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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