I've seen this film several times. It does look old after all these years. Yet it still is the greatest film ever. The DVD ad at Barnes and Nobles even ranks the film as the best ever. It their ranking system Citizen Kane is number one. It's ahead of The Godfather and many others. I was dismayed when I walked through Barnes and Nobles tonight. I go there often and look at the DVDs for sale. A few years ago Barnes and Nobles was in difficulties. Now I don't hear any of that. And their DVD section near where I live is much improved. They now have two sections of Criterion Collection films which are some of the best films ever made. They also, in addition to the greatest American films section which I take with some objections, have a Western's section. I've seen plenty of those. The Searchers, Dances with Wolves, the Spaghetti Westerns, and other Clint Eastwood pictures. I haven't seen too many Jimmy Stewart Westerns. Maybe I should watch one. Who Shot Liberty Valance? That's a good start.
Now back to the reasons why I have objections to the Greatest film rankings at Barnes and Noble. It doesn't include Warren Beatty's Reds. Reds is an incredible film that won nine academy awards, yet it's not in the top 100 films ever made? It sounds like McCarthyism to me. No film about the Russian revolution? An American's vision of the tumultuous times in Russia?
I was confounded and depressed when I realized that the film had been omitted. I felt like it was a set back for liberal America. The area where I live is semi-rural and not very big at all. I guess it's a reflection of Barnes and Noble politics. Or rather it's AFI, or American Film Institute. That's who did the rankings. Perhaps it they who are being McCarthyistic. Is that even a word, "McCarthyistic." Sounds like a religious term or rather some political slogan that encompasses what the Republican party means these days. With the forced resignation of John Boehner who knows where the Republicans in Congress are headed. Do they really want a firebrand to control the House? I don't think a firebrand can work with the Oval Office and do anything except shut down the government. Then where will we be?
I guess I could complain, but if it's that obvious of an omission and they planned such an extensive ranking without including Reds I should stop going to Barnes and Nobles. Perhaps they are in a conspiracy to control what we watch, and that doesn't include a film that is openly Socialist. That's too bad. The AFI should be ranking a film for it's merit, not it's political content. If they don't like the film because it's Communist or Socialst that shouldn't prohibit them from ranking a film of such beauty and poetry. The film is also a love story. Why don't they get that? Jack Reed was an American. He was a great writer. It's too bad the AFI doesn't recognize true art.
The film was great as ever. The story is epic and everything looks marvelous. Greg Toland was the best, Orson Welles was great. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the screen..
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Thoughts on Phoenix
This was a simple, yet complex film. It's style is very period piece. I am always reminded of Fassbinder when I watch a film set in the post War era of Germany. The Marriage of Maria Braun is set in the immediate aftermath of Germany's defeat and it's landscapes and set designs are similar to the ones in Phoenix. I wondered how did the production team create such landscapes this late in the history of Berlin? How did it look so bombed out when Berlin has become, even the area by the Berlin Wall, subject to property development? The costumes were also very period piece. The hairstyles, etc all made the film believable. Much like Fassbinder's Maria Braun. That too had settings and costumes that took the viewer back to the Jazz Age.
The lead character, Nelly, was exceptionally good in her role as the concentration camp survivor and former singer. Up until the end I was wondering if she would ever sing again. When she finally did, it was the climax of the film and the best scene in the movie. She sings a song which she knows all the words by heart in front of her ex-husband who divorced her and turned her into the Nazis. Now that she survived the camps she has inherited an estate. So her husband has designs on the fortune.
It becomes a cat and mouse game between Johnny and Nelly. There are some taut dramatic scenes in the film that, I thought, were well written. The dialogue or the lack of dialogue because what should be said is not come off as leaving me wanting more. Nelly has to conceal the fact that she is the ex-husband's wife because her face has been reconstructed and she doesn't look the same. Not only the dialogue and the settings, but the story is a strong one. It kept me glued to the screen. I, as I usually do, kept my clockphone out with me, and timed the film to it's very end which comes right after Nelly sings her song and is very abrupt. The film goes out of focus and Nelly has revealed to her ex-husband and what's left of her family that she did not die. That she lived. Her concentration camp marking and the fact that she knew the song by heart reveal the secret that she did so much to keep from her ex-husband.
It's a short riveting film. I enjoyed it. I wish it were longer.
The lead character, Nelly, was exceptionally good in her role as the concentration camp survivor and former singer. Up until the end I was wondering if she would ever sing again. When she finally did, it was the climax of the film and the best scene in the movie. She sings a song which she knows all the words by heart in front of her ex-husband who divorced her and turned her into the Nazis. Now that she survived the camps she has inherited an estate. So her husband has designs on the fortune.
It becomes a cat and mouse game between Johnny and Nelly. There are some taut dramatic scenes in the film that, I thought, were well written. The dialogue or the lack of dialogue because what should be said is not come off as leaving me wanting more. Nelly has to conceal the fact that she is the ex-husband's wife because her face has been reconstructed and she doesn't look the same. Not only the dialogue and the settings, but the story is a strong one. It kept me glued to the screen. I, as I usually do, kept my clockphone out with me, and timed the film to it's very end which comes right after Nelly sings her song and is very abrupt. The film goes out of focus and Nelly has revealed to her ex-husband and what's left of her family that she did not die. That she lived. Her concentration camp marking and the fact that she knew the song by heart reveal the secret that she did so much to keep from her ex-husband.
It's a short riveting film. I enjoyed it. I wish it were longer.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Thoughts on Ozu's Tokyo Story
I've seen this film several times. The first time I had trouble getting through it. I don't think I understood the depth of the story. It is a simple visual style that brings you in to the small World of the elderly couple visiting Tokyo. It is too bad that their children are all to busy to show them around Tokyo. Then story delves into themes that Ozu deals with in many of his films. Ancestor worship, the conflict between a modernizing Japan and it's agrarian past. Clearly the parents are from a rural area that is undergoing the process of industrialization. There are a number of scenes that show the factories humming along, billowing smoke, and of course the train runs through the middle of the village. It is these changes that the elderly couple and all of Japan confront in this story. Further into the story the subject of the War is touched on, but not too deeply explored.
At first I thought the first daughter who operates the beauty salon was evil. She comes off as very selfish and mean. Then, after her father gets drunk, and it is revealed that he has a past history of alcohol abuse, I changed somewhat my opinion. Perhaps the father was a drunk who neglected or even abused his children. The death of the second son is not revealed in the film at all. The audience is left guessing about what happened to him. Did he die in the war? Some accident? We do not know. Yet the widowed daughter in-law seems to suffer the most. She can't remarry she is still beholden to her dead husband's family. By the end of the film and her dialogue to her former father in law I got the impression that she was suffering from depression. She felt wronged by her husband's death and now was alienated by modern Japanese society. Her life in Tokyo was unfulfilling. She seemed hopeless. The smile she wore on her face dissipated by the end of the film. She was left in tears. I really started to feel for her at the end of the film.
The simplicity of Ozu's mise en scene is well documented. His style is so unique. I was measuring where the center of a shot of Ozu's was. It put the character's center at around their waistline. I felt like I was always looking up to the characters onscreen. Sometimes I was in pure awe of the mise en scene. It was like looking at a painting. Especially the shots of the rooms. The camera was framed to include just the room. It didn't pan in to do a close-up. Yet it did do a reverse technique that had read about. Ozu would bring the camera around to the complete opposite side of the character while they were talking. This was somewhat disorienting, but it still worked.
Tokyo is on my bucket list of places to go to. I've read that it is a bustling megatropolis with fun and amuzement aplenty. I would very much like to the places I have only seen in films or art books. And of course I would get to somewhere that Ozu, Kurosawa, Mizoguchi, or other masters of Japanese cinema shot films, wrote films, and discussed films. It would be worth the trip.
At first I thought the first daughter who operates the beauty salon was evil. She comes off as very selfish and mean. Then, after her father gets drunk, and it is revealed that he has a past history of alcohol abuse, I changed somewhat my opinion. Perhaps the father was a drunk who neglected or even abused his children. The death of the second son is not revealed in the film at all. The audience is left guessing about what happened to him. Did he die in the war? Some accident? We do not know. Yet the widowed daughter in-law seems to suffer the most. She can't remarry she is still beholden to her dead husband's family. By the end of the film and her dialogue to her former father in law I got the impression that she was suffering from depression. She felt wronged by her husband's death and now was alienated by modern Japanese society. Her life in Tokyo was unfulfilling. She seemed hopeless. The smile she wore on her face dissipated by the end of the film. She was left in tears. I really started to feel for her at the end of the film.
The simplicity of Ozu's mise en scene is well documented. His style is so unique. I was measuring where the center of a shot of Ozu's was. It put the character's center at around their waistline. I felt like I was always looking up to the characters onscreen. Sometimes I was in pure awe of the mise en scene. It was like looking at a painting. Especially the shots of the rooms. The camera was framed to include just the room. It didn't pan in to do a close-up. Yet it did do a reverse technique that had read about. Ozu would bring the camera around to the complete opposite side of the character while they were talking. This was somewhat disorienting, but it still worked.
Tokyo is on my bucket list of places to go to. I've read that it is a bustling megatropolis with fun and amuzement aplenty. I would very much like to the places I have only seen in films or art books. And of course I would get to somewhere that Ozu, Kurosawa, Mizoguchi, or other masters of Japanese cinema shot films, wrote films, and discussed films. It would be worth the trip.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Thoughts on Wong Kar Wai's In the Mood for Love
I first encountered this film while I was living in Shanghai and teaching English. I was a full time ESL teacher with four sections of High School Freshman and two sections of tech school students. It was the first time I had a job that paid decent in the local living standard. It was my first full time teaching job. It was low responsibility. I could teach in the late morning and early afternoon then have the evenings to myself. I also had Fridays off which meant I could watch films and drink wine on Thursday nights before going to the museum or art district or film on Friday or Saturday. Shanghai is a big city and the center for culture and arts for the mainland. It was in Shanghai that I went to my first film festival. It was an Australian film festival. The films weren't bad. The films were screened in old style cineplex with multiple screens but the outside of the building was preserved to look like a 30s or 40s film theater.
In Shanghai back in 2005-2006 there were movie stalls all over the city. The government cracked down on some of the piracy but it still continued much to my pleasure, but probably to the disdain of filmmakers and others who didn't get any profit from the pirated DVDs. There were several spots you could buy DVDs. In particular there was a dealer right near the bus I would ride from the library to where I lived just over the bridge from the old French concession in Shanghai. There, while waiting for the bus I would browse the DVDs and almost always buy a few. By the time I left Shanghai I had accumulated a collection of DVDs some of dubious character and quality. Yet it was these DVDs which lasted for me through most of grad school and up to the present.
My cinephilia began in ernst while I was teaching in Shanghai. I had an apartment all to myself and my love of movies took a turn in a more serious direction. It was here that I began to shed that discrimination of literary snobs who put down Cinema as not a serious art form. It was here that I could watch films every day, and write criticisms, and think about how I was going to work in the film industry and make films.
It was an exciting time to live in China, and, perhaps even more so in Shanghai. It was where things were happening. The economy was booming and some rights had been tolerated since Tianamen. As a foreigner I could mingle with other foreigners or Chinese from Shanghai or from other provinces. It was easy to meet people. Unlike other places I've been where it was hard for me to meet anyone. There was an online website called SmartShanghai. It listed all the happening that were going on in Shanghai that week. It also had a dating section where you could find people to meet for coffee or a drink or dinner. It was a fun time, but now that I have been back in the state for ten years I'm mostly reminded of the things I left behind to spend time in China. Those friendships which never quite recovered from the gap year I did in China. I think some of my friends didn't like the fact that I went anywhere but the good ol' US. My motives were clearly complicated, and it would be an argument. Yet I wanted to see the big World, to go where things were happening. Not be stuck in a small provincial town which seemed to me a dead end.
The film is like that. In the Mood for Love captures a time, a place, a feeling. The couples are suspicious of their partners and become friends to support each other. There is a lot about In the Mood for Love that is great. This time I watched the film I noticed the Ozu like cinematography. The slow sequences with music were great, but the scenes where the inside of the apartment is shown are also great. It showed Maggie Cheung sitting in a hallway having a glass of something in a shadow. There I was reminded of Ozu's penchant for shooting askance shots from a different angle. There were also many shots of shoes moving or head shots quickly focused. And of course the Qi Paos were so period piece. I couldn't get over the colors and patterns.
Some day I'll go back and see if all the things I loved to got are still there. Some day.
In Shanghai back in 2005-2006 there were movie stalls all over the city. The government cracked down on some of the piracy but it still continued much to my pleasure, but probably to the disdain of filmmakers and others who didn't get any profit from the pirated DVDs. There were several spots you could buy DVDs. In particular there was a dealer right near the bus I would ride from the library to where I lived just over the bridge from the old French concession in Shanghai. There, while waiting for the bus I would browse the DVDs and almost always buy a few. By the time I left Shanghai I had accumulated a collection of DVDs some of dubious character and quality. Yet it was these DVDs which lasted for me through most of grad school and up to the present.
My cinephilia began in ernst while I was teaching in Shanghai. I had an apartment all to myself and my love of movies took a turn in a more serious direction. It was here that I began to shed that discrimination of literary snobs who put down Cinema as not a serious art form. It was here that I could watch films every day, and write criticisms, and think about how I was going to work in the film industry and make films.
It was an exciting time to live in China, and, perhaps even more so in Shanghai. It was where things were happening. The economy was booming and some rights had been tolerated since Tianamen. As a foreigner I could mingle with other foreigners or Chinese from Shanghai or from other provinces. It was easy to meet people. Unlike other places I've been where it was hard for me to meet anyone. There was an online website called SmartShanghai. It listed all the happening that were going on in Shanghai that week. It also had a dating section where you could find people to meet for coffee or a drink or dinner. It was a fun time, but now that I have been back in the state for ten years I'm mostly reminded of the things I left behind to spend time in China. Those friendships which never quite recovered from the gap year I did in China. I think some of my friends didn't like the fact that I went anywhere but the good ol' US. My motives were clearly complicated, and it would be an argument. Yet I wanted to see the big World, to go where things were happening. Not be stuck in a small provincial town which seemed to me a dead end.
The film is like that. In the Mood for Love captures a time, a place, a feeling. The couples are suspicious of their partners and become friends to support each other. There is a lot about In the Mood for Love that is great. This time I watched the film I noticed the Ozu like cinematography. The slow sequences with music were great, but the scenes where the inside of the apartment is shown are also great. It showed Maggie Cheung sitting in a hallway having a glass of something in a shadow. There I was reminded of Ozu's penchant for shooting askance shots from a different angle. There were also many shots of shoes moving or head shots quickly focused. And of course the Qi Paos were so period piece. I couldn't get over the colors and patterns.
Some day I'll go back and see if all the things I loved to got are still there. Some day.
Thoughts about New York in the Fifties
This is a short documentary about NYC in the fifties literary scene. It was before the entry of film or TV and of course not the Web. It's not that great, but it shows a time period that is interesting to anyone with a literary bent. The author is Dan Wakefield who moves from Indiana to New York to study at Columbia. It talks about the literary foment of talent during a time when New York became the center of the art world. Norman Mailer was a big influence and critical voice during these times. It talks about the culture of three martini lunches and Greenwich Village which was and perhaps still is the center of bohemian life in the States.
The film stirs in me memories of my time spent as a graduate student in Queens at SJU. It wasn't NYU and not Columbia but I empathize with Wakefields feelings of awe when he first went to Greenwich Village. I'm from Upstate which is not as far off as Indiana, but to a native New Yorker it might as well be. Anything west of the Hudson or North of the Tappen Zee is "hick" country to New Yorkers. I took the F train into Manhattan from Queens. It took about a half hour to reach Manhattan. I would watch the stops with nervous anticipation until it turned into Manhattan. It was another thirty minutes until the train reached West 4th street which was in the center of the West Village. I don't know how it was in Wakefield's time but I found myself spending more of my time in the East Village. It was wear the Indie movie theaters were and cheap eats could be had.
I remember the first time I went out in the Village. I was at a place called the Sullivan room which was an underground club that played techno music. I was trying to reach out to other influences that weren't to be found in Binghamton, Upstate where I was from. The music was loud and new. Certainly different from anything in Binghamton. I ended up really drunk on the F train back to Queens. When I left the club there were people all over the Village. To my surprise it had been the Gay Pride day in New York. It was quite an experience. One that I'll never forget.
That first semester of Grad school I almost didn't make it to the next semester. I had misplace a paper and received an incomplete as a grade. Luckily the department allowed me to resubmit the paper and I got an A. Also that first semester I lost it in front a professor and was almost thrown out of school. I had failed out of Law School and I had a lot of baggage from that experience. I was so crazy with the idea that I had to get a perfect GPA and become a professor that it drove with over the edge. Eventually I found my way into a counselor and extensive psychological counseling to deal with the stress of Grad school and my past which I just couldn't come to terms with. I graduated with honors and moved onto a degree in teaching which didn't work out for me. Now I'm studying screenwriting something that I've always wanted to do.
I feel I found my way to some degree. I'm getting a degree in writing which is what I've always wanted to do. From my earliest childhood memories I wanted to be a writer. Yet, I get so stressed that it won't work out. I fear I'll be homeless or bankrupt or unemployed all those years at university wasted with big debts. I think of going back to New York. But it's so expensive. And my father is older. He will turn 70 this year. I don't know what I'll do. It seems everyone I know has gotten on well, except me. It seems that everything I do is a failure. What have I done? Why go to school? Is it really necessary? I can't stand thinking all of this. Yet I can't get away from it.
The film stirs in me memories of my time spent as a graduate student in Queens at SJU. It wasn't NYU and not Columbia but I empathize with Wakefields feelings of awe when he first went to Greenwich Village. I'm from Upstate which is not as far off as Indiana, but to a native New Yorker it might as well be. Anything west of the Hudson or North of the Tappen Zee is "hick" country to New Yorkers. I took the F train into Manhattan from Queens. It took about a half hour to reach Manhattan. I would watch the stops with nervous anticipation until it turned into Manhattan. It was another thirty minutes until the train reached West 4th street which was in the center of the West Village. I don't know how it was in Wakefield's time but I found myself spending more of my time in the East Village. It was wear the Indie movie theaters were and cheap eats could be had.
I remember the first time I went out in the Village. I was at a place called the Sullivan room which was an underground club that played techno music. I was trying to reach out to other influences that weren't to be found in Binghamton, Upstate where I was from. The music was loud and new. Certainly different from anything in Binghamton. I ended up really drunk on the F train back to Queens. When I left the club there were people all over the Village. To my surprise it had been the Gay Pride day in New York. It was quite an experience. One that I'll never forget.
That first semester of Grad school I almost didn't make it to the next semester. I had misplace a paper and received an incomplete as a grade. Luckily the department allowed me to resubmit the paper and I got an A. Also that first semester I lost it in front a professor and was almost thrown out of school. I had failed out of Law School and I had a lot of baggage from that experience. I was so crazy with the idea that I had to get a perfect GPA and become a professor that it drove with over the edge. Eventually I found my way into a counselor and extensive psychological counseling to deal with the stress of Grad school and my past which I just couldn't come to terms with. I graduated with honors and moved onto a degree in teaching which didn't work out for me. Now I'm studying screenwriting something that I've always wanted to do.
I feel I found my way to some degree. I'm getting a degree in writing which is what I've always wanted to do. From my earliest childhood memories I wanted to be a writer. Yet, I get so stressed that it won't work out. I fear I'll be homeless or bankrupt or unemployed all those years at university wasted with big debts. I think of going back to New York. But it's so expensive. And my father is older. He will turn 70 this year. I don't know what I'll do. It seems everyone I know has gotten on well, except me. It seems that everything I do is a failure. What have I done? Why go to school? Is it really necessary? I can't stand thinking all of this. Yet I can't get away from it.
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