Cinema Talk

As I expected, this is a pretty lightweight late effort from John Ford. Nothing really noteworthy, but not a terrible way to spend 108 minutes, either. It’s good that it doesn’t take itself seriously at all, because honestly, it’s one of the silliest films I’ve ever watched. Right from start, it’s evident that this was a fun and easygoing project from Ford, Wayne, and Lee Marvin. Maybe all of them were reeling from the success of  The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance? Whatever the case, this was a rather relaxing experience having viewed some of Ford’s more ponderous efforts lately.

On a technical level, there’s nothing really special, either. In all honesty, I think Ford lost a lot of Murnau’s influence once color and wide screen came the norm for the studio system. There’s something dreadfully simple about almost all of his post-60s efforts. It’s not that he isn’t trying, but more that his content, as well as his film stock, doesn’t exactly scream expressive. This is especially the case here, where the visuals are very bright, but thankfully, not gaudy. At best, the visuals here remind me of Ozu’s color efforts. It probably doesn’t hurt that the Hawaiian music has the same laid back tone as the music in most of Ozu’s later films.

Laid back and easygoing are pretty good adjectives for the film as a whole. There’s plenty of “flaws” I suppose, but it doesn’t seem like anyone who was working on the production cares. In that case, I suppose this definitely is “fluff” but there’s something much more genuine and sincere about a phoned-in effort from 1960s Hollywood than there is in a recent trashy studio effort. It’s escapist entertainment, and it definitely understands its function as such. There is no attempt at being anything more than what it is. If that sounds vague, then I’d recommend just watching the movie. It’s an enjoyable experience, and I’d guarantee that one is  likely to feel better afterwards.

Like Philippe Garrel, the Dardennes have strayed very little from their usual style with their latest effort. At times, the plot becomes a bit too important (if that makes sense) but overall, it is definitely the same thing I’ve come to learn and love from them. If there’s any sign of change here, it’s that they seem to be slowly drifting into the realm of the crime genre. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a genre film by any stretch of the imagination, but their past two efforts have featured some criminal drama elements. It’s not a problem here or in L’Enfant, but I still find this thematic progression (if one can even call it that) more than a tad bit interesting.

As I already mentioned, the story here is more than a little bit absurd. A young Albanian couple dreams of having their own cafe. To secure the money, they agree to a bizarre settlement in which Lorna must marry a heroin addict. This all sounds a little bit ridiculous, but the exposition does not come in that order. It is slowly revealed that Lorna is not and has never been in love with her husband, Claudy. Instead he’s part of the deal. His likely death will leave Lorna and Sokol enough money to live out their dreams. This dream, though, is not introduced into the frame until the second half.

Taking this into account, I strongly recommend not to read any plot synopsis of the film, including this review. (I realize I probably should have mentioned that earlier.) If one knows all the details of every relationship than almost all of the narrative’s dramatic drive is absent. Of course, Dardenne fans know exactly what they’re getting into here – the characters’ back stories make up only a fraction of the film’s positives. Anyone who has seen a Dardenne picture before will not be surprised by the usual tracking handheld aesthetic, but it is worth mentioning that the camera moves in a much more fluid manner here. In addition, the visuals here are a bit more pronounced than usual. Not quite as expressive as 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days but certainly more poetic than L’Enfant. On the other hand, maybe it is just the abundance of neon lights that gives me this impression.

It should go without saying that the performances are pretty excellent all around, but Arta Dobroshi is particularly impressive. She pretty much has to be considering a majority of the film is tracking shots of her walking around. According to the not so trustworthy folks at IMDB, she knew hardly any French before she was casted. Did I say she was impressive yet? There are a few moments that border on melodrama, but it seems that she always grounds the other less subtle performers. Whatever the case, she’s absolutely wonderful and I definitely look forward to seeing more of her.

More of the same from Garrel here, he isn’t going to convert any non-believers with this effort, but he is going to satisfy the taste buds of his fans. Personally, I have no problems whatsoever with his world consisting of attractive and depressed people falling love with other attractive and depressed people. Sure, it’s not ground breaking or even a slight alteration in the scope of his career, but it is pretty good for what it is. If there’s really anything I can out of this film that I wouldn’t from Garrel’s other recent efforts its that seemingly all “romantic” modern French directors are fascinated by super natural concepts.

The still slightly unrecognized Jean-Pierre Civeyrac is probably the best example of this phenomenon. In almost all of his most recent films, a character is haunted by a recently deceased character. Obviously, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that Through the Forest isn’t a film interested in scaring the audience or even surprising them. Instead, all these recent ghost love stories have just changed some specifics to the whole nostalgic romance tone of Wong Kar-Wai. I admire both Civeyrac and Garrel for attempting to produce more accurate depictions of ghosts, but maybe mainstream film has just diluted the power of such a concept. In that respect, I can’t help but laugh when a dead Laura Smet talks to Louis Garrel through a mirror.

Unlike Civeyrac’s ghost stories, Garrel introduces the ghost-to-be during her existence as a living human being, as opposed to a dead one. There’s merits in both narrative routes, but I personally align my tastes more towards Civeyrac’s as I think it is closer to the aforementioned tone of nostalgic romance. Garrel’s narrative plays out in a rather straight-forward way. Smet and Garrel fall in love, complications ensues, Smet dies, and Garrel tries to move on. He, as one might expect, fails and this provides much of the drive for the film’s final fourty minutes or so.

While I completely understand, and in some respects, agree with the criticism Garrel has recieved, I found the best sequences to be the closet to self-parody. The early sequences between Smet and Garrel aren’t all that different from any number of scenes Garrel has made in the past ten years, but the half-hearted attempt at trying something new may indicate that Garrel should stay in his comfort zone. Assuming he does, I’ll always be willing to eat it up.

Yoshida’s getting warmer with this one, but he still has yet to live up to Joen / The Affair. Some of his trademark themes are already well established in this, his first real “art” film, but they aren’t approached with the same confidence of his later films. On the other hand, some of the lame surrealistic touches, so prevalent in his later films, are toned down a bit here. From time to time, the film seems to have a very laid back approach, almost the antithesis of the precise, structured mentality of Yoshida’s most renowned efforts.

This was actually Yoshida’s second collaboration with his wife-to-be Mariko Okada, but their first film, Akitsu Springs is a much more “classier” one. Maybe some melodrama carried over into the next part of Yoshida’s career, but their first collaboration shares very little in common with the usually transgressive aesthetic of the Japanese New Wave. It is here that Yoshida first begins to show signs of what he’s known and loved for – formally driven, sensual, and bizarre depictions of some of the most dysfunctional relationships in all of cinema.

The story here, which is filled with some beautifully rendered ellipses, follows a young man about to enter a marriage. He begins to think back to his childhood and the incestuous experiences he shared with his mother, as well as other various sexual scenarios. Although there are very little dramatic “events” in the narrative itself, there is an overwhelming sense of heavy tension underscoring the chronologically scattered sequences. No doubt about it, the elliptical nature of the narrative definitely gives Yoshida’s world a much needed boost of energy. It’s not so much that his characters are quiet, but instead that I constantly get an overwhelmingly ponderous tone from their interactions.

I might be mistakened, but I’m pretty confident that Joen had at least a few ellipses here and there. I guess in my continuing search for a Yoshida film that lives up to it, I forgot to factor in this technique. In all of my recent Yoshida viewings, the story proceeds in a very straightforward and simple fashion. This is fine, I suppose, but it doesn’t exactly compliment Yoshida’s extremely formalistic style. Instead, it kind of clashes with it. That’s not the case here, however as the story consistently shifts between past and present and constantly builds a more complete picture of its central protagonists. In fact, I’d say the characters here are the most fleshed-out I’ve seen in any Yoshida film, which has to count for something. That said, Joen remains my favorite, but I’ve also been reassured of Yoshida’s talent.

A step up from Flame and Woman but I still have yet to be as impressed with a Yoshida film as I was with The Affair. I suppose I’ll always have a bias for that film as it served as an introduction into his cinematic world. Based on my last two Yoshida experiences, I’m beginning to think that he repeated himself a little bit too often. The narrative here comes close to lapsing into self-parody. A woman has an affair and a man tries to blackmail her? It’s so obviously a “Yoshida story” that it feels a little bit forced. Thankfully, Yoshida’s wonderful visuals and a great performance by Mariko Okada save the film was being tainted by some of its less savory elements.

Another problem I’m developing with Yoshida is his perchance for overt “weirdness” which comes on far too strong in this film. I admit, the narrative isn’t all that captivating to me in the first place (if only because I feel like I’ve seen it before) but the overuse of “surreal” music does nothing to help the film’s case. All of Yoshida’s films would have benefited greatly from a much less expressive soundtrack. The tone here is very Lynch-ian, but it’s almost entirely because of the music. Had Yoshida just used natural sounds, this would be a deadpan masterpiece. It’s bad enough that the atmosphere is forced down the audience throat, but its worse because it is developed so half-heartedly.

Having said all that, this is still pretty fantastic, if only for Yoshida’s pitch-perfect balance between extended hand held tracking shots and more precise shots along the lines of Antonioni. The only non-Yoshida film I can think of that achieves a similar balance is 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days of all things. It should say a lot that it took more than 40 years for people to catch up with Yoshida. I may never develop an interest in his repetitive narratives, but the way in which they are executed, is absolutely brilliant.

Yoshida, thankfully, has more than just formal brilliance to fall back. He also has his wife, Mariko Okada, one of Japan’s greatest performers of all-time. She’s excellent here. Truth be told, she’s not doing much different from her other collaborations with her husband, but she manages to impressive me anyway. Combine her physical beauty with the poetry of Yoshida’s visuals and the result is something gorgeous, even if the context isn’t all that fascinating.