I Want You (1998)

9 08 2012

Michael Winterbottom had actually been making movies for almost ten years by the time this project was released. It’s still one of his earlier (and lesser known) full-length efforts. Weirdly, it seems like the culmination of an entire career with Winterbottom touching upon things he would later explore later and with greater depth. Sure, the influence of Wong Kar Wai and Kieslowski is so obvious it is almost obnoxious, but it’s never a terrible idea to draw upon your influences when you have the technical prowess to back it up. There’s no denying the beauty of this movie, even as it takes a rather shaky turn towards being a thriller. It still feels grounded in spite of its dramatic conclusion and if it wasn’t, it would still be a enormous aesthetic accomplishment.

Slawomir Idziak, longtime collaborator with the aforementioned Kieslowski, is the man responsible for the visuals. They seem heavily indebted to Kieslowski even as they anticipate the art house trends of the approaching decade. The heavy blue filter look is produced here about five years before it became something of an cliche. The yellow filter that frames the country landscapes (perhaps anticipating The Trip) feels a little overdone at times, but the results are still undeniable. It’s one of those rare pieces where certain shots are absolutely framed intentionally, but the film manages to evoke a natural energy. It’s not just about juxtaposing a composition with a steadicam take, it’s about a filmmaker maintaining an intimacy with their images.

That sounds like a bunch of garbage, but it does lead to an excellent illustration and it’s where the Wong influence comes in. I hate saying things like intimate images because it treads the line of being pretentious, but the closeness of the images, within the widescreen frame takes a certain talent. In a way, this almost anticipates Wong’s own 2046, which is arguably his best looking film, but it along with In the Mood for Love definitely announced a shift: the kinetic pace of his 90s work was gone, now there was something more mature. I don’t mean to get too off-topic but that split in Wong’s work represents a line that this film is balancing on. It’s deliberate but provides a spontaneous energy, a sensation not unlike the one produced by the work of Winterbottom’s country(wo)man, Andrea Arnold. She accomplishes this in a very different way, ending up more on the “gritty” end of things, where as this is clearly more glossy.

In the review of The Woman on the Beach I mention the potential appeal of having characters with unclear motivations, or “opaque” characterizations. This is applicable here in a film where the most impressive moments are the placement of characters, not a deeper probing of their pysche. They are still interesting, mind you, but they are not a deliberate focus. There are more beautiful, individual moments that slowly connect into a narrative. This creates something of a problem as the film slowly scoots its way to becoming a thriller. It happens so subtly, it’s almost unnoticeable, and it’s not at all jarring when the “plot” stuff has to be carried out in the film’s conclusion.

The film still ends open-ended enough, I suppose, but there is something unappealing about framing this as a neo-noir. It has genre elements, obviously, but it such a far cry from being “genre cinema.” There is something very impressive about balancing art and genre, especially if it is unexpected, but I Want You seems to be only formed from a genre template, being filled in with something more distinctly driven by its technical/visual artistry, not a storytelling one. Sometimes the pieces fit, but most of the time it feels weird.

These are really minor complaints. Most of the film’s actual content is effective. The curiosity of Honda is hard to not relate to, and his experiences have a poignancy, reaffirmed by the abstraction in which they are presented. His recording of conversations seems like such a move of the influences I’ve already mentioned, but there is still something distinct about his character, perhaps even distinctly British. The muddy countryside that houses Honda and his sister Smokey is many miles away from the nightclubs and motels of Wong, the studio apartments and cafes of Kieslowski. It’s a new poetry, even as it borrows the rhetoric from the past.





The Woman on the Beach (1947)

7 08 2012

There’s no discussion of Renoir’s final American film, Woman on the Beach, that fails to mention the mutilation of the film. It was test-screened in front of an audience and the film’s inability to follow a straightforward narrative confused many. The film that exists today is only 70 minutes. I mention this not as a history lesson (though it is interesting enough) but more as that a reoccurring criticism is the film’s incompleteness. Many say that the characters aren’t fleshed out enough, their motivations seem as murky as the waters that invade Robert Ryan’s nightmare in the film’s opening. This is unintentionally a strength, though.

This is loosely considered a noir and the story follows a noir template in that a helpless man is unfairly seduced by a evil, evil woman. The inherent misogyny in the characterization of a “femme fatale” is less evident here. Again, this might be a result of the film’s extensive trimming but Joan Bennett’s Peggy never feels tactical or scheming. The attraction developing between her and Scott (Robert Ryan) occurs so quickly. Perhaps develop is the wrong phrase since their affair seems to happen on a whim, while Scott is in the middle of deciding his future with the much more calm Eve. The point being is that the film’s limiting time provides characters that are opaque. There’s a very elliptical nature of the film, even if it was just the by product of poor editing.

The lack of fleshed out characters seems likely from the film’s opening sequence, in which the audience is introduced to Scott’s inner most thoughts before they’re even introduced to him. Renoir himself called the opening rather avant-garde. It feels that way, although it is also kind of hysterically old-fashioned and cheesy. There’s images faded on top of images in a garish fashion, with the not so subtle reminder of the film’s location (hint: it’s in the title) and this is all before the film bothers to tell you anything. This all sounds like a tongue-in-cheek criticism on my parts, but it is fascinating how many Hollywood “mistakes” take this from a standard noir proceeding to something haunting.

Perhaps that’s the greatest encapsulation of the film: it’s a collection of oddities, slight mis-steps from conventional storytelling that make it something truly special. Where as Swamp Water was bizarre and beautiful as a result of the content and photography, Woman on the Beach is compelling in spite of its story, which seems like it would be stuck in the mud if it weren’t for Renoir’s touch. It’s not even a trademark touch on his part, the film is rather unremarkable looking from his high standards. The film is already an oddity as it is, but it feels weird even within the scope of Renoir’s short-lived career in America.

The acting is weirdly the hallmark here. Robert Ryan trading off with Charles Bickford (as Tod)  is utterly fascinating. Twice they have conversations in which both characters seem self-conscious of the subtext. The scene where they talk about going fishing is the best example of this. Both Tod and Scott are conscious of the dangerous storm outside, as well as their mutual hatred, but they carry on the mundane conversation. Peggy is also aware of this but makes no effort to stop what could possibly kill both men until they leave. Again, the actions and motivations of the film’s main three can be called in to question but that’s what makes the film all the more fascinating.

The film ends up Tod’s cathartic burning of his painting, and the implication seems to be that Peggy is ready to stay with him, but again, the film prides itself on avoiding any answers as much as it does on setting up any questions. It’s hard to not sound vague when talking about this film. Who are these people and why did we watch them? In the end, we don’t even know what happens to them, but that’s the best thing about it. It’s a short character study and the audience isn’t given much to learn from. This is a good thing, and it’s a really good movie.