sensibilities than a dark dubious-morality-drenched Western, and oh does he deliver. This is the kind of film that makes one despair for humanity–and yet it is so satisfyingly told, so perfectly limns the complexities and contradictions of morality, that it’s worth it even with the despair it induces. It should be noted that this is visually and emotionally brutal–the filth isn’t spared, nor is the violence, and it can be very difficult to watch at times. However, it isn’t gratuitous; it’s all in service of setting the context for the times and the actions of the characters. I did feel that the story went further than it needed to; there are certain expectations in a story like this that I always hope the makers will resist. Cave and director John Hillcoat didn’t resist, and that disappointed me a little. But those things weren’t out of character with the story at all; this is a disagreement of preference, not of artistic soundness.
And once again, here we are with a sterling cast giving reliably wonderful performances. Ray Winstone takes the prize; he’s known for playing louts, but there are wonderful shadings to this performance that go well beyond loutishness. Emily Watson shows up again, in a very different sort of performance, and the way her shifts of emotion and ethics play over her face is a treat to watch. The outlaws are not as strong as they should be as characters though they all have worth, and John Hurt chews on the scenery rather embarassingly (if entertainingly). And for yet another fannish note, David Wenham’s here, in a performance utterly different from the one he’s best known for.
This isn’t a movie for everyone. If ever there was a gothic Western, though, this is it, and I don’t mean in the trappings–I mean in the exploration of the contradictions and darkness of human behavior. (For the edification of Seattle folk, it’s opening at the Varsity on June 9.)
The Scarlet Letter
USA, 1926
In a luminous new print of Victor Sjöström’s silent adaptation of the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel, Lilian Gish stars as the tragic seamstress Hester Prynne, punished for playing on the Sabbath and seeking refuge in an ill-advised relationship with the kindly minister Arthur Dimmesdale (played by Swedish heartthrob Lars Hanson).
I love how they attempt to not give away the “hook” in the blurb above, even though every kid who took an English class in an American high school likely knows the story. At any rate, this manages to communicate the story in tune with the chasteness of the times in which it was made, which is occasionally a little annoying to a current sensibility but well done in context; the only thing I felt wasn’t well-handled was the fundamental weakness of character of Dimmesdale. There’s some surprisingly biting humor scattered through it. It is very definitely gorgeous to look at, playing with light and shadow without overdoing it and filling the screen with colonial buildings and Puritan costumes.
Lars Hanson, though very pretty, was a terrible actor even considering the different standards of the times, while this movie is virtually a laboratory for Lillian Gish’s patented expressions of woundedness, despair, and coquettishness; I wouldn’t consider this one of her best as she seems to be painting by numbers in a lot of places. (Her other film with this director, The Wind, makes far better use of her capacity to be beautiful, helplessly despairing, and yet tough.)
The live performance of the score was very good. Silent films should definitely always be viewed with music; live music is even better. I did feel that the score was occasionally a beat or so behind what was happening onscreen, but everything supported and punctuated the action nicely, a great enhancement to the screening. (Before the film started, we were treated to a little exercise with the composer where the audience would supply him with some combination of a film genre, a historical setting, and a director, and he’d come up with an appropriate snippet of music to go with this hypothetical film. The Tod Browning 19th century slapstick one was particularly delightful, turning the Minute Waltz into minor-key carnival music. The man clearly has a talent for this field.)
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