Kafka On The Shore

Cold Souls (2009) by Sophie Barthes

Meh…Lots of good ideas that all went to waste. Too bad as I’m sure a half decent screenwriter could have come up with a meatier and more engaging script.
A few things I liked: a soulless Giamatti doing Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, Giamatti’s great chemistry with Dina Korzun (their five-second bit on “frivolity” is pitch perfect), and, most importantly, Dina Korzun herself.

The White Ribbon (2009) by Michael Haneke

I knew this Haneke film was going to be particularly good (it won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes festival after all) but I didn’t expect to be blown away like this. This is so far and by far my favourite film this year.

The White Ribbon details the disturbing events that unfold in a small Austrian village just before the outbreak of World War I. Shot in beautifully crisp black and white, the film is eerie, perverse, full of repression, perversion,  malice, violence and brutality…You know, the usual Haneke stuff. But in the midst of all that, it’s got a rather touching romance between the school teacher, who narrates the film, and a young nanny. Ironically, their love story is where you can find genuine innocence, while at the same time Haneke asks us to focus on the corrupted innocence of the children of the village.

More importantly, the White Ribbon is utterly absorbing. Of course, in the end, Haneke offers no answers, nor easy solutions. The ending left me left me a tad frustrated but it felt right. I need to watch this again.

Tales from the Golden Age (2009) by a few Romanian directors under the supervision of Cristian Mungiu

The final 15 years of the Ceausescu regime were the worst in Romania’s history. So of course, the propaganda machine of that time decided to refer to that period as “the golden age”. Now, if humor is what kept Romanians alive under Ceausescu, then Tales from The Golden Age captures that mood perfectly.

The film is a collection of five cine-sketches, each story portraying a different aspect of every day life in Romania under the hated regime. It’s mainly about the survival of a nation having to face the totally absurd and twisted logic of a dictatorship.

I’m not familiar with the new wave of Romanian cinema (most notably Cristian Mungiu’s critically acclaimed 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days and Cristi Puiu’s The Death of Mr Lazarescu), but I hear that Tales from The Golden Age stands out as a more commercial attempt to reach a wider international audience.

But even though the comedy in the film feels quite light and no matter how funny and farcical you find each situation, you never lose sight of how fucking sad it all is.

Check out the trailer
Check out Philip French’s review in The Guardian

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More detailed synopsis + some personal rambling:

> Story one: The Legend of the Official Visit:
“… about a village preparing frantically to Potemkinise their dismal community before the arrival of a party bigwig, but when an underling arrives to say that the visit is cancelled, everyone piles on to a fairground carousel swing in a mood of delirious relief. Too late, they realise they can’t stop, because no one can reach the off button – they must just whirl on until the machine runs out of fuel 12 hours later: a great image for incompetence, insincerity and an eternity of desperation.” — Philip French, The Guardian

In fact: on the occasion of Ceausescu’s working visits, countryside mayors ended up hanging fruit in trees to make sure their villages would be noticed, obeying even the strangest orders from the ferocious Party activists (at one point in the story, when the mayor is showing the Party Inspector some pigeons, explaining that he’d make them fly as a welcome to the official escort, the inspector gave him a bored look and said “make them white”).

> Story two: The Legend of the Party Photographer:
An official photo-retoucher has the job of making Ceausescu look as tall and imposing as Giscard d’Estaing during that pre-Photoshop era. Then he had to make him wear a hat. And do that in time for the newspapers to hit the stands the next morning. At some point, someone actually shouted “Stop the presses”… Yes, you guessed as much: serious cock-up and hilarity ensued.

In fact: communist party secret regulations stated that in official pictures, President Ceausescu couldn’t take his hat off in front of the representatives of the rotten capitalistic world.

On a more personal note: I seriously felt for that poor pre-press guy as he collapsed in his chair, clutching his chest, after someone had shown him the photo cock-up on the front page of the newspaper. This story particularly touched me for I’ve experienced this sort of situation first hand in places like Russia and Uzbekistan, and, believe me, just like the protagonists in the story, I wasn’t laughing then.

> Story three: The Legend of the Chicken Driver:
This one is rather tragic. A truck driver has the task of trucking chickens across country in food-strapped Romania, under strict orders not to stop. But then, there’s this woman he lusts for and want to impress with chicken eggs. And that’s when things go bad.

> Story four: The Legend of the Greedy Policeman:
A cop scores a pig from his brother-in-law. All OK so far. Except that the pig is brought to him alive. Now, the problem for our cop is to find a way to slaughter the pig discretely so as not to alert the neighbours to his pork supply. So of course, he choses to gas the animal in his kitchen”…I’d personally re-title this story “pig explosion”.

> Story five: The Legend of the Air Sellers:
A couple of students embark on a confidence scam to part people from glass bottles, which can be sold for cash. The “bottled air” scam is quite ingenious actually but only made possible by the absurdity of life under Ceausescu.

Myth: rumor has it that, in the golden age, a lot of Romanians purchased their cars by reselling empty bottles.

Abbie Cornish

Judging from the trailer alone, I don’t have much interest in the new Jane Campion movie, but oh my lord, Abbie Cornish’s face is that of an angel.

The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassius (2009) by Terry Gilliam

I can never remember the title correctly so I actually bought a ticket for The Imagine thingy of Dr Pegassus. Ok, so that’s for the anecdote, as for the movie, it’s not very good. Regardless, I love Gilliam’s fantasy world and every time we get to step through the mirror and enter Parnassius’ imaginary world, it’s a real treat. And since we get to do that a lot (thank god), it’s well worth the lame story and the annoying characters who live on the boring side of the mirror. The film is full of amazing decors, colours and effects — all very reminiscent of the world inhabited by the Baron Munchhausen — and it is still ten times as good as, say, The Hangover.

Sidenote: Heath Ledger’s split into Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell ended up working out really well.

Up (2009) by the Pixar wizards

Isn’t this film already out on DVD in the US and everywhere else? Oh yeah, it JUST got its cinema release here in the UK… And that is why, ladies and gentlemen, this retarded country hasn’t made it to the top 20 of this year’s Human Development index ranking board.

I went to see Up a few days ago, in a tacky multiplex/gaming arcade/shopping centre/tourist trap of Leicester Square (an area of London to avoid at all costs…it’s as bad as Time Square but smaller and tackier, if that’s possible), with the never ending escalators, the excruciating smell of popcorn and the stupid 3D glasses. Despite all that, I really liked the movie. Not my favourite Pixar, far from it, but still, a really enjoyable affair.

No matter how cute and mainstream they go, the Pixar guys always manage to sell some rather bold and intelligent ideas. I love the fact that they made the hero about 100 years old, his arch-nemesis even older, that the former becomes a true action hero and the latter a kick-ass villain — It’s been a while since Cocoon. Throw a chubby Asian American kid, some talking dogs, a really cool exotic bird, a floating house, a million balloons, and you’ve got yourself a nice little animation feature.

So, that was cool, but yeah, whatever, I’ve already moved on, looking forward to the next Pixar marvel.


….And still waiting for Ponyo to get to our side of the Cliff.

Gena Rowlands in Opening Night (1977) by John Cassavetes

I haven’t seen this movie for so long and there’s no reason why I should post this now, but isn’t time I started blogging my film list? I just don’t know how to go about doing it. By theme maybe? Anywho, Opening Night is on it, for sure.

Los Abrazos Rotos (2009) by Pedro Almodóvar

Finally, a great Almodóvar! I hadn’t had this much fun watching a film by the Spanish master since Tacones lejanos. That was back in the early 90s when Victoria Abril was his hot muse, so a long long time ago. Since then, I’ve been going to see his movies out of loyality but with less and less convinction. La mala educación was the last nail in the coffin, and even though Volver was a step up, it did nothing to restore my faith in Almodóvar… Until this gem came along, that is.

Los Abrazos Rotos (Broken Embraces) has all the ingredients of a great Almodóvar recipe: a muse to die and kill for, passion, sex, jealousy, death, intrigue, melodrama, and humour, lots and lots of humour. Two scenes in particular are absolutely priceless: the hilariously ridiculous vampire script (Donate Blood) that Diego and Mateo come up with in the spur of the moment and the completed scene of Girls and Suitcases (the movie within the movie), a wonderful excercise in screwball comedy and a great clin d’oeil to an old Almodóvar favourite of mine: Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios.

Ok, so, just like Descartes, I have a soft spot for women who are sligthly cross-eyed. Which reminds me that I need to see Five Easy Pieces again; it’s on my list of all-time faves but it’s been years since I saw it and I can barely remember a thing about it… Except for Karen Black’s eyes that is.

Lenny (1974) by Bob Fosse

Here’s a film that profoundly marked me when I first saw it and kicked off a phase in my early-mid teens when I would travel great distances across Paris to catch screenings of American film classics. Both Dustin Hoffman and Valerie Perrine are absolutely fantastic in Lenny. The 70s were such a great decade for Hoffman…then the 80s happened and…oh, well.

The Once and Future Blonde emailed me this photo, asking me not to take it personally, which I’m not. She thinks this would make a great desktop wallpaper. I do too. Incidentally, the movie this still is taken from looks awesome.

Cronos (1993) by Guillermo del Toro

I love it when independent world cinema goes vampiric; the result is usually intelligent, dark, poetic and intimate. Cronos is the perfect example of that. As is Let the Right One In. Plus, Guillermo Del Toro is a facinating guy and a great interviewee. His closet is full of wonderful monsters (and insects).

Rashōmon (1950) by Akira Kurosawa

Rashōmon tells the story of the rape of a woman and the murder of her husband through the widely differing accounts of four witnesses: the bandit & rapist Tajōmaru (Toshirō Mifune), the rape victim, the spirit of her murdered husband (channeled through a very spooky medium), and a woodcutter who witnessed the scene hiding behind the bushes. The story unfolds like a courtroom drama as the four characters recount their versions of the events in flashbacks. But it is also a flashback within a flashback: the accounts of the witnesses are being retold by the woodcutter and a priest to a stranger as all three wait out a rainstorm in a ruined gatehouse identified by a sign as Rashōmon.

Each of the four versions narrated by the four protagonists contradict eachother, leaving the viewer to determine which, if any, is the truth. The facts themselves do not differ, the woman was raped and the man is dead, but the motivations behind them do. Each of the three principle participants spins the story, not necessarily to cast themselves in a better light, but to show that they, their egos, were in control. The actions that took place occurred because they willed it as if each of them, in turn, were at the helm of the action.

To search for the truth in those stories is what makes this film so entertaining and engaging but is probably to miss the point for what we’re talking about here is the subjectivity and relativity of truth. When Tajomaru, the bandit, tells his story of the woman who consents to his aggressive advances, the story is true to Tajomaru [N.B: Kurosawa manages to convey the idea of the woman’s bitter consent with a simple shot of her hand crawling up the bandit’s back]. When the woman tells the story about her desire to end her husband’s maddening, loathing glare, the story is true to the woman. And when her husband’s spirit tells the story of his shame and suicide, we are looking at a dead man’s truth. Each of the characters had lied to themselves so profoundly, that their lies have become their realities.

My favourite version of the truth is that of the woodcutter: first because his is most likely to be the closest to the truth — he is after all the most neutral party (even though we find out that he too has reasons to spin the truth) — and second, because his story exposes with a great deal of humour and tragedy the bandit, the samurai and the woman for what they truly are. The duel in particular can be seen as a parody of the Japanese myth of the brave samurai, the fearless bandit and the virtuous woman. Instead, the woodcutter shows us the great bandit acting with uncertainty and almost trepidation, the virtuous woman is exposed as self-serving, manipulative and vicious, and the the noble Samurai turns out to be as dishonorable as he is a coward.

Despite Kurosawa’s cynic portrayal of human nature, the film ends with a glimmer of hope as it shows the woodcutter reaching out to help an abandonned baby. The baby does feel like an after-thought and comes into play in a somewhat contrived manner, like a last-minute addition forced upon the director by the producers in the attempt to end the movie on a redeeming and more audience-friendly note. That said, I do think the baby episode helps to reveal the full complexities of human nature. And somehow I feel it’s important that we’re left with the assurance that the priest’s faith in humankind has been restored.

Highlights: the opening scene of the derelict gatehouse being battered by a storm / Mifune’s lionesque performance (wiki: “Kurosawa suggested that Mifune play the bandit like a lion. As a result, Mifune gave the wild, nearly inhuman performance that can be seen in the film” ) / the woodcutter’s tale: the comic choregraphy of the duel between the bandit and the Samurai and Machiko Kyō’s performance as she shows the woman’s true colours / Fumiko Honma’s awesome turn as the medium.

Downlight: the Bolero-style score is annoying as hell.

Online reviews and sources I have stolen ideas and whole sentences from: wiki, Ruthless Reviews, Dennis Schwartz’s Movie Reviews, Film School Rejects.

Stream the entire movie here

Salaam Bombay! (1988) by Mira Nair
Still considered today the best of Mira Nair’s work, I meant to see this movie ages ago and the fact that I saw Slumdog Millionnaire on release but that I had yet to see the “real deal” kept bothering me. Now that it’s done, I can confirm what I suspected all that time, i.e. Salaam Bombay! feels like a genuine and moving piece of Mumbai street life, whereas Slumdog is sweet and entertaining but forgettable fluff.