Three short ones

In lieu of three posts, here's a conglomeration of what I've watched lately. The Ten (David Wain, 2007) I am the queen of hyperbole; for instance, how many times can I say that a movie was one of my most anticipated of the year? Add another one to the total. The Ten is the comedy of the year, from David Wain (The State< Stella, Wet Hot American Summer, all of which I am a fanatic for) and Ken Marino. Here's a comedy that's foul, juvenile, and sacreligious, all without being too stupid. Everyone and their mom is in this movie, from Jessica Alba (cute and surprisingly funny) to Winona Ryder to Justin Theroux as Jesus. Ten vignettes, each interpreting a commandment. Wain said he wanted to make a funny version of The Decalogue, and he most definitely succeeded. Hilarity on the level of Wain's other projects abounds. 9/10 Tenebre (Dario Argento, 1982) If you ever visit the actual site, you'll probably notice the new header, a beautiful brunette sitting at a table, holding a gun with an almost indescribable expression: part fear, part laughter, part sadness. This is my favorite moment from Tenebre, Argento's incredibly beautiful giallo masterpiece. It's suspenseful (I didn't see the end coming, for sure), but more than that, it shows the beauty that is possible in horror movies. When one character falls through a mirror with her throat slit, right into the camera, it's more stunning than anything else. Not to sound like a serial killer or anything. Argento topped himself here, horror with a surprise ending that satisfies the gore enthusiast as well as the cineaste. 9/10 Martin (George A Romero, 1977) Finally, George A Romero's problematic, but rewarding, Martin, about a young man who thinks he's a vampire. Is he, or is he just insane? Well, he gets the blood from his victims with the use of a razorblade with fangs, only one of the clever details in the film. But while the details are solid, the movie as a whole is less so. Martin changes mid-film, from a scared/scary young man who never speaks more than three words at a time to a man who enters a relationship with a married woman without wanting to kill her. How? Why? Martin's character is unfufilled; I wanted to know something about his past, how he came to believe he is (or be) this creature. But the very last scene is one of the best examples of dramatic irony I've ever seen, so I recommend seeing it if only for that. 7/10

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Veronika Voss (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1982)

The second, after The Marriage of Maria Braun in the BRD trilogy (but last chronologically, how tricky of Fassbinder!), Veronika Voss is the story of the titular faded actress, a big star during the Third Reich, but since the war, is out of work and a morphine addict. She lives with Dr. Katz, a neurologist who supplies her with morphine and sleeping pills (at a price) and has a history of getting patients hooked on morphine and signing their entire estates over to her. Veronika is no different; Katz is a really creepy character, and insists multiple times to Veronika that they are "best friends," that they'll live together in Veronika's estate. Veronika meets and falls for sports journalist Robert Krohn, who might love her back, in spite of already having a girlfriend, Henrietta. All these people's lives start to orbit around Veronika, just the way Veronika likes it, and there are tragic consequences all around. Fassbinder based Veronika's life on that of Sybille Schmitz, a real German actress who fell hard after the end of World War II. The directing and cinematography are literally breathtaking, as the first scene on a movie set, with lights twinkling and people hurrying around, made me gasp out of its beauty. The film itself is a sumptuous black and white, and it really does feel like a film about Voss' life, not a film made in the 80s looking back at the late 40s. It is very timely, and is equally in place with Sirk's melodramas (Sirk was a great influence on Fassbinder, and nowhere is it more apparent than here and Ali: Fear Eats the Soul) and cultural critiques of post-war Germany. It is authentically German, and authentically about its time, a magnificient feat on Fassbinder's part. Not only is it almost perfectly directed, the acting and script (although the ending is obvious, it seems more inevitable than hackneyed) are wonderful as well. In 1982, Fassbinder made his final two films, Veronika Voss and Querelle, two films that couldn't be more different. In the Fassbinder biography I'm reading right now (Love is Colder Than Death, a sensationalistic account of Fassbinder's life - needless to say, it's incredibly interesting and I will post on it once I'm done!), Robert Katz describes Fassbinder's desire to do a "hat trick": he won the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival for Veronika Voss, he thought he could win the Palm d'Or at Cannes for Querelle (which I'm sure he could have if he had had studio backing behind him), and then thought he would win first prize at the Venice Film Festival for a film he hadn't even written or filmed yet, but would that summer to be ready for September. I'm sure he could have done it, and if these 1982 films are any indication, we lost Fassbinder far, far too soon. I would give a lot to see where he would have gone next. 9/10 RIYL: BRD Trilogy, Douglas Sirk

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Fanny & Alexander (Ingmar Bergman, 1982)

Touted by some as Bergman's best, and even the best European film of all time, I was excited to check out Fanny & Alexander. Although I do still like The Seventh Seal better, this movie had much more than I expected, namely, meditations on good and evil, magic and religion, and even an evil stepfather! Plus, there's a fart lighting scene, which I think is the only one in Criterion Collection history. But all silliness (and this movie certainly has its intentional silly moments) aside, the layers upon layers of reality and the portrayal of both the grim and joyous sides of life make this a must-see. The titular characters are children of Oscar and Emilie Ekdahl, the owners of a small Swedish theater, and the film begins at a Christmas celebration soon after the turn of the (20th) century at the Ekdahl matriarch's house. The first hour is about the family: the men's indiscretions, the wife's acceptance, the maids (especially Maj, Oscar's mistress and the children's nanny), and the secrets a family shares and hides. Soon, however, the peace is broken by Oscar's death. The scene of his death is one of the most touching scenes I can remember, both because of Oscar's pledge of eternal love to his wife and children and because of Alexander's raw, childlike fear of his father's death. After Oscar's death, Emilie remarries, and everything more or less goes wrong. The family goes to live with Emilie's new husband, the bishop who has had several wives already, one of which died with her children in suspicious circumstances (of which Alexander has vision, which he recalls nightmarishly and leads to even more nightmarish consequences from the bishop). He is truly an evil stepfather, someone who forces Emilie to leave her entire life behind, yet does not reveal his true self until it's too late. At this point, the film turns metaphysical and philosophical, and to give any more details would ruin the surprises. I was expecting a quiet tale about a family, as that's what Bergman does best, and instead I got this beautiful epic that incorporates evil with good and magic with God. Several scenes were simply stupendous, such as Alexander's punishment by the bishop. Bertil Guve, who plays the pre-adolescent Alexander, was at first a typical annoying boy, but then becomes a brave, sly boy who stands up for himself and his family, no matter what the cost. Younger Pernilla Allwin, who plays Fanny, is given little to do, but when she is in center stage, shines. My favorite performance of the film, however, belongs to Ewa Froling as Emilie, the Ekdahl mother who does anything to give her children a better life, no matter where it takes her. She is strong even when she cannot afford to be, and reminds me of the wonderful women in my life. The only problem I have with this film is the length. Although I only rented the three hour version (there is also a five hour television version), I felt it to be a bit long for me. This is the magic of Bergman, making these people's lives expansive and epic, but I have trouble paying attention for so long at times (blame the MTV generation, I guess). A wonderful film, but can be trying for those impatient, as I can be. If you are, give it a rent anyway, I promise, like me, you won't regret it at all. 8.5/10 RIYL: any of Bergman's other films, really!

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Querelle (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1982)

I don't think I'm smart enough to like Querelle. Now, I'm a college-educated gal who knows her gender/sexuality issues, but the structure of the film and the issues contained therein make it harder to decipher than the normal Fassbiner film. His last film, which Fassbinder also commented was his most important, Querelle is the fusion of two important artists (Fassbinder himself and Jean Genet, whose novel is the basis for the film) and the culmination of at least forty years of thought on Fassbinder's part. As a gay man, Fassbinder made this film about queerness that is so important to him; while I understand the importance, the depth makes it hard to understand/enjoy at times. Brad Davis plays the titular sailor, docked at Brest and finally coming to terms with his sexuality. He comes into the identity of a gay man with violence - his first gay experience is with a man who he subsequently murders. He becomes embroiled in gay life in Brest, including with Nono, the owner (along with his wife Lysiane, played by Jeanne Moreau) of a brother where Querelle's brother frequents (and is also Lysiane's love); Gil, a man who murders out of pride and eventually falls because of Querelle; and Lieutenant Seblon, Querelle's superior who is desperately in love with Querelle and eventually becomes the center of all these stories. The story is told in a stage-like way, with obvious sets and props. There is no real attempt at realism, and some of the dialogue is taken directly (I assume) from Genet's novel. The scene with Querelle and his brother fighting is especially opaque, as they speak to each other in philosophies while brandishing knives. This movie is a deeply intellectual, obviously meaningful movie to Fassbinder, but it is too steeped in philosophy and Genet's original work to be incredibly enjoyable to me. The mix of the high-minded ideas with crude language is sometimes effective, other times painfully pretentious and awkward-sounding. While I understand its importance, I cannot say I loved it, and that's the conundrum of some of Fassbinder's films. Recommended, but not without these warnings. By the way, I love this Andy Warhol poster based on the movie. One of the better posters I've ever seen. 6/10 RIYL: R.W. Fassbinder (his other films are the only things I can find to compare this to)

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