July 2007: 20 Mini Reviews
July 2, 2007
The last twenty films I’ve seen.
Fixed Bayonets! (’51): A rare war film from the ‘50’s era dealing with the Korean War, Sam Fuller’s fourth film as director is a typically tough depiction of the human condition as applies to leadership and killing. Richard Basehart is a Corporal in a mountain division who sees his three superiors fall in succession to the enemy, and when time comes for him to take over, his inadequacy to lead, and his fear of shooting another man, proves a psychological hindrance as the division descends the mountain on a dangerous mission. Fuller is better known for his tough-as-nails Film Noir’s of the ‘50’s, but coming just two years prior to “Pickup on South Street”, this effective studio bound war film shows his talent for portraying flawed men in precariously dangerous situations.
The Road Warrior (’81): In an apocalyptic wasteland, a sadistic gang of roving nomads attack the last gasoline preserve on the planet (or mainly, Western Australia), but Mel Gibson’s revenge fueled Mad Max is on hand to protect and destroy, the best he can with his souped up speedster and sawed off shotgun. Never mind the silly premise, George Miller’s cult classic is all about speed and adrenaline, and the numerous action scenes, including some death defying camera work atop speeding roadsters (and the finale including a gasoline tanker), makes this one of the all time great action spectacles, and it justly made Mel Gibson an international star.
Early Spring (’56): A change of direction, sort of, for Yasujiro Ozu, coming off of the masterpiece “Tokyo Story”, this salary man drama centers more around a younger generation facing crisis, rather than the director’s usual study of an older generation facing modern changes. An overworked thirty-something white collar salary man is bored at home, has an affair with a fragile co-worker, and is caught by his wife, the basis for a sobering drama that says more about Japan’s tendency to overemphasize the importance of corporate perfection over family duty and responsibility. Like always, the splendor and beauty of Ozu’s mise-en-scene is contrasted with the seriousness and often-dour situations of his hardworking, confused protagonists.
Ingmar Bergman Makes a Movie (’63): Included as an extra disk in Criterion’s box set of Bergman’s spiritual trilogy, this television special from Sweden dissects every stage of the filmmaking process, from script conception through to the premier (and the reaction from Sweden’s biggest critics), as Bergman directs the second of the trilogy, “Winter Light”. Filled with extensive interviews with Bergman, working at perhaps the height of his powers, and exclusive behind the scenes material (some of which was staged specifically for the TV cameras), this exhaustive documentary from Viljot Sjoman (a Bergman apprentice at the time) is strictly for Bergman fans and those who have just seen “Winter Light”, otherwise it’s slow going, your typical making-a-movie doc.
Once (’07): The best film I’ve seen in theaters this year, John Carney’s low budget romance about a broken-hearted street guitarist (Glen Hansard) who finds inspiration, and a musical partnership, in a single immigrant mother (Marketa Irglova) is a realistic proletarian musical on par with “The Commitments” for it’s pure love of music, and what it can do for the broken human spirit. The music is amazing, the two performers are charming and believable, and the filmmaking is appropriately low key and fluid, making this Irish import one of the true art house hits of the summer.
Vive le Tour (’62): Recently released by Criterion in the second set of their new Eclipse series - a box set of documentaries by Louis Malle - this 18 minute short details the grueling Tour de France, from the large crowds who help push the struggling cyclists up the mountain stages, to the exhausted competitors who fall down in a daze of sweat and strained muscles. And even in the early ‘60’s, like today, the specter of illegal doping hangs over the Tour like a darkening rain cloud.
Humain, Trop Humain (’74): A day or two in the life of an automobile factory in France, with incredible detail paid to the faces of the workers, and the mundane boredom of assembly line production. Directed by Louis Malle, with skilled cinematography by Etienne Becker, who, along with editor Suzanne Baron, was Malle’s chief collaborator on his series of cinema verite documentary films.
Place de la Republique (’74): More civilians caught on film by Louis Malle, this time with more of a self-reflexivity than “Humain, Trop Humain”, as Malle and his crew approach gawkers on a busy market corner and ask them questions about their existence, with varying degrees of seriousness and frivolity. A mixed bag, really, as some of the people caught unawares are rather boring, while some, like an old holocaust survivor walking the streets after the death of his wife, with nothing else to do, are poignant and memorable. There is fine artistry to the camerawork, and of course it’s always important to understand just how different one person can be from the next (and how they can relate to being filmed on the spot), but after an hour the examination grows tiring, and could have been cut down to just a select few of the most interesting subjects.
Persona (’66): Ingmar Bergman’s most famous movie of the ‘60’s, this one-of-a-kind drama about two women – a nurse (Bibi Andersson), and her sheltered patient, a broken down actress (Liv Ullmann) – features the most experimental filmmaking of the director’s career, with an impressive roster of cinematic tricks and self-reflexive symbolism. Bergman chose the two actresses - Andersson a regular of his stock company, Ullmann his soon to be film muse - because of their striking resemblance to each other, and fashioned the story around the blending of their personalities (with Sven Nykvist’s unusual cinematography providing much of the needed symbolic imagery), leaving it up to the audience to theorize about who’s who, and the nature of studying another human being for sport.
Samurai Rebellion (’67): Three years after his award winning ghost story, “Kwaidan”, and five years after his blockbuster swordplay classic “Harakiri”, Masaki Kobayashi returned to the drama of the samurai world for this wrenching tale of injustice and rebellion, starring Toshiro Mifune as a father who stands up to the clan Governor when the leader kidnaps the man’s daughter-in-law for his own personal gains. The film has a great deal of samurai swordplay, with much blood and death (Mifune’s final stand is a masterpiece of determination and one-man heroism), and the showdown near the end between Chambara legends Mifune and Tatsuya Nakadai is pure samurai heaven, but it’s primarily a family drama, and a shattering example of the feudal period’s treatment of women as nothing more than child bearers and house keepers.
Breach (’07): A modern day spy film, based on a true story that made national headlines in early 2001, with a superb performance by Chris Cooper as the CIA agent who, after years of handing sensitive material over to the Russians, is brought down by an intense undercover investigation. Directed by Billy Ray, who mined similar not-who-they-appear-to-be territory with 2003’s “Shattered Glass”, this smart procedural serves both as a character study for the target, Robert Hanssen, and the rookie undercover agent tasked to monitor him, Eric O’Neill (Ryan Phillippe), and the various supporting players around the investigation, and as a calculating espionage piece that shows how vulnerable government can be if it ignores the wrong people. A strong film, curiously dumped in February when nobody noticed it, but hopefully it will gain an audience now out on DVD, where Cooper’s Oscar worthy performance can truly be appreciated.
Monterey Pop (’68): D.A. Pennebaker’s film of the Monterey Pop Festival of 1967 is important just for the fact that it was the first of the great concert documentaries (of which “Woodstock” and “The Last Waltz” followed), but watching the hours and hours of cut footage included in Criterion’s amazing three disk set makes you realize just how skimpy the original 80 minute cut was. Thanks to the wonders of DVD, and Pennebaker’s stash of footage, nearly the entire concert is now preserved for viewing, capturing the legendary performances by Jimi Hendrix, Otis Redding, The Who, The Byrds, and Buffalo Springfield, most of which was excised for the original film. Of the original material, Ravi Shankar’s 10-minute finale is still the most riveting spectacle of all the performances (though Jimi’s guitar burning “Wild Thing” is classic as well), and it’s still a great film to watch, but now thanks to Criterion’s wealth of bonus material, it’s more than just one film, it’s an entire experience, totally befitting the importance of the Summer of Love’s first musical gathering.
The History Boys (’06): A prestigious piece of writing by Alan Bennett, based on his award winning blockbuster play about a group of boys preparing for their college entrance exams, and the various teachers helping them, sounds the same on screen, but with an openness and fluidity that only cinema can provide. Though as good as the writing and acting are, it’s a bit too precious and needlessly confrontational to be taken as serious life lessons, but as a slice of life, Bennett’s extroverted boys are recognizable to anyone who attended high school and had to cram for a slight chance at greener pastures ahead.
Rounders (’98): I’m always torn when I watch this semi cult classic from John Dahl; as a film critic I can see its obvious character flaws, and care little about their motivations to continually beat local card games for hundreds of dollars, but as a dedicated poker player, I think it’s hands down the best poker based film ever made, with the lingo, atmosphere, and player personalities down pat. So depending on which mood I’m in when I watch it is how much I come to enjoy it, and during this last screening, I was in full poker mode, so it was a welcome re-watch of a modern day classic about addictive gambling, perfecting the art of Texas Hold ‘em (which isn’t easy), and shedding yourself of the bad habits that have hampered your game in the past, particularly, best friends who continually muck up your life with their bad attitudes and tendencies to get in impossible binds.
Downfall (’04): The final days of Adolph Hitler and his inner circle as the Soviets descend on Berlin and his hidden bunker, depicted with stunning realism, harsh criticism, and most controversially, a bit of sad humanity for a man whose insane dreams of world domination and supremacy crumble at his feet like so much stale bread. Bruno Ganz gives the performance of his career as Hitler, a withered and broken maniac prone to outlandish outbursts and delusions, even as the bombs fall above his head, and director Oliver Hirschbiegel is smart not to take sides, presenting Hitler and his crew of despicable friends and generals not just as the villains we know they are, but as fully realized characters, defeated as their lives come to an end. It’s not easy to portray these monsters with a marked amount of sensitivity and emotion, but it helps to have their fallen innocents around them (secretaries, wives, children, etc…), and the entire production is flawlessly executed, a stark and bitter document of the last stand of one of history’s worst leaders.
Needing You (’00): Typically screwball and lightweight romantic comedy from action master Johnny To, with superstars Andy Lau and Sammi Cheng as boss and secretary who eventually, after many mishaps and misunderstandings, come to realize their mutual attraction for each other. I’d rather be watching a To action film than his often silly comedies, but I can’t think of a better team to headline a Hong Kong screwball romance than Andy and Sammi, they make quite the good looking duo.
1408 (’07): Haunted House films don’t get much scarier, or more entertaining than this adaptation of a Steven King short, starring John Cusack as a ghost writer trapped in a haunted hotel room that seems to be messing with his mind, and his most personal inner demons. The effects get a bit heavy when the room starts exploding and turning into a watery grave (though the effect of a snowstorm inside the room is pretty cool), and the conclusion leaves something to be desired, but really this is a first rate psychological thriller, with Cusack giving one of his best performances, and with a great cameo by Sam Jackson as the hotel’s cautionary manager.
Ratatouille (’07): Not your typical summer children’s fare from the geniuses at Pixar; a film primarily about the love of great cuisine and the splendor and romance of Paris and Parisian eateries, this brilliantly funny and beautiful entertainment nonetheless has incredibly likable characters, a cute talking rat as it’s hero, and enough adventuresome mischief to keep the youngest of fans from getting too restless during the countless food scenes. Brad Bird, the director of “The Incredibles” and a contributor on “The Simpsons” during the show’s golden years, knows how to tell a story filled with both adventure and emotion, and here is no different, as our hero Remy, a rat who wants nothing more than to be a gourmet chef, gets his chance with the help of a bumbling kid in a failing three star restaurant, forming an unusually touching friendship between man and animal – a typically despised animal, especially for a kitchen – that finds problems with villainous head chefs, food critics, and health inspectors. A summer Pixar film is always something to celebrate, and this funny and spectacularly visual gem is one of the year’s best films.
The Two of Us (’67): Director Claude Berri’s feature film debut, an autobiographical and whimsical comedy-drama set during the occupation of France in WWII, about a young Jewish boy who goes to the country to live with a neighbor’s Catholic parents, led by the kindly old Michel Simon, a crusty anti-semite. Naturally the boy and the old grandfather become close friends, and though there’s a danger that the boy will take the old man’s somewhat racist diatribes to heart, the relationship is ultimately sweet and harmless, a kind of barrier to the horrors of the war and the occupation that can be heard in the distant rumblings and the updates on the radio.
Le Poulet (’62): Included as an extra on Criterion’s fine single disk release of “The Two of Us”, Claude Berri’s Oscar winning short film is nothing more than a film about a young boy scheming his parents into keeping a chicken marked for death, but in it’s lighthearted story and charming execution, you see the talent of a director who would go on to make such future masterpieces as “The Two of Us”, “Jean de Florette”, and “Manon of the Spring”.
by Adam Suraf