Cahiers2Cinéma

New Reviews

2011-12-22T00:39:00.000-08:00

I started reviewing for this British Web site.
Check out my first three reviews here:

L'Enfance-nue
L’Enfance-nue is a deeply moving film with a compelling cast of amateur performers, confidently guided by Maurice Pialat. He achieves an understated portrayal of foster care life that has the deep ring of truth that only great art can achieve. Pialat has a lovingly humanist artistic vision, and this series of Masters of Cinema releases showcasing his work invites a well-deserved reconsideration of this great director. Keep your hankies on hand!

La Pointe Courte
A full three years before the French New Wave began, Agnès Varda directed this rarely-seen film on a shoestring budget, edited with the help of Alain Resnais, and now acknowledged as a key stylistic precursor to the New Wave. La Pointe Courte also features Philippe Noiret’s first significant appearance, essentially his debut, in the co-lead role.

Kuroneko
Kuroneko is a well-made and exciting sample of the Japanese ghost fable genre – a cultural hallmark everyone should experience at least once. While it may not earn a place in the pantheon of the greatest Japanese films, if you’ve never experienced a film by Kaneto Shindo, you owe it to yourself to give a listen to yet another talented voice from the rich history of Japanese cinema.

Another Sergio Leone Infield Fly Rule Quiz

2011-11-03T14:45:00.000-07:00

I recently answered Dennis Cozzalio's most recent diabolical quiz, "DR. ANTON PHIBES’ ABOMINABLY ERUDITE, MUSICALLY MALIGNANT, CURSEDLY CLEVER HALLOWEEN HORROR MOVIE QUIZ", scroll to the bottom to check out my obnoxious answers, or give the quiz a whirl yourself!

http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/2011/10/dr-anton-phibes-abominably-erudite_19.html

You can also check out quizmaster Dennis's incredibly long-winded answers here.

http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/2011/11/his-satanic-majesty-submits-devilishly.html

Criterion on Hulu+ A Cinephile's Report

2011-10-17T11:17:00.000-07:00

Early impressions of Criterion on Hulu+:

The selection, of course, is the major appeal. Not every existing Criterion movie is on there yet, but a huge number are already, and then there are the many titles that they have never released. You can keep a running count of those exclusives here. (go to the last page for the latest updates). Another pleasant surprise is the inclusion of all the major Chaplin feature films, up through the sound era.

So what are the negatives? The Hulu+ interface on your HDTV (a Panasonic Viera was tested in this case) is nowhere near as user-friendly or informative as Netflix's interface—especially for cinephiles. You can create a queue on the Hulu+ Web site. It has various sorting options, including customizing the order, same as Netflix, but that does not translate over to the TV, which jumbles the queue in an order it favors and which cannot be changed. If you add a lot of movies, and want to watch in queue order, you're going to have to scroll through the entire queue on the TV to find them. The next problem is the Hulu+ TV interface does not list the director or the actors. Criterion famously said they were dumping Netflix in favor of Hulu+ because "In short, they get it." Well, they certainly don't get it if they don't list who directed the frigging film!

A final selling point given to us by Criterion was that Hulu+ would add special features, something Netflix was unwilling to do. This has been sporadic. Perhaps one example isn't fair, but along with uploading L'Enfance-nue (1968, Maurice Pialat), it would have been nice if they included his breakout short "L'amour existe" (1960), which is on the DVD. Although it is understandable that that they already have more content on there than any reasonable person could keep up with. The treasure trove aspect basically wins out.

There is one remaining problem. Even at the highest HD streaming speed, the visual experience can be less than stellar. Dark black-and-white films exhibit significant compression artifacts as pixelization in the darkest areas of the frame. If one has Netflix and may gain access to the DVD or rent the blu-ray somewhere (Netflix doesn't carry many Criterion blu-rays unfortunately), it doesn't appeal to sit through a high-profile, artistically significant film with some splotchy pixels dancing around behind the characters' heads just because the scene was shot at night. Bright, color films, however, look perfectly fine—as long as they don't have any night scenes! It's the same with Netflix. This is simply a drawback of the streaming experience in general. If you know a film is shot dark, rent the DVD, or better the blu-ray.

Criterion on Hulu+ is a great way to gain access to the world's biggest library of great art films, but there are a few drawbacks to endure. If you are a bloodthirsty shut-in who has oodles of time to put your exploration of art cinema into overdrive, this is the deal for you. You don't need to wait for any discs, just keep clicking play, watching one film after another all weekend long. But if you are a high-minded snob who has come to enjoy not just the films but the award-winning visual quality of the Criterion Collection, you may find yourself preferring to wait for the discs, especially if your viewing habits are down to only one film a week.

UPDATE 10/28/11: Some other problems worthy of mention:

If you have Hulu+ on your TV, you're not going to watch online. So when you are online, it's usually browsing for things to add to your queue, but when you click a title for more info, it starts playing immediately. This makes for a very irritating shopping experience.

Any non-Criterion titles open a can of worms. 4x3 1.33 material, say an old TV show like Remington Steele or The X Files, displays incorrectly stretched to fill your 16x9 TV. Netflix does not screw this up.

There are commercials before and during every non-Criterion, non-Miramax movie/TV show. One may accept that on the newest episode of Glee, but on the 1999 British TV show Spaced? You would be better to rent the discs from Netflix. Miramax movies seem to be commercial-free, but other than that and Criterion you're facing commercials.

Take Shelter (2011, Jeff Nichols)

2011-10-07T17:10:00.000-07:00

Starring Michael Shannon, Jessica Chastain, Tova Stewart, Shea Whigham, Kathy Baker, Katy Mixon

Take Shelter storms into cinemas buoyed by the strength of Michael Shannon’s sensitive, intimate portrayal of a quiet family man who has frightening visions of devastating storms.

Curtis is a caring family man who sees visions of immense storm clouds that rain an oil-like liquid. His troubles increase when he realizes that no one else can see the visions. He hides it from his wife Samantha and young deaf daughter Hannah.

As the visions get weirder—his dog attacks him in one—he quietly decides to heed them as true premonitions. He starts by building a backyard enclosure to sequester his dog, which irks Samantha. At the same time, owing to his mother’s history of mental illness, he hedges his bets by seeking medical and psychiatric help, but nothing works.

To his wife’s horror, he takes out a high-risk loan in order to build an elaborate underground shelter by burying a shipping container in the backyard. He borrows a digger from his construction job and enlists the help of his best friend and coworker Dewart, who early in the film had told Curtis “You’ve got a good life,” something that Curtis now seems to be endangering.

The tensions climax when Hannah’s cochlear implant is jeopardized by Curtis losing his job and health insurance, due to his increasingly paranoid preventive actions. An outburst at a community gathering finally isolates the family completely. Despite everything, Samantha draws closer to Curtis over his deep love for Hannah. The family must now face Curtis’s frightening visions together.

The film is simultaneously an intense and understated drama. There’s a carefully nuanced rendering of all events, but not much along the lines of dramatic plot developments. The slow-moving story is explored in minute details, with a rigorous singularity of purpose by the director Jeff Nichols. The performances by Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain are incredibly well realized, both actors clearly capable of the highest echelon of roles. Shannon plays a taciturn, troubled man, but you can read huge emotion in the slightest facial movements. Even the lines on his face seem to ooze with depth.

The problem is the film is of that typical American indie ilk which only has one idea to communicate. It explores the idea thoroughly, and the revelations at the end are satisfying when we eventually get to them, but along the way there is not much else to stimulate the intellectually curious viewer. This is a cinema of emotion—an actor’s cinema. The filmmaker’s big idea is metaphorical, but the idea is so single-minded that it becomes a one-note metaphor, so you must really like that note to enjoy the film. To be fair, the full concept is not revealed until the end of the film, and even then it is somewhat ambiguous, so you actually are asked to think. But unlike a potboiler, the mystery is: What is this metaphorical film getting at? This results in a more satisfying time contemplating the movie afterwards than actually watching it.

Jeff Nichols, who wrote and directed it, has a highly personalized take on family life, and life in general, that perhaps will not ring true with everyone. Things are bleak, although not without hope. As a metaphorical work, it may not have the universality that the director seems to feel it does: His film has a noticeably ponderous weight to it, arising from the snail-pace and carefully composed look. The film is so carefully framed and color-corrected that it loses a bit of the looseness that a more natural look, allowing in a few imperfections, might have provided. Despite the insularity of the filmmaker’s vision, the film achieves some powerful realizations in these characters’ lives which may please some viewers. But the audience is still left wondering why the world in this film so gloomy, and in the end the film may not have a good enough answer.

Take Shelter is worth watching for the deeply observed and nuanced performances of Michael Shannon and Jessica Chastain, but it is a film with only one metaphorical idea behind it all. A bit of an oppressive night at the cinema, but if you let Michael Shannon pull you into his deeply troubled world, you may come away provoked and encouraged by the unexpected conclusion.

Subtitled Online

2011-09-29T11:47:00.001-07:00

Here's a cool new Web site about film:

http://www.subtitledonline.com/

The founder Darren Howells has been trying to spread the word, and I think this is a rare case that deserves some attention.

Firstly, their mission statement is awesome. While my initial reaction was that it was a bit arbitrary to focus solely on subtitled films, I realized it is a great way to simplify a film site and give it a very clear direction (it's also very anti-Hollywood), and thus is kind of a brilliant idea. You know when you are in that particular mood for a subtitled film!

Lastly, there seem to be FREQUENT contests to win free DVDs/blu-rays of good artsy films!! With really easy questions to answer...! Spread the word on that at least...! :-)

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/subtitledonlinepage
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/#!/subtitledonline

Here's the cool mission statement:

Just what the world needs, another film website, right? Actually, in this case, right…

Whilst the World Wide Web has opened up innumerable possibilities to explore different countries, peoples and cultures, the reality is most people continue to submerge themselves in the narrow reality of their own lives – or the emptiness of the rich and famous’ lives.

Movie websites are perfectly indicative of that fact – there’s a countless number of movie websites and blogs, yet the majority cover the same ground, i.e. the latest Hollywood blockbuster or star-vehicle. Throwaway films, given throwaway coverage, via what is increasingly becoming a throwaway medium.

With everything geared towards making money quick, and obsessing about grossly overpaid celebrities, with little care for anything else, it’s understandable that America dominates British media, that magazines and websites would rather concentrate on continually repeating the same inconsequential gossip related to an attractive star’s personal life than give exposure to genuine talent or celebrate creativity that challenges and offers them less personal gain.

The standard defence is that, whilst films produced outside of Hollywood are frequently superior (you only have to consider the number of remakes, and so quickly after an original’s release, to back-up that statement), film fans don’t want to read their movies. However, given most of our time is spent reading, whether it be our phones, computers screens, or whatever the latest en vogue gadget is, that argument is hollow. The truth is whilst the thought of ‘reading your movie’ may be off-putting in theory, once you start watching these films, you just stop noticing. You only have to look at the success of films like Amelie and The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo to see that when films of originality are given even the slightest column inch, subtitled or not, fans seek them out, and are subsequently affected in ways Hollywood rarely attempts to.

Films that fans can treasure are not produced on the Hollywood conveyor belt. The likes of Let The Right One In and [REC] have been remade virtually scene for scene because there’s little time for creativity when making a buck is king, and any Hollywood film that could even be considered above average in recent years (think Russel Crowe’s The Next Three Days) has usually been lifted straight from Europe or Asia. Even America’s most revered directors have had their greatest commercial and critical successes remaking or heavily borrowing from world cinema (Martin Scorsese a prime example – a director who was heavily rewarded with The Departed, a far inferior version of Hong Kong’s Infernal Affairs – whilst Quentin Tarantino would never have produced the works he did without the ideas, scenarios, and even scenes lifted straight from Asian cinema).

Whilst the aforementioned foreign films may have squeezed a little editorial from your standard mainstream film site or magazine, this is only scratching the surface. Whilst Adam Sandler confounds everybody in continuing to line his pocket with his latest unfunny, there are countless intelligent and insightful releases that are simply being missed. Our website has been set up to bring exposure to these movies. Unlike other websites, we don’t just review a handful of the latest big-name/star-vehicle releases each week and spend the rest of our time regurgitating gossip that fills most newspapers and daytime TV shows already.

We have a clear editorial policy that we only cover films (and television) produced outside of the UK and USA (unless they have co-productions credits, or the film’s been produced not-in-the-English-language), with the main focus being on titles that are being released or shown in the UK. These don’t necessarily have to be new titles either. We are building a vast catalogue of informative reviews, of films old and new, covering all genres of filmmaking, from every country across the globe.

Our website is updated daily with news, reviews, competitions, articles, listings and much more. We are creating a community for film fans equally disenchanted with the tired and formulaic nature of the dominant Hollywood moneymaking machine, offering a one-stop-source of information for an increasingly diverse British audience, which is equally relevant to film fans worldwide (given the ease with which the internet has made it for fans to order and even watch online films that have not been released in their own country as yet).

We aren’t here to say everything that is produced outside of the UK and USA is faultless. Films are reviewed on merit, and whilst we have been wowed by many offerings from a country like South Korea, for example, the likes of which Hollywood would never allow, we’ve equally lost many painful hours to duds we’d like to help you avoid.

We love films that are helmed by true auteurs, who are willing (or perhaps more importantly allowed) to push boundaries (successfully or not); we are interested in receiving insight into unfamiliar cultures; and we hope by sharing our passion for international filmmaking (coined as world cinema or foreign film), we can also offer the opportunity to the uninitiated to discover original and challenging movies, the likes of which you’ll never have seen before.

Ultimately, we are far more than just a film website. As esteemed critic Mark Kermode said when interviewed by our website: “If you want to learn something about a country’s culture then I’d say spend a little time in their national cinema.” We are giving exposure to films that will undoubtedly educate a viewer to an unfamiliar country’s national history, their customs and traditions, their beliefs and all the nuances of the different elements of their society. This is an opportunity to bring better cross-cultural appreciation.

Remember to get behind and support this website. Check out the films and events we are giving exposure to, interact with each other (comment on articles!), tell your friends, use social networking and bookmarking sites – let’s ensure world cinema gets the critical coverage it deserves!

The Savage Innocents (1960, Nicholas Ray)

2011-09-13T15:06:00.000-07:00

Hot tip: Nicholas Ray's excellent The Savage Innocents (1960) is currently available for streaming on Netflix...

It's not the best way to see it, as it was originally in the 2.35 aspect ratio, shot in Technirama,
and the Netflix is panned-and-scanned 1.33 (although it's mostly frame-locked, no jarring video pans). That sucks, but as far as supreme classic films buried in the Netflix instant watch service, it's a keeper for me. The brilliance of the performances and Ray's intense interest in the most primitive nature of man blazes through the presentation limitations.

This treasure is hardly buried as there are numerous reviews, but I wanted to give a heads-up to the discerning cinephiles out there. Ray's portrayal of the Eskimos is pilloried in the Netflix reviews, but I think he's roughly used the setting, however inaccurately, to spur a philosophical study of the nature of man and society/civilization, and as such the film is immensely satisfying.

There was this bizarre Peter O'Toole lookalike in it towards the end, and I wondered how dissatisfying it must have been to make a career as a backup actor for productions unable to cast O'Toole himself-- until I found out it really was Peter O'Toole...! He is overdubbed with a bad American accent.

As a sometime actor I have had my voice slightly altered once (pitched higher). I was horrified, and it sowed seeds of doubt, but if someone as great as Peter O'Toole can bounce back...!

Here is the cover art of the UK-released Masters of Cinema DVD (out of print), which I wish I had looked into and rented from Cinefile or Videotheque to watch in proper widescreen.

However, I think there is something to be said for breaking free of slavishness to exact correct presentation and delving into pan&scan land in the interest of watching, say, more films by an interesting director, instead of having your choices driven by what's new from Fox et al in pristine widescreen. Sometimes your explorations of the actual content may be far more satisfying and lead you down different paths....

Searching about the movie also led me to this recently released book on Nicholas Ray which looks interesting:

Jean-Pierre Melville the Jazz Musician

2010-12-05T16:00:00.000-08:00

I love this quote from Bertrand Tavernier about Jean-Pierre Melville's crime films. I think he nails the high artistry Melville achieves, even though he is not as philosophically oriented (or wordy perhaps?) as some of the Nouvelle Vague contemporaries in the middle '60s.

TAVERNIER: "...those films I will not say are philosophical, but they are like thoughtful reexamination of a genre, like a jazz musician would take a standard by Gershwin and redo it in his own way. He is taking-- He's taking This Gun for Hire, combine it maybe with one or two other films, and he makes his own version. He is playing part of the melody, but in such a way that it's-- he has taken different chords, playing with different kind of harmonies, yet you have the melody." - Tavernier in 2008 on an interview on the Criterion DVD for Melville's Le Deuxième Souffle (1966).

While many Melville films have enjoyed quite a high profile, such as Le Samouraï (1967), when I see one as incredible as this (Le Deuxième Souffle), I wonder why it has been relegated to the shadows for so long-- and I then wonder how many other awesome Melville films are out there that we still can't see...! I don't think this film was even on VHS, so this really is a treat of a release. Check it out now!

Back of the Class

2010-11-20T21:36:00.000-08:00

I am still finding this parody commercial from the comedy troupe "back of the class" hilarious:

Here are some of their other highlights:

This last one may be only sporadically funny, but extra credit for the lovingly re-created '80s-style video:

Filmmakers, We DARE You...

2010-08-19T16:04:00.001-07:00

Seen at Book Soup in Los Angeles.

New Breathless (1960) Trailer

2010-04-30T08:02:00.000-07:00

Here is Rialto Pictures' new trailer for Jean-Luc Godard's immortal Breathless (À Bout de souffle) (1960). Subscribe to their YouTube channel...!

It's perhaps a bit sillier than the real movie, but I think it hits all the right nostalgia points for fans of the film. The print looks pristine (at least via YouTube) and the cinematography beautiful, despite Godard making Raoul Coutard shoot it with almost no lighting equipment.

This is one of those prints that makes me think they have made it look better than it did when it came out. This is for the 50th anniversary re-release. Does that make anyone feel old?!

New theatrical trailer for Godard's BREATHLESS, produced in 2010 (for the film's 50th anniversary re-release) by Robert Warmflash Productions for Rialto Pictures. Inspired by Godard's original 1960 French trailer, the new trailer was written and directed by Rialto co-president Bruce Goldstein and edited by Arthur Carlson. The voice-overs are by Marie Loisier (programmer of the Alliance Française in New York) and Sébastien Sanz de Santamaria.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juihAJaAkgA

John Brahm and the Locket (and Nicholas Musuraca)

2010-04-29T00:37:00.000-07:00

Ever since Cahiers du cinéma, Andrew Sarris and the auteur theory passed out of its heyday, it has been a not infrequent pastime of some to canonize overlooked directors and shoehorn them into the hallowed pantheon of the all-time greats. Among the frequent nominees is one John Brahm, who I am here to say is overrated and belongs just a notch outside the canon and is at best a serviceable mainstream director, a craftsman. The definition of an “auteur” in classical terms is someone who, despite working in the Hollywood studio system, exhibited a consistent and strong personal style and vision throughout their films. Directors such as Alfred Hitchcock and Howard Hawks.

The Locket (1946) has its moments, for sure. But what is missing is a compelling through-line from beginning to end of a deeply felt, intensely emotional personal involvement by the director in the story—and in this case it’s in a purportedly in-depth portrait of human psychology. Here the psychology of the femme fatale is merely a tool of the plot. The director is not interested one jot in the human syndrome that makes this lady tick (if it’s the writer’s fault, it seems the great auteurs managed to get what they needed out of the material, nine times out of ten). And it is in this fertile ground that greater auteurs would have found the real meat.

In fact, it is in comparison to Hitchcock that Brahm’s vision suffers the most in comparison. I felt a lack of dramatic excitement when Nancy and Dr. Blair come back from their restful visit in the country, and he suspects her of stealing a necklace. Dr. Blair tries furtively to look in her purse on the train, and then in the apartment. The “twist” is (for now) that he finds she has not stolen it, and he is crestfallen for having doubted her. But, boy, compare Brahm’s push in on the purse in the train scene to any dramatic push-in by Hitchcock, and you will feel a tremendous lack of excitement. (The close-ups to the money in Janet Leigh’s purse in Psycho, imbued with deep psychological and dramatic weight.) The push-in with Hitchcock occurs at moments of high drama, often when the audience is aware of some critically important information. Perhaps in Hitchcock we would have seen Nancy steal the necklace and winced with glee as Dr. Blair (unaware instead of suspicious) narrowly misses seeing it time after time. And instead Nancy is the one on pins and needles, desperate to avoid being caught, until..... In Hitchcock, the focus would have been on Nancy’s psychology—on the intense desire to cover up the guilt—a deep psychological guilt beyond the act itself (maybe I’m harping on Psycho). But in Brahm she’s la-di-da, a calm customer, and the scene is in the realm of Hollywood plotting and not deep auteurist psychology or human interest.

Despite this, the movie is entertaining and has moments where the plot winds its screws tightly and to good effect. The complex flashback structure is fun, and it’s not too often you see such a lengthy flashback within a flashback—within a flashback!—and so well done that you do not lose your place and are fully engrossed in each realm. Here the Hollywood craftsmanship is in full sail—but not the art, not the auteur. So in the end, the drama uncoils a bit and its hold on the viewer slackens. Lacking a strong underlying interest by the director in anything but the story—the plotted structure— I would imagine most discerning viewers will feel dissatisfied.

I think some who try to kickstart a new auteurist appreciation are perhaps imbuing the films with a deeper psychological interest than actually exists is in them. This may come from training in film school (or books), where it does take education and guidance to learn to interpret what lies beneath the surface of, for instance, a Hitchcock film. But it is possible to misapply those same analyses with a less careful eye to similar scenes and similar plotting and draw some lines between underlying points that aren’t really there if one is to be honest and look closely.

I felt a similar swell of auteurist anointing for Brahm I think from my friend Dennis and perhaps some American Cinemathèque programmers vis-à-vis Hangover Square, in which I had a similarly enjoyable time at the movies, but still felt this same lack mentioned above. Brahm just does not bear comparison to the great auteurs. (And dare I quote Dashiell Hammett: “Literature, as I see it, is good to the extent that it is art, and bad to the extent that it isn't, and I know of no other standard by which it may be judged.”)

Nicholas Musuraca’s (or is it Brahm’s—I haven’t seen enough of his yet) lens choice is claustrophobic. Bear with me, I’m new to focusing on lenses, and I’m taking a beginner cinematography class, but it seems the choices resulted in a narrower field of view, which I believe means they are in most cases longer lenses (not the longest, but longer than “normal” 50mm). One only has to look at the lighting to confirm this was a strategy. Characters, more than most movies are crowded in by sharp shadows, delicately placed at all points around their heads, frequently with shadows cutting into their faces. The film is frequently bathed in darkness, and a number of times it dips well below normal Hollywood standards (at least for scenes in drawing rooms and studio apartments). One might assume art class students need light to draw by, but here it is very dimly lit.

I wanted to write about Musuraca, since it’s the first time I’m watching with an eye towards learning cinematography. Just briefly, it was too dark—my VHS copy was murky, perhaps this is not fair—and I think this style choice went a few steps beyond the needs of the scenes. There were some beautiful shots—her final wedding walk close-up was great. But overall the film was too claustrophobic. There was not a good enough mix of wider shots, and I don’t think a closed-in style was called for here—or at least it could have been saved for the most critical scenes. The film doesn’t sit entirely comfortably in the realm of film noir, although it would be hard to designate it otherwise. But it almost seems that Musuraca was desperate to make it a noir against the needs of the scenes themselves. I think in better noirs, the lighting is justified by the locations (like in Asphalt Jungle). Nevertheless Musuraca is extremely creative, and the looks he got are pretty stunning and seemed difficult to achieve. And they were distinctive, not like any other cinematographer’s.

Last note, I’ve been reading about Method acting a tiny bit (and doing some acting myself), and Laraine Day’s performance left something to be desired. She was acting in a formally professional way, not in a deeply psychological way. Often she seemed to be acting without enough regard to her partner in the scene.

This film recently played at the American Cinemathèque's 12th Annual Film Noir festival, so perhaps some readers out there would care to share their two cents' worth.

(Thanks for bearing with this meandering review. I felt it was better to write something messy than nothing at all.)

Buster Keaton At Work

2010-04-25T19:46:00.001-07:00

Here is an interesting item from Kino International's YouTube page.

They have put side-by-side two alternate takes from Keaton's Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928).

Usually we only see this kind of "artist at work" stuff on the Chaplin bonus features, so this is a first at least for me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkPktbZVsOQ

The Killer (1989) trailer

2010-04-20T22:30:00.001-07:00

Whenever things are slow, it's nice to post an action-packed trailer to wake everyone up...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCbihqIz2eg

Crazy Filmmaker? Or Is He Onto Something?

2010-04-13T15:48:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure what to make of this set of videos from my friend, filmmaker Jeffrey Goodman. (Like Truffaut and Godard, we used to hang out at the American Cinematheque for amazing screenings and discuss them afterwards.)

Here he posts info about his forthcoming film "Peril" about which we know very little, and he hopes to get us personally interested and involved. (He mentions that in independent filmmaking "DIWO"—"Do It With Others"—is replacing "DIY".)

It is all part of his commitment to fully explaining the process of what goes into getting a film made and what happens after the film is done, which you may find invaluable. For example, his blog at MovieMaker magazine, called "Adventures in Self-Releasing," details great info about his attempts at deal-making and self-distribution for his prior film, The Last Lullaby, starring Tom Sizemore.

These videos below are actually tapings of live U-Stream chats that he holds regarding his upcoming film "Peril." So, what do you think, is this guy crazy, or is he onto something? In any case, I think we should applaud him for his commitment to sharing and educating.

INTRO:

CHAT PART ONE

CHAT PART TWO

CHAT PART THREE

CHAT PART FOUR

Jeffrey also has a compelling story about how he used his experience selling Brinks security systems (!) to go out and raise money for The Last Lullaby (anecdote around minute 2:00):

PS - Here is the Facebook page of the new movie Peril
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=249626084292&ref=ts

"Fancy Rollerskater" by Ansel

2010-04-11T17:11:00.000-07:00

I really like this song by a band called Ansel.

The video is directed by one of my film teachers.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dklFm4WCHhQ

Music video for band Ansel song "Fancy Rollerskater". Directed by Matthew Harrison. Edited by Johannes Weuthen.

A Dash to North Pole (1909 Extract)

2010-04-10T20:10:00.000-07:00

A bit of the goodness that is a benefit of subscribing to the BFI's YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzKaRgbCDQQ

This film footage of the Ziegler North Pole expedition was reissued in Britain by Charles Urban in 1909 when all things Polar were of almost obsessive interest to the British film-going public. This film shows an early American attempt on the North Pole filmed by expedition leader Anthony Fiala. It shows the expedition ship S.S. America travelling through pack ice and attempting to land and features shots of the expedition members with their dog sleds on the ice. (Bryony Dixon)

The 13th British Silent Film Festival takes place at Phoenix Square, Leicester 15th - 18th April 2010, where a host of rare and re-discovered films from the archive will be on show. For more information, visit http://www.britishsilents.co.uk/silent/

A Bit of Spotty Bother - 1896 style

2009-10-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

I spotted something really bizarre in the short film "A Nightmare"/"Le Cauchemar" from 1896 by Georges Méliès. You can read a summary of this very short film here or here, or watch it on one of the great Georges Méliès DVDs. (I watched it on this one.)

The crazy thing I found is, in the final scene, when we cut back to the original bedroom, Méliès' groin area is hand-blacked out by spotty marks. I am not trying to be a wise guy. You can see it in the last screen grab in this rotten tomatoes review. Here is the photo for convenience:

(click to enlarge)

But it is even more evident when you watch it on DVD, especially if your DVD player has a zoom feature, because the black dots are clearly hand-drawn on every frame—they hop around erratically (almost like they're animated...!). In the prior scene, this character had jumped around acrobatically, and possibly this is where some piece of fabric came loose. They had to do a camera stop where the actor (Georges Méliès himself) froze in position on the bed while the set is changed around him. In the finished film it is jump-cut together so that the background disappears instantly and he is awakened from his nightmare, back in his bedroom.

He is wearing sleeping underclothes, and maybe one of these two scenarios occurred: 1) Out of propriety, an exhibitor from way back when, or someone who owned the film print at some point in history, blacked it out because maybe there was a bulge they found offensive 2) Méliès (or his team) blacked it out on all prints (or the negative) because his flap had accidentally fallen open, leaving him exposed.

If it's the latter, you may ask, why wouldn't they reshoot? If you look at how exactly the match cut is of his body position between these scenes, perhaps this was the preferred solution (the screen grabs here don't show this—you have to watch the film). This is 1896, and Méliès is discovering and mastering new film techniques, and my guess is that replicating this special effect cut may have been daunting compared with simply blacking out the offending region. He had to freeze himself in a very awkward position (legs in the air) in the bed while his crew rearranged the set, until they turned the camera back on.

It was apparently quite hurried because you can see the remnant of the prior "nightmare" set on the right of screen which has not been properly covered up by the new set. Compare the before and after shots below. The bed (looks like a wheelbarrow) is in the exact same position in the frame, and the remnant of the first set is visible on the right side in the second frame grab.

Some film historian should be put to work to answer this important question! For instance, if all the existing film prints have this blacking out, then it likely originates in the negative. But if there is a "clean" print out there, then we can look at what was blacked out and make a guess as to why.

Il generale della Rovere (1959, Rossellini) - review

2009-10-14T01:00:00.000-07:00

(Don't be scared off by the drab cover art. The film is lighter, more fun and engaging than this serious-looking cover belies.)

Roberto Rossellini can be newly appreciated these days thanks to the appearance of a wide variety of his films on DVD—including several that I think were not available on VHS. He seems to have lagged behind other major directors in getting his work represented on DVD—and still many of his most significant works are not available. I find myself in the position of having neglected him in favor of other directors, such as those of the Nouvelle Vague and the other Italian directors.

One of the films that I can now evaluate is Il generale della Rovere from 1959. This film makes me question what is it that defines art? Because when I compare it to other films by Rossellini, it is much less "overtly artistic", and far more of a traditional narrative. Certainly there can be traditional narratives that are great works of art, but what is it that gives them that special ingredient that rises to the level of art? I am not attempting to answer the question here, just raising it, but I think it has something to do with the high level of craftsmanship of the writer and director primarily, and then I would compare it to what makes great novels rise to the level of art, even when they are traditional narratives, such as Madame Bovary or The Red and the Black. There is a long history of artists reaching a level of communication and beauty in their artistry in every medium, and why should cinema be any different? But it is interesting when you watch a director who is usually more overtly artistic make a film that is a traditional mainstream narrative.

I think here Rossellini shows, to my surprise and confusion, that he can ably direct a normal studio film. I just kept wondering why he was doing it. (You can find the backstory on how he came to direct the film elsewhere.) The subject matter is certainly above average, and from what I've read, was breaking some new ground in terms of representations of World War II subject matter for Italian audiences. It almost rises to the level of art, but I think because Rossellini is so comfortable in a different type of filmmaking (looser in his earlier days, more experimentally minimalist in his later days), the film does not rise to the high level of art one expects, as if he can't quite reach those heights when taking an approach to the medium that is not in his blood.

It should not be a surprise that he can direct a traditional studio narrative, since he directed several before, including Dov'è la Libertà...? in 1954. And if The White Ship, from 1942, is any indication, he was as much of a studio-trained insider as any of the other Italian directors of his generation. (This is another reason I find myself asking, since he already does know how to direct a traditional studio picture, why he made this film.) As studio-type pictures go, I enjoyed Rossellini's Dov'è la Libertà...? more than Il generale. For characters heading towards the gallows, Chaplin's Monsieur Verdoux was far more moving. Chaplin from '47 is surely a far leap from an Italian film from '59, but certain parts where Verdoux is in his cell with his white hair and de Sica is in his cell with his white hair made it hard to suppress comparisons, despite the ridiculously different aims and subjects of the films! But they do both share what is intended as a powerfully moving ending in the same dramatic setting of a prison execution. Perhaps if I had not seen Verdoux, which I considered greatly moving, I would have been more moved by Il generale's ending. Il generale is also similar to other films that I had seen prior, such as Kurosawa's Kagemusha (1980), which was made later, but which I had seen first. (Credit to Isabella Rossellini for pointing out that connection in a video interview.)

I suppose by saying "less overtly artistic," I am comparing Il generale to Viaggio in Italia (1954) most of all. Unlike Godard, Rossellini doesn't call attention to the medium of film itself, so I think I was wrong when I said that earlier. But Viaggio in Italia has a very different feeling to it, one that dispenses with normal plot machinations in favor of the philosophical journey the characters are undergoing, and into which the inquisitive viewer gets deeply drawn and (hopefully) reciprocates with his or her own contemplation on the ideas presented and discussed by the characters. Il generale has entirely traditional plot machinations (not that Rossellini hasn't done this before more than once), but that doesn't mean I can just toss it away as worthless. What is it that can make it great cinema?

If it is reaching heights of poetry that make great cinema—even a dark poetry as is often the case with Rossellini—then Il generale is a lighter success than usual for him. Its ending is moving and perhaps poetic (or maybe one would just call it political or philosophical), but the ending of Germany Year Zero (1948) reaches a height that moves at least this viewer far more deeply. There's something about not fully understanding why a character does something (such as suicide to end that film) that begs to put it in the category of poetry, whereas a moving success of solid storytelling and performance seems to fit into a category more akin to that of great traditional literature or the dramatic arts. I think the difference is made when we fully understand the reasons for the character's heartbreaking demise all along, and we are gut-wrenchingly following them on their journey Those who are more artistically-minded instead tend to praise those films with a poetic angle, where things are only understood either through deeper contemplation, or from a realization of a non-literal reason, or a subtextual reason.

De Sica's own Umberto D. (1952)—let's categorize it as a traditional narrative—moves the viewer to tears with its bittersweet ending. But when a traditional narrative film is able to elicit an extreme height of emotion ,as Umberto does (sometimes this is subjective based on the viewer's state of mind upon entering the cinema), the intellectual/poetic viewer and the traditional narrative/dramatic emotional viewer may meet and enjoy the film at the same level. Perhaps the poetic-minded viewer feels the nuance of emotion has culminated to such a high level that it achieves poetry, and the dramatic emotional viewer is moved emotionally to the heights they demand in what they consider the greatest cinema. (There are probably stronger examples than Umberto D. but I'm blanking now in my haste to write.) But what if, even in Umberto D., there is something in the subtext that elicits that emotion from the poetic/intellectual viewer? I haven't seen it recently enough, so I wonder, because it is a slower film that I think allows time for contemplation of more subtextual issues than the normal traditional narrative film. Perhaps these two types of viewers are enthusiasts of the arts for different reasons, and never do meet. That might explain why some people can sit through the most horrible Hollywood weepy trash and think it is brilliant while others find it false and manipulative because there is no subtlety—only the overt contrived dramatic/emotional machinations draped over a paint-by-numbers traditional plot.

Back to this movie, one of the reasons Il generale della Rovere is worth watching and is an artistic success (if not a staggering one) is because of the very solid treatment of the lead character played by Vittorio de Sica. Both he, the writers, and the director have created a very compelling character, one whose progress we become deeply interested in, and whose transformation at the end is invigorating. We are so deeply pulled into this character's world and he is such a realistic concoction that our interest is completely captured. A comparison to Umberto D. in that regard is not unfounded. After this, I look forward to the drier experimental historical films of Rossellini (experimental in their matter-of-factness of presentation I have heard?) which luckily are also available on DVD, even if his other great works such as Viaggio in Italia, Paisan, Europa '51 and many others still aren't.

Empire of Passion (1978, Oshima) - Review

2009-10-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

This was not a great Oshima film. It is a straightforward story and only has brief moments that begin to approach “transcendent madness.” It is not long enough or weird enough to invite deep thought about anything besides the basic story, a disappointment in an art film. (Or I could consider it a success if I was hanging on every subtle beat of the unfolding story and performances, as with great novelistic films.) The movie seems to invite deeper contemplation when Seki bites Toyoji's hand and things get slightly weird, but it then seems to leave that aside and not explore pain/sex in the way Oshima has before (in In the Realm of the Senses (1976) and a little bit in The Pleasures of the Flesh (1965)). It then moves along to the conclusion in a fully engaging way, but it doesn't have a big emotional or intellectual payoff. It's a nicely done, slightly poetic end to the story.

Probably some digging into symbols, like Seki being blinded, may lead somewhere, but I'm not sure. It crossed my mind that possibly the film is a fantastical realization of what Oshima or the writer think is happening psychologically when two lovers cuckold a woman's husband. But there are too many stories where the lovers actually do kill the husband (and in real life) for it to bear fruit as a cinematic realization of subconscious underpinnings. If it was intended as a beautiful and extravagant fantasy of love, intense sexual love, or doomed lovers, it's too restrained to flower into something truly moving, and compared to In the Realm of the Senses, the intensity level is low. Another metaphor that could bear investigation is the well, which I also thought about as an external narrative depiction of internal confrontations—as if when you cheat you toss the lover down the well and are constantly trying to forget him, but then you have to keep tossing leaves down there to cover him up, and find yourself periodically drawn back to the well. Even as I say it, it sounds silly, so I'm skeptical that this was their intention. (The film's basic scenario—and not anything in the filming itself—has very similar elements to Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart" and James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice.)

I wish I had seen In the Realm of the Senses more recently, but my memory is that it was a deeply engaging shock of a movie, where you were fully enveloped in the mad, explorative passion of the two lovers, which culminates in its disturbing climax. Even though my memory is vague, I think Empire of Passion suffers in comparison, especially since it treads on some similar subject matter—as if Oshima was in the Hollywood studio system, being forced to do a sequel. A quick perusal of his filmography on IMDB shows that he was stuck (if I may presume) in television for about six years before the breakout success of In the Realm of the Senses. Perhaps he was desperate to stay in the theatrical filmmaking game, regardless of how similar the narrative territory was. I believe the older, pre-Criterion DVD was titled In the Realm of Passion, and a look at the Japanese words show that this is probably the more accurate title. (I will have to investigate Oshima's TV period because he may have been there willingly, like Rossellini.)

I find myself favoring early Oshima (first five or seven years perhaps), having had a similar lukewarm response to Taboo (1999) when it came out. His earlier films seem more radical in content and form. As horror or fantasy featuring ghostly apparitions (at least of the Japanese variety), this film does not bear up well in comparison to Kaidan (1964, Kobayashi), for example.

Thunder Over the Plains (1953, de Toth) - A Dreary Western

2009-10-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

Thunder Over the Plains (1953) is a truly dreary western from the usually estimable André de Toth. It features immaculate John Alton-like lighting from Bert Glennon who seems to bring a noir sensibility to Westerns (he did similar things in Felix Feist's Man Behind the Gun), and Citizen Kane-like framings which I'll attribute to de Toth.

The dreary comes from the very un-engrossing plot and, while the characters are developed moderately well, it is just a motley crew ripe for delivering boredom. None is given quite enough of a drive or a reason, and the conflict is lacking, making the whole film dull. I think a Screenwriting 101 teacher ought to have a field day with this one. A pretty great director directs the pants off this weak script but the problems must have been there on the page and should have been addressed before shooting.

The weakness starts right from the beginning, with an omniscient narrator and ostensibly tense scenes that unfurl before us with characters we don't yet care about. This is not an uncommon problem in omniscient narrator films, and this one has a historical bent which probably adds to the stodginess. The most important problem is Ben Westman, the character played by Charles McGraw. McGraw can't do much here—his character has no passion. He's supposed to be the Robin Hood fighting against the evil carpetbaggers, and Randolph Scott is the "hero" supposed to bring him in. On paper it might seem like a great struggle between two conflicted characters, but McGraw's raison d'être is thinly drawn.

I wonder if there was any McCarthy angle to this one that might explain its dreariness-- if there was an ulterior motive behind the picture that put traditional plot clashes on the back burner. In any case, the result is not fun to watch.

I've rarely watched a film so beautifully lit, directed (and to some extent acted) that was so painfully unwatchable. A lesson that just beautiful images alone can't carry a movie. This also reminds me that something must be going on in seemingly plotless masterpieces like Last Year at Marienbad to hold our attention that could be worth analyzing (for film or screenwriting students at least).
(This boring picture helps illustrate how boring the movie is. Screen grab courtesy of DVD Beaver review.)

Note: Originally written 07/10/09 but delayed posting due to procrastination of rewriting! This is a pretty messy draft but now the movie is too faded from memory to refine this.

Nagisa Oshima Re-emerging (Slowly)

2009-10-02T14:05:00.000-07:00

Nagisa Oshima is one of many under-represented filmmakers on U.S. DVD. Criterion throws us a little help by releasing In the Realm of the Senses and Empire of Passion, but where are the other masterworks by this giant of cinema? As Godard (or Truffaut perhaps) is to the French New Wave, so Nagisa Oshima is to the Japanese New Wave. I had the good fortune to see several of his films via other-region DVDs and Los Angeles-area screenings and sorely wish all his films were easier to see.

(These three pictures from Night and Fog in Japan (1960) should serve as a hint as to where distributors should start!!)

Note: Originally written 03/11/09 but delayed posting due to procrastination of plans to elaborate the entry!

La Promenade des Papillons

2009-07-03T00:37:00.001-07:00

Here is a great little silent film by Josie Basford, a filmmaker I met when she screened this film at an Echo Park Film Center open screening (first come, first serve, anyone can bring a film, so it can get quite crazy!).

She does a great job immersing fully into the old-school silent film style, as do her actors, but I especially enjoy her knack for beautiful image-making. Great original music too!

La Promenade Des Papillons from Josie Basford on Vimeo.

Mike Gilbert on Cinema Outtakes

2009-06-26T11:52:00.001-07:00

As promised, here are some outtakes from my earlier film "Mike Gilbert on Cinema."

As you can see, it was recorded pretty off-the-cuff, so stitching the original together was quite the chore. (Hell, even editing these outtakes together was a pain in the ass. Er, um, but it was all worth it!)

This is a peek behind the curtain of the pain and frustration that Mike goes through in order to create the apparently seamless magic of his final performance.

Mike Gilbert on Cinema Outtakes

Mike Gilbert On...

2009-06-23T13:38:00.000-07:00

I broke out sections from the longer "Mike Gilbert on Cinema" film (a 10-minute behemoth) into some bite-sized chunks, all under 1 minute.

Check back in a couple of days for "Outtakes From Mike Gilbert On Cinema".

Mike Gilbert On Miami Vice

Mike Gilbert on Tom Cruise

Mike Gilbert on Paris Hilton

Mike Gilbert on Fox

The "Mike Gilbert on Cinema" MySpace site:
www.myspace.com/mikegilbertoncinema

My YouTube movie page:
www.youtube.com/user/adrianbetamax
(Subscribe to my videos if you like what you see.)

The Infamous Tree Film

2009-06-20T12:24:00.000-07:00

Here is a film I made quite a while back (around November 21, 2007) but am only posting now. Much derided, and probably rightly so, I have maintained a bizarre fondness for it.

The film class assignment was to do a film in only three shots, and to think carefully about the cuts. Sensible suggestions included "Action, reaction, consequence," or "Beginning, middle, end (but not necessarily in that order)".

For some reason, my attempts at getting together a narrative film were thwarted, and out of some test footage for one of those narratives, I decided to just experiment with editing and the interplay between sound and image.

Here is the result, the much derided, infamous tree film, known simply as "3-Shot Film".

Please note: 5 seconds of black leader precedes the film, and it is generally not recommended that you hit the HQ button because playback is too slow, and quality seems fine on regular play.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhuH5g7AxkQ

A Time for Killing - Review

2009-06-18T01:31:00.000-07:00

As it turns out, my idea of using A Time for Killing (1967, Phil Karlson) as a jumping-off point for looking at the career of Phil Karlson was less than fortuitous, since Roger Corman was the original director, replaced by Karlson at some unknown point in the filmmaking. Although it was exciting to get that correction from famed film director Joe Dante in an unexpected visit to my comments section!

Despite the uncertainty about when he joined the film, I thought there were umistakable signs of Phil Karlson's touch that marked it as a legitimate but weak part of his oeuvre. The very intense close-ups reminded me of 99 River Street. In A Time for Killing, the extreme close-ups during the confrontation between George Hamilton and Max Baer Jr. are exquisitely and dramatically lit to a pleasantly jarring and intensifying effect. I can't cue up 99 River Street to check, but I remember something similar occurring in it (it may be the particular angle on the actors' faces that makes it a Karlson touch to me).

In a way, this alternating intense close-ups style is a microcosm of Karlson's approach to filmmaking. More so than most filmmakers, he keys in deeply on a few very intense, small-scale interpersonal relationships/confrontations. He draws you in to the characters and their confrontations at a very personal, intimate level, no matter how grand the setting of the drama, and frequently uses extreme close-ups at high points so that you get a an intense feeling for the emotions that the characters are feeling (and that the actors are hopefully effectively delivering). It's a small-scale cinema. This Western is not like Anthony Mann's. It may feature some scenery, but he does not film it in the same way. To be fair, the Netflix instant watch feature, which was the only way to view this rare film, other than awaiting a fortuitously timed Starz airing, was a panned-and-scanned version of a 2.35 film (per IMDB). Although I don't think seeing it properly would change my opinion because the amount of time he devotes to the landscape and how he uses it within the shots (for instance dollying against a certain background) would remain unchanged.

Despite being able to identify some Karlson trademarks, the film is not terrific. It is watchable and enjoyable to a point but faded quickly from consciousness for me and would not invite further viewings, not even the chance to see it in a proper letterbox format. One key problem that drags this down is the acting: George Hamilton is not a good actor, and I am not a fan of Glenn Ford, who brings pretty much the same narrow range of emotional gradations to almost every film he is in. (There are exceptions.) Inger Stevens was new to me and was not spectacular but was better to me than the guys. The film, probably due to its gestation as a project of two directors (and a studio with its own interests), seemed jumpy in places, and Inger Stevens' feistiness comes unexpectedly and at a much higher intensity level than was justified by her earlier scenes. (We hadn't seen a glimmer of it. She was a wallflower.) The film also has some ugly subject matter in terms of the rape. (I should elaborate on that, but I'm polishing off this review that I first drafted months ago when I watched the film.)

While it's like any film that takes a major event, like the Civil War, and approaches it through several characters (The Good, the Bad and the Ugly), I sense what I feel is the Karlson touch in this film where he does not seem to care as much about the large historical event but is more interested in these characters. In a film like this, his trademark is a detriment, because it is such a significant event in our history, and he is far less inquisitive about the historical aspects. To be fair, the plot is intimately tied to the Civil War, with George Hamilton wearing his Southern pride to the point of insanity, but Glenn Ford is more reactive to Hamilton, who is reduced to a crazy character for which the Civil War is only a device to motivate his behavior and create an interesting story. I think a better director (or maybe even Karlson if he had involvement from the beginning of the project) would have created a story that reflected more deeply on the Civil War and surrounding issues at the same time it told its characters' story.

Possible evidence of studio interference seemed in evidence to me in the form of the two stupid characters played by Corman/Dante regular Dick Miller and Emile Meyer (I think is the actor's name). Their scenes without exception seemed shoehorned in for comic relief very uneasily in a film in which they had no place. I wondered if some successful recent film had a similar dynamic that prompted the studio to insist. I was really scratching my head at Karlson for their inclusion, until Joe Dante educated me about Corman's involvement and stated that all the casting was Corman's (and probably the studio as well). So I'm quick to put all blame for that on Corman, although he may have had a plan that would have integrated them into the film less jarringly.

I have to admit it was pretty neat to see Harrison Ford in a film from 1967, after trying in vain to spot where the hell he is in Zabriskie Point (my conclusion is he is not in it!). Although he is so young in A Time for Killing that I totally missed him. I realized who it had to be later but his character didn't show up again after I had figured it out. I rewatched the beginning and was amazed I had watched his scenes without realizing it was him.

Also Timothy Carey, who I was quite excited to notice in the cast list, comes off pretty terribly in this film. It's the usual Carey insanity but it's just peppered here and there and not weaved in enough to build a fully developed character.

I am not going to write a reconsideration of Phil Karlson attempting to elevate him for consideration as one of the true greats, as I thought perhaps I might have done during this exercise in analysis. He is a director of interest but not one of the great artists. If you are watching an exciting genre film, especially a film noir, selecting a Phil Karlson film is going to be far more satisfying than a Henry Hathaway film. This exercise has helped me categorize him (although unfairly since he joined the film late). I think he is a director of high ability in his craft but, for my money, not one with the astronomically high artistic goals of, say, a Bergman, Fellini or Godard. Even Anthony Mann I think is reaching for something higher, and more clearly, Nicholas Ray, to cite just some random examples. As mentioned earlier in this blog, I'm searching for art, and I don't think we should spend a lot of time on directors who fall (or especially aim) short of it. Although a big caveat to that snobbishness is that with the right script, key crew and amazing performances, a director like this can easily make a film that achieves that high level. But other directors, like Sam Fuller, are more odds-on favorites to deliver something deeply artistically moving.

Access to Rare Films

2009-03-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

In this post from the indispensable Bioscope, there is news of access to rare films by an exciting new method from Warner Bros.

You pay $19.95 for a DVD-R (or $14.95 for download), but you get your own copy of rare films that may not see a commercial release. Pretty sweet stuff.
www.warnerarchive.com

The silents feature scores! That's because they have all shown on TCM, which means you could have saved a lot of money if you had been obsessively recording rare films from TCM over all these years!

I've recommended the Bioscope before for silent film enthusiasts, so make sure you add it to your links or Bloglines or Google Reader.

Screening Alert - The Salvation Hunters

2009-03-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

Big-time screening alert! Josef von Sternberg's The Salvation Hunters (1925) will be screening at UCLA this Saturday March 14 as part of their 14th Festival of Preservation.

Info here.

From their site:

Saturday March 14 2009, 7:30PM

Preservation funded by The Stanford Theatre Foundation
THE SALVATION HUNTERS
(1925) Directed by Josef von Sternberg
Josef von Sternberg's first film--shot for less than $4,800 on location in San Pedro, Chinatown and the San Fernando Valley--was possibly Hollywood's first "independent" production. The gritty realism of its locations, the lack of artifice in its story and the lower depths of its characters shocked audiences and the industry alike. The film remains thoroughly modern. Sternberg's images thrive on composition and stasis. His ending resolves nothing and yet everything is different. The Salvation Hunters made a star not only of Sternberg, but also of Georgia Hale, who would play opposite Chaplin in The Gold Rush (1925).

Academy Photoplays. Producer: Josef von Sternberg. Screenwriter: Josef von Sternberg. Cinematographer: Edward Gheller. Editor: Josef von Sternberg. Cast: George K. Arthur, Georgia Hale, Bruce Guerin, Otto Matiesen, Nellie Bly Baker. 35mm, 72 min.

Preceded by...
OIL: A SYMPHONY IN MOTION
(1933) Directed by M.G. MacPherson

Preservation funded by The Stanford Theatre Foundation

Oil was produced by a Los Angeles collective of amateur filmmakers, called "Artkino," who here attempted a lyric documentary from the point of view of the oil itself.

Cinematographer: Jean Michelson. 35mm, 8 min.
Live musical accompaniment will be provided.

A Time for Killing (1967, Phil Karlson)

2009-03-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

For a limited time, Phil Karlson's 1967 film A Time for Killing will remain available for viewing via Netflix's Instant Watch feature. While it may have been available on VHS or TV airings, to me this is a rarity that has not appeared on DVD, to my knowledge. Phil Karlson has always proved an interesting director, especially in his film noirs: Kansas City Confidential (1952), 99 River Street (1953), Tight Spot (1955), The Phenix City Story (1955), 5 Against the House (1955) and The Brothers Rico (1957). (Some of those are less noirish than others.)

His IMDB entry seems to indicate some tumult at this point in his career (bouncing around to TV, getting involved in the Dean Martin "Matt Helm" light entertainments), so I am not sure this 1967 film will have something special in it, but when a director proves so thoroughly interesting over so many movies, I hope he will deliver, even in what looks like a very mainstream studio release.

Karlson's films often featured real locations to great effect (Reno in 5 Against the House and I believe Alabama locations in The Phenix City Story) and frequently presented very gritty plots, especially 99 River Street, which made a strong impression on me.

Join me in checking out a rarity from this director, and let's write some reviews of what we find in this film and make some general comments on his overall value as a director. Is he merely a stooge doing the studio's bidding in this major release? Or is there a special artistic value, some insight into human nature or politics or history...? We'll see!

I've invited Dennis Cozzalio of Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule to join me in this endeavor, and feel free to jump in. But the clock is ticking. This not-on-DVD film is only available for Instant Watch on Netflix until April 1, 2009. Don't miss this chance!! (No excuses if it's panned-and-scanned. Suck it up!)

The Rossellini Corrective

2008-11-03T21:51:00.000-08:00

The work of Roberto Rossellini has been vastly underrepresented not only on DVD but going back years into the VHS market. While many important filmmakers are unjustly relegated to obscurity on DVD, Rossellini perhaps ranks among the most notable when you consider the quantity and significance of his output, as well as his influence upon the original Cahiers du cinéma writers.

Since the early days of DVD here in the U.S., only Rome: Open City (1943), in what I remember as a fairly poor DVD, and much later, the in-and-out-of-print Germany Year Zero (1948) (it's out of print now, although Netflix seems to have it) have been available. These are landmarks from his first prominent period as a leading filmmaker of the Italian Neorealist movement. Then came the first baby step in expanding beyond these two meager releases when Criterion released the transcendent The Flowers of St. Francis (1950). Now it seems a corrective to Rossellini's DVD availability is finally coming to fruition.

First up, from the previously spotlighted Lionsgate, is Roberto Rossellini: Director's Series, which packages together Dov'è la libertà...? (Where Is Freedom?) (1954) and Era notte a Roma (Escape by Night) (1960). The quality of the set gets a less than enthusiastic review from DVD Beaver here, but I am still encouraged that these films are seeing the light of day at all. (Let me know if there was a prior VHS release I missed.)

Far more significant is the commitment Criterion is making with their upcoming releases of The Taking of Power by Louis XIV (1966) and, via their Eclipse label, a box set of The Age of the Medici (1973), Blaise Pascal (1972), and Cartesius (1974). You can find the Eclipse set here. What's especially noteworthy is these are from his potentially unmarketable educational television films period. The only place I've ever seen a copy of any of these films is at the heroic Cinefile Video in West Los Angeles, in VHS versions of questionable origin (I'm not sure if they were even unsubtitled).

It's quite a different proposition from releasing his more marketable works starring Ingrid Bergman (Stromboli (1950), Europa '51 (1952), Viaggio in Italia (1954)), or any of his other late '40s, early '50s work. At least those were available on VHS, but these TV films have not been available anywhere in the U.S. (with the exception of Louis XIV), and we're not just getting one but four complete films. Add to that the two Lionsgate films, and you have a fairly dramatic corrective to the previous unavailability of the film work of Roberto Rossellini.

I personally have had great curiosity about this exact period of Rossellini's work since reading the perhaps unhinged enthusiasm from Godard and the Cahiers du Cinéma critics in the '60s*. I can't write here anything to support the actual value or quality of these films myself, since I have not been allowed to see them until now. I will be diving in with enthusiasm as these sets are released. Come on, doesn't "Rossellini's dry, educational television period" spell excitement to you?! I know it does for me! (Difficult cinema is the greatest cinema!)

Now all we need to do is get all his more traditional landmarks released on DVD! In addition to the Bergman films and late-1940s Neorealist classics, the modernist landmark Viaggio in Italia (Voyage to Italy) (1954) desperately needs to be made available on DVD in the U.S. I am lucky enough to have a U.K. release and a region-free DVD player, but this film is as significant as any major Godard work or Last Year at Marienbad, and I'm probably understating its importance since it predates them. Hopefully the sales of these radically different TV films won't be so low as to sour future distributors on the prospect of releasing his more well-known international film classics. But for now I am thankful, and we should all get educated and watch these films.

*If my memory serves. They seemed to rave about all his different periods, so I may have mixed them up. In a quick search I did find Rossellini speaking highly of his goals in television in the translated pages of Cahiers du cinéma.

"Une Catastrophe" (2008, Jean-Luc Godard)

2008-09-15T18:55:00.000-07:00

The new film by Godard premiering here!
Let's see how much cinema Godard can squeeze into 1:10.

Technically it's not premiering here, but I couldn't resist showcasing it. It's actually his trailer for the Viennale. Original location is here (at bottom left corner "Viennale Trailer 2008").

Compañeros vs. Compañeros

2008-07-24T15:14:00.000-07:00

Here are two very different trailers for the exciting spaghetti western film Compañeros (1970, Sergio Corbucci).

First, here's the trippy Italian trailer, which shows you very little of the film, but showcases the awesome Ennio Morricone title song:

Then the American trailer, which features scenes:

Having seen the movie, I like the first trailer better—it's almost a satisfying short film in its own right—but I wonder if only the second could get anyone to actually see the movie, since the first one is kind of vague. In any case, check out the movie, 'cause it's really good (if you like spaghetti westerns, or have only seen the Sergio Leone Clint Eastwood ones). It's on good quality DVD, available from Netflix, etc.

The André Téchiné Collection

2008-07-15T12:23:00.000-07:00

In an earlier post I mentioned there was a possibly important André Téchiné film (Hôtel des Amériques, 1981) buried on a Catherine Deneuve set from Lionsgate, but now Lionsgate has released the André Téchiné Collection with that same film included. With four films in total, the Téchiné set is clearly the one to get, for the director-oriented cinephile.

There's a review of it here on DVD Beaver, which is also who I can thank for pointing out this new set. The set contains:
Hôtel des Amériques (1981)
J'embrasse pas (I Don't Kiss) (1991)
Ma saison préférée (My Favorite Season) (1993)
Les Roseaux sauvages (Wild Reeds) (1994)

In that earlier post, I jumped through some hoops listing the Téchiné films that were formerly on DVD but seemingly out of print, but now that is corrected on this set, with two of them, Ma Saison préferée (My Favorite Season) (1993) and Wild Reeds (1994), being made available again.

Lionsgate has released some interesting director box sets of late, consistently in black, gray, and white packaging. Here are a few of them that are well worth checking out, especially the Godard one:

Contains:
Passion (1982)
Prénom Carmen (First Name: Carmen) (1983)
Détective (1985)
Hélas pour moi (Oh, Woe Is Me) (1993)

Contains:
The Ring (1927)
The Manxman (1929)
Murder! (1930)
The Skin Game (1931)

Contains: Gran Casino (1947) and The Young One (1960)
DVD Beaver review.

Contains:
La Fille de l'eau (Whirlpool of Fate) (1925)
Nana (1926)
Sur un air de Charleston (Charleston Parade) (1927)
La Petite marchande d'allumettes (The Little Match Girl) (1928)
La Marseillaise (1938)
Le Testament du Docteur Cordelier (The Doctor's Horrible Experiment) (1959)
Le Caporal Épinglé (The Elusive Corporal) (1962)

Good Eye

2008-07-12T17:44:00.000-07:00

I found these accidentally on YouTube. Seems like they're from a collection of home movies (109 at the moment!), but the guy has a really good eye.

If you are the patient sort of viewer, these will appeal as minimalist cinematic exercises. All our home movies should be this good! Also enjoy the fact that almost no one has seen these, as each film (clip?) has only around 20 viewings or so.

T-Boston Collegue (Metro)

La nouvelle maison de Ksenia 2 (28-06-2008)

Le chien qui nages à L'Ile des Soeurs (11-05-2008)

Free Rare Silent Films Online! Free! Free!

2008-06-13T23:24:00.000-07:00

Here it is, high-quality preserved/restored rare, rare, rare silent films uploaded by the best European film archives:

EUROPA FILM TREASURES

Including Bucking Broadway (1917, John Ford) starring Harry Carey, 52 mins.

Yes, there is full-screen mode.

All thanks go to the amazing Bioscope for bringing this to our attention here. (I encourage you to read the Bioscope post for help in pointing out some of the more interesting films to start with.)

Fun Diversions

2008-06-10T11:01:00.000-07:00

In lieu of a proper post, here are two interesting items from other blogs I enjoyed recently:

A short film called "Frames of Reference" from Cinema Styles.
(Original post here.)

Trailer for Heavenly Bodies (1984, Lawrence Dane) from Cat's Blog.
(Original post here.)

Téchiné and De Sica Uncovered

2008-06-02T12:28:00.000-07:00

Browsing DVD Beaver has again helped me uncover works by great directors hidden in packaged box sets. This time it's the Catherine Deneuve Collection, from Lionsgate, which quietly hides a film by the excellent French director André Téchiné.

Hôtel des Amériques (aka Hotel America) (1981)

This time the Amazon page doesn't even list the individual film titles. (They have them run together in one long run-on sentence with no spaces in some tiny section of the page.)

For me Téchiné is worth a look because of Les Voleurs (aka Thieves) (1996), Ma Saison préferée (My Favorite Season) (1993), both with Deneuve and Daniel Auteuil (Les Voleurs also features the excellent Laurence Côte),and Rendez-vous (1985) with Juliette Binoche. (All are on DVD except for Les Voleurs, which is on VHS, although Ma Saison préferée is apparently out of print.) Alice et Martin (1998) is also on DVD, although I was disappointed when I saw it in the theater. Perhaps I need to see it again. (Although it appears that, too, is out of print. Where's the love for Téchiné?) Téchiné has a very evasive style and perhaps can be too elusive at times. Maybe that caught up with me on Alice et Martin, but in any case, I will be excited to check out Hôtel des Amériques on Netflix. Téchiné is usually most well-known for Wild Reeds, which I still haven't seen.

Another Lionsgate set, The Sophia Loren Collection, hides I Girasoli (aka Sunflower) (1970, Italy), by Vittorio de Sica, that costars Marcello Mastroianni! Wow, I wish I had time to watch all these. As further evidence of how these films can slip by you, IMDB's handy DVD link is grayed-out for this film, so if you were researching De Sica via IMDB you might not realize this one was available.

Pinoy-Pinay

2008-06-01T15:31:00.000-07:00

In lieu of a post, here is another short film I made.
(4 ½ mins long.)

Film Is Supposed to Look Like Film

2008-05-09T08:54:00.000-07:00

There is a very important article up at The Digital Bits about film grain and blu-ray. Apparently some customers are not understanding film grain, now more prominent in high-def, and it's causing complaints. According to Bill Hunt, editor of The Digital Bits, New Line scrubbed Pan's Labyrinth clean of its theatrical film grain for blu-ray. Bill is ready to circle the wagons to make sure the studios do not start "cleansing" classic films of their film grain through excessive digital noise reduction.

I have seen some older movies ('80s) broadcast on HD where the film grain was quite strong, and I think it does take some getting used to. The grain feels more prominent than how we experience it in the theater. In any case, I don't want to see any releases scrubbed, because, as Bill Hunt points out, it is often a stylistic choice, and different film stocks and shooting conditions yield different levels of graininess. Scrubbing to the point that other visual information is lost, and that the faces look "waxy," as Bill mentions, is obviously not acceptable.

I usually only notice or love grain in the movie theaters when I see certain older black-and-white films. I don't recall getting enthusiastic about grain too often at film screenings, nor do I remember being distracted by it. The film I watched (part of) on HD broadcast was Wise Guys (1986, Brian De Palma), and it was very grainy. I certainly don't have memories of grain from '80s film-going experiences, especially color films. I am sure the grain was there—the evidence is clear in the HD broadcast—but something about HD is rendering it more prominent. I suspect this is something that just takes getting used to. I also think that no matter how great the technology, you are transporting something from one medium to another and perhaps there will never be a perfect solution.

I highly recommend you read the article here at the Digital Bits.
Here is the pertinent section:

Finally today... while we're talking about the possibility of older classic films coming to Blu-ray Disc... there's a very important and related issue I wanted to address today. We've been getting a few e-mails a week (over the last month or so) from readers who are new to Blu-ray, who say they're disappointed in the quality of older catalog titles on the format. They disappointed not so much the selection, but the actual video quality. One person said the colors weren't as vibrant as they were expecting. Another thought the image looked too soft. Several have complained of "noise" on their TV screens when they watched certain older films. It actually took me a while at first to understand what they meant, but now I've figured it out... and as a serious film enthusiast, it's troubling to say the least. That noise some are complaining about? It's film grain! It seems that many people who came to home theater more recently via DVD, and so who may never have seen older films in an actual movie theater before, simply don't understand what film grain is. They don't realize that it's SUPPOSED to be there.

Now, if you're one of those people... look, don't feel bad. It's okay that you didn't know what that so-called 'noise' was, because having grown up seeing older films only on DVD or cable TV, how could you know otherwise? That's why The Bits is here - to fill you in on such things. Here's what you need to understand: Film grain is an inherent part of the texture and character of older movies, which of course were shot on photochemical film stock (see Wikipedia's entry on the subject). The grains are tiny bits of metallic silver that are part of the actual physical structure of a piece of film. The amount of grain you see in the image may be the result of a stylistic choice by the director and cinematographer, as determined by their selection of film stock used during the production, or it's the product of the aging process of the film itself, the chemical composition of which changes over time. Often, it's a little of both. DVD didn't always have enough resolution to render grain properly, but Blu-ray does. So now many people are seeing it for the first time, and those who don't understand the nature of film think it's a defect in the disc! It's not, folks. Just like those black bars are supposed to be there on 2.35 (Scope) films - yes, even on your new widescreen HDTV sets - that grain is part of the film medium itself. Unfortunately, it seems that all too many people are expecting older films on Blu-ray to look like Ratatouille or Star Wars: Episode III. In other words, perfect - super-clean, super-clear, super-vibrant. No 'noise.'

To quote Han Solo, "I've got a BAD feeling about this." I suspect THIS issue is going to be the new anamorphic widescreen, the new black bars. This is the issue that enthusiasts and the studios are going to have to make an effort to explain to consumers who are new to Blu-ray and high-definition in general. Unfortunately, what seems to happening right now is that the studio marketing folks are conducting focus groups with new Blu-ray consumers, who are saying they want perfect pictures every time. As a result, a few of the Hollywood studios are currently A) using excessive Digital Noise Reduction to completely scrub film grain from their Blu-ray releases, or B) not releasing as many older catalog titles as they might otherwise for fear that people will complain about grain. Some studios are even going so far as to scrub the grain out of NEW releases that have been shot on film. Case in point: New Line's Pan's Labyrinth Blu-ray Disc. When I saw this film in the theaters, it was dark and gritty. The grain was a deliberate stylistic choice - part of the artistic character of the film. New Line's Blu-ray, on the other hand, is sparkly and glossy - almost entirely grain-free. So much fine detail has been removed that the faces of characters actually look waxy. Everyone looks like a plastic doll. It's worth noting that the European release doesn't suffer the same fate. One can only assume that there are fewer marketing fingers in the pie over there?

This isn't just a Blu-ray issue, it's going to affect ALL high-definition presentations of older films, if we allow it to. Film enthusiasts (and those at the studios who actually CARE about and respect the integrity of older films) need to really start educating people on this subject - new Blu-ray consumers, friends and family, fellow studio employees. FILM IS SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE FILM. Older titles on Blu-ray are NOT supposed to look perfect, as if they were shot today on video! The Blu-ray presentation should replicate, as closely as possible, the best original theatrical experience of the film. THAT'S the goal. I'll tell you right now, this is an important issue, just as anamorphic enhancement and presenting films in their original aspect ratios on DVD were before it. As we did with those issues, you better believe it's something the staff here at The Digital Bits will take up as a crusade with the Hollywood studios if it becomes necessary. So you studio folks... let's just say that you'd better get this one right, or you'll definitely be hearing about it from us in the months ahead (and, we suspect, from many others as well).

Michael Powell Under the Radar

2008-05-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

A favorite topic of mine is finding buried treasures by great directors amongst the current trend of packaged DVDs. For example, a Cary Grant set hides a possible treasure by Raoul Walsh (Big Brown Eyes from 1936), and a Randolph Scott Western set quietly features two André de Toth films (Thunder Over the Plains [1953] and Riding Shotgun [1954]). Or how about a Classic Western Roundup Vol. 2 featuring The Man from the Alamo (1953, Budd Boetticher) and The Cimarron Kid (1952, Budd Boetticher)? In many cases, the directors aren't mentioned on the packaging. Even on Amazon the information is frequently missing, and I have to look the titles up individually on IMDB.

Recently I spotted another, courtesy of DVD Beaver's upcoming releases section, which does the great work of preventing these from slipping through the cracks. Classic British Thrillers features two early Michael Powell films flying in under the radar: The Phantom Light (1935) and Red Ensign (1934), plus The Upturned Glass (1947, Lawrence Huntington). In this case, the films are probably in less good hands with MPI than Universal or Warner Bros., but the release of these rare films is significant and the title "Classic British Thrillers" and cover art do not let you know what potential treasures are hiding inside.

The Wayward Cloud (2005, Tsai Ming-Liang)

2008-05-07T12:15:00.001-07:00

One of the most fun musical scenes in recent movie history, from Tsai Ming-Liang's The Wayward Cloud (2005):

Ah, yes, so pleasant and wholesome. The entire movie is just like this.
(For those who have seen the movie, don't reveal my deception!)

It's finally coming to DVD from Strand Releasing:

For more song-and-dance fun, see this blog where there is a "dance movie blogathon" going on:
Ferdy On Films, Etc.

Hong Kong Movie Trailers from the '80s and '90s

2008-04-22T00:29:00.000-07:00

Just for fun:

God of Gamblers' Return (aka God of Gamblers 2)

A Better Tomorrow 2

Yes, Madam

Police Story

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

Righting Wrongs

Cinefamily vs. The Steve Allen Theater

2008-04-10T23:50:00.000-07:00

L.A.'s excellent repertory and specialty moviegoing opportunities are approaching supernova status. We've had the Egyptian Theatre, LACMA, UCLA and the New Beverly for quite a while, and not too long ago, the American Cinematheque expanded from the Egyptian by adding the Aero Theatre on the West side. But now Cinefamily has come into existence at the Silent Movie Theatre, with a full slate of programming equal in volume and perhaps even exceeding (at least in these early months) in imagination to the Egyptian. Having been at my share of sparsely attended esoteric screenings, can the city really absorb and keep afloat this many amazing screening venues?

With my head nearly ready to explode already, I then noticed signs at my local coffee shop advertising a fairly aggressive slate of films at... The Steve Allen Theater. Yet another repertory film venue in L.A.?!? I can't believe it. I am not certain they are attempting to become a regular screening venue, but it seems like it, since they have a "Mystery Movies" program every Sunday at 9:00 p.m. for just five bucks.

The other indication, and the highlight for me, is their upcoming "Cronenberg Retrospective", which starts this Saturday April 12 at 8:00 p.m with a 20th anniversary screening of the essential Dead Ringers (1988). And it's free admission! (The rest of the series is eight bucks a pop.) Here's the rest of the schedule:

April 19 - Scanners
April 26 - Videodrome
May 3 - The Fly
May 10 - Naked Lunch
May 17 - Crash
May 24 - Existenz
May 31 - Spider (closing night) with the American premiere of his latest short film "At the suicide of the last Jew in the world in the last cinema in the world." (It's actually his segment from the multi-director film you'll find at the link.)

In any case, back to the real behemoth on the scene, the Cinefamily. If you didn't already know, in addition to the traditional single tickets available for any show, you can alternatively buy a membership for just $25 a month, which entitles you to attend unlimited screenings. With the regular price being $10 a show, you only have to see three films in a month and your membership has paid for itself. But with their extremely aggressive and amazing screening schedule (there are a lot of separate admission double features you could sit through), you could put your mind to it and easily see 10 or, heck, even 20 films in a month—a $200 value!! And what's more, there are often surprises in store. I went to see Dennis Hopper's The Last Movie, and Dennis Hopper attended, holding an impromptu Q&A after.

I also commend them for maintaining a highly committed silent film slate as well, given the historic venue. They've been doing Russian silents recently, and this weekend they are hosting the world premiere digital restoration of Abel Gance's almost five-hour La Roue (1923), a film which I'd only seen in a two-hour very rough VHS version. So, if you live anywhere close to the Silent Movie Theatre, you really have no excuse but to pony up $25 and at least try it for one month and gorge yourself on the awesome cinema there. The only thing that gives me pause is, with such an outstanding slate of film offerings all over the city (e.g., the Egyptian is just starting its reliably entertaining 10th Annual Festival of Film Noir!!), how can one commit to only a single L.A. theater?!

In all this excitement, don't forget the Dante's Inferno festival at the New Beverly Cinema, where film director Joe Dante is programming the theater with his favorites for a special run, with several significant in-person appearances. (Thanks to Dennis at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule for making me aware of this in his post here.)

Basically, I'm saying it's all amazing, and you must go see everything. Sorry, there are no excuses. The filmgoing opportunities here in L.A. have always been outstanding the whole 10 years I've lived here, but they have now reached a fever pitch level that we may never see the like of again. As always, check my sidebar of L.A. Film Calendars to plan your week's moviegoing schedule for maximum participation and enjoyment.

Dennis Hopper's The Last Movie (1971)

2008-04-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the late announcement, but tonight only, Dennis Hopper's The Last Movie (1971) will be screening at the Silent Movie Theatre (aka Cinefamily) at two showings, 7:30 p.m. and 10:00 p.m.
Click here for info. (No, it's not a silent movie.)

Directed by Dennis Hopper just after Easy Rider (1969), this time Hopper directs alone without collaboration from Peter Fonda. The result is a masterpiece of that American '70s-style filmmaking that flourished during a decade when the influence of the French and Japanese New Waves (and American cultural changes) had pushed American film to its peak of free-spirit artistic creativity. It ranks up there with the better known Zabriskie Point (1970, Michelangelo Antonioni) as one of the best films to come out of this amazing decade, and shares some of the free-spirit '70s DNA of Zabriskie. For me, it far outstrips Easy Rider as a work of art.

This is definitely not to be missed!

Houdini the Movie Star

2008-03-14T10:13:00.000-07:00

This often comes as a surprise to people, so it's good that the situation will soon be rectified with this release from Kino.

Wow, Kino is getting smart. They even have a trailer for it. I forgot to mention that the little I've seen already was extremely cheesy. But it's fun cheesy. I'm really glad this has the tin-can robot so you can see what I'm talking about:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fh0F1glgKBk

The Making of Killer iPod Comment

2008-03-09T21:40:00.000-07:00

Is this brilliant or insane? I lean towards brilliant.

Keep in mind that this is "The Making of Killer iPod Comment", followed immediately by the actual film itself "Killer iPod Comment." And in total it is only 2:23! That's a lot of cinema in one short time span.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuqLcBlk0gE

For the record, I'm unclear on the "Comment" part of the title. When I saw a screening with the filmmakers IN PERSON (Can you believe it?! I am soooo lucky!!), I thought they introduced it as simply "The Making of Killer iPod."

Mike Gilbert on Cinema

2008-03-07T16:50:00.001-08:00

Wasn't that another fun world premiere movie event?!
Thanks again to Dennis Cozzalio at Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule for hosting it and to everyone who participated by watching and commenting!

For posterity, here is the updated link to Dennis's broadcast and comments section:
http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/2008/03/now-playing-mike-gilbert-on-cinema.html

Here also is the direct YouTube link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4LQqGVcwXQ
(It's helpful to go there and rate it and comment so it gets more attention.)

Spread the word on Mike Gilbert and this movie if you enjoyed it!

Dennis has got another great post up right now about all the amazing cinema events going on in L.A. His post reminded me that I had been considering doing a weekend roundup of the best screenings to go to as a weekly feature here. I may still do that. In the meantime, check out my hopefully useful L.A. Film Calendar links on my sidebar.

World Premiere Movie!

2008-03-04T15:40:00.001-08:00

My latest short film, "Mike Gilbert on Cinema", will debut tomorrow, Wednesday March 5 at noon (Pacific time) on my friend Dennis Cozzalio's Web site, Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule.

Be sure to tune in there tomorrow at noon in order to see the film, and feel free to leave a comment.

Here's the official announcement:

http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/2008/03/premiering-tomorrow-mike-gilbert-on.html

Thanks to Dennis for hosting yet another zany sight-unseen premiere!

1906 Color Film About Scottish Tartans!

2008-03-03T13:42:00.000-08:00

Yes, that's right, a complete 2-and-a-half-minute 1906 color film about Scottish tartans. It has a soothing, meditative effect. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbWtviN4BG0

The film is from the BFI's YouTube page (which came to my attention courtesy of The Bioscope). The fascinating technical aspect is the very early color film process, which The Bioscope has recently dedicated a lot of posts to. Here is the blurb about the tartan film from the BFI's YouTube page:

It's common knowledge that Scotsmen are macho enough to pull off wearing a skirt - perhaps it's all that caber-tossing. This disarmingly simple film concentrates on the tartan cloths of various clans rather than the men who wore them, and is an early filmic reminder of their huge importance to both Scottish national identity and the thriving tourist industry north of the border.

The film's unique selling point was that pioneering filmmaker G. A. Smith showed off the vibrant designs in Kinemacolor, among the earliest colour film processes that didn't involve meticulous hand-painting. And no dangly bits in sight. (Simon McCallum)

For more information about filmmaker G. A. Smith see http://www.screenonline.org.uk/people...

You can watch almost 1000 other complete films and TV programmes at the Mediatheque at BFI Southbank - http://www.bfi.org.uk/mediatheque

The Mystery of the Creeping Cheeses!

2008-01-30T09:04:00.000-08:00

At The Bioscope, a fantastic source for silent cinema news that I recently discovered, I was excited to learn of the release of a lavish new Georges Méliès box set coming out from Flicker Alley. Far more elaborate than the previous sets released, it will feature about 170 of his (very) short films. Here are the earlier releases:

The advertising says it's a comprehensive "survey", so even at five discs it doesn't seem to promise to include every one of his extant films, but I am sincerely hoping that one of my personal favorites, "Les Fromages automobiles," (1907) (aka "The Mystery of the Creeping Cheeses", I believe) will be included. I saw this at an Egyptian Theatre screening of very early cinema, and it had me laughing and my mind tripping at its unbridled absurdity.

Cross your fingers that Netflix carries this large Méliès set!

If you don't know Méliès yet, here is a good starter.
Cinema was about six years old when he made this, and you can see one of the early pioneers in action as he discovers cinema's unique magic. From 1901, here is "The Man with the Rubber Head":

Echo Park Film Center screening

2008-01-18T00:08:00.000-08:00

Here's the flyer for the screening of Elements!

How Do You Find Your Movies?

2008-01-11T19:55:00.000-08:00

How on earth do you find the movies worth watching in the sea of new and old DVD releases?
Are you gripped with terror about letting one amazing one slip by?!
Were you aware that the John Ford silent film DVDs from the Ford at Fox box set are available on Netflix? Had you even heard of the Fantoma Yasuzo Masumura DVDs mentioned in the post below?

One nifty way to keep track of at least new releases, if you are a Netflix customer, was to peruse their "releasing this week" page, which you had to surf one extra step to, past the initial "new release" tab, and which was conveniently categorized by genre, such as "foreign" and "classic". It was the equivalent of doing that walk down the Blockbuster new release wall. Now they've eliminated it completely and replaced it with an obnoxious scrolling bar of DVD covers that displays only four at a time, and the selections of which seem incredibly random and uninspired. I tried it once, scrolling vigorously in an attempt to see... I suppose something other than what they wanted to show me. Something interesting.

I didn't rely on this page, but it was a convenient tool that I occasionally used to find interesting foreign releases (like Tomás Gutiérrez Alea's The Twelve Chairs [oops, didn't watch it yet]) or obscure silent films that I hadn't realized were coming out on DVD. Now they only want you to see what they want you to see. They are hiding things. They make some earnest attempt to show you what they think you'll like based on your ratings or rental behavior, but that is horribly inaccurate, and what's more, if they'll have trouble delivering it to you within their famous one-day turnaround period (oh, say, if it's a popular new release title that they can't keep up with demand on) they just aren't going to show it to you.

For the complete brouhaha, visit their blog entry here, which is up to a whopping 1280 comments already! Another victim would be my recommendation Black Test Car, mentioned below, which I found out about by randomly visiting Fantoma's site and which was a Netflix "short wait" item that had to ship from a far-flung shipping center. This means it's on their "hide" list, so the only way you're going to find out about films like Black Test Car is if you stay tuned to this blog! :) In other words, you have to already know what you're looking for. (They haven't gotten so evil that they'll hide movies you directly search for yet.)

Now that the ability of important or fun films to slip through our fingers has been unnecessarily increased by Netflix's hiding techniques, the discerning movie buff has to be proactive about searching for films in other places. Does anyone have any suggestions they want to share of where you find your movies? (Not just new DVD releases, but old ones too.) For new releases, what I strongly desire is to read a fairly short list that I can scan in order to quickly spot the title of a long-awaited Buñuel film. I suppose the ideal list for me would be just the title, with the director in parentheses (and year of original release would be helpful).

One method I use is to check in with DVD Beaver's release calendar on a regular basis. This is a filtered calendar of what they consider noteworthy releases, geared towards cinephiles. I also bookmark important DVD companies' Web sites, like Kino, Criterion and Fantoma and check in with them from time to time. Or even Koch Lorber, although the latter's site does not invite friendly perusal like the former three, and it's more the quality of the directors they release than the quality of the discs. I used to also love Film Comment's section at the back of each issue, which spotlighted noteworthy DVD releases. But I don't pick that magazine up regularly anymore.

I don't entirely love DVD Beaver's calendar format, so does anyone have anything else out there? I guess it's probably fend for yourself: Pick a filmmaker, research their movies, and see which are on DVD or Netflix. But this is how we miss stuff!

I'll do my bit at least, with posts like the one below, to spotlight great films and filmmakers that are on DVD that might be below the radar. For the John Ford silents, just enter John Ford on Netflix and browse through his list to find the new silent releases, such as 3 Bad Men and The Iron Horse, amongst others. Still, any blogger's spotlighted DVD releases are going to be sporadic, and I'm really looking for something more comprehensive (yet only those films of interest to cinephiles). Also, any search I've done on Amazon has been horrible. Ugh. Anyone tried that? It's absurdly bad.

Yasuzo Masumura's Black Test Car (1962)

2007-12-27T11:37:00.000-08:00

"In 1996, 84-year-old Michelangelo Antonioni left his sick bed to attend the 10-day retrospective of Masumura’s films in Rome. Antonioni told reporters that Masumura had always been one of his personal favorites among world-class directors." (from the Fantoma DVD bio).

If you're a film buff, you should have heard of Yasuzo Masumura by now. If you're a Criterion Collection fan, you should have heard of Fantoma DVD.

Fantoma DVD presents films with a level of quality and care (and extras) that consistently match Criterion's.

Yasuzo Masumura is a Japanese director from the same era as Seijun Suzuki and has in common his personal artistic approach to genre pictures. While Criterion (and their cousin Home Vision Entertainment) have championed Seijun Suzuki's films, releasing many on DVD, it is Fantoma that has championed the equally deserving Yasuzo Masumura, lavishing as much care on the releases of his films as Criterion has on Suzuki's.

Already a big fan of Masumura, I was excited to find a new Fantoma release of yet another Yasuzo Masumura film, Black Test Car (1962). Happily it's on Netflix, and I've already queued it up. So far I had seen all of Fantoma's Masumura films. I think Afraid to Die (1960) is the place to start, and if I haven't enticed you on Masumura, it features a lead-role performance by Yukio Mishima!

For me Red Angel (1966) would be up next, an incredible World War II film. After that I like Manji (1964), Giants & Toys (1958) (not quite as amazing as its fantastic premise, but still well worth watching) and finally Blind Beast (1969).

For the uninitiated, I highly recommend taking the Masumura/Fantoma leap now and rushing to watch Black Test Car with me, or start with one of the others! You can't go wrong.

Who is Louis de Funès?

2007-12-26T14:12:00.000-08:00

If you've ever found yourself wondering, "Who is Louis de Funès?", watching this video will answer the question pretty definitively:

(No subtitles, but he's pretty mesmerizing even if you don't know a word of French!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZzgEwzYWfM

Merry Xmas from Seijun Suzuki and Jo Shishido!

2007-12-24T14:09:00.000-08:00

The trailer for Detective Bureau 2-3: Go to Hell Bastards
(1963, Seijun Suzuki).
Sorry there are no subtitles.

The Xmas tie-in may be flimsy, but it's always a good time to post a Seijun Suzuki trailer, especially from a film with a title this fantastic!

Merry Xmas all!

World Premiere Movie!

2007-12-16T19:02:00.000-08:00

My latest short film, "Slap," will have its world premiere on Dennis Cozzalio's Web site:

Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule
http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/

It will premiere at exactly noon (Pacific time) on Monday Dec. 17th.

Please watch it there and leave a comment!

Official announcement on his site here.

A big thanks to Dennis Cozzalio for doing this, and also a big thanks to him for his influence on this site's approach and design (use of pictures, etc.)! I learned a lot about how to write about film on the Internet from watching his blog grow from its infancy.

ELEMENTS

2007-11-04T21:00:00.001-08:00

Here's the 2nd film for my UCLA film class. This one has sound.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6kiw9GjBWg

Elements (2007, Andrew Blackwood)

The Young Mother

2007-11-03T01:05:00.000-07:00

There have been no posts for a long time, but my excuse is I've been taking a filmmaking class!

Here's the evidence, my first film.

It's silent on purpose, and the assignment was to make a film in a single shot without moving the camera. (A crazy fabulous UCLA Extension class.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHLfQlqkg0Y

The Young Mother (2007, Andrew Blackwood)

Cast:
The Girl: Shauni Ray Weatherly
The Boy: Omar Chavez
The Woman: Luz María Utrera
The Man: Paul Damen
The Jogger: Paul Tifford, Jr.

Criterion vs. Bordwell - Time and a Frame of Film

2007-09-15T15:15:00.001-07:00

There is a fascinating post up ("Reality at 25/24 Frames per Second") on the Criterion Collection's blog "On Five," in which Peter Becker discusses a problem with transferring Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980, Rainer Werner Fassbinder) because Fassbinder shot it at 25 frames per second for easier transfer to the European "PAL" television standard, which has a frame rate of 25 frames per second (instead of the theatrical standard 24 frames per second).

What would David Bordwell say, I wonder? Bordwell has written a fascinating article ("My name is David and I'm a frame-counter") about the care that some directors put into the exact timing of certain scenes, and how that pacing can be changed by the various home video transfer processes.

Criterion's concern is over DVD image quality, and I concur that I would not want to see the blurred frames or the unnatural movement that attempting to preserve the correct pacing would produce. However, I'm also a big fan of silent films, and I cannot stand when silent films are transferred at an improper frame rate, resulting in sometimes ridiculously faster movements, completely undermining the performances of the actors.

Not being technically informed enough to wade into this discussion, I'll give the benefit of the doubt to the decision Criterion is making here, because it is a single frame per second of difference, unlike when a silent film shot at 16 frames per second is outrageously presented at 22 or 24 frames per second.

But I really want to hear what David Bordwell might have to say about this perplexing conundrum (and enact the matchup promised in this blog entry's title!). I certainly know he'd like to see the correct pacing of the film footage at its originally intended projection speed, but would he give them a pass on this? Would he prefer some interpolated frames and blurring?! I can only guess that interpolated frames might be a higher crime, and that a 1-frame-per-second adjustment is probably a forgivable misdemeanor in David's book.

(Note: In David Bordwell's article, he mentions that this 25-frames-per-second film shooting rate is not uncommon in European productions because of the television transfer considerations. So this is not a unique problem. It just becomes more noticeable with especially long films like Berlin Alexanderplatz (15 1/2 hours), or Sátántangó (1994, Béla Tarr) that Bordwell mentions in his article (7 1/2 hours).)

David Bordwell, along with Kristin Thompson, writes an excellent blog here. Together they are also the co-authors of my indispensable film school book Film History: An Introduction as well as Film Art: An Introduction. A personal favorite blog entry by David Bordwell is "Shot-consciousness", in which he encourages everyone to look at how the shots in a film are framed, and how to appreciate shot composition as an integral part of the art of cinema.
(Since they are usually long, I recommend printing out Bordwell's articles for more leisurely reading and less online distractions.)

James M. Cain Tells It Like It Is

2007-09-15T14:20:00.000-07:00

Perhaps James M. Cain's words below can serve as a partial answer to why the hope of the previous post is such a tall order. This feisty, fun quote is from the novel Serenade (1937) by James M. Cain (which, incidentally, is a fantastic book).

I didn't like Hollywood. I didn't like it partly because of the way they treated a singer, and partly because of the way they treated her. To them, singing is just something you buy, for whatever you have to pay, and so is acting, and so is writing, and so is music, and anything else they use. That it might be good for its own sake is something that hasn't occurred to them yet. The only thing they think is good for its own sake is a producer that couldn't tell Brahms from Irving Berlin on a bet, that wouldn't know a singer from a crooner until he heard twenty thousand people yelling for him one night, that can't read a book until the scenario department has had a synopsis made, that can't even speak English, but that is a self-elected expert on music, singing, literature, dialogue, and photography, and generally has a hit because somebody lent him Clark Gable to play in it.

Since we're having fun with quotes, here are two more, which are not about film, but espouse philosophies on art or literature that can be applied equally as well to any art:

Literature, as I see it, is good to the extent that it is art, and bad to the extent that it isn't, and I know of no other standard by which it may be judged.
- Dashiell Hammett, 1924, quoted in the introduction (by Robert Polito) of the Everyman's Library edition of The Maltese Falcon/The Thin Man/Red Harvest.

By the way, in addition to the various film adaptations of his novels, Hammett wrote one original screenplay in Hollywood (I intend to check this out at some point): City Streets (1931, Rouben Mamoulian) starring Gary Cooper and Sylvia Sidney. (The IMDB gives Hammett a lesser credit than "original screenplay," so I'm not sure if the introduction that mentioned this is correct or not.)

If the poet is pure in his habits, he will be pure in his verses as well; the pen is the tongue of the soul, and his writings will be as are the concepts engendered in his soul;
- Don Quixote (1605, Cervantes) Part II, Ch. XVI, pg. 589
(Just combine that with Alexandre Astruc's caméra-stylo theory and you get the idea.)

Zabriskie Point—When Will New Wave Cinema Live Again?

2007-09-08T16:59:00.000-07:00

Zabriskie Point (1970, Michelangelo Antonioni, USA)

This is what it's all about. This is one of those rare trailers that captures the magic of the incredible film itself. It's unfortunate that this film isn't available on DVD yet. Very occasionally it has played on the big screen here in L.A., which is how I was fortunate enough to see it (twice). (Thank you to the American Cinematheque at the Egyptian Theatre and to the LACMA film department.) If you're desperate to see it, there is a VHS version, but it's panned & scanned, which is of course a horrible injustice to the widescreen 2.35 image, but hey, at least the amazing film can be seen.

When considering the gap in quality between filmmaking today and the filmmaking of other decades, this one film starkly illustrates the gaping chasm. I think you can tell even just by the trailer. It's firstly a work by one of the great European filmmakers, but, having been made in America, it also represents the era of late '60s, '70s American filmmaking—the belated New Wave that hit these shores long after the New Waves of France, Japan and other countries—that is conveniently summarized for the uninitiated in Peter Biskind's book, Easy Riders, Raging Bulls (although start by watching the films themselves, many of which are listed at the back of the book).

American films of the '70s seemed to be elevated almost wholesale by the heady atmosphere of creativity and the freshness of these "New Wave" approaches, all tied to and amplified by the zeitgeist of the times. Even filmmakers with less than stunning talent glommed on to the movement and produced pretty interesting films, while the truly great filmmakers thrived (Robert Altman being perhaps the most prodigious example). The lesser filmmakers become easier to spot (if you couldn't tell that something was lacking in their '70s films) by their swift adoption of the conventions and tendencies of the subsequent decades.

It's already obvious why this blog is called Cahiers2Cinéma: it's a vain hope that something approaching what was started in the original Cahiers du Cinéma magazine (the breeding ground of the French New Wave) could ever occur again. Has anyone read Eisenstein's incredible Film Form? Since it won't do to attempt a filmic revolution by too specifically attempting to repeat the past, perhaps starting fresh with some of the deepest thinking on film will point a new way. Maybe the New Waves of the '60s and '70s didn't go far enough.

Of course, there are great films being made even now, and there are master filmmakers working, as always, but it is undeniable that a movement akin to these New Waves is not remotely in existence, nor is there a widespread awareness of and engagement with overtly artistic films by audiences. The arthouse film circuit (and the arthouse crowds themselves), which should be where this is all happening, especially at times when it doesn't ooze into the mainstream, is itself bereft, and with few exceptions wallows in an unambitious Sundance-poisoned mediocrity.

Unearthing Buried Boetticher

2007-08-24T09:27:00.000-07:00

While I don't intend to focus too much energy on sharing the buried treasures I've found on DVD (a subject of an earlier post), but rather to discuss films in a bit more depth, it's still fun and may be of service to some fellow film fans, so here's another one:

Universal's Classic Western Round-up Vol. 2 features two Budd Boetticher films on its second disc, making a nice double feature. Both are in staggeringly beautiful Technicolor, brilliantly restored to an incredibly high quality, which was a big surprise on a set like this, which features few big names or titles.

The Boetticher films are The Cimarron Kid (1952) w/Audie Murphy and The Man from the Alamo (1953) w/Glenn Ford. Once again, the information about who directed these films is not available on Amazon.com, nor is it even listed on the back of the DVD case! (The back can be seen at www.DVDEmpire.com.)

It's not for nothing that these are called buried treasures!

John Ford and Gary Cooper Silents

2007-08-18T15:34:00.000-07:00

In reference to the below post begging for more silent films on DVD and about how some very interesting films are buried on packaged sets, here are two items of good news:

Fox will release a "Ford at Fox" box set with at least five silents:
http://davekehr.com/?p=195
(Came across that on DVD Beaver's main page.)

Hiding inside the Gary Cooper MGM Movie Legends Collection is the 1926 silent The Winning of Barbara Worth (1926, Henry King):
http://www.silentera.com/DVD/winningBarbaraWorthDVD.html

Sam Fuller's SHARK

2007-07-08T16:33:00.000-07:00

Sam Fuller’s Shark is available on DVD from Troma Entertainment. The poor DVD transfer is a disservice, but not being able to see the film would be an even greater disservice. What is one to do in this situation? In an annoying intro to the film, the excitedly idiotic Lloyd Kaufman I believe said that they acquired the rights, meaning this was not a public domain situation. He seemed to imply in his frenzied delivery that the outtakes were not available so that a reconstruction of Sam Fuller’s original vision was not possible (the producers apparently interfered with this film, which is something I was vaguely aware of). That’s all well and good, but this seemed to me to be a transfer of a 16mm print of fairly poor quality. The sound especially was atrocious and sounded to me like a weak 16mm mono track. (This is supposition on my part.) The transfer of what is already a poor source seems only fair at best. Either the print itself is too dark or the transfer was not done properly to account for this, or a combination of both. In any case, many of the night scenes are unwatchable. The final evidence suggesting a 16mm print would be the 1.33 aspect ratio. This disservice to the film could have been avoided by hunting down a 35mm print and spending money on a proper transfer. My guess is they had this 16mm print in their closet and got the rights so they could make some money.
Is the film worth seeing anyway? Yes, it is good, solid Sam Fuller work. The interference by the producers (assuming it is true) has not taken away from Sam Fuller’s style. The fight scenes (although spoiled by this transfer since they take place at night) seem drawn from the same well as those in Pickup on South Street. The dialogue sounds clearly like Fuller’s throughout. The weakness is in the shark footage. Since this is just an Internet writing outlet, and since I need to remove excuses for procrastinating writing blog entries, I have not researched this, but I wonder what the quality of shark movies had been up to that point (1969). If it was breaking new ground, then perhaps some of the weakness of the shark scenes can be forgiven. In any case, whether it can be excused or not, they are in effect very weak scenes. Many times there are just lame shots of sharks swimming around with a big light shining obviously down on them. (It would be pure speculation to wonder if perhaps the likeliest interference by the producers was the insertion of as much poor shark footage as possible, especially since their movie is entitled Shark.)

The movie is undermined because these shark scenes, including the opening one, lack power, danger, thrills or scariness. Fuller often liked a grabber of an opener to set the movie hurtling into motion. In light of that it seems very likely story structure-wise that the opening was Fuller’s idea (it is certainly unconventional, opening with quiet, calm underwater scenes with no music, no credits, no story, no explanation or context for what we are seeing) and that the blame for the weakness of its execution this time must rest with him. (I’ll report back if I can research further the specific interference by the producers.) It prevents the movie from being great, perhaps even sinking it a notch lower than decent. But all the scenes of dialogue and plot are still excellent, high-quality Fuller to me, and would perhaps be even more engaging with a proper transfer of what appears to be some truly excellent cinematography and especially with the full and properly audible sound track. The cast is also pretty good with personal fave Arthur Kennedy and Barry Sullivan backing up a young and vigorous Burt Reynolds. (One other amateurish touch is Reynolds’ beard appears to change too much in thickness in some early scenes. Producers? I guess admirers of Sam Fuller will always want to blame it on someone other than Sam!)

I’ll have to hunt for an other-region DVD that may be of better quality (perhaps DVD Beaver knows of one).

After writing the above paragraphs, I watched the DVD’s bonus materials, which did a pretty good job of explaining some of the background of the film and what exactly happened to it. (Unfortunately, I delayed writing this for some time after watching these pieces, so I apologize for any inaccuracies.) It seems Fuller did finish the film and deliver a cut, but that the producers (independent Mexican ones) recut it, editing scenes by chopping parts up to tighten them up, or something to that effect. In any case, from what was said in the bonus interviews, it doesn’t sound like the studio was responsible for the poor shark scenes that undermine the film. What I mention above as being the strong Fuller aspects seem to have shone through despite what editing was done to them. Perhaps they would have been even stronger without the interference. (The main informative interview on the DVD was with Jerome Rudes, one of the collaborators on Fuller’s posthumous autobiography, A Third Face.)

More Digging

2007-07-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

Just a quick addendum to the previous post, regarding how some works by great directors can get buried on packaged DVD sets.

I was delving into the filmography of Andre de Toth and watching all his titles that were available on DVD (on Netflix specifically). When I had finished, I went through his filmography on the IMDB and clicked on each title I hadn’t heard of to learn about some of his other films. Lo and behold I stumbled upon two Andre de Toth-directed westerns on a Randolph Scott triple feature DVD set from no less than Warner Brothers: Man Behind the Gun/Thunder Over the Plains/Riding Shotgun. The first film is by Felix Feist, and the second two are by Andre de Toth. Since I had recently watched some excellent Andre de Toth-directed Randolph Scott westerns, this was quite an exciting find. (It’s not on Netflix, though, so I haven’t been able to watch them yet.) Warner Brothers also has one other Randolph Scott triple feature set: Colt .45/Tall Man Riding/Forth Worth; and two John Wayne triple feature sets: The Telegraph Trail/Somewhere in Sonora/The Man from Monterey and The Big Stampede/Ride Him Cowboy/Haunted Gold. There were no tremendously exciting surprises for me amongst the directing lineups of these sets.

In all the sets, browsing on Amazon did not yield the directors’ names. The only options were to check each title in IMDB individually or go to www.DVDEmpire.com, which allows you to view the back of a DVD case clearly enough to see directors’ names (although many sets won’t have that information there). Individual titles on IMDB do indicate if they are on DVD, although I’m not sure how reliably (perhaps a distributor may operate below IMDB’s radar or do a bad job of listing the contents of their package). In the case of these two Andre de Toth westerns, the IMDB link to the DVD was how I stumbled upon this set.

Just another revelation that there are some potential buried treasures out there on these packaged DVD sets. (Perhaps I’ll build up to a more meaningful post sometime soon!)

More Silent Films on DVD, Please

2007-06-09T15:50:00.000-07:00

Well, that certainly was a feeble commitment! But now I'm back.

I've realized I have to set aside specific time for blog writing and will do so.

In the meantime, let me say I watched an excellent silent film by John Ford, called The Blue Eagle (1926).

Here is the fabulous original poster:

I was watching a VHS copy of an airing from an AMC Film Preservation Festival from way back when. Although a significant naval battle sequence is missing, and occasionally in early scenes a 16mm film print had to be used, this held up as a stunning example of top-drawer Ford. (All the more so when the scenes were in 35mm.)

With the recent success studios seem to be having in packaging films in box sets organized by stars (Robert Mitchum Signature Collection, Tyrone Power Swashbuckler Box Set) or themes (Film Noir Classics Collection, Literary Classics Collection), it would be amazing if they could start doing this for silent films. There are certainly enough surviving films to justify a John Ford silent film box set. I know more than enough exist just from the bunch that I taped off the AMC Film Preservation Festival. There is a Hitchcock box from Lionsgate with several silents, so the ball may already be rolling. However, I remember my disappointment upon listening to the audio commentary for Warner Brothers' DVD of The Racket (1951, John Cromwell) (part of the Film Noir Classic Colleciton Vol. 3) and hearing repeated references to the Howard Hughes silent original (1928, Lewis Milestone) that the commentator (Eddie Muller) had obviously had the good fortune to see! What a shame that wasn't shoehorned onto the same disk.

Shoehorning may be a stroke of luck for the more esoteric film enthusiasts, as studios can wedge films they consider unreleasable as standalone titles into combo sets with other more popular movies. I just had the good fortune to see the 1933 Mystery of the Wax Museum (Michael Curtiz) on the flip side of Warner's House of Wax (1953, Andre de Toth) DVD and, even though I know it did exist on VHS in the past, I couldn't help but think that I was very fortunate to even be laying eyes on this 2-strip Technicolor rarity, obviously included mainly because of its relation to the more famous remake.

I had similar feelings about the TCM/Warner Bros. DVD "Forbidden Hollywood Collection Volume One" that contained Baby Face (1933, Alfred E. Green), Red-headed Woman (1932, Jack Conway), and Waterloo Bridge (1931, James Whale). Probably the latter was the toughest standalone sell, having no bankable classic star. You can find your own examples, but one other I watched recently was the Cary Grant Screen Legend Collection from Universal which is comprised of five films that I couldn't see ever being released standalone, yet here they are presented in pretty good quality by a major studio. I bought this one and so far have only watched Thirty Day Princess (1934, Marion Gering), but I had the pervasive feeling that I was lucky to be seeing a Sylvia Sidney vehicle from her prime that was something other than Hitchcock's Sabotage or some of her Fritz Lang films.

Obviously there are still countless films of interest that they haven't figured a way to shoehorn into more salable packages or groupings, but the trend may be of help. (It goes without saying that, like the explosion of TV-on-DVD, the more manageable and more versatile DVD format itself makes this all possible.)

One of the few negatives is that when the films are not standalone releases, you sometimes have to dig or be looking for something specific, otherwise you only come across certain important films as a stroke of luck. (If you're a Raoul Walsh enthusiast, there's one of his in the Cary Grant Screen Legends Collection. There's a Douglas Sirk film in the Rock Hudson Screen Legend Collection.) Universal's Screen Legend Collections are particularly troublesome in that even on the back of the sets you can find neither the year the films came out, nor the directors. Even on Amazon.com or DVD Empire the information is not readily available, and one is reduced to researching the titles individually on IMDB.

But going back to the desire to see a John Ford silent film box set, and more silent films in general packaged together and released, one name that pops into my mind is John Gilbert, who would be well worth a silent film box set or two—or even three—since many of his silent films survive—and that's just counting the major star vehicles from his prime. Although I have a feeling if I poke my nose into one of the Garbo collections I'm going to find at least one Gilbert there.

semi-feeble commitment to try again

2006-12-16T12:39:00.000-08:00

Obviously I wandered away from this new attempt at blogging (good thing no one is watching-- excellent foresight on my part), but I'm now going to give it another go. I don't have any substantive entries prepared, thus this quick, silly entry to merely announce my intentions.

I would like to clean up this blog and remove this entry and the first entry and leave only the "real" entries like the Malle one. These kind of blog explanations, apologies and self-analyses probably won't interest readers when and if there are some. But as with other blogs I've read, they sometimes help to get the blog rolling (no pun on "blog rolling" intended).

Entries I had been formulating but may never come to fruition were an entry on my very negative encounter with the film work of Mark Sandrich and his philosophy on film, for which Astaire and Pandro S. Berman also share blame. I saw the movie Top Hat and was disappointed and found it empty and lacking a soul. Then in the bonus materials on the DVD I learned that these three musketeers had this "blueprint" theory of filmmaking where they mapped out for every Astaire/Rogers movie where funny moments, musical moments, sad moments and dance moments should occur (i.e., about 20 minutes in, we need this sort of thing to happen). Seemed very contrary to the interests of art, but I guess I was holding off on this scathing post until seeing more Sandrich films. Difficulty there is I'd already been put off seeing more.

Another entry I was formulating was on DVD bonus materials or something. Or it might have been on the annoying practice of including the music or key dialogue from the films in the DVD menus before you've seen the movie ("priming" you to have a recognition/fondness for themes that ought to be introduced to you [and maybe surprise you] at the point in the film at which they are first used-- even Criterion does this in their menus). In any case, the passion seems to have waned on that issue for now, but perhaps will return and be followed quickly by a substantive entry on the subject.

Louis Malle

2006-08-31T14:50:00.000-07:00

Louis Malle continues to disappoint. Or at least underwhelm me. I just viewed Elevator to the Gallows. It is a beautifully shot (D.P.: Henri Decaë) film and has a beautiful score (Miles Davis). But the film has no curiosity about the medium or about life whatsoever. You could perhaps say this is not fair for someone's first film, but when there's not even an inkling it does not bode well for the future.

While I am well schooled in many of the great directors, especially those of the nouvelle vague, I have seen almost no Louis Malle, and there is a reason. Every time I see one it puts me off seeing any further ones for quite a while. (And I am not trying to knock him down from any pedestal of "the great directors" since I believe very few venture to place him there anyway. Nor is he generally regarded as a member of the nouvelle vague.)

The first I saw, which it is impossible for me to judge, was Au revoir, les enfants (1987). Well, I can judge it, but I can't recall it very well, as I saw it in school, but it made a fairly negative impression on me at the time. (Although I was not interested in film as an art at the time.) In any case, it seemed a pretty straightforward, mainstream weepy-entertainment-- the sort that is palatable and easy for AMPAS to nominate--oh, yeah, and of course, it did. (While quality films like 8 1/2 have been nominated, they are the exception to themediocrityy that rules the Oscars foreign film section.) A constant aversion to the Oscars and my association of Louis Malle with that sort of filmmaking caused me to steer clear of his films from an early age (however unfair that may have been, given the youthful state of my mind when I saw it!).

The next encounter with Malle was in viewing a bootleg of his film Black Moon, a horrifically bad attempt at an "experimental" film, that showed again that Malle just doesn't get it. He doesn't understand film (as an art), and he doesn't understand art--at all, it would seem. Perhaps this is why he's most comfortable in the world of the cinéma de qualité because he sure didn't seem comfortable in the idiotic dreamlike world of Black Moon. That film is an unqualifiable disaster from beginning to end. It will bore you to tears. The basic root of the problem is he has translated a dream (perhaps a specific dream of his) into film and tried to represent a dream as accurately as possible--but unanalyzed (and with no success or even attempt in communicating the "non-concreteness" inherent in all dreams). Approaches like "pure cinema" would interest me far more (abstract association of images without an attempt at divining or creating meaning). I guess anyone could make the mistake he did, but I think a decent director would have seen how horrible and boring this all was and dumped it, reworked it, saved it somehow. But he's just sort of like a mindless robot, seemingly incapable of self-analysis, as his films are incapable of a self-analysis of their own medium, which interests in filmmakers like Godard.

But now Criterion is shoving him in our faces by finally getting a few of his previously unavailable films out on DVD here in the U.S. (Even if I may hate certain films, I want them to be available on DVD-- otherwise how can one evaluate for oneself?) They've released Au revoir, Lacombe Lucien and Murmur of the Heart, but I finally took the bait, wanting to start at the beginning, with their release of Elevator to the Gallows. This was a much more tolerable outing for me than the previous two, but all the emptiness of this filmmaker's vision is there to behold from the beginning. You can almost see it visualized in the endless wandering scenes of Jeanne Moreau where nothing perhaps is going on in her head. And this would serve for me as the representation of Malle's mind: wandering about aimlessly with nothing going on in it. He seemed to recognize this and was compelled to add internal thought voiceover to illustrate her "thoughts." But these thoughts he added were all the self-evident things we would expect her to be thinking, and thus are entirely redundant. And so it is here that we see the inner workings of Malle's mind: he is never thinking anything beyond what you expect him to be thinking. Here, where there could have been something interesting added to the film, there is merely redundancy, meaningless reinforcement. No self-analysis, no meaningful self-reflection. The fact that he couldn't leave it blank either is another indication of his poor artistic instincts.

I've only seen three, so I'll leave it there-- a kind of premature condemnation.