Cinema Talk

I was actually expecting this to be a lot more old-fashioned than the subsequent films in the “M. Hulot” series. Even at the very beginning of his career, Tati had a knack for long, uninterrupted takes with very little dialogue. Actually, I found this to be a bit more contemplative and relaxed than Trafic, which felt a little over-edited at certain points. Here, the cuts are much more gentle but still precise, not unlike Ozu’s famed “pillow-shots.” In fact, M Hulot’s Holiday does play out a bit like a full-length feature of pillow-shots, which indicates its best qualities as well as its worst.

Monsieur Hulot goes on holiday at a seaside resort, but his presence leads to anything but rest and relaxation for those around him. No matter what he’s doing, he always seems to bring out the worst of a situation. Even when he first enters the resort, he produces an unpleasant experience for the other residence of the resorts. His unintentional clown act invites the attention of a young woman named Martine. She finds Hulot extremely charming, though probably for reasons that Hulot himself is not aware of. As expected, there relationship never quite gets going due to all the comedic problems that come with Hulot.

Like all of Tati’s films, this one is a bit limited by the fact that it is a series of visual slapstick comedy gags spread out for a full feature. Many of the bits are wonderful, funny, and sometimes even truthful but others go on for too long. There is something limiting about all of Tati’s films, in the sense that they are confined to the same sort of emotional level. That isn’t to say that all of Tati’s films are empty, but that they never go beyond the poignancy that comes with Monsieur Hulot’s hijinks. Yes, there is a somewhat sad story underneath all of the laughs, but it feels too unimportant overall. As it stands, Play Time is the most perfect representation of Tati reaching something emotionally substantial while still being completely entertaining. This comes close, but it still seems like Tati is trying to figure himself out, in a cinematic sense.

So as it turns out, Kenji Mizoguchi had already perfected his tragic cinematic vision quite early in his career. Here we already see motifs and themes that would dominate some of his best and worst work. Of course, the general tone is melodrama, as it is in almost all of Mizoguchi’s films, but the key component in assessing all of Mizoguchi’s films lie in how he handles such melodrama and here he does so beautifully. The bruised and beaten state of the film’s source print perfectly compliments its unorthodox sensibility. At times, one gets the feeling that this film is actually intended to be some sort of “highlight reel” for what was initially a production with a much wider in scope.

Taki no Shiraito is a strong-willed and independent young women who makes a living as a water magician, that is, she puts on a water “juggling” act with a traveling carnival troupe. One day, she encounters a young rickshaw-driver named Kinya, who turns out to be her masculine equivalent. When she gets Kinya fired from his job, she feels obligated to provide alternative options for his future. She lends him money to pay off for school finances in Tokyo and Kinya begins working hard, determined to make the most of such an opportunity.

From there, the narrative shifts its focus from the young lovers to Taki and the rest of the traveling carnival troupe, depicting the several roadblocks they hit during a long winter. It is through these events that leads the film to its final punch-in-the-gut with an ironic and sad twist. In other hands, such shrill content would seem melodramatic, but in Mizoguchi’s care, the absurd situation contributes to the feeling of complete heartbreak shared between the two protagonists.

What separates this from Mizoguchi’s later tragedies, like Chikamatsu Monogatari, is how quickly so much time is covered. With the addition of the benshi narration taken into account, the film does play out a bit like some sort of highlight reel for a longer, more conventionally paced movie. Perhaps this imply a negative reaction on my part, but I have to admit that the abandonment of usual dramatic film pacing was more than welcomed and certainly enjoyable to watch unfold. It’s not one of Mizoguchi’s greatest cinematic achievements, like say Life of Oharu, but it was one of his few films that succeeds under the category of melodrama.

Considering that this is most likely Hiroshi Shimizu’s most famous and popular film, it is a bit disappointing to discover that it only hints at his overall greatness. Don’t get me wrong, this is a wonderful film, but it feels slightly less important, for lack of a better word, than his best work. It is perhaps too easy-going and carefree, both of which are terms I’ve grown accustomed to with Shimizu. However, in this case, his cinematic sensibility might just get the best of him and reaches the point that the film ultimately comes off as somewhat of a parody. These problems are pretty small and easy to disregard, though. Mostly just disappointing in the scope of Shimizu’s masterful career, but still a great film.

Zenta and his younger and less mature brother, Sampei, find their lives changing in a big way when their father is fired and then arrested due to charges of embezzlement. Their mother can’t take care of both of them so she decides to send the younger Sampei to live with his uncle. Sampei fails to adjust to his new home, though, and he rebels by climbing dangerous trees and floating in a tub down a river. His behavior at his uncle’s does not differ greatly from his behavior at home but his uncle responds differently than his mother, and sends him back home.

While this isn’t the best Shimizu film I’ve seen so far (not the weakest, either) it is probably the best starting point for one unfamiliar with his work. It does layout and present many of the thematic materials that would play a large part not only in Shimizu’s career, but the careers of his peers as well. Basing a film around two young trouble-making boys who have been deprived of a parental figure is something relevant in Ozu’s work during the 30s as well. This doesn’t subtract from the overall experience as Shimizu captures plenty of fantastic moments that are great on their own. One of the most memorable sequences being the one in which the two boys decide to “play Olympics” which involves re-enacting a swimming event inside their home.

Such moments help reinforce the very playful nature of Shimizu’s cinematic world, but it is perhaps almost too playful in this particular case. Again, this is not Shimizu’s worst film by any stretch. In fact, I’d say it is one of his greatest, but the aforementioned “playful” tone is constantly altering between being plotless and being inconsequential. The former is intended to be the positive description, the later is the slightly negative. I admire, hell even love, Shimizu’s disregard for drama but some sort of emotional thrust would have helped in this case.

A fine example would be relationship between Chishu Ryu and Kinuyo Tanaka in Kanzashi. It can be argued that the two boys have plenty of “internal drama” losing their father, but most of the time, we only see them being little boys. In retrospect, this was probably the right route on Shimizu’s part, but still the two boys seem a little flat and I mean this only in an ultra-critical and intangible way. It would be a little easier to say that there seems to be something missing here that keeps me from putting it alongside Kanzashi and Arigato-san but I’m not sure what that thing is. Whatever the case, I’d still say this is a masterpiece from one of the greatest directors ever.

As far as I’m concerned, this is absolutely one of the very best films of the 1930s, if not the very best. It probably helps a great deal that King Vidor seems to have been a big influence on many of my favorite Japanese directors of the same time period. However, what is even greater is how the narrative goes a predictable route for so long only to spit in the face of every sports film cliché at the very end. It is probably also worth mentioning that this came before sports films clichés were even established, which makes the downbeat ending all the more remarkable.

Andy, or “The Champ” as he is often called, is a long retired boxer living alone with his son, Dink. He hopes his boxing career can make a comeback but booze and gambling seem to be his highest priorities. He is able to maintain a life for him and his son with a string of good luck, which goes so far that he ends up buying his son a horse. Dink is eager to enter his new horse, who he affectionately names “Little Champ”, into a race. At the racetrack, Dink bumps into Linda, who simply seems like a friendly lady, but as it turns out, is actually Dink’s mother. Now aware of her son’s existence, she tries to buy him from Andy, but Dink is too attached to his father.

By only watching one of his films, I can already tell that Vidor deserves to be mentioned alongside Shimizu and Renoir, who both seem to have been greatly influenced by him. He definitely hasthe same sort of visual resourcefulness, not to mention an equally poetic overall tone. Perhaps all of this is slightly abstract to explain, especially when a plot description of the film in question sounds melodramatic on paper, but needless to say, Vidor’s visual style is pretty fantastic. Just as bland shots of two people talking were beginning to become the norm in Hollywood, Vidor was busy filling his films with painterly compositions. It might sound a little extreme, but I don’t think a single shot in the film is a waste; every frame is essential.

Now, the much more difficult part to assess, the melodramatic “tearjerker” aspect of which the film has been categorized as. While I admit, Vidor provides obvious indications of when the tone is shifting, he doesn’t play to the audience’ expectations in the least. Well, at least modern audiences. Today, the ideal ending would be for Andy to win his fight and then triumphantly carry his son on his soldiers. Honestly, there are plenty of signs that it will end in such a way, which makes the ultimately “melodramatic” conclusion all the more abrupt and thus, all the more believable. It is a bit hard to explain in words, but it will make sense when one views the film. Perhaps this saying is used too much to describe films, but it is does indicate that Vidor’s accomplishment is exactly that, an accomplishment.

A wonderful, Tati-tinged comedy that hopefully announces one of the future greats of cinematic minimalism in director Eran Kolirin. If the film has any downfaults on the technical side of things, than it’s that the first time director feels slightly uncomfortable holding his shots for a certain amount of time as he often retreats to conventional shot/reverse-shot conversation compositions. One could complain that the story itself is far too inconsequential since very little drama actually occurs, but it perfectly compliments the overall tone. It’s not the sort of film to make a striking impact on someone, but it is wonderful none the less.

A police brass band from Egypt arrives in Israel for a performance, but due to miscommunication, they take the wrong bus. They wind up in a town far from where they intended to be. The lost group wanders around the desert before stumbling upon a small diner. The diner’s owner, Dina, invites the entire group to stay at the her home. The night proceeds awkwardly, as expected, but connections are made and all of the band’s members begin to settle in to their respective temporary shelters.

The deadpan tone is sometimes at risk, here, with slight intrusions coming from the sometimes sappy scores and juxtaposition of far-away static shots with extreme close-ups. I have to admit, I didn’t expect this to be remotely unique. I figured it would have been mostly long static shots of nothing happening, which are indeed present, but with plenty of shot/reverse shot sequences of conversation that go against the restrained approach. On the other hand, most of the talking is handled quite well with a pitch-perfect sense of tension that is always present, regardless of who is speaking. Even if the conversations go on for too long, there’s always a very subtle yet bold saturated visual style for the film to fall back on. A nice little slice-of-life sort of movie, but it seems destined to be forgotten.