Rosa Luxemburg (1986)

Margarethe von Trotta's Rosa Luxemburg tells an interesting piece of political history, but it is regrettably tepid film. Stylistically, it is conservative, and I never get the feeling that the grasp of Rosa Luxenburg departs from the very, very traditional image of woman-AND-politician/scientist/adventurer. It's a shame, because this could have been an excellent movie, had von Trotta taken a more adventurous path. von Trotta's depiction of Rosa Luxemburg as a person and as a political agitator (we do not see the philosopher) is not one-dimensional. In that respect, the film has its merits. The problem is rather that very few images transcend the story, the written text. Apparently, making films about political history is not an easy task. von Trotta's film shows us why. Indeed, it has a political message. But that message is told too crudely. I am sure there must be better examples of films that have come to terms with this task better than this one.

Nanook of the North (1922)

I tried to watch Man of Aran but I gave up soon enough because I found its depiction of the struggle of man against brute nature waaay to romantic for my taste. The perspective Robert J Flaherty adopted in his earlier documentary, Nanook of the North, in which his crew follows a group of inuits in the icy surroundings of Hudson bay, is not radically different. Romantization of "brute necessity" appears here, too. The inuits appearing in the film are described as strong, noble and simple people who are completely at the mercy of the forces of nature.

Even though Flaherty makes it look as if he is following the group's unchanging way of life, this is not an ethnographic film - some argue that it is not even a documentary. Instead, the events in the film reflect Flaherty's own agenda. Evidently, he tries to evade all references to modern life, for example by making the characters use other tools than guns when hunting. "This is what their lives has always been like." This makes watching the film problematic, even though the viewer's aim is not to dig out THE TRUTH.

This is not to say that the film lacks fine scenes. There are plenty of them. In my favorite scene, Nanook, who is the main characters, attempts to drag a giant seal from a hole in the ice. For many minutes, we follow his perseverance. But even here, I am worried about the way the film opens up a certain way of viewing the on-screen events. The man struggles with the big mammal - but we are expected to extrapolate from him, to the Human Condition.

There were still plenty of things that impressed me. The cinematography, for example, was used brilliantly to convey the vastness of the arctic landscape.

PS: The film was funded by a fur company.

Buried (2010)

The concept of Kammerspiel is a familiar one. Many directors have used it, often to great effect. Buried takes the concept to its conceptual limits: the entire movie takes place in a space of 2,3x1x1 meters. What makes this film fascinating to watch is to a great extent connected with its limited space. As a political thriller, it is a little bit too thin to make an impression. As a character study - well, it's not about that.

Paul wakes up in darkness. He finds himself lying in a wooden coffin, with a mobile phone and a lighter. Paul is a civilian contractor working in Iraq. He was taken hostage while driving a truck in a convoy. With the mobile phone, Paul tries to reach the outside world. This is the most fascinating part of the story, the total reliance of the film on technology. Other characters are mediated by a telephone line. The mobile phone suddenly turns into a possibility of survival, but from other perspectives, a political threat (Paul is asked to record a video of himself in the coffin - American authorities desperately try to prevent that scenario from happening). In the film, the mobile phone occupies the role of THE outside world and that is something that one can, if one wants, read stuff into.

Buried could have been a much better film had it not relied to such a great extent on traditional elements of the thriller genre; the director should have trusted the core themes more, that they are interesting enough, that the viewer do not need dramatic moments of "what will happen next".

Die bitteren Tränen der Petra von Kant (1972)

The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, one of Fassbinder's best movies (though I haven't seen all of them) is stuffed with odd moments and bleak dialogue. A designer, Petra, lives in an apartment with her slave-like servant Marlene. Marlene, to whom the film is dedicated, hovers over the film with her silent presence. We see her tending to Petra's every need, we hear her typewriter. At crucial moments, Marlene's statue-like gaze is a necessary contrast to the animated behavior of the other characters.

The film's characterization of human relations is, to say the least, bleak. At first, Petra is the one patronizing others. Then she meets beautiful Karin, with whom she has a relationship of dependency and self-depreciation and -glorification. Karin, on the other hand, is dependent on Petra's business reputation. The story is beseal by the insight that a turning away from the strict rules of dependency will have drastic consequences.

Everything in The bitter Tears of Petra von Kant is stylized, from Petra's apartment to the outrageous clothes all characters are dressed in to the mask-like facial expressions. Some have criticized the film for being to melodramatic. But within this formalized setting, the melodrama becomes something else altogether, less a psychological prop than an attempt - I suppose - to turn away from a certain grasp of what psychological realism is supposed to look like. "Psychological realism" might contain some not-so innocent presuppositions about how human life is to be depicted. Fassbinder's films, by turning to the intentionally overblown or formalistic or stylized, resist the temptation of false naturalization.

But I don't know. This is how I understand Fassbinder and this is also the reason why I appreciate his work.

The "Thing" from Another World (1951)

In my heart, there is a special place for trashy sci-fi movies from the fifties. The Thing from Another Planet is not as trashy as some of the "worst" representatives of the era. In fact, I fell asleep three times. The funniest part of the film is perhaps its cynical message that goes against the grain of the utopian elevation of science that was very common at that time, especially on film. Here, scientific curiosity is not praised for being the propulsive force of civilization. Instead, "scientific " curiosity is characterized as naive, detached and world-alienated (cheap pun intended).

Things to come (1936)

I knew nothing about Things to Come when I sat down to watch it. Good for me. This turned out to be quite something. It might not be a very convincing movie, but it has some stunning scenes that I wouldn't like to have missed. The aesthetics of the last 40 minutes is a mix of Soviet machine-fetichism, futurism and a weird antiquity-Rome-set-in-the-future. When I started watching it, I was sure the film was a post WII production. It's not. In the film, a global war breaks out in 1940. The conflict lasts a few decades and brings with it a horrenduous plague, sending the population of Everytown back into the Dark Ages. There are conflicts and local warlords. An aviator pacifies the town, and builds a new science-based civilization. In 2040, Everytown has turned into the dream of Marinetti. Hardships have been overcome. So, what is progress? Is there progress? And what are those barbaric forces lurking around the corner? Reason & non-reason - that is the primary conflict portrayed in this movie. As I said, this is a flawed movie, but hell, those sets look nice.

The Man Who Wasn't There (2001)

Billy Bob Thornton is one of my favorite actors. Don't ask. He just is. If you've seen U-turn, you know what I'm talking about. In The Man Who Wasn't There, an excellent movie directed by the Coen brothers, Thornton plays Ed Crane, a mere shell of a man. Under the shell: there is nothing, or next to nothing. Ed Crane goes through life as a ghost. He is uncomfortable in most settings; most of all, he doesn't like the endless stream of talk that people around  him unstoppingly engage in. Ed Crane is a barber. One day, one of this customers, a shabby businessman, talks about his business plan. At first, this is just an example of yet another chatter-box invading Crane's precious headspace. After a while, Crane starts thinking. He doesn't want to continue working as a barber. Maybe he should get in touch with that dry-cleaner businessman. What follows from this is an endless series of tragedies. Ed Crane's only consolation is the sentimental piano tunes played by a friend's kid.

Why is this an excellent film? Well, it has the looks. Silver-sepia images create a world of their own.The Coen brothers know how to create the kind of mood that will transport us into the realm of meaningless that Ed Crane's life exemplifies. The film evokes a sense of detachment, bordering on the depressed. Thornton embodies that state very well. He has just the right kind of quiet expression of desolation. Crane lives a life as it were somebody else's. He doesn't react to anything very strongly. Of course, he is supposed to be some sort of Everyman. The product of a society that erodes all possibilities of emotion. The only thing that provokes us out of passivity is the promise of Money. Luckily, the Coen brothers don't press that point too hard (after all, Herbert Marcuse didn't write the script, and I am glad he didn't). The film is told in voice-over. I am surprised how well it works. 

Like Bad Lieutenant, The Man Who Wasn't There is a zany take on film noir. Both films have got just what it takes to be good movies in spite or because of the genre obsession.

Blade Runner (1982)

3 things make Blade Runner a funny movie:
a) 80's idea of what a cityscape is supposed to look like. It rains all the time. Lots of neon. Future-noir & futurism & apocalyptic vibes. A bit of Hong Kong and Tokyo. It rains all the time. 
b) Rutger Hauer - how could I forget?
c) The synth-kitch crafted by Vangelis.
It's a rather nice movie, mostly because of how it looks.

Khadak (2006)

Khadak boasts several nice scenes. It shows beautiful/horrifying pictures of the Mongolian steppe, run-down post-Soviet industry and small towns. Beyond these few scenes, Khadak is a mess consisting of heavy symbolism, overblown gestures and a muddled plot. Some things can be said for it: even though it attempts to portray a state of alienation, it doesn't rely on a romantic view of the rural life. What we see of life in and around the yortha, it is a life of hardships. The main characters' (he is a sheepherder) relationship to nature is visualized in a satisfactory way. For all these beautiful images, Khaled remains an insubstantial film. It uses too many clichés of art house cinema, such as forced repetition and details that are loaded with symbolism of which the viewer (at least not this one) has a very fuzzy grasp.

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966)

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is a film about boozing, arguing - and, if you look deep enough, it is a film about attraction, repulsion and love. Above all, for two hours, we see these people - 4 of them in total - energetically engaging in the art of boozing. I'm not dead-sure, but this film outranks any other movie I have seen in terms of how many drinks are consumed. These folks drink a lot, with the add-on effect of slurring, puking and incoherent speech. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf is a very good portrait of a night of heavy drinking.

The boozing part is straightforward. The love and repulsion part is not. What do these people, and then I have George and Martha (a married couple) in mind, feel for each other? We witness the disappointment that poisons their relationship. The half-lies they tell each other; for petty entertainmant, just for the pleasure of watching the others' enraged reaction. Their daily existence is taken up by cruel jokes and evil remarks. Martha is a housewife who feels trapped in her role. Her daddy is the president at the university in which George is employed as a teacher of History. Martha offends him by constantly reminding him that he is not Head of the department. Their bitter verbal battles bear witness of a fucked-up version of mutuality and dependence. There is also something else going on: as much as they fight and bully one another, they seem to care about each other.

This, however, is not stated in any direct way, except, perhaps, for the outburst and possible reconciliation taking place in the very ending scene. Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf is not afraid to lean on the viewers' interpretive skills. We are forced to figure lots of things out for ourselves. There are a few slips, when things get too obvious, when the film resorts to explaining their relationship. But that is rare.  

Good morning (1959)

Good Morning, directed by Yasujiro Ozu, is perhaps not a film as groundbreaking as Tokyo story. Yet, in tracking the slow pace of ordinary life, Good morning is a remarkable film, a film that treats its characters tenderly. Some has called this a comedy. I would hesitate to label the film in that way. What I would say, however, is that Good morning is a far more lighthearted film than, for example, Tokyo story. The film is filmed in beautiful, bright colors. It follows a small community. We see their houses, situated under high-power lines. This is only one reference to modern life. The entire film revolves around that theme, it seems. Two boys decide to stop talking to grown-ups until they convince their parents to purchase a TV. Their desire is to watch sumo wrestling - and baseball. Their parents chat with each other, and the neighbors. Their lives are taken up by gossip and back-stabbing. The kids who decide to take a silence vow upset their parents by claiming that adults engage in idle chatter. I might not have been impressed by this film in general, but I must say that the performance of the child actors was really impressive. It's a good film, but not on a par with Ozu's best work.

Up in the air (2009)

I'm not quite sure what to say about Jason Reitman's recent film Up in the air. It's not a bad film. It is an elegant excursion into contemporary blockbuster-indie, the rules and conventions of which this movie obediently applies; "cool" indie music, quirky characters, stripped-down colorful cinematography. To this genre also belongs an appropriate dosage of political critique. Not too much, though. Let it end with happy pix of the Family waltzing through big-wedding night.

George Clooney's character, Ryan Bingham, grooves on his job. He travels, by air of course, from city to city, letting people know that they have been fired. Their employers have chosen to outsource that particular greasy task. No probs: Clooney is the man for it. So is his young colleague, Natalie, who has developed a brilliant new system: let go of the face-to-face situation, it's more conventient to fire people with the mediation of a screen. Up in the air is a blatant critique of shallowness. In being so blatant, it stumbles in its own trap - it risks becoming just as shallow as its subject matter. There are, however, a few good scenes in there. One of them is the anti-climax of Bingman's dream-come-true; he receives membership of a very exclusive club that has travelled so-and-so many miles up in the air. He gets to talk to the captain of the plane (brilliantly played by Sam Elliott) and his face spells d-i-s-a-p-p-o-i-n-t-m-e-n-t.

Bad lieutenant (2009)

Bad lieutenant is Werner Herzog at his most unhinged and zany. Call it post-Katrina New Orleans, a hellish city of gambling, shady police officers and coke-dealers. Nicolas Cage is up-ranked to lieutenant after having saved a man from death. Cage is involved in solving a murder mystery. A family has been slaugthered. Cage is baaaad lieutenent, vigilante-style. His girlfriend is a prostitute and when he is not taking his dose of Vicodin (a bad back) he is snorting interesting substances.

At first, I actually expected this to be some kind of mystery movie. You know the drill: a puzzle / bits and pieces of information / resolution. Well - Herzog's mind is not bent on that. Herzog is more interested in freaked-out paranoia and eerie digressions about alky daddy and a dog that needs a temporary home. This is a film about bad cop demons. You know, this is the kind of movie in which we witness an iguana blinking its eye against the backdrop of Engelbert Humperdink's rendition of Please, release me. Like that. Then I haven't said anything about Cage's acting style; it is, as they used to say, far out. In the very best sense of the term.

And I love it. Of course I do. I love it for being blizzed-out seedy. I love it for being goofy James Ellroy. This is bad-ass PULP as it should be. This film will warm my heart like, forever. Just thinking about it brightens my mood.

4 months, 3 weeks and 2 days (2007)

During the last few years, quite a few Romanian film makers have received some deserved attention. 4 weeks, 3 months and 2 days is the only film I've seen by Cristian Mungiu. It is, indeed, a good film, a film that grabs your attention and you're hardly breathing during those two hours. Mungiu made a film that doesn't compromise. It's a harsh story and the way it is told is just as hard. There are no props that will sugarcoat those gruesome images. Sometimes, hints of bleak humor can be traced, but that is quite rare. One of the things I like about this film is how unselfconscious it is. It tries nothing. No tricks, nothing.

The story is set in a wintry Romanian city during the late 80's. A college girl, Gabita, is intent on having an abortion. There is no legal way to do it. Her friend Otilia helps her. Otilia meets the grim-looking abortionist. She takes him to a hotel. There is bargain / a gruesome event. Otilia has agreed to meet her fussy boyfriend's familia...

Mungiu pays close attention to surroundings. The story, which spans no more than ten hours, transports the viewer from a drab college dorm to wintry city backstreets to a drab hotel and to the upper-middle class home of well-to-do family. What makes Mungiu such a damn fine director is that he doesn't clutter the scenes with needless "markers" guiling us into the mental sphere of "Ceausescu's Romania". In other words: Mungiu focuses on what is important. That doesn't mean that the story is a very straightforward one. In one sense it is: we follow a few eventful hours experienced by a college student who does what she can to mend off catastrophies. In another sense, "what is important" has very little to do with "progression of a narrative". For example, we see an endless bullshit discussion between folks who like to brag about themselves. In the centre of the frames: Otilia's pale, impatient face. For perhaps 1/2 hour we watch how painful waiting can be. I am not sure if I have ever seen that kind of anxious impatience portrayed so ferociously on film before.

This is just one example of how 4 weeks excel in evoking emotions and the way emotions express an understanding of a situation. But, what is most important of all, Mungiu doesn't overstate the case. The treatment of the subject is always subtle, always exploratory.