Film Review

  • Coco before Chanel Anne Fontaine (France 2009)

    Coco before Chanel Anne Fontaine (France 2009) Audrey Tautou, Benoit Poelvoorde

    Viewed Tyneside Cinema 19 Aug 09; ticket price £7.00

    frocks and stuff

    If German cinema has sold out its soul and sense of history to Hollywood; then in films such as Coco before Chanel (CBC) we can see that French cinema has capitulated completely to the BBC costume drama format where history and life are reduced to a corporate competition to see who has the biggest hoose, the most crinoline and the funniest hats: the Beeb or FR2? These corporate products are characterised by the silent doleful meaningful looks of the principal characters as they gaze upon worlds of which they can never be a part. Which gazings are repeated ad nausiam in shots and scenes until you want to give one or both saps a poke in the eye.

    I should never have gone to see this movie but a commitment to keep a random element in my film going led me to a terrible place.

    CBC is a cozzi biopic filmed in the best tradition of the genre: nothing real intrudes so as to disturb a succession of set pieces (big hoose parties), meaningful encounters characterised by gnomic banal dialogue or silence and tastefully lit pans of skin, stand-ins for the sex scenes. The narrative is in the manner of that vacant style of page turning which characterises the perusal of expensive coffee table publications. Beginning middle and end have little meaning. It doesn’t matter whether you start at the front or somewhere in the middle. It all looks the same and Anne Fontaine opens out CBC before us in with a unidimensional monotony without pace tension or energy. CBC isn’t a life; it’s a parade of fashionable gestures. A vehicle for Audrey.

    Most of the shots are clichés comprising compositions framed for symmetry and tracks that lead nowhere. However there was one shot that I liked in the movie being the only shot that made me connect with something a little below the belt. After a nights hard set-piece partying at Etienne’s bighoose, CBC cuts to early morning and shot of Coco sort of splayed on the ground under a tree; and to me she had the look of a clown. For a moment my imagination fired; I understood something about Coco. She was a clown and a clown hides behind a mask and feigns happiness to disguise sadness or emptiness. With clown you don’t know what’s going on but they are always know they’ll end up in the shit. But the shot turned out to be an anomaly, a blip in the parade of images. Nothing developed out of the shot. Perhaps it was just my imagination. An hallucination on my part born of a desire to find something in the film that made any sense.

    Because of course Coco was a haunted character. Haunted by her past which she tried very hard, most of her life, to conceal. Driven perhaps to square off the humiliations and knock backs (both real and imagined) that she experienced from the hands that paid for her creations. The clown knew how to perform and to hide behind the mask. Perhaps the clown also wanted something darker, revenge; was there something of this desire to get her own back that lay behind her arrest as a spy after World War ll and her subsequent release and flight to Switzerland? The film is unable to pose let alone answer any real questions. Time just slips by. World War l, epochs, the page simply turns over to the next picture. the next frock.

    Part of the motivation of seeing CBC was that my daughter, 20 years old and interested in fashion said she’d like to see it. When I asked her if she’d enjoyed it she replied it was one of the most boring films she’s ever seen.

    adrin neatrour

    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • District 9

    When I see Peter Jacksons name on something these days I just feel so disheartened (and he had such potential.). Luckily that is the only mark he has left on this, open, then pour, instant classic. This is a film where the sum far outweighs the parts. Blomkamp with his debut has not got all the parts right but as a whole it is the best film this year.

    Firstly I have to say it ticks all my boxes, it is gross, there is action, humour, aliens, guns and did I mention gross. District 9 is the most realistic refugee slum I have seen outside of a documentary and this one is full of aliens that look alien. Something that is implausable situated in something that is very real but just as unimaginable for most of us who will see this film.

    This is entertainment and it is loads of fun and if I never mentioned it, somewhat gross. However there is just below this very flimsy suface some very acute observations on society and social views. These are observations concentrated mainly on society in South Africa as Blomkamp is a South African but we are all the same species (Rather than fokin prawns) so all of us should also be able to relate to these observations. I think it places a mirror over the fast growing South African world of the Private security/police force. I have no further comments on this, the rest I leave up to you fokers to consider.

    Sharlto Copley is magnificent at playing the over the top, ignorant, prejadice, trailer park, trash who has to much power. Wikus is delightfuly, if I haven’t mentioned gross. Someone you simultaneously despise and root for. He competes with Scarface and the Big Lebowski with the word Fok, in fact I love it in them to movies but after awhile with the S. African twang it gets a bit grating. This only adds to its power though. The aliens are awesome, all gross while wearing gang clothes and pink bras and despite only talking in clicks they disgust, amuse and also get your empathy.

    This film you must see, the style of filming alone sets it apart with its mixture of documentary style fiming and CCTV camera parts.

    You can probably tell from my reviews I like cinema that disgusts. So take a lesson from District 9 Mr. Jackson. You once did a great job of grossing me out, before you became sterile, cock sucker of the man.

    P.s. I have just read my review and with the language, spelling and grammar I sound a bit like trailer park trash. I like that so I’m leaving it as it is folks . Have fun deciphering.

  • AntiChrist Lars vonTrier (2009 Denmark Germany) Willem Defoe; Charlotte Gainsbourg

    AntiChrist Lars vonTrier (2009 Denmark Germany) Willem Defoe; Charlotte Gainsbourg
    Viewed Tyneside Cinema: 27 July 07; Ticket price £6.85

    God is dead: sex is dead
    After the final credit of Antichrist(AC) I was left neither with a coherent idea nor thought nor with an emotional reaction to the film. My feeling was that I had been inside a dream, Lars von Trier’s dream. A stream of conscious and unconscious imagery that was in equal measure coherent and confused, profound and banal. An expression of the director’s state of mind, a personal film to which I can only make a personal response. AC left a desire to respond.

    And if not the dreamer who would censor our dreams? I think this is a culture that is deeply suspicious of the dream. The dream bypasses the mental circuitry of the forebrain where our needs and desires are translated into rational social statements comprising correct concepts and vocabulary. As a culture we subject ourselves to as deep a self censorship as any Medieval peasant or monk. In both the structure and content LvT challenges our self censoriousness with the stuff of our dreams and with the logic and demands of the ‘unconscous’, the ‘devil’ within. The main problem with the transposition of dream material into AC, is that LvT has not been able to find an expressive language of images modes and devices beyond the cliché of the horror film and banalities of the snuff movie. The more you see in the literalist graphic modes that comprise the final sequence of AC, the more degraded and laughable becomes the enterprise. What starts as a allegorical Neo Nietschean post Freudian theorem, turns into a Tobe Hopper theme park, where the plot is lost in suffusion of ideas and images from competing realms: fairy tale, eschatology, daemonology, gynocide and opera bouffe mutilations etc.

    But before the chaos I think that LvT in his scenario and filmic realisation, opens up areas of psychosocial functioning which justify the film. I see LvT as a Zarathustra figure, descending the mountain but announcing, not that God is dead, but that “Sex is dead”. There is something in LvT and the personal nature of his film making that is neo-Nietschian in spirit. All is allegory and excess yet there is a message that we are living at a point in time where everything is unhinged, everything is balanced betwixt disaster and overcoming. The filmic rendering of the text : the big close up’s, the wild panning camera, jump cuts the enfoldment of the intolerable and overwhelming with the stillness of nature, simulate an interiority of creative philosophical vision. “ What is the greatest thing you can experience? It is the hour of the great contempt. The hour when even your happiness grows loathsome to you, and your reason and your virtue also (Prologue Zarathustra).

    Freud, after many years banished to the wilderness is reinstated by LvT. Freud’s one great insight lies at the core of AC. I think LvT has revived Freud because Freud’s ideas represent a fundamental challenge to, a break with the Western Rationality Project. (as do Nietzsche’s) Freud’s decade long analysis of his patient’s dreams led to his basic insight that man functions at an irrational level. Freud conceptualised the ‘Id’ as the instinctual basis of man’s being which all civilisations suppressed but which Western rationalism denied. LvT uses Freud’s basic concept of the “Id’ but recasts the rest of Freudian theory along his own line of vision. Freud theorised about The Primal Scene, the unconscious effect on the child witnessing their parents copulate. From the witnessing the Primal Scene came the theory of the Oedipal conflict in which the male child is driven to kill the father and fuck the mother. One of Freud’s weaknesses was the inadequacy of his theory in addressing the female.

    This cannot be said of LvT who reconfigures the Primal Scene in the opening sequence of the film. I can’t say I liked the way this sequence was shot: stylised in extremis without synch sound, black and white photography all in slomo ; it had the glossy look of a Vogue centrespread and is cut to music from Handel’s opera Rinaldo, Almirena’s aria: ‘Let me Weep”. But my like or dislike isn’t the point. Because the sequence is effective in setting up LvT’s basic theorem: Sex is Dead. In Freud’s allegorical primal scene (which Freud describes as being perceived as violent) it is the psyche of the child that is subconsciously effected. During LvT’s opening primal scene, which is shot with vigour and violence, the child dies. Sex kills the child. The woman understands this; and woman whose realises that sex equates with death is consequently overwhelmed by the claims made upon her by the force of ‘her Id’. She is disturbed to the roots of her being. And so are we. LvT points directorially to the contemporary Western justification of sex. Sex is either a function of rationality or of consumption. But the actual nature of sex is fertility and in denying this are suppressing our fundamental nature. The price of denial is its violent twisted return in unexpected forms. Sex is dead. In its place rationality self image and desire are propagated but have to be constantly coppiced stimulated and resuscitated to endure within our exhausted psyches. When true fertile sex erupts through the sods of censorship it takes on a violent apocalyptic form destroying what lies in its path.

    In the prologue and opening two chapters of AC, LvT sets up his theorem in relation to Him (Adam) and Her (Eve) and their return to Eden. The forces of rationality are pitted against the forces of the enraged ‘Id’ as they erupt from the trauma of the sex/death equation. The overwhelming of Eve by her subterranean daemon is expressed as cinematic compulsion as she crosses the bridge to Eden, both virtually and actually; and her nature melds with the foliage and landscape; a merging stunningly evoked by use of natural still life’s and silent shots intercut with her physical progress back into the woods. Transitions. That I found LvT’s finale unconvincing doesn’t detract from the powerful ideas that he set into play. But I found that his final imagery abandoned the powerful allegorical relations that he set in play between the sexes.

    The question asked about AC in the press is whether it and by extension LvT is misogynist. The easy answer may be that it appears so. However I don’t think this is right question. I think the appropriate question is connected to the world of dreams. And whether or not you self censor your dreams when their motifs imagery and implications trouble you. I don’t think AC is misogynist but necessarily expresses itself to us as if it were. In a hostile environment context and social setting LvT is asking what happens when trauma removes the superegoistic mask of the female; the trauma of knowing that what we understand as sex is in fact death. Not life. An enraged primal ‘Id’ is released that is vengeful murderous corrupted by its true nature. This is the price of rationality. This is the terror unleashed by reason.
    adrin neatrour 31 July 2009
    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • Stereo 20 minute review

    Stereo (1969) Director David Cronenburg

    20 Minute Review

    Set in some sort of research establishment the film portrays the events surrounding the experimentation into telepathy and eroticism on a number of volunteers .

    Grainy footage, no doubt enhanced by the format [16mm] and possible deterioration of the print, provided a convincing effect that the viewer was watching footage taken from some sort of monitoring camera system. A commentary delivered in a drawled monotone accompaning the footage at intermittent intervals within the film added to the deception that the viewer was participating in some form of review, or report on the events as they unfolded.

    Although purporting to be set in the future, how far [from 1969] this future was there was no indication. The capes and a walking canes favoured by the male characters for outdoor wear suggested the late Victorian era. Indoors doublet, of the late medieval style, and hose seemed to be the preferred apparel. This latter sartorial concept failed to convince me that the setting futuristic, giving more the impression of actors whiling their time between scene calls for one of Shakespeare’s “Wars of the Roses” plays.

    Perhaps Cronenburg would have been better to follow on of the familiar clichés to suggest the future by kitting people out in metallic jumpsuits. He could have course looked at the changes to clothing in the past century and concluded that trousers and a shirt would still likely to be worn and dressed his characters so.

    The story line is of the experimentation on a number of young adults, male and female, to ascertain the effects of telepathy on erotic behaviour.

    This was developed by the narrative voice, which contained a good helping of psycho-babble. Using the voice of a young adult to deliver the narrative, adding a sprinkling of psychological/medical terminology and a pinch of “Gestant” , to suggest the link to Freud et al, Cronenburg encourages the listener to believe that the narration is a report and that this pretentious clap-trap is exactly what one would expect from the mouth of a young researcher out to impress his audience.

    References to Stringfellow and eroticism also were liberally thrown out by the narrator. This was somewhat confusing to the reviewer. Could it be perhaps a reference to Stringfellow’s Club in London with its erotic dancers, etc, which was part of some formal study into erotic behaviour. It was not obvious at this point in the film.

    Although not the mutant haggis variety of his later films we are shown in one scene the replica internal organs of a medical mannequin. a miniature female version of which later manifests itself in the film “Dead Ringers”.

    Other scenes for future films also get their rehearsal outing. Through the narrator we are told that one of the volunteers drills a hole in his forehead to [successfully] release the pressure on his brain. Unlike the same event in Scanners we do not see the actual event, being limited to the suggestion of occurrence through the character probing his forehead.

    At this point if one believes in the reality of the film one can have an interesting philosophical conundrum. Did the character have an original thought to drill his head, or being in the future, could he have been influenced by the scene in Scanners.

    After twenty minutes I received a telepathic message through the film telling me to get an alcoholic drink to relieve the tedium. I therefore obeyed and went to the bar for a beer. Unfortunately only Cronenburg was on offer. So in the tradition of all good News of the Screws investigating journalists “I made an excuse and left”.

    Review by Phil Eastine

  • New Forms for Old

    New forms for old: some thoughts on contemporary film

    It’s been apparent for some time that film has been developing new forms and that it might be worth while to try to develop a loose typology as a way of talking about them and their characteristic stylistic qualities.

    Traditional genre typing points in the main to subject matter but might indicate something about style: traditionally we have Westerns, Romance, Sci-fi, Horror, Biopics etc, genres that are still used descriptively. The appearance of a French School of Film criticism in the ‘40’s and 50’s saw both genre and form reappraised, and new conceptual tools created. A group of thinkers, not all French, developed critical evaluations and interpretations; in particular in relation to ideas about stylistic characteristics of film. Out of the work of this group terms such as: Film Noir, Auteur, Neorealism, New Wave entered critical currency as a way of grouping and talking about distinctive films or film styles with shared characteristics that did not fall into traditional categories. A basis for dialogue.

    Film Noir a term coined in 1946 by Frank and Chartier, referenced not just the dark psychotic mood and antisocial roles in the material but also the stylistic register of the films: the use of low key lights, chiaroscuro and shadow as expressive concomitants to narratives that were still by and large conventional. But note that even with Film Noir some films, such as Hawke’s Big Sleep, were more concerned with the coherence of style than with the continuities of plotline.

    Some of these genres were not straightforward to grasp, provoking differing understandings in different writers and filmgoers. Some writers found it difficult to think in terms of genre other than as a descriptor of subject matter. Neorealism was often confused with social realism, which I think refers to specifically political and social commitment of the filmmaker; to the use of proletarian settings with real locations rather than sets. However despite differences in understanding, all writers understood that the films of the late 1940’s 50’s and 60’s were qualitively different in form and style from those that had preceded them. A new type of film making was taking place, that developed new expressive modes sometimes made possible by advances in film technology, that reflected the concerns and obsessions of a world that had almost destroyed itself. Worlds constructed out of ruins.

    From out of this ruined world Neorealist filmmakers created an audacious series of films that were new in both structure and form. For critics such as Bazin Neorealist films deviated radically from the idea of film making that employed straightforward lines of narrative both in micro and macro structure. Neorealist films were films built out of fragments, discontinuities, layers, weak connections, impossible cuts and the intentional splitting of the constituent elements of film, the movement image and the sound image. Deleauze realised that Neorealism pointed to a new situation in film where perception was personal and the seer was located at the centre of the film world. These were worlds in which the filmmakers did not provide an ad hoc interpretation; they visioned worlds that were there for the audience, through the seer, to understand.

    In different ways depending on director, New Wave filmmakers developed film form according to their own rules. So as well as incorporating into their work Neorealist ideas filmmakers such as Godard and Rivette made films that used context as the characteristic basis of their films. In particular an intellectual moral political social and cultural matrix lies at the core of the work. Godard incorporated aspects of advertising and pop culture directly into film. Godard as well as grounding his work in the cultural iconography of the times employs a wide spectrum of expressive filmic devices according to what’s contextually appropriate: postcards, inter-title cards, recorded messages; often with the intention of satiric political effect. Cinema becomes a cool medium: a collage of artifice. For Rivette context is specifically Paris where a real Paris is intermerged with a mythic city. In Hiroshima Mon Amour Resnais’ film is a personal historic accounting of Nevers and Hiroshima, an integration of location into personal circuitry where there is no memory without context, and no context without mind and no mind outside time. Questions of thinking as much as seeing lie somewhere at the heart of these movies.

    In different ways New Wave has been assimilated by contemporary filmmakers. Directors and film genres have moved on and developed forms responsive to cultural and technical change.

    One development I have noticed in recent film going is the ‘Installation’ film. Once we had drive in movies; now we got walk through movies. The ‘Installation’ film has certainly been made possible by developments in camera mounting, in particular steadicam which allows the progression of the camera to closely mimic natural movement through space or about an object. I think that ‘Installation’ movies critically differ from Neorealist in that the centre of the film is not the ‘seer’ but rather the ‘gazer’. By’gazer’ I am referring to the moral role assigned to the audience by the central controlling Point of View tracking shot that characterises ‘Instalation ‘ film. It is a point of view that tends to be detached, amoral. We gaze upon the environment of the other. The not-me. Through the point of view progress of the camera, space and artefacts are investigated and subjected to (mainly) visual scrutiny which is experienced as an inexorable moving through otherness. In ‘Installation’ film we move without pausing through stimulus rich environments. As we progress our gaze is directed to various events or objects: videos, photos, montage of artefacts etc and we leave with a forensic impression of the material that includes our movement through it. With the moving camera the director controls framing and content of frame. But the feeling from ‘installation’ films is that, one has moved through an environment as a detached observer. It is usually a cool detached experience from which the heat of emotive identification is abstracted. We go in. We come out. In the interstices we have gazed on the other.

    Films I’ve viewed recently that seem to fall into this ‘installation’ genre include: There will be Blood (Anderson), Hunger (McQeen), Helen(Lawler Molloy). These are films in which the installation element plays a central role. There are of course many other films which use the installation idea to further or develop a scene for the gaze of the audience. In the case of There Will Be Blood, the film is characterised by a large number of long tracking shots that take us through a series of tableaux (often comprising the oil filed). I wondered at first what the tracks were accomplishing; they didn’t seem to have an obvious purpose either moral or instrumental. In fact the tracking shots in TWBB are a simulated replication of the effect the audience would get if they were walking through a photo installation. The film is simply an installation in film form. The big production value centrepiece of TWBB is the Biblical column of fire caused by the well blow out and it reminded me of one of Bill Viola’s walk through installations that featured a huge cascade of water. The hyperrealisation of natural phenomena, overdetermines response in the viewer, filling out their field gaze, their sight lines. There Will Be Blood is filmed in a form that is designed to be ‘cool’, and fill out the visual field. It has not been written and shot for audience engagement with either context issues or emotions. Walk through is engagement with environment, and the presence of human actors is irrelevant. In ‘Installation’ we engage with phantom presences. The not-theres. An example of this is in the first section of Hunger, (which I enjoyed) and which felt like a re-enactment of the conditions at the Maze Prison constructed sometime in the future. A psychoarcheology of the Troubles, etched into walls floors and cell furniture of the prison; an environment for us to gaze on and assimilate. The presence of the actors actually seemed a minor detail almost an irrelevance when set beside the movement through the detailed forensic architectural restoration.

    Are you receiving me? Are you getting it? Film as ‘Text Message’(TM). There seem to be a number of films that mimic the idea of the text message: some drama but mostly documentary. The text message film generally sends you one primary message; and keeps on sending it the length of the movie. The film’s structure and form subserve the bidding of the text. The films are usually one dimensional in respect of content, by which I mean the information streams, audio and visual, are only supportive of the basic messaging proposition. Usually nothing is admitted into the movie that is not on message. TM films normally do all the thinking for their audience. The audience they address is by and large those converted to the message, and so their style is often ‘revivalist’ albeit low key revivalist.

    In a sense the TM films are outgrowths of the pop video and their intention like the pop video is to sell the message to the fans and perhaps pick up a few converts on the way. In the case of the TM documentary film the message is a single idea such as global warming or the disaster of junk food. Like the pop video the TM film is usually characterised by a rapidly cut and shifting montage schema. Typically composed with shots of short duration that aim at a rhythmic flow that bypasses reflection. The structure of the text film is often, not always, built up around a number of different interwoven intermeshed ‘stories’ or sequences (sometimes moving back and forth in time) that converge as the film progresses. The reason for this structure is that it gives the filmmakers a high degree of control over their material enabling them to cut away to a new sequence whenever there is a dip in the pace or energy of the film. Pace, as in the pop promo is everything, as soon as pace relents there is the possibility of the audience fatigue or ennuie, hence the need to generate energy by cutting to alternative backdrops and character groupings.

    Some feature films that seem to fall into the TM genre: Stop-Loss (Pierce) and Slumdog Millionaire (Boyle). Boyles film was like a Disney cartoon and carried one simple text message: everyone can conquer adversity and feel good. Slum Dog structured like a two hour long pop promo and it’s all singing dancing finale castes all that had gone before it as a sort of embryonic preparation for its ultimate destiny. Pierces’s Stop-Loss relates to the clause in the contract American soldiers sign when they enlist. It’s a clause which gives the US armed forces the right to compel military personnel to extend their service beyond the time for which they originally signed. Pierce’s film is made is response to her feelings about this issue. The problem is that film (or for that matter the novel or poetry) is generally not employed to its most powerful or persuasive effect when it is reduced to being a vehicle for an issue; when used as a mere vehicle, a simple conduit for a message.

    The final genre I want to look at is the ‘Wheird’. In some ways it is a close relation to the Horror movie, but usually has a stronger social-cultural matrix. ‘Wheird’ movies reflect societies where the values of consumerist capitalism create characters who, beyond a surface appearance of conformity, have little social cohesion. The economics of late capitalism isolates individuals decisively, leading to social relations of untrammelled desires. ‘Wheird’ genre characters are released into a notional freedom driven by the desires of image and object based culture. ‘Wheird’ as genre takes up the idea of a particular form of socially and economically determined isolation, and develops it as a circuit of amplification within the erogenous zone of the enclosed individual and their subjective world. The ‘Wheird’ genre normally envelops and entraps individuals ever deeper into the circuitry of subjective responses. There are no wider social or political responses to the situation, only individuated.

    One of the salient features of ‘Weird’ is to employ a narrative form that comprises a strip of action in which a character experiences or provokes a chain of weird linked events. In ‘Weird’ the general rule is that no character in the movie has cognisance of the weird because most of the central characters are bound into the same shared level of perception. What the viewer has to understand is that in the Wheird the characters have found a line of retreat or escape out of the social matrix. This line of escape, or retreat does not alienate them from their own culture; because along one critical dimension they are confirmed products of that culture, though their psychic response is of an unbalanced and exaggerated conformance to the accepted norms. Interestingly this heightened distorted parody of conformity is a trait they share as a defensive response with the exploited subjects of colonial and neo-colonial regimes. In Weird movies such as Napoleon Dynamite (Hess) or The King (Marsh), a common personality feature of the characters is that figures of iconic status from the movies or from rock n roll/ pop culture, provide derivative models for character assemblage. The feeling you get in Wheird is that character is a function of an egregious random assembly from the drifting flotsam of mass communications. A core central feature of the Wheird personality type is an inherent unpredictability caused by disintegration of the assemblage which disintegration is often at the core of the unravelling of the narrative. Lynch is the ‘auteur’ film maker of the Wheird genre, with Cronenberg a journeyman avatar.
    The above discussion of emerging genre types may or may not be useful as a escriptive function in relation to movies. But it’s a way of trying to talk about film, ecouraging dialogue and also analysing the amorphous chimerical links between societies and forms of expression.
    adrin neatrour 27 July 2009
    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • Ma Nuit chez Maud (My Night at Mauds) Eric Rohmer (Fr 1969 )

    Ma Nuit chez Maud ( My Night at Mauds) Eric Rohmer (Fr 1969 ) Jean Louis Trintignant, Francois Fabras, Marie-Christian Barrault

    Retrocrit – More seen than heard.
    Often described as talk driven, and talk centred I found it was in the film, its settings and cinematography that the Rohmer inscribed his central moral concerns.

    For me two shots stood out as defining certain central concerns about which Ma Nuit chez Maud (MNCM) revolves. Eric Rohmer (ER) does not use montage, his sequences comprise compositions built into the shot, the montage shot. There is a shot where Jean-Louis (Sic) forced by circumstances to stay over chez Francoise (F), insists on making tea for the two of them. This is the first time they have actually been together and in a sense are strangers to each other. But JL does not so much make the tea as produce a theatrical performance out of making a pot of tea for two. All the actions are magnified and accompanied by gestural signs that this is a demonstration of masculine competence, a played out ritual form like the priest preparing the communion wafer. The reason I find the shot significant is because it points to an example of existential bad faith, and existentialism as a popular philosophy was part of mental fabric of the ‘60’s. Sartre gave as an example of bad faith, living in denial of being, the waiter at a café who acted (had to act?) out the role of waiter: a situation where the waiter’s role was in an expressive performance which appropriated his being. The shot of JL making a pot of tea gave the same impression as Sartre’s waiter and in looking at JL’s behaviour in the film it appears to me that ER’s concern with moral behaviour is rooted in the key psychosocial ideas generated by existentialism ideas that are themically taken up developed elaborated and intensified by artists. Sartre of course as a philosopher was originally a phenomenologist and took as a starting point propositions related to observation which were not limited to written descriptions but could be extended to other expressive forms.

    The other shot that stood out for me in MNCM was one of the opening sequences introducing JL. He has just been to church and during the sequence that filmed part of the liturgy leading up to Holy Communion we see JL’s interest in an attractive blond chick (F) just a few pews away. From the interior of the church ER cuts to the exterior of the church at the end of the service. We see JL get in his car ready to stalk F to find where she lives. The stalking shot by JL by F is shot from the interior of the car ( there are in fact two shots but similar enough in composition to understand that the sequence was most likely conceived of as one shot). The shot in its interiority and intentionality comprises the most tense sequence in the film, as it has an inherent remorseless psychopathic quality. We don’t just feel we are in the interior of the car; we are in the interior of this guy’s mind. He’s man on the hunt; more accurately man machine on the hunt. An individual with a machine essence, ER’s modern corporate man on the loose, looking for his mechanical bride.

    Mechanical Bride ( the Folklore of Industrial Man) is of course the title of Marshall McLuhan’s first published work, and like most of his oeuvre comprises an assemblage of text and image. Essays chronicling the way machine imagery in advertising in particular in relation to the automobile, interpenetrate contemporary consciousness. And in MNCM JL is corporate man par excellence, working as an engineer for Michelin in Clermont. JL wants life to grip the road just like tyres.

    The core of the film is the sequence in which JL spends ‘the night chez Maud (M). It unfolds as a classic encounter between utterances made in good and bad faith. M has no ultimate justifying faith or philosophy; but she is honest straightforward about her life and emotions and answers the questions that JL asks. She is also attracted to JL and is open enough to show it. M lives in her being and stays true to this however hard. JL cannot answer M without prevarication and resort to justifying religious or quasi philosophical points. And when asked outright a question about his emotional commitment, he has nothing to offer a lie. There is no blond, he tells M in response to her question. But JL has already informed the viewers in voice over that he will marry the blond ( even though he has not yet actually met her). At this point JL’s philosophical and religious musings are revealed as feints; acts of specious textual enunciations designed to misdirect his audiences away from his own mechanicality, to misrepresent himself as a thinking man.

    There may be many reasons that attract people to philosophy: both love of
    knowledge and indifference to knowledge. Indifference is attracted to philosophy in order to hide its shame. So JL’s feint serves him well as a protective shell in the face of M’s truth, and his own attraction to M. JL ultimately only has a lie to offer, and obviously the most important person to deceive is himself. JL lays claim to the statistical propositions of Pascal in relation both to the chance of God’s existence and the advantages of taking chance when there is little to lose. In fact JL doesn’t take chances. For this reason he rejects M and hunts Francois whom he has already staked out in church. F is like a Chevrolet, an ideal religiocorporate product and JL can trust this brand like General Motors or Michelin. The blond who goes to church; her value system and desires are as open to JL as the promises of an automobile advert. Whatever JL may self believe he and F do not meet by chance; as per the car tracking shot, he hunts her down and as a corporate man gives her the chance to be the corporate wife in Clermont. F as wife is something he can control just like his car. JL would never control M, she would control him and for that reason she terrifies him. At one level MNCM is a feminist moral fable of its time.

    The playing of the roles by all the actors in MNCM is nicely tuned. But in particular JLT creates an amazing physical presence out of his namesake Jean Louis. Playing JL, JLT creates a character with a haunting slimy physicality that reminds me of Robespierre. As if Robespierre were transposed and packaged as corporate man in 20 century France. Like Robespierre, JL is represented with a crabbed knotted body and soul that signals the presence of huge muscular effort required by his being to suppress the destructive negative forces trying to smash their way out of his persona. JL’s presence is always a mask: an act of bad faith: a lie. Like Robespierre JL is perhaps a man who hides behind the veil of specious philosophical concerns, busies himself with the minutiae of life whilst waiting for the opportunity to indulge desires hidden even from himself.

    Buried in the final sequence of the final reel ER uncovers in the sand a final philosophical irony. The sequence takes place 5 years later, as the intertitle says when JL and F have married. As we contemplate the family, JL F and son they seem to me as a group somehow dead, or lacking life. Perhaps a trick of the camera or light? Certainly the existence together of JL and F is based on lies and deception about the events that the audience has seen. Their relationship is premised on deception, and yet in their own way they seem happy enough.. In contrast to M who has also appeared in this final sequence. For her with a life based on honesty there is only disappointment and unhappiness. The ending is ER’s final ironic statement in MNCM about the place of philosophy in human relations.
    adrin neatrour
    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • New York Synecdoche – Charlie Kaufman (USA 2008) Philip Hofman, Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton

    New York Synecdoche – Charlie Kaufman (USA 2008) Philip Hofman, Catherine Keener, Samantha Morton

    Viewed Tyneside Cinema 7 June 098; Ticket Price:£6 – 85

    Like a pile of green shit

    (Synecdoche: a figure of speech where a part of something represents the whole)

    In New York Synecdoche(NYS) Hofman asks his series of two dimensional characters to go through the motions of a cheesy interweaving of speciously expressed philosophical concerns with art and life. Contemporary Middle Class angst in relation to the body and its functioning, sexual mores, death, high art; and the psychically invasive omni-presence of TV and adverts, is fed into a movie that comprises a cinematic stream of vacuous images as exemplified by the green shit shot (eliminated by Caton’s daughter).

    In relation to the characters two dimensionality I found it difficult to understand the main structural idea at work in Hofman’s shaping of his film. NYS is not about a state of mind – there is too much litterality in its expression; it is not about a world in the sense of a given condition, it is not a situation; NYS seems ultimately a film of a subjectivity that derives not from any internalised logic but rather from the whimsical fashioning of Hofman who joins together a number of personal observations insights and modernist obsessions and constructs out of this desultory material, his film. NYS reflects Hofman’s belief in himself as a conduit of 21st century questioning angst. His characters are ciphers of his expressive needs, not of any compelling external forces; the characters are marionettes two dimensional animations caught up in the machinations of Hafman’s subjectivities. That such characters can engage an audience in philosophical metaphysical concerns shows Hofman’s lack of understanding of the conditions necessary for the development of ideas. Conditions for instance that a writer such as Dostoevsky understood all too well. Hofman in contrast to Dostoevski’s depth analysis of character, resorts to an expressive mode that comprises the reduction of ideas to a stream of cinematic enemetic images.

    NYS is conventionally shot using action cuts to define the spacio temporal relations within the sequences. Cut and structured in this way, NYS ultimately seems trapped in a world of non sequiturs and non problems. A series of ideas that fail to sustain themselves and collapse into a literalist expressive mode. Caton’s (the protagonist theatre director) problem of the curse of individuality is expressed through him trying to understand himself. Looking for what he calls the “real’ which amounts to a definition of himself as ‘NASTY’ (what nasty means is never really defined: it’s left inarticulately open ended) and this ‘real’ somehow has to connect with the terrible realisation of the inevitablilty of DEATH WHICH MAKES EVERYTHING POINTLESS. Caton moves to seeing himself and others as interchangeable replicates, role players in which people can eternally play each other in the fantasy plaster world of New York that he has created as the set of life. This play out of ideas doesn’t work, either on its own terms or within the terms of the movie, though the attempt in NYS makes for tedious and literalist viewing. At the end of the final reel Caton is left realising that all the individual has is their human need for other people. A crass and dishonest conclusion.

    The cultural references in NYS are transmitted like a series of text messages. A gestural homage by Hofman that he has digested the work of Arthur Miller, Woody Allan, David Lynch, E Doc Smith, Cassavetes, in relation to the American condition. But in the body of NYS these concerns are concentrated into an overarching concern with the body, sex, death. It’s symptomatic of NYS that it stays trapped in exploring individualised narcissistic response to a cultural sickness, but it is never able draw upon any alternative vision. In consequence Hofman’s script meanders about its concerns in a jaded manner with nothing new to say. The issues are reduced to the production of a series of images: images of the body, images of intrajected Tv fantasy, images of burning houses and replicated people and places. Caton’s progress from partner to partner demonstrates his experiencing the increasing sense of his own unreality. There is much about death and sex bit nothing about LIFE. In his defence Charlie Hofman may say that’s why it’s called New York Synecdoche. I‘d respond to this by saying that to revisit these concerns without being able to make anything new out of the material, is a gratuitous act of indulgence and self congratualtion. And NYS does seem a smug film; even a shameful film.

    The reason that it is ‘shameful’ is the total lack of any external referents informing NYS. Ok there are the cultural referents but these seem inserted to establish the films pedigree and credentials. Time is reduced to a suburban American commodity, an element that should serve individual subjectivities rather than an extrinsic logic. So in the de-formed temporal sequences there are no social or political referents no opposing temporal schemas. Time is simply something that is moulded to the needs of the script. The shame of NYS is that in embarking on an attempted philosophical critique of American life, it fails to come to terms with the culture obsession that it can control anything that it wants, anything can be manipulated.
    adrin neatrour
    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • Drag Me To Hell

    Review of Drag me to hell.

    Just when you thought Sam Raimi left his bucket and hose at home and went to Hollywood to sell his soul to the to the Deadites, he got a reprieve and made ‘Drag me to hell’. We are back in Raimi country where he does, what is in the opinion of this humble child of the video nasty, his best genre, the slap stick, gross out, horror.

    Drag me to hell is the classic piss of a gypsy, gypsy mumbles some stuff, you wonder why you speak to gypsies school of horror. Alison Lohman plays Christine Brown, a loan officer in a small town bank who is in competition with Stu Rubin played by Reggie Lee for the job of deputy manager at the bank. Only problem is she is not cut throat enough and is second in a two banker race. When a phlemic old gypsy with a huge set of false gnashers comes in to try to stop the foreclosure on her home, Christine decides this is the time to show she is the banker for the job. This results in a great confrontation in the car park with staple gun verses gummy chin suck and the curse begins.

    Justin Long plays the beleagured boyfreind, who is there just to follow Christine around playing the standard horror character of the non-believer though he does pander to her while looking slightly bemused. Sadly no Bruce Campbell but Alison Lohman, although not memorable, holds her own. Who cares about the actors anyway, or even the script, with Raimi all you really want is a rancid looking floating demon, a flying eye ball or two and buckets of goo and all this he delivers. If you want plenty of shocks in equal quantities to laughs, this is the flick for you. You do feel Hollywood has tamed Raimi some what, making a horror flick for PG-13 and compared to his ‘Evil Dead’ days he has held back on the gross out, but the laughs are all there and if we get a DVD release with a few more buckets of slime we have a classic in the making.

    Review by whakapai.com

  • La Cienaga (The Swamp) – Lucretia Martel (2001 Argentina) Mercedes Mona; Graciela Borges

    La Cienaga (The Swamp) – Lucretia Martel (2001 Argentina) Mercedes Mona; Graciela Borges

    A world that sucks you in….

    The opening sequence of La Cienaga (LC) intercuts wide shots comprising images of trees and mountains with big close ups of people at a social gathering, on a terrace re-arranging their chairs. The most expressive feature of the sequence is the metallic screeching of the base of the chairs as they’re dragged across the concrete. The sound of the screams of trapped souls. In the movie there are constant reminders that this is a colonised land: the alienated images of landscape the ‘Indians’ hidden in the recesses of the family. In the world of the family called up Lucretia Martel (LM) no one screams, but there is the feeling that there are screams buried beneath the surface of the picture.

    A swamp features in LC, a place in the local forest visited by the children, mostly boys with guns, a swamp which swallows up whole creatures such as cows, trapping them in the contradiction that the more they struggle to extricate themselves, the more surely they are sucked into the mire. Swamp is dense mud saturated water which might appear solid but is liquid; and the family situation observed by LM shares these characteristics. Once it envelopes you you drown in it..

    In LC the families that LM creates as the subjects of her film are presented as spectacle. LM’s film is not soap opera or melodrama, it is family as spectacle. LM’s directorial strength is her understanding that through spectacle we see things with greater clarity than we ever could through the conventions and machinations of narrative that characterises the soap form. Spectacle requires that we look at what is set before our gaze without a narrative interpretative schema. The viewer is a subject who negotiates meaning, not an object of manipulation. Instead of being driven by strong emotive concatenations LC comprises of weak linkages between sequences which are organised around the key centres of the filmic concern: place, body and terrain/environment

    LC is a dense movie which LM has endows with a painterly quality. The interior spaces which comprise it are half lit dark and airless filled with the intimacy of bodies and visceral prejudices. They are also expressed as female; places where the feminine psyche is the dominant force. The situational tensions within the spectacle depict a society that is as divided as any arab culture into territorial gender enclaves. The interiors painted by Martel revolve around the matriarchs and their particular concerns and discourses. A central discourse of one of the matriarchs is her running commentary of racist statements about ‘the Indians’ , their untrustworthyness, their otherness. Yet the ‘Indians’ are folded into the family life as servants sharing the space and the beds. Martel describes in these interiors a spectacle of inertia that holds the whole assemblage together. The people are trapped in these interiors and their attempts to escape (to take a trip to Bolivia) come to nothing. The intimacy which is attractive as a solace to the flesh is not balanced by any mental or creative stimuli. There is a rotting of mind which permits degeneration of sensibility and is seen in an entropic response to social consciousness. The consequence is an alcohol fed numbness. What looks as if it is alive is dead.

    The interiors in the film are balanced by two other locations: (besides a dance hall sequence which is more an extension of the family houses) the forest and the environment. LM’s forest is peopled by small boys with guns. It is never entirely clear what they are doing: are they hunting or just learning to pose with guns? Perhaps LM is drawing a picture of the macho Argentinean male culture? The film cuts periodically to the natural environment which contains the human relationships. LM intercuts the human spectacle with long shots of the mountains, distant shots of the forests. They are filmed to look like calendar photographs and are remote detached from the social matrix. The natural world is a place far removed from the interstices of family. These are people alienated in some core manner from the world in which they are located, both its geography and its history. They know not from whence they come.

    The spectacle is not only played out in space but also on the bodies of the families which bleed break and endure insult. Injuries such as the one sustained by the matriarch at the start of the film don’t have narrative importance. They have importance as circuits of intensity, centres around which the world temporarily rearranges organises and conducts itself. The issues are not how or why something has happened but the extent to which shifts occur in relocations of the focusing of the spectacle.

    The final sequence of LC sees the young son of one of the matriarchs playing in the walled patio garden. A ladder has been left against the high wall dividing off their property from their neighbours. Behind this wall we have heard throughout the film the barking of a large dog which causes terror in the little boy. In the silence of the patio he looks at the ladder approaches it and climbs up the rungs. Almost at the top he loses control slips and falls back to the ground. We do not see him land or know what injury he has sustained. We know that the circuits and centres of relationships will amplify and shift but not substantially change. LM has made a film that paints a picture of the society she knows.
    adrin neatrour
    adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

  • VHS Kahloucha – Nejib Belkadhi (Doc Tunisia 2007)

    VHS Kahloucha – Nejib Belkadhi (Doc Tunisia 2007)
    Viewed Star and Shadow Cinema 7th May 2009. Ticket price £4.00

    Making voodoo movies…
    VHS Kahloucha (VHSK) opens with shots of the filming of an action sequence of some kind of pursuit. The action has energy but’s clumsy. As I watched the chase through, with its staged leaps collisions and fights I wondered what this documentary was about? As the film progressed all was revealed. This is a film about a guy, Moncef Kahloucha who makes films in a working class district called Kazmet in Sousse, Tunisia. That is to say Nejib Belkhadi (NB) has made a film about a world within a world. A world of film improbably grafted onto the world of the third world slum that both nurtured it and locates it so that the experiences of the slum, prison poverty rackets and crime, feed back into film as a circuit of amplification.

    VHSK immediately reminded me of Jean Rouche’s film Les Maitre Foux shot in Ghana in 1954. In Les Maitre Foux (LMF) the response of the Ghanaians to the experience of colonialism is to take possession of the nomenclature of the British Colonial hierarchy who rule over them by using their names for the characters in their voodoo ceremonies. LMF witnesses a strange contortion of the psychic properties of colonialism. In one sense the voodoo practitioners evidence a deeper internalised layer of British hierarchic structures that rule their country: at the same time they take possession of the names of the officials on their own terms. This appropriation, filmed by Rouche as the initiates, named for the Lord High Commissioner and Lord and Lady Smythe, sacrifice a dog and drink its blood, gives them a certain original psychic power in relation to their masters.

    Whereas LMF had a colonial context, VHSK has a neo-colonial setting. Sousse caters for mass Western tourism, mainly but not exclusively working class package holidays. It is a situation in which the inhabitants of Sousse are reduced to the status of servers of the tourist regime. In return for their acceptance of the servile role there is some possibility of work and of money trickle-down from the tourist economy. The compact between the tourist regime and the natives is clear. Except in the context of work the tourist areas are no go zones. This includes the golf course, the best beeches and the hotels. The tourists are not to be robbed and the Tunisians must not supply them with drugs or sex. The inhabitants of Sousse are marginalised in their own towns by the tourist regime. In this context in the district of Kazmet, Moncef Kahloucha makes his films, his ‘voodoo’ films. Making his films he appropriates the model of filmmaking most developed in America and familiar to everyone as this form has conquered the world: The Hollywood all action movie.

    As VHFK makes very clear, the inhabitants of Kazmet do not accept their status as second class citizens in their own city. They are unbowed, their heads held high. They have evidently created in the form of rackets and black markets their own accommodation with the tourist world; but although this accommodation is a source of collective self esteem the reality is that their situation is structured so that the men spend much of their lives in and out of prison as the price of ‘accommodation’. Prison holds no shame; here it is simply a fact of life.

    So enter Moncef and his extraordinary films. Throughout the film with his gestures, his voice and in his manner he resembles some kind of voodoo high priest presiding over rituals of empowerment through the medium of re-enacting the forms of Hollywood action movie. Like a mage Moncef brings these forms to life in Kazmet. And although Moncef’s intention is to make his own films, he has to take possession of the Western movie form to realise this, and in so doing his psychic actions result in the production of an opposing force to the tourist industry that both contains and controls the town. A psychic counterweight to the golf courses, the 5 star hotels and the money market of the visitors. And VHSK evidences this, because whatever the technical limitations of the films, however much they are laughed at when screened in the cafes of Kazmet, they are acknowledged as important. As an important ritual. Like the voodoo ceremony filmed by Rouche, the ordinary people want to be in the movie, empowered by participation; just like voodoo. And there is huge support for the considerable output of effort and input of resources needed to realise Kahloucha’s films, support most strongly evidenced by Moncef’s mother who allows her house to be set on fire to allow the climax of the Tarzan of the Arabs. It is this last film who’s making is shown in WHSK, and the very title draws attention to the need for the community of Kazmet to make claim on a Western conceit (Tarzan) for itself.

    NB’s film works because of its setting of Moncef’s movie making, within the context not just of community of Kazmet, but within the Arab/Islamic culture of Tunisia and within his own family. Moncef is not reduced to film maker. Moncef the film maker lies alongside the Moncef the son, Moncef the father, Moncef the inhabitant of Sousse and Moncef the Moslem. In this respect the interviews with his mother are extraordinary. These interviews in themselves draw attention to another dimension in the complexity of the relationship of Tunisians to the Western world. Tunisia not just a developing country that is a destination of mass tourism for the West; for many, the young men and women the West is also an object of desire of escape, of hoped immigration and Tunisia as a kind of prison to those who want to escape. The contextual layering of meaning deepens at the cultural level as NB’s film of the world within the world exaines the separation of the sexes into their respective private and public spheres. Whereas in the MK’s films the male and female can participate as equals in performance of their respective roles within the film, the sexes do not have equal access to viewing his films. The men may watch the film collectively when it is screened in the cafes, but the women can only view the film at home as there are particular restrictions even in the relatively relaxed Islamic atmosphere of Tunisia, on co-mingling. The contextual rules in the matter of performing and screening complete the picture of the film as occupying a complex position in the various opposing and unifying forces operating on the culture.

    Lastly NB’s film is never condescending but always respectful to MK’s filmmaking which is a serious enterprise carried through despite resource limitations. Moncef is a film maker and in pursuit of his goals yields nothing to Herzog, Peckinpah et al in his obsessive dictatorial drive to get what he wants. In another incarnation he is crazy unpleasant and demanding enough to have been a top Hollywood director. One of the things that VHSK shows is the banality of the action movie. MK’s failure to always achieve authenticity of the type he desires is as more a matter of degree than anything else. With shrewd editing he almost achieves ‘the look’; and in his direction he certainly understands the principles of action movie. But in coming so close to replicating films that tower over his efforts only in terms of resources, he unwittingly lays bare the banality and poverty of the Hollywood action movie.
    adrin neatrour adrinuk@yahoo.co.uk

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