TCM

I am facing a month of homelessness, yet I don't care: TCM is on TV. Temporarily - it's only there to lure peoplein to shelling 10 more euros a month more to get a more channels. But y'know? Consider me lured.

I mean, how can you not love a channel with classic movies 24/7 without commercial breaks? I had it on all day while I was stuffing my room in boxes. I saw most of Quo Vadis (I always start up slowly), big chunks of Angels with Dirty Faces, the beginning and end of Sunday in New York (someone came to visit me in the middle of it for 30 minutes), and the first 45 minutes or so of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. So admittedly, with TCM, I might not get anything done anymore, but I think it's worth it.

I was surprised how much I liked Quo Vadis, considering I'm not a sword-and-sandals type generally.I thought Nero was over the top, but so much fun, too, and while the whole Christian propaganda angle was a little heavy for me, the film manages to give you the impression that you're getting a peek into history. As for Seven Brides, I absolutely loved the extended dance sequence where the 6 younger brothers try to lure the girls from their competitors.

Ah, to be able to watch classic movies all day...of course, there's still worthwhile things getting made now: I just got back from Ratatouille, and it's absolutely charming. It's strange to call a maker of animation films an auteur, since they're typically such a team effort, but Brad Bird truly has a vision of the world that shines through in every film he makes. Basically, he's saying don't be afraid to be special. Don't be afraid to be yourself. Even if that's a cooking rat. Or, who knows, a film-reviewing physicist?

Finally, I know I'm behind on my top50, so, to tide you over, the list of a friend of mine.He's a Hitchcock fan, as you can maybe tell, and it has exactly 6 titles in common with mine. It just goes to show you how personal these types of lists are.

1. Vertigo (1958)
2. The Godfather (1972)
3. North by Northwest (1959)
4. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)
5. The Godfather Part 2 (1974)
6. Casablanca (1942)
7. Psycho (1960)
8. Citizen Kane (1941)
9. On the Waterfront (1954)
10. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
11. Blade Runner (1982)
12. It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
13. Spartacus (1960)
14. Star Wars; The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
15. One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
16. Hotel Rwanda (2004)
17. Some Like it Hot (1959)
18. The Prestige (2006)
19. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
20. The Marathon Man (1976)
21. Matrix (1999)
22. Easy Rider (1969)
23. Das Boot (1981)
24. The Deer Hunter (1978)
25. Marnie (1964)
26. The Third Man (1949)
27. The Graduate (1967)
28. Notorious (1948)
29. The Big Sleep (1946)
39. Mr Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
31. Strangers on a Train (1951)
32.The French Connection (1971)
33. Saving Private Ryan (1998)
34. Dirty Harry (1971)
35. Gladiator (2000)
36. Scarface (1983)
37. The Sting (1973)
38. Jesus Camp (2006)
39. Soldaat van Oranje (1977)
40. Schindler's List (1993)
41. The Pianist (2002)
42. A Beautiful Mind (2001)
43. Als Je Begrijpt Wat Ik Bedoel (1983)
44. The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)
45. Glengarry Glen Ross (1978)
46. JFK (1991)
47. To Catch a Thief (1955)
48. The Man Who Would Be King (1975)
49. Dead Man (1995)
50. Fatherland (1994)

Top 50 - 21 through 25

21. My Own Private Idaho (Gus van Sant, 1991)

Exhibit A in the case that Keanu Reeves can act, albeit within a rather narrow range, even if the film of course belongs to the gorgeous and sorely missed River Phoenix. This film is an odd mixture of the revered and the profane. It's a film about rent boys AND a loose adaptation of Shakespeare's Henry IV, it's a road movie and a catalogue of perversities. Gus van Sant uses a wonderful way to show sex scenes with still frames. It's funny and it's tragic, and impossible to dismiss as just a clever experiment: just when it starts feeling like that, a "I really want to kiss you, man" happens and breaks your heart.

22. The Long Goodbye (Altman, 1973)

How do you update noir? Well, apparent, one solution is to show just how ill-at-ease your character is in modern surroundings. Altman's digressive style and Chandler's clipped, hard-boiled prose are an odd fit, but somehow it fits perfectly: Elliott Gould here is Marlowe, but he isn't the smartest guy in the room, not any more, in any case. All this aside, the thing that makes this movie for me is the first 20, 30 minutes, which involve Marlowe hunting for...food for his cat. It's a sequence that establishes the mood and the character so perfectly it makes the whole film.

23. Blowup (Antonioni, 1966)

My love for Antonioni is by now well documented on this blog. This is the film I saw first, prompted by my father. I'll admit I didn't quite get it the first time: I was too busy looking for the plot to notice all the wonderful images and scenes, and I thought the film was laughably dated. I was, luckily, intrigued enough to watch it again, and that's when I started loving it. It's similar to the books of Paul Auster, in a way, playing off our conditioned search for clues and meaning, our need for stories to be more clearly delineated and logical than real life.

24. Chinatown (Polanski, 1974)

Our need for patterns, as well: for instance, I never meant for this, but it seems little threesomes show up in every post of 5 movies. In this case, three detective movies in a row. Chinatown, made one year after The Long Goodbye, doesn't displace its protagonist but chooses to place its story in a time where noir still fits. I'm still unsure on where I stand on Faye Dunaways maybe overly dramatic performance, but Nicholson is perfect as the cynical PI. In true noir fashion, there's no good ending here. Just an immortal line. "Forget it Jake. It's Chinatown"

25. Mulholland Drive (Lynch, 2001)

This, in turn, fits well with Blowup: a mystery without a solution, a puzzle that can never, in any configuration, fit exactly together, with too many connections to make sense of. Naomi Watts has never been better than in her dual role as the wide-eyes ingenue and the bitterly disappointed spurned woman later, but in my eyes, it's Laura Harring who steals the show: I didn't know they still made femme fatales like her. She's mesmerizing, and I have no idea why her career didn't take off like Watts' did after this film. After seeing it 5 or 6 times it still doesn't make sense to me, and you can see some threads were abandoned due to circumstance (I would love to know what the plan was for Robert Forster's detective), but I am fascinated by its intricate beauty every time I watch it.

Coming up next: some more noir and some more Faye.

L'Eclisse

The plan, yesterday, was to watch L'Eclisse a second time, this time with the commentary of a film scholar. I shut the commentary off after less than 4 minutes. Not the film though.

It's strange, because Antonioni's films almost beg to be analysed. You'd think watching one of his films side-by-side with an analysis would be illuminating, but to me it was just grating. I think it's because his films are so subjective, open to interpretation, and that nobody sees it the same way. Reading an analysis afterwards can make you realise there's another way of looking at the film, but trying to do both at the same time ruins the film. So I shut the commentary off, shut off even the subtitles - having seen the movie two days ago, my rudimentary understanding of Italian was enough to follow the film - and submerged myself once more.

My father needn't worry: his 40 bucks were not wasted, I'm sure I'll watch this movie many more times. I will admit, however, to loving the parts more than I love the whole. The unevenness of the film, going back and forth between the meditative, leaves-rustling pace of Vittoria's world and the manic energy of both Alain Delon's Piero and the stock market where he works. L'Eclisse doesn't have a central mystery to propel it forward like The Passenger and Blowup, and though those mysteries were never resolved, there is some forward momentum missing here.
But oh, there are so many beautiful shots here, utilizing shadows and chiaroscuro lighting, and there are so many scenes and sequences to fall in love with. The minute of silence on the stock market. The tour through Kenya with the African dance, and the nightly search for the dog that follows it, so perfectly captures the mood of late aimless nights it's almost scary. The scene where Monica Vitti follows a man who's just lost 50 million (though admittedly, that's in lire) and sees what he draws. The car getting tackled out of the water. The kiss through the glass. And, of course, the last sequence, where Antonioni manages to manipulate our anxiousness about seeing the main characters so well.He often films his characters, especially Monica Vitti, from the back here, not so much observing them as observing the world with them. Vitti often walks out of a shot backwards, and each time I would not have been surprised if she'd just disappeared there and then, to let the camera observe the world for itself. My crush on Alain Delon, as you can imagine, was only magnified by this film, but the true revelation is Monica Vitti. I'm not sure she'd work in a film by any other director, but she fits perfectly into the world he created here, and the look on her face when she flies above Verona is a wonder.

This is an art film, no doubt about it, but a "serious" film? Only if you don't allow yourself to see all the playfulness exhibited here. And if any of my friends want to watch it, I'll gladly watch it with them.

Top 50 - 26 through 30

26. Wonder Boys (Hanson, 2000)

A perfect film with a perfect soundtrack and some amazing performances, this is one of my comfort movies: I sit down and let myself go along with it, and I feel like everything will end up ok. ish. It might be the best stoner movie for grown-ups, if it weren't for my number 9. The book, by one of my favorite authors, Michael Chabon, is great too, and the film perfectly captures its lazy rhythm and its mood. It's nothing overly ambitious, it doesn't have a grand message or extravagant style, but who needs that when you've got so much warm humor and characters you'd love to spend a weekend with?

27. Sous Le Sable (Ozon, 2000)

Another dawn of the millenium film, this is possibly the best film ever made about grief, and oh so beautiful. Interesting, seeing how this was really kind of a loose, experimental project. Ozon first filmed the part where Charlotte Rampling goes on holiday with her husband, played by Bruno Cremer of Maigret fame. They go to the beach; he goes swimming; she falls asleep, and when she wakes up he's gone. The part where we find her again, months later, was in fact not only filmed but also written months later, and it dares to be both intriguing, involving, and oddly true. Worth it just for the scene with the red dress - watch the film, and you'll know what I mean. Ozon truly is one to watch, and this is the best film of his that I've seen so far.

28. Marnie (Hitchcock, 1964)

Not Hitchcock's most accomplished film by any means, but his most fascinating. Yes, the color red is infused clumsily, yes, the back-projection is much too obvious, but who cares when the main character is allowed to be so thoroughly messed up and fascinating? I'm grateful to Kim Morgan for pointing me towards this one, because it's generally not seen as great Hitchcock, far behind Vertigo, Psycho, Strangers on a Train and quite some others, and I might not have seen it otherwise. I don't think it's Hitchcock's best either, but it is my favorite.

29. Belle de Jour (Bunuel, 1967)

A nice double feature that would make: Belle de Jour and Marnie. Belle de Jour is better than Marnie because it doesn't seek to explain Severine's behavior: though there are short shots of her past, there is no neat psychological explanation here. Marnie, however, profits from the presence of a strong male character. But it's natural, in a way, that all men would pale next to the wonder of Catherine Deneuve, and ice princess with so much simmering under the veneer of sophistication -symbolized by those beautiful designer clothes - that she maintains. Bunuel trusts his audience to distinguish themselves between dream and reality, something that's still rare among directors today, and the result is a film that after these 40 years retains it's kinkiness without having to be explicit. We never learn what's in the Chinese box, nor what motivates Severine, and that's why the film still provokes.

30. All About Eve (Mankiewicz, 1950)

And so the trio, or maybe even foursome, of strong women continues. Who says there are no good parts for actresses? Bette Davis is awe-inspiring here, fierce, smart, but also vulnerable, and nobody else could have delivered the razor-sharp lines she gets so well. The film really should have been called "All About Margo". Also, what it says about the position of women is still relevant today. Luckily, while Margo is worthy of our pity in some respects, she never becomes pathetic, and that ought to give us some hope.

I'm There

Because I've been depriving you of images lately, and I cannot wait for this.

Also, more Cate.

Top 50 - 31 through 35

31. Bride Of Frankenstein (Whale, 1935)

I won't go into detail because I already did recently, but I do want to say that this is, in my opinion, the best of the Universal monster films, and not just that but also a true auteur film: James Whale's imprint is everywhere here, and I wish more films made for profit were made with this amount of care and fun.

32. Annie Hall (Allen, 1977)

I long hesitated between this film and Manhattan. It was the opening monologue that finally made me chose this one, I think. Or maybe Diane Keaton's amazing outfits. That, and seeing Allen as much younger than him as Mariel Hemingsway's Tracy is just a little bit creepy. This is a funny, smart film, which is truer about relationships than most romantic comedies dare to be.

33. Out of Sight (Soderbergh, 1998)

Soderbergh has made much more ambitious and intelligent movies than this, but this remains my favorite. It's just perfect for what it wants to achieve. George Clooney is deliciously charming, Jennifer Lopez actually, y' know, acts (too bad she hasn't done it since), and together they just sizzle. It's one of those movies where I can't bring myself to buy them since I've already seen in ten times, but everytime it's on TV, I watch it anyway. For the scene in the trunk alone, this deserves to make my top 50, and due to the rest of it (including the great Don Cheadle as Snoopy, and Michael Keaton reprising his Ray Nicolette role from Jackie Brown) makes sure it's at # 33.

34. Raiders of the Lost Ark (Spielberg, 1981)

I know, I know, I promised (and am working on) a blogpost on "the trouble with Spielberg", but Indy, well, Indy is Indy. I can't think of any better pure action films: one set piece after another, a charismatic hero with great lines, a feisty girl (I like the other Indy films too, but the lack of Karen Allen makes itself felt), the only thing really missing, as Damian pointed out, is a great villain. Like Out of Sight, I watch this every time it's on TV, and I'm never bored for a second.

35. The Sting (Hill, 1973)

Completing the trio of "pure fun" films, this second pairing of Newman and Redford is probably the best heist film ever made. The jaunty Scott Joplin soundtrack makes sure this stays light despite the revenge story, the plot is intricate but not too far-fetched, and Newman and Redford once again make a fine pair. I think Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is a more interesting film, more inventive, but it is also, ultimately, a big uneven mess, and while I love it, I do believe this perfect and perfectly crafted film is by far the better one. If you ask me on any given day which one I want to watch, The Sting will win four out of five times, and that's why it makes this list, and Butch and Sundance did not.

Top 50 - 36 through 40

36. The Best Years of Our Lives (Wyler, 1946)

I won't say much about this one, as there is a William Wyler blogathon coming up, and I plan to devote my entry to this movie. I don't like war movies, but this post-war movie I adore. It's very unassuming, doesn't aspire to tell a grand story or convey an important message, but by the simple tales of these three returning soldiers, it's much more moving than it has any right to be, and it makes you understand just how much war can destroy.

37. Sherlock Jr. (Keaton, 1924)

In The Dreamers, a movie which ended up just outside my top 50, there is a discussion about Chaplin vs. Keaton. To this question, I often feel like answering "Harold Lloyd" just for the sake fof being contrarion, but truth be told, For me, there's no question about it: the sad faced acrobat wins from the tramp hands down. Oh, I like Chaplin, The Kid, for instance, is wonderful, but there's something about Keaton that makes this more than just slapstick. Sherlock Jr., furthermore, is wonderfully self-referential, one of the first films explicitly also about film, as Keaton jumps from one frame to another. It's one of those films that make me wonder why people think black and white films are dull and slow: comedians nowadays wish they could make something as playful and light as this.

38. It happened one night (Capra, 1934)

There are so many screwball comedies I still have to see. I haven't seen the Lady Eve, nor the Philadelphia story, not even Bringing up Baby, although according to Adam and Sam, I'm not missing much. I did see It Happened One Night, and rewatched it only a week after the first time because I loved it so much. Cary Grant's rakish reporter Peter Warne seems to have inspired just about every George Clooney performance, but only very rarely has he approached this level: you can feel all the failed ambitions and missed chances here, and if not for his optimism, this could have been an almost tragic picture. And Claudette Colbert, ah, who would not fall in love with her? She seems so spoiled, slightly useless even, but she has more talents than you would suspect. The bon mots fly so fast you can barely catch them, and the scene where they pretend to be a married couple, well, the fourth time I saw it, I still laughed.

39. Singin' in the Rain (Donen&Kelly, 1952)

Sometimes associations go the wrong way. I saw Kill Bill II before I saw the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, and so the music had strange connotations for me when I heard it in its original context. Likewise, I saw A Clockwork Orange long before I finally saw this classic musical - one of the few films I saw on the big screen twice, thanks to circumstance - so for the longest time I found it an extremely unpleasant song. No more, though, because it's impossible not to feel giddy watching Gene Kelly dancing with his umbrella. Besides being a great musical, one of the greatest, this film also gives quite a bit of background info on the transition from silents to sound film, and is all the more priceless for it.

40. Fargo (Coen bros, 1996)

The first (or actually last, but we're counting down) of three Coen brothers entries on this list. Which isn't revealing much: they made so many great movies, anything could still be above, and any one of three other Coen brothers could have taken this spot. My affection for Fargo in particular is rooted in one thing, or rather one caracter: Marge Gunderson. 8 months or so pregnant, pragmatic, and just so essentially good, she's not just the center of this movie, she's its heart. The Coens have been criticized for their perceived contempt of these characters, but I think it's rather envy, and the relationship between Marge and her husband is the most loving one they've ever put on screen. Not their best (I have two of their films ranked higher, after all), but a great, great film.

Top 50 - 41 through 45

41. Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)

A confession: I didn't much like Vertigo the first time around. Having read a little about it, I kept waiting for the "second half" to start, and as such found the first three-quarters too mystical, pointless, even boring. And I do still think that the final part of it is much more fascinating than the rest, but I now realize it only works by virtue of what comes before. Now I'm fascinated by the whole thing, trying to decipher clues, trying to understand not only the sphinx-like Madeleine but most of all Stewarts Det. Scottie Ferguson. Hitchcock's stroke of genius was, of course, to cast James Stewart, the all-around good guy, as someone who turns out to be kind of creepy. He already tried in Rear Window, but his obsessiveness is all too understandable there: here, he truly is somewhat crazy, but it's something the viewer denies for the longest time because he just seems so normal, so healthy, and this dichotomy is what makes this one of Hitchcock's most fascinating films.

42. Moulin Rouge (Luhrmann, 2001)

This might be the most love-it-or-hate-it entry on this list. I, for only, fall firmly in the first camp. I don't like frenetic editing much, and I don't have much patience for sentimentality, but this film gets past all my defences: it's just dazzling, so unapologetically over-the-top and full of vibrant emotion I can't resist. It's hard for me even to pick the performances or the details
I like best, because I can't find anything to dislike here: neither the slapstick humor nor the high melodrama. Are there any recent movies with such intense color? I love Strictly Ballroom and Romeo+Juliet too, but this is the culmination of Luhrmann's red curtain trilogy, and the only film I know that manages to put the spirit of opera on screen.

43. Volver (Almodóvar, 2006)

Ok, ok, I should have said "recent American movie with such intense color". Almodóvar likes his reds crimson, and his blues as deep as the sky. In his films, death is often present in some form or other, but they're filled to the brim with life at the same time. Penelope Cruz has never been more beautiful than she is here, nor more feminine, and she shows once and for all that she can act, as long as she's allowed to speak Spanish. This is Almodóvar's ode to women, grandmothers, mothers, daughters, friends, and you can't help but fall in love with each and every one of them.

44. Edward Scissorhands (Burton, 1990)

This definitely is a highly stylized trio of movies. This is fairytale, but channeled through the gothic mind of Tim Burton. Johnny Depp barely speaks, but conveys an amazing amount of emotion through his big eyes. In his leather black gear, he couldn't contrast more with the town's pastels. The freak is feared, accepted, then rejected. It's a Frankenstein story, in a way: the "monster" abandoned by his creator, who doesn't quite know his own strength. Edward is more soulful even than Karloff, though, and the townspeople much more irrational and scary. This is not a subtle movie, but fairytales are not supposed to be subtle, just beautiful. And this one certainly is.

45. Before Sunrise/Sunset (Linklater, 1995/2004)

My only cheat in this list: a tie, but can these two movies really be viewed separately? One is a continuation of the other, and the second could not exist without the first. They are connected more intricately and intimately than most sequels, and as such I think they deserve to be here together. I like the first one better now, probably because I still in my early twenties, and despite my outward cynicism still have hope to once have a true connection with someone, but I do realize the second one is the better movie. I feel like I am like Jesse in Sunrise now, but will be like Celine in ten years, if that makes any sense. I probably will prefer it ten years from now, because it's truer, and as such also more romantic. No matter your age, I defy anyone not to long for romance after watching these films.

Top 50 - 46 through 50

46. Dogma (Smith, 1999)

I must have watched this film over a dozen time. It's not only Kevin Smith's funniest film, but it's also a satire and critique of religions that manages to be full of belief. You can tell Kevin Smith is not an atheist, but just that he questions some of the interpretations along the way. There are too many good moments to mention here: the buddy Christ, Loki expounding on how Alice through the looking glass made him lose his belief in God, Alan Rickman as the Metatron in every scene he's in...Over the years the not-too-great filmmaking has started being more obvious to me, but the script and the performances are still awesome.

47. Lost In Translation (Coppola, 2003)

I went on about Scarlett Johansson's performance here, but there is, of course, more to this film. The mood music. The tentative atmosphere. Bill Murray at his most funny and poignant. And, of course, that last whisper in her ear. There's a lot to be said in criticism of this movie, but the truth is, it made me feel like few movies can: entranced.

48. Jackie Brown (Tarantino, 1997)

Tarantino's most underrated and underseen movie shows that despite all evidence to the contary, he does, in fact, have a mature side, or at least a potential for maturity. Oh, this is clearly a Tarantino picture: a shot from a trunk, violence, long dialogue laced with references and so on. But unlike the other pictures - and maybe because this is an adaptation- this isn't about impressing anyone, and his tendency for toying with conventional narrative is almost absent. Not only that, but the wonderful conversation between Robert Forster and Pam Grier about getting old seemed to indicate Tarantino might, one day, grow up. Ten years later it seems more and more unlikely, but I still have hope that he might move on beyond great style exercises.

49. Dirty Pretty Things (Frears, 2002)

An oddity, perhaps, this little under-the-radar thriller. Why did this beat out so many classics? I'm not quite sure, myself. Maybe it's simply because if I get just one more person to watch this, it'll have been worth putting this on my list. If you think Sergi Lopez was scary and evil in Pan's Labyrinth, wait until you see him here, and the other actors are also great: Chiwetel Ejiofor is deservedly an up-and-coming star now, and Audrey Tautou shows she is more than Amelie. The film also manages to sneakily address the immigrant problem without being a pamphlet: the plight of illegals in London is a strong undercurrent, but it doesn't get in the way of the suspense and the surrealism. I could have put a classic in its place, but while this might not be a perfect film, it deserves to get more notice than it has.

50. La Jetee (Marker, 1962)

The only short on this list, but definitely not a trifle. Marker's film might sound difficult and hard to approach: almost all stills with narration, it can't even be called a movie. The story he tells is incredibly compelling though, and you understand why Gilliam was inspired to make 12 Monkeys from this. Unlike 12 monkeys, you will find no empty action here, and no crazy Brad Pitt: just a meditation on the nature and unreliability of memory.

Top 50 - Introductory comments and those who just missed the cut

I heard some time ago that in my new capacity as a real film journalist (tm) I would have to make a top 50 of all time. This threw me into a panic. I can never even come up with a best of favorite movie, let alone 50. Also, I felt like I just hadn't seen enough movies to qualify to even make such a list. In preparation, I looked up the top 50 movies I had seen from the top 100 at They Shoot Pictures, Don't They? and I had to go up to movie #178 to find 50 I had seen.

I did start on it though, and today I impulsively started numbering along my long list, and decided this would be it: the list I'll count down from now on. Of course, this is a top 50 strictly as of today, Wednesday August 15th; ask me tomorrow, and the list will be different. But it would be similar, and I'll stick to the list as it is now.

I'll go through the 50 through 11 in groups of five, with short comments, and the top 10 I'll go through one by one, post by post. Afterwards I'll post the full list with some statistics, and some justifications as to why some films you might expect are not there.

Some criteria: one important one was whether I would want to watch it right now. This means that movies I admired but found unpleasant or harsh will not be here. Also, the top movie might have been any other in my top 10, but the one I chose is one I'm certain will still be in my top 10 ten years from now (oh, the suspense...).

To start: the bottom of the long list, the films that might have made it, the runners up, just to give you a taste:

- Masculin/Feminin (Godard, 1966)
- Romeo + Juliet (Luhrmann, 1996)
- The Shop Around the Corner (Lubitsch, 1940)
- The African Queen (Huston, 1951)
- Hedwig and the Angry Inch (Mitchell, 2001)
- The Dreamers (Bertolucci, 2003)
- The Piano (Campion, 1993)
- L.A. Confidential (Hanson, 1997)
- Say Anything (Crowe, 1989)
- 8 1/2 (Fellini, 1963)
- The Big Heat (Lang, 1953)
- Easy Rider (Hopper, 1969)
- Cool Hand Luke (Rosenberg)
- Atame (Almodovar, 1990)
- Gun Crazy (Lewis, 1949)


So, these did not make it...stay tuned to find out which ones did.

2 Days in Paris

I love going to Paris. By now, I've been there so often that I don't feel the need to do any of the touristy things any more, and especially since this time I was there all by myself, I could just wander around at my own pace, at each intersection going into the street that looked nicest, with only the vaguest of goals in mind.

I was in the same hostel I also went to with my sister two years ago. It's not that great a hostel, but the location is perfect: it's on the Rue Mouffetard, a road with many small eateries, bars and shops and people walking around at all times of the day.

I'd never really been on holiday by myself. I'd traveled alone, yes, and I'd been by myself for a day, but never two whole days. It was a bit lonely, but in the end I liked it a lot: there's a freedom to it that really allows you to relax. Nobody gets bothered if you decide to take twenty pictures of one statue, if you spend half an hour browsing in a DVD shop (bought a wonderful version of The Science of Sleep, filled with extras, and Orson Welles' The Stranger), if you just sit in a park or next to the Seine for an hour, reading or making notes. The first evening, was, however, a bit strange, I had no idea what to do with myself, but the second night I had dinner with a big group from the hostel and had a lot of fun.

You have experiences by yourself you otherwise probably wouldn't have. I had myself a "free" massage, for example (I gave a 3 euro tip), and I had a really nice conversation in a park with two clochards who were lying in the park there, one with a half a liter can of beer, the other with a bottle of wine standing next to him in the grass. When the can was finished, the guy dutifully stood up to throw it in the garbage bag, and when they left, the other even offered me a piece of flan as they left. I checked: up was still up, down was still down.

I think what made me fully accept the being alone part was seeing 2 Days in Paris on Sunday. In this Julie Delpy directed film, she and her American boyfriend (played by ex Adam Goldberg) spend, well, 2 days in Paris. Before Sunset, however, this is not. Before Sunrise and also Before Sunset are about the start of a relationship, when you discover each other and are amazed by the connection you find. Two days in Paris, on the other hand, is about what happens two years later when all the character traits and habits you used to find adorable are now highly irritating, you wonder whether it's worth all the effort and bickering, and you discover you don't really know each other at all. This sounds pretty depressing, I know. But while it is true that it made me realize that spending two days alone in Paris is definitely better than spending two days fighting with a boy or girlfriend in Paris, that wasn't why I left the theatre with a grin on my face: this is probably the funniest movie I've seen all year, funnier than Clerks 2, for instance. How funny? Well, one noise it incited in me got its own laugh from a fellow moviegoer.

The criticism the film will get is, of course, that the characters are caricatures. And yes, the are. But at the same time, let's not forget what a caricature is: a depiction that takes the flaws and funny things that are there, and magnifies them. For instance, I don't know if all French families are as open about their sex lives and sex in general as Delpy's family (her parents plaid by her real-life parents) is here, but they are definitely much more open than American families. And Adam Goldberg? His character is not a hick, he's one of those Americans who is critical of his country, who is a democrat and who images he has a European sensibility: he knows French authors, even speaks a few words, and when he encounters a group of American "code-breakers" (i.e. Dan Brown aficionados) looking for the Louvre...well, I won't spoil what he does, but you can smell his contempt. He is, nonetheless, American, in his food preferences, his paranoid sense of hygiene, and the way he thinks about relationships, and that's where the conflict stems from.

Ok, ok, admittedly, it also stems from the many exes of Delpy's Marion they run into, and their -unfortunately very French- behavior. It also comes from the fact that French people will just go on talking in French even if there's someone who doesn't speak the language in their midst. But who cares, really, where it stems from, when the result is so funny: each taxi driver they run into is worse than the previous one, a "fairy" shows up to give Goldman advice, and there's a scene with Goldman holding a phone in one hand and a dictionary in the other getting progressively angrier that had me doubled over. Its maybe a little exaggerated, ok, a lot, but the comedy stems from human behavior and emotion, not from convoluted misunderstandings and toilet humor, and that's incredibly refreshing.

The best film this year? Not by a long shot. But the funniest? I definitely think so.

The Fruitstand: in Paris

Dans Paris

Writing is hard

I'm being confronted with the fact that while I'm not bad at stringing sentences together, and my writing is even on occasion half-decent, when you get paid for it (however little) you need to be half-decent by habit, and on occasion spectacular.

So, in this self-improving mood - and also, not so secretly, fishing for infortmation about my handful of visitors, whose movements I track obsessively via sitemeter - I thought I'd ask: what do you think are the strong and weak points of this blog? What could be improved? What could you do without, and what would you like to see (more of)?

We live to serve, after all.

I am aware that most blogs need, and have, a niche. Nathanial loves actresses and lists, Dennis is great at in-depth articles and of course, his famous quizzes I feel too intimidated and ignorant to participate in, the Self-Styled Siren loves old movies, the Shamus subverts the whole blog medium by keeping no archives and changing template every other day, hiding himself in the shadows like a true P.I., and I could go on. What my niche should be is still a bit of a mystery, although I do feel I've been achieving a more consistent tone and style of late. All suggestions are welcome.

And while I'm dealing with blog matters, some household announcements: as you might have noticed, my blogroll has been updated. Some blogs on it had unfortunately met their untimely demise (cinemarati, in particular), others had changed URL's or even identity. Also in the right column, you'll find a link to an infrequently updated alphabetical list of reviews, and a link to my "Tumbling Log". I don't have a lot of links on my blog - I prefer to keep my entries restricted to my own thoughts - but I do of course regularly run across things I'd like to share. The tumbling log is kind of a scrapbook where you'll find few of my own thoughts, but many things I liked: quotes, videos, links to articles. Still planned is a revision of the out-of-date list of DVD's I own.

That's all folks. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Professione: Reporter aka The Passenger

"This first piece of the film in this desert is a man looking for something, and that's really enough of a story for Antonioni"


A confession: I love that there's such a thing as DVD commentaries, but I rarely take the time to listen to them. It feels to much like a purely analytic pursuit, in a way: of course I analyse movies also while I watch them but that does not mean I cannot be swept away and involved by them, but when you're listening to a commentary you're seeing a movie from a much bigger remove, with a layer of analysis between you and the film.

In retrospect, it's obvious that this would be an ideal way to see an Antonioni movie, who, as Nicholson points out on his wonderful commentary track "(films) at a dispassionate distance".

It's a commentary like all commentaries should be: it offers insight, funny anecdotes, but Nicholson's also not afraid of letting some of the scenes play out, even professing his hope at the end that he didn't distract too much from the movie. It's easy to forget sometimes that actors are also often film lovers. Nicholson is known mostly for his antics, but from this commentary speaks a profound love both for film and for Antonioni.


I already loved this film: it's meditative nature, the wit of the screenplay, and of course that fabulous long shot at the end. Despite Nicholson's explanation, I still don't understand how exactly they did it, but it doesn't matter. The excruciatingly slow zoom towards the bars and then out, watching everything going on in the courtyard, it so mesmerizing it makes you hold your breath, and for it alone the movie would be worth watching.

I'll stop now - for the new free-lance thing I landed I will be writing a 1000 word essay about this film and DVD, and I don't to have some fresh thoughts left. But I know I'll be thinking about this movie for the rest of the day, at the very least.

Say Anything

I've always been on the fence when it comes to Cameron Crowe. He has a true talent for writing believable characters and great dialogue, and a fantastic ear for music, but many of his films fail to convince me in the end. I think it's his inherent sentimentality that does him in, but this seems a strange accusation for a man who tries so hard to avoid typical Hollywood sentiment.

He creates indelible scenes: Jerry Maguire yelling "Show me the money!", Billy Crudup standing on the roof yelling "I am a Golden God", John Cusack holding his boombox playing "in your eyes" over his head... Even the exercise-machine suicide and the road trip in Elizabethtown are scenes that are memorable even if the film is now. But ultimately, to me, his films are often more a collection of nice moments than a good, coherent, film. I like his films, but I don't love them

Say Anything was the first exception to that rule. This movie is also not coherent, it kind of meanders, but for the first time it didn't bother me. I identified with these characters and their aimlessness. Lloyd's indecision about his future was painfully familiar, his reluctance to "sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career", and more than that, the resolution of his dilemma feels right: he decides that what he want to be is be with Diane. Because he's good at it. As for Diane, she truly is the center of this film. One of the things I really liked here is that her relationship with her father is just as fleshed out and important as the one with Lloyd, and I recognized much of my relationship with my father in it (though luckily, he's not under investigation by the IRS).

Most high school movies date fairly easily, but this one has not lost any relevance in the 18 years since its release, because it doesn't so much focus on what's "hip" at the time (clothing, language, even music) but on something more essential: where do we go from here? Fashions and lingo change, but that question still faces every graduating senior.

Of course, John Cusack's performance is crucial here. He is Lloyd Dobler: a thoroughly decent and even gallant but also fundamentally aimless guy. He's not perfect. But you can imagine just anyone falling for him: his nervous talking, his ridiculous trench coat, and of course his grand romantic gesture.

But what really makes this film better, in my opinion,, is the ambivalence of the ending. You want these two characters to make it together, but at the same time you doubt they will. The film doesn't end in a kiss or a laugh, but in tense expectation, with a plane taking off. the dialogue says it all:

DIANE: Nobody thought we'd do this. Nobody really thinks it's going to work, do they?
LLOYD: No. You just described every great success story.

Joan Cusack

After my rant on serious movies, I decided to treat myself to a night of thoroughly un-serious movies, a romantic comedy and a film starring Jack Black (don't worry, they weren't the same movie): Cameron Crowe's Say Anything and Richard Linklater's School of Rock. I do admit, they can stir a giddiness I seldom experience when watching serious movies, unless you count Bride of Frankenstein as "serious". I'll probably devote separate posts to them, in any case to the first one. But first:

Joan Cusack.

I can't ask "why doesn't she get more work?", because she actually works quite a bit: she's in two or three movies almost every year. But why doesn't she get bigger parts? Why is she always relegated to be the best friend, the sister, on occasion the girlfriend?

Joan Cusack is, and I'm not afraid to say it, one of the best comedic actresses working today. She's sometimes a little broad, almost veers towards the shrill sometimes, but I don't think she's ever played a one-dimensional character: there's always a deeper layer of hurt and vulnerability and/or of humor in her performances, there's a sense that these aren't just characters there to serve a purpose, but they're characters with a history and an interesting story of their own. That, and of course she's absolutely hilarious.

It's interesting, in both films, she's someone who's lost her sense of fun. In Say Anything, John Cusack (both her on- and off-screen brother) says to her: "You used to be warped and twisted and hilarious. And I mean that in the best way". She kind of wistfully replies: "I was hilarious once, wasn't I?". In School of Rock, she confesses to Jack Black "I wasn't always like this, you know. I wasn't always wound up this tight. There was a time when I was funny. I was fun. I was".

She is funny still, of course. So please, someone write a starring role for her. Something funny and poignant where she can show she can be more than just comic relief, something that will finally raise her status above just being "sister of".

Hany Abu-Assad

Zomergasten ("summer guests") is a strange show. It aspires both to show someone's "ideal TV night" and to interview them during three long hours face to face with an interviewer who is himself/herself also a public figure. This year, the interviewer is again Joris Luyendijk, and while I don't think he's that extrordinary most of the time, he was quite good tonight, interviewing Hany Abu-Assad, the director of the acclaimed "Paradise Now".

Abu-Assad is a Palestinian with the Israeli nationality who came to the Netherlands when he was 18 to study aircraft engineering. His TV-night? Many film fragments, but none of them from the town where he's now working, Hollywood: fragments from Once Upon a Time in the West, Rosetta, a Polish movie, two Egyption movies. Some TV fragments too: from documentaries (The BBC doc The Power of Nightmares) to news footage of Arafat.

Three hours is a long time, and as usual my thoughts wandered, but there were interesting points. Abu-Assad believes democracy has failed as a system, for instance (I personally agree with Churchill that democracy is a wretched system, but it's the best one we know), and he had some very interesting thoughts on the barrier between fact and fiction, in particular the trustworthiness of the documentary as a medium.

There was a controversy when it was found that Abu-Assad had staged a scene in his doc Ford Transit. He was unapologetic about it, because, he argued "this does happen", and furthermore it was not fiction since the camera was acknowledged. I think this argument is rather dodgy, but it does raise some interesting questions. We tend to see documentaries as a more objective form of film making than fiction, but this is of course nonsense: no doc is ever truly objective, even when the makers try, and fiction films can sometimes get closer to the true nature of something than any doc ever could. Still, there is this expectation viewers put on the medium, and it's always worth challenging those viewers, shocking us into being more critical spectators.

It was an interesting night, even if it was in a problematic format. Really getting to know someone in three hours, through their choices of fragments or their answers, is of course an illusion, but Abu-Assad's mind is an interesting one to get a glimpse of.

On watching "serious" films

Why is it, I wondered after a recent comment from my good friend Lani, that I watch so many "serious" films? And what is it that makes a film "serious"?

It's not a strange question. Many people around me don't understand why I watch all these films in black and white, all these films from directors whose names they don't even know. It's put all the more starkly into relief now with the passing of Bergman and Antonioni, two masters who showed that films were not just movies, that films nowadays are often little more.

I don't argue that every film needs to be high art. I fell in love with the medium of cinema precisely because it can be so much: it can be art, it can be a document, a critique, and it can also just be pure undiluted entertainment, and there's nothing wrong with that. The problem is that there is much less wiggle room in the film-as-entertainment genre, and that once you've seen quite a few, the rest often don't have many surprises.

There are exceptions, definitely: I greatly enjoyed Fast Times at Ridgemont High when I finally saw it, even if many of its elements have been imitated by so many other high school movies, and I had a blast with Ocean's 13, not so much because it surprised me but because it was so nimble and so light. But when weighing seeing the nth threequel of the summer(*) against watching one of the many classics I haven't seen yet, the latter almost always wins.

Many people nowadays seem scared of "serious" movies. The moniker already says it all: they imagine those films unapproachable, humorless and obscure. To me, however, many of these films are much more entertaining than watching robots blow each others to smithereens (my inner geek gets a thrill out of watching robots fight, but does it need to last 2.5 hours?).

Take Cronaca di un amore. It's sexy. It's a simply story with beautiful people and even more beautiful outfits. What's so intimidating about that? Plein Soleil is likewise a thriller without a boring moment. It's not an art film at all, but because it's in French and made before 1980, it gets labeled as "serious". Even the Seventh Seal, while it's conversations about the absence of God can be daunting, is also surprisingly funny.

I understand the hesitations all too well. I, too, had for example never seen an Ingmar Bergman seen because I imagined them stark and Scandinavian, depressing and dull. I don't feel like Antonioni, Fellini or -a more modern maker of art films- Gus van Sant every night. The themes they broach are often heavier, the ruminations they inspire are more complex, and the feelings they evoke are more ambiguous and lingering. But especially because these films get to you more, because they are more layered than your average Adam Sandler movie, they're much more rewarding to watch.

So every once in a while, get over that hurdle. Take a deep breat and jump. You won't regret it.

(*) I am very excited about Bourne 3 though.

Cronaca di un amore

As it turns out, Antonioni films are very hard to find. Blow-up and The Passenger are available, but I had those two already. I searched everywhere for La Notte, L'Avventura, and L'Eclisse, but all I could find was a Criterion edition of L'Eclisse, which was beautiful with all the extra's you'd expect, and, as is always the case with Criterion, ridiculously expensive.

My dad, sweet as he is, decided to break his resolution not to buy me any more DVD's one more time. It won't get here for a while, but when it does, I really hope I'll like it. Ah, but how can I not love an Antonioni classic starring my very latest crush, Alain Delon?

Meanwhile, Cronaca di un amore (7.50 at the Fame in Amsterdam). The ending is spoiled even on the DVD-box, but typically for an Antonioni movie, while the plot is important, its resolution is not: it's all about the path that leads there.

This could have been a straightforward noir story: the wife and her lover conspiring to kill the husband. It would be interesting to watch this film together with Double Indemnity and Ascenseur pour L'échafaud, saving Antonioni's film for the end. In the first film it's about the mechanics of the seduction and the murder, and about the guilt that follows. In the second film, the mechanics of the murder are still important, but they're only the beginning, and guilt is not a factor: the film is about the emotions on Jeanne Moreau's face as she wanders through Paris, not about whether her act was moral or not.

Cronaca di un amore takes it even further: the mechanics of the murder are barely discussed, it's not even certain whether they have succeeded. It's about the push and pull between Paola (Lucia Bosé) and Guido (Massimo Girotti). They go from happy to miserable in a second, from fighting to kissing. One time it's Guido who hesitates, and Paola who convinces him to continue, the next it's the inverse. And just like the audience, they are on some level aware that this can never end well.

There's an interesting doubling, as a private investigator who looks into Paola's past discovers there was another "other" involved so many years ago, a girl this time, Paola's friend and Guido's fiance. She died under suspicious circumstances, but after she did, Paola and Guido didn't end up happily together, but disengaged, horrified.

I liked this movie a lot, but I didn't love it like I did Blow-up and the Passenger. Maybe this is because there is less ambiguity here: there are only a few options as to what happens in the end, but it's not a big mystery. Maybe it's because the film is visually much less inventive. Also, the film is really just about this couple, while you can read much more into the other films, as they're less focused, more broad in their themes.

In the end though, it offers some insight into Antonioni's evolution as a filmmaker. It was a nice snack. But I can't wait until I can digest L'Eclisse. And let us hope his death prompts more DVD releases.

Bride of Frankenstein

I love the horror pictures Universal made in the 30's. I don't know why - horror is one of my least favorite genres overall- but I simply cannot resist them. Dracula was, I believe, the first one I saw. It was on late at night (Starting around 11 or 11:30, as I recall), when normal commercials have stopped and commercial breaks are filled with big-boobed women breathlessly reciting phone numbers, and ads for terrible phone ringtones. It made for a nice contrast with the film, which is all about repressed sexuality and hidden desires.

There are a few standard tropes in horror, and in this period in the 30's, they were explored one by one for what felt like the first time. Dracula was about the dangers of sex. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was about the duality of man, about the perversity hidden by a thin layer of civilisation. The Wolfman is about our fear of our animal nature, the Invisible Man about how much "others" looking at us influences us, and so on.

Frankenstein is of course a Faustian tale, about the hubris of trying to play God, about the dangers of science, too. There is another more literary strain too, though: both novel and movie are about the responsibility of a creator/author for his creation.

In the first movie, the big mistake Frankenstein makes is not just that he makes the monster, but also that he abandons it. The "monster" is not really evil, but he lacks education: because he was abandoned he has no restraint, no morals. He kills a little girl, not because he wants to, but because he doesn't know that she won't float, and the rest of the people are killed mostly out of fright and anger.

Interestingly enough, James Whale, who directed both Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein, tried to abandon his creature too after the first film. He wanted to do loftier things than horror, but eventually he was lured back, accepting to direct a sequel only if he could write it.

In the tale that he wrote, the monster gets not just one but two educators. The first one is a kind old blind man, who teaches him not only to talk but also what friendship is. The second teacher however, is the evil-minded Dr. Pretorius, who uses the monster to get Frankenstein to pick his work back up. Frankenstein resists, at first, but once he's convinced he plunges back into full-fledged obsession.

I'm afraid too much from my "return of the repressed" literature course is coming back here, I could go on and on about this film, about its handling of women, about Else Lanchester's performance(s), about the framing of the story, about how it could be analyzed in the context of queer cinema. I won;t though, because the most important thing that you can say about the film is that it's absolutely marvelous, thrilling and entertaining, better than the original, and a classic everyone should see. It will take only 75 minutes of your life, and nothing could be more worth it.

Incidentally, Gods and Monsters, Bill Condon's great film about James Whale, which features a re-creation of the set of Bride of Frankenstein, is on "Canvas" (a Belgian channel) tonight at 0:10. If you don't mind staying up late, it's worth checking out.

Plein Soleil

Alain Delon is breathtakingly gorgeous. I probably could have watched him, photographed and frequently shirtless like he is here, reading the proverbial phonebook, and I still would have been captivated.


It seems shallow to point it out. But in fact, in Plein Soleil, the first film adaptation of Patricia Highsmith's The Talented Mr. Ripley, Delon's beauty is essential. He has not just an amazing physique, but also an angelic face, a face that seems incompatible with his fundamentally evil nature. If we look just at his actions, then Ripley is a monster, a callous and cold-blooded killer with purely selfish motives, who doesn't even seem to understand love, just desire. But because we're so used to associate evil with ugliness, and beauty with truth and goodness, we go along with his story, try to understand him, try to justify his actions to ourselves, to be able to look at him and admire him without guilt.

This is a very different Ripley than Matt Damon's in Mingella's 1999 film. His Ripley was mostly a cypher, someone so empty that he needs to adapt someone else's personality and life to know who to be. He was a chameleon first and foremost, though admittedly the homoerotic subtext was also a big part of that film, a bigger one than it is in Plein Soleil. Delon's Ripley is more nefarious, also a little pathetic especially in the beginning, ultimately more evil in nature but because of his beauty also more alluring.

I liked The Talented Mr. Ripley, especially for Jude Law's amazing performance. It's the more suspenseful movie of the two. But this one digs deeper somehow. Highsmith created a fascinating character in Ripley, one whose motivation is so obscure many different interpretations are possible, a character also who makes for intriguing films. Ripley's Game, with John Malkovich in the titular role, is an underseen little gem, and I still very much want to see Hopper's take on the character in The American Friend. So far though, Plein Soleil is the Ripley film I like best.

First Bergman, then Antonioni...

It's a good week to die, apparently. I have to admit this news affected me a lot more, because while I've only seen two movies by Antonioni, I love them both.

When you read a synopsis of the plot of an Antonioni movie, it often seems like it's an action movie, almost, a mystery, something suspenseful. Take Blow-Up, for example: "A man discovers he might have photographed a murder". Or the Passenger: "A man takes the identity of a dead man, who turns out to have been an arms dealer". It almost feels like there should be exclamation points at the end, but Antonioni never resorts to them, and subverts your expectations. He lures you in with these seemingly plot-driven premises, and then turns them into meditations on reality, identity, and the inability of finding an absolute truth.

Blow-up ends with the famous mime scene: mimes are playing tennis without a ball or rackets. When at some point "the ball" goes out of the tennis court, David Hemmings picks it up, throws it back, and all of a sudden we hear the sounds of the ball hitting the rackets. Then, in the famous final shot, our protagonist simply disappears. The Passenger ends with a similar disappearance, and a masterful shot that goes on forever, daring us to find meaning or purpose.


I know, I know, two films is too few to really know a filmmaker. I need to see l'Avventura, l'Eclisse, and many more. But I do know that based on the two movies I have seen, Antonioni is a filmmaker I admire and love, and in my mind, he didn't die: he simply, from one frame to the next, vanished into the unknown.

Rest in peace, Ingmar

In memory of Ignmar Bergman, I finally saw one of his films tonight. "The Seventh Seal" or "Det Sjunde inseglet". Appropriately enough, it revolves around death.

I don't know why, even knowing about the iconic chess-match paid homage to by Bill and Ted, I expected stark, grim realism. The film is very grim in parts, but realistic? It's more of an absurd fairy tale, an allegory, and to my great surprise, it's funny.

I'm not sure if I like it yet, don't know quite what to make of it. I do know I've never seen anything like it, and that it's a shame I was reluctant to see Bergman's films until now. It's always sad when a great man dies, but this one leaves a legacy to be reckoned with, and one I'm planning to explore in detail.

Glen or Glenda

You'd think the label "worst director of all time" would be, well, hard to live up to. It's a form of overly high expectations, after all, what if people come to your films expecting terrible and getting merely mediocre?

Don't worry though, "Glen or Glenda" is anything but merely mediocre. The reason it is this terrible, and fascinating, is because it's so incredibly earnest, so filled with ideas and good intentions, so convinced of its own importance. It's a movie that has no lesser goal than to spread understanding and acceptance of transvestism (a term which is defined, in almost the same terms, twice, as if to pound it in our head, or maybe Wood had simply forgotten he'd already done it).

But what a strange movie this is. It's hard even to talk of "scenes". Glen himself gets some lines with his Barbara, but as Glenda he is mostly just followed through the street by a voice-over. There are multiple framing devices: a doctor who tells the story of Glen "and all the other Glens" to a concerned policeman, but also strange bits with Bela Lugosi as some puppeteer going nefariously on and on about "pulling the string" and "puppy dog tails and fat big snails". There's even a scene of him in a lab, but what he's mixing we don't know. It produces a lot of smoke though.

There are weird dream sequences too, and then, there's his love of stock footage. When we see Bela, for example, it's framed by shots of lightning. The story of Alan - also told by the doctor- is mostly narrated over war footage. A shot of a highway, cars streaming through, comes back over and over again with only a mere excuse for it the first time.

It's a totally bizarre film, and while it can be applauded for at least trying to make transvestism normal, it spoils that by being thoroughly homophobic. It confirms that Wood might, indeed, be the worst director of all time, but also a director with so much ambition and so many ideas that it's amazing none of them turn out to be good.

So do yourself a favor. Don't go see the merely mediocre "I know who killed me" or anything like that this weekend. Treat yourself to something truly terrible instead.

Recently Seen Roundup

2.50, less than the cost of renting a movie, for a movie a) starring Humphrey Bogart b) directed by John Huston c) with Peter Lorre in a supporting part and as I later found out d) co-written by Truman Capote, how could I resist? I'm glad I didn't, because while Beat the Devil is a mess of a movie with a plot that's both ludicrous and not quite there, the lines and the performances are wonderful. I want to see more of Jennifer Jones now, who's hilarious here, and what about this short bit by Peter Lorre on time:
"Time. Time. What is time? Swiss manufacture it. French hoard it. Italians squander it. Americans say it is money. Hindus say it does not exist. Do you know what I say? I say time is a crook. "

Also for a mere 2.50, "Reform School Girl". I already had a postcard, two in fact, of the poster, and I just had to see what was behind it. It turns out it's a lovely little B-movie, 73 minutes long, which is a lot less outrageous and sleazy than you'd think, although I'll admit it contains plenty of girls walking around in their nightgowns and pulling each other's hair. The girls here are scary, seriously, scarier than the guy who's supposed to be the main bad guy. The acting from some supporting players is as bad and over-the-top as you might expect, but all-in-all this is very worth seeing, and not only for the camp factor.


I can admit it now: I'd never seen Fast Times at Ridgemont High, but this gap in my cinematic education has now been filled. I liked it a lot, mostly because it has no narrative ambition aside from showing a year of this kids' lives. It also shows all too clearly how out culture had regressed and grown more conservative in the past 25 years. Sure, in sex comedies, the girls still freely have sex, but they don't think about it like the girls do here, not to mention they're not by far as complex characters as Stacey and Linda are here. And the way abortion is treated in this movie? I don't think it could happen any more today.

I also saw "The Sea" or Hafið, an Icelandic movie my cousin (hey Ruben!) lent me. I liked how it started the same way it ended: it emphasizes how images in and of themselves are often meaningless, but are given meaning by what comes before. Aside form that, the plot is overdrawn, with soap-like developments being divulged with much ado but little surprise, and the only really redeeming thing are the character quirks and the strong performances. It also gives a good impression of how claustrophobic it must be to live in such a small, isolated community.

Finally, I've also been watching "Flight of the Conchords" a lot, and I just want to say, Jemaine and Bret? I love you. The series by itself if plenty fun, with supporting characters Murray and Mal are over-the-top but hilarious, and then there's the musical numbers, which bump this series from good to great. Little things like the "binary solo" in the humans are dead are brilliant, and some songs you can't even decide which excerpts to lift out. So, I'll just leave you with the following:

Goodfellas

I saw Goodfellas 4 days ago already, but I kept putting off writing about it. Why? Well...I'm afraid I'm going to blaspheme.

Oh, not blaspheme in the "fucking show yourself, you goddamn bloodsucker" way I was talking to the hiding mosquito in my room on my hunt after the movie, infected by the language. No, blaspheme as in: I didn't really like it all that much.

Oh, Scorses is definitely a master filmmaker, so I did find much to admire: there are some breathtaking tracking shots, the dialogue snaps like it should, basically every technical aspect is perfect. Somehow, though, I was unaffected.

One thing might be that it's long, and that I didn't find the story particularly engaging or suspenseful. To put it crudely, I didn't really care who lived or died. It might be that I found the switching between the perspective of the voice-over from Henry to Karen and back distracting and unnecessary. More importantly, I think it's from a lack of affinity with Scorsese's take on the mafia as a topos.

It's interesting that almost every director to take on the genre of mob movies has his own take on it. To Coppola, the family aspect, the traditional side, was most important. To Tarantino, gangsters are just the epitome of cool. In Mann's movies, being a gangster is just a job like another, with it's own rules and ethics, sure, but not all that different from being a cop, a journalist, a cab driver.

To Scorsese, it's a calling.

And see, that's where he loses me, because I can't for the life of me understand Henry. He describes it in detail: he likes the respect he gets, the perks, that he doesn't need to wait in line.

I mean really? To not have to wait in line you're ok with hurting and killing people? You're happy to exploit people?

Of course, the element of the film that is intriguing, I have to admit, is the unreliability of the narrator. Henry justifies a little too much, tries too hard to justify the mafia as a not-so-evil form of business. They protect these people after all, see? Also, in the voice-over he seems reluctant to use violence, quite a nice guy actually, but he seems just a little too eager to hit his wife for that to be true.

I'm almost scared to type the above, to justify myself by saying "it's not the movie, it's probably just me". After all, this is #92 on the most recent AFI list, #18 on the imdb top 250. But I'll be bold, and say it outright: I think Goodfellas is overrated.

If you'll excuse me, I'll go run and hide now.

Hairspray & Once

Yay! My first two press screenings. Two musicals, but they couldn't possible have been more different. Whereas everything in Hairspray is oversized, from the protagonist to the hair through the feelings and the stars, Once is one of the smallest, most understated and most quietly charming films I've ever seen.

I liked Hairspray more than I thought I would. It's infectious, the way a musical should be, and even if I was a little disturbed because it seemed to equate discrimination against fat people to racism, I ended up rather liking it. It's mainly because it feels so refreshing to see people really dance instead of shots of moving body parts edited together as fast as possible, but also because of the performances. I wasn't really impressed with John Travolta, but I admire him for taking the role straight, without apologizing for it through caricature, James Marsden was a true surprise here (what a voice!) and I'm sure we'll hear more from Elijah Kelley.

But Once, well, that's an entirely different ballgame. I don't want to say too much, actually, because I think it's best seen without any expectations or prior knowledge. I'm grateful to Sam from filmspotting because he was the one reviewer not agreeing with the near universal adulation of this film. It lowered my expectations enough that I could still be surprised by how wonderful it is.

I'm very happy that Glen Hansard, of the Frames, plays the main part, and not Cillian Murphy as was apparently planned at first. Together with the hand-held camera and the naturalistic style, the fact that it's two unknown faces playing the unnamed Guy and Girl means there's a very everyday quality to the film. Realism is the last thing you expect in a musical, but the music is totally organic here.

Ok, I'll stop now. Go see it! I mean, seeing Hairspray, you'll be entertained, but it doesn't really stick in any way, not the music or the details. Once, on the other hand, is still playing in my head.

The Deathly Hallows

This is the end, then. 7 books, and the saga is concluded.

I know no-one likes a spoiler, but does it count if it's relatively minor and occurs on page 52? Just in case, I'll give you some space to surf away...




















Hedwig dies! And you can understand how that would be upsetting to me. Well, not quite upsetting, but unsettling, in any case. And her death is only the beginning. She was the reason I started reading, after all, narcissistic as that might sound: this was just before book 4 came out, I was bored while babysitting and picked up a copy of the Dutch translation of the second book. I noticed the name, and asked my dad to bring back the English version of The Philosopher's Stone from his trip to London. He brought back the first three, and three days later, I'd finished them just in time to buy the fourth.

The Harry Potter books really aren't for children any more, are they, although I dare say books 3, 5 and 6 were darker: whereas those has touches of the psychological thriller, this one is a war book, maybe most clearly because the school year doesn't frame the story any more: society isn't teetering on the brink any more, it's fallen. The book goes from action scene to action scene with very little of the self-doubt and the despair in daily routine that filled the other books.

I never quite understood the Potter hype, but these are gripping books. I mean, I read this one in a day, mostly because I was in a lot of delayed trains (enough to get me to page 481), but also because it's a thrilling adventure with many small mysteries to be resolved. There are no less than 10 important magical artifacts in this story, maybe too many, in fact. And as for the resolution, I won't spoil anything here, but I was glad to discover I was right all along about one particular detail.

However, I didn't stand in line on Friday night: I simply strolled into the bookshop on Saturday morning and was able to buy it right away. And I am not as in awe of the saga as a whole as many people seem to be. I love the humor, the inventiveness, the richness of the world J.K.Rowling has created, but in the end she is just a little too traditional for me. Oh, I love the small satirical touches she has here, and this book could even somehow be seen as allegorical of the war on terror, but she's simply not on the level of, say, Roald Dahl, because in the end, she's simply not cynical enough. Love conquers all, and the "nineteen years later" epilogue is really some of the most soppy and sappy stuff I've ever read. Totally unnecessary, too: it only serves to stir up some feeling and allow the reader to feel better after putting down the book. If you're going to let the body count climb so high - and climb it does- it feels like a cop-out to not take the consequences of that.

I don't mean to be cranky. I enjoyed every book (my favorite would have to be either the first one, for its humor, or the third, for obvious reasons), and Rowling deserves every penny she's earned for introducing so many children to the power and magic of reading, showing them that books don't need to be any less thrilling than films or television. I just hope these children will go on to discover there's much more to read out there than wand-waving and selfless sacrifice.