Cinema Talk

After the completely dreadful Escape from Japan, I was beginning to grow a little impatient with Yoshishige Yoshida, but this put all my fears to rest. While it is not as outrightly brilliant as The Affair, it is definitely in the same ballpark. One of the major selling points for this film is that it is the first collaboration between Yoshida and his future wife, Mariko Okada, whose presence contributes heavily to the greatness of The Affair. She is just as captivating here, even if the overall tone is slightly less serious and cold.

Shusaku, a student, finds his way to Akitsu right before the conclusion of the second World War. He is rescued and nursed back to health by a teenager named Shinko, who is an employee at the hot springs. They fall in love, and after learning of Japan’s defeat in the war, attempt suicide together. The attempt fails and the couple drifts apart just as quickly as they met. Their communication is, for three years, completely cut off. Shusaku returns to Akitsu, though, but with news. He is now married and his wife is expecting a child. To make matters worse, he seems to have no interest in reliving his memories with Shinko.

Well, this is generally considered the “melodrama” of Yoshida’s career, at least that is the conclusion from the limited group that has obtained most of his work. Indeed, it is the emotional thrust is greatly exaggerated than in his other films, but at least for my money, I’d much rather see a slightly exaggerated love story than a completely exaggerated heist film, which is what Escape from Japan is. It’s not as though the film is even trying to be a slow-paced, deliberate, and heavy on character development sort of thing, but rather a much more elusive and by result, cinematic, attempt at poetry. Like Hiroshi Shimizu before him and Wong Kar-Wai after him, Yoshida seems keen on capturing moments of poetic sadness that enhance the poignant nature of his storytelling, rather than carefully realizing full characters.

This isn’t a problem, of course, as I certainly love the works of the directors I’ve mentioned Yoshida alongside with, but unfortunately, where Shimizu and Wong are most often sublime, Yoshida does seem to struggle on the side of being overly-dramatic. Perhaps he has the disadvantage of the technology that Wong has, and being as great as Shimizu is impossible (I know – enough with the Shimizu praise already) but I still think the content is the greatest disadvantage. After all, the film is structured in a rather repetitive way: the couple meets, separate, get back together, and then repeat. It would help for him to mix things up a bit, I suppose, but on the other hand, this structure does give him plenty of time for the audience to get acquainted with the principles characters, and makes the moments of heartbreak more defiant. It is not quite up to the unique greatness of Yoshida’s The Affair but it is a great accomplishment in the same vein. Needless to say, my faith in Yoshida has been restored.

So it turns out that John Ford was just as great at making “courtroom comedies” as he was at making Westerns. At least, that what I can gather from what I’ve seen. It might just be a coincidence that this and Young Mr. Lincoln are my favorite films of his, and are so by a considerable margin. Neither films are strictly confined to a trial, but both are built around one. The more charming and funny moments do come from the proceedings, but the best parts come from Ford’s unequaled comprehension of Midwestern American life. It has that amazing sense of poetry, the kind that Ford was proficient in producing during the 30s.

William Priest has been the local judge for quite some time. His unorthodox, laid-back style isn’t exactly professional, but his personality has become woven into the fabric of the town. His nephew has recently returned home and now has a job as an attorney. When the local barber and his pals are severely beaten up by the town’s “quiet” character, it is Priest’s nephew that takes his case. This, of course, creates a possible conflict of interest, which leads many to question Priest’s fairness as a judge. In the meantime, he also sets up his nephew with a girl who, according to his nephew’s mother, isn’t up to the family tradition.

This is also notable as being the first time I’ve personally “encounter” a more direct example of Ford’s alleged racism. Judge Priest’s African American sidekick is portrayed as a baboon and speaks incoherently. While on the surface, such a characterization can understandably make some uncomfortable, it is actually somewhat progressive in a way. Ford may very well have seen all African Americans as how he portrays him in this film, but he should be given credit for actually having such characters in his films.

That’s not to say Ford was actually a forward-thinking genius or anything, but many directors would have never made the Priest’s sidekick a remotely important character. It’s also worth mentioning that not really anyone in the film comes off as being particularly smart. Will Rodger’s whole persona is just “dumb…but charming” but he never comes off as being a superior character. In fact, I think Ford’s characterization of all the characters is one of the most curious elements in the film. While it is, like many things Fordian, quite simple on the surface, it does ask for deep pondering.

Of course, calling it is “curious” is not saying it is outrightly positive. As said before, Roger’s character is stupid, but done so in a cutesy way. That’s not entirely interesting, which is unfortunate considering that he is the principle character of the story. Stepin Fetchit’s character does seem to have some mental illness, but to say his character is an attempt at generalization is harsh, if not entirely false. This is Kentucky, after all, so in all likelihood there are going to be a bunch of off-beat (to say the least) personalities and Jeff Pointdexter is such. I am not out to defend racism, of course, and I understand how his performance here (and elsewhere) could be extremely offensive, but it does say something about Ford that he is willing to show such a performance. It is still racist, obviously, but that is most likely what Kentucky was like after the Civil War. Perhaps the circumstances are not that pleasant, but sometimes, real life isn’t, either.

Not quite as great as Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln, which of course came out in the same year, but a good (if not great) film none the less. I always feel a bit inadequate approaching a film that has been so canonized over the years as it is impossible to address and/or fully comprehend all of the “important” factors of such a film. In this case, it is particularly difficult as this is essentially “ground zero” for all westerns. Thus, it does feel slightly too close to the genre’s elements, but of course, that is because this film created them! It also helps that Ford’s usual technical comprehension is present. If anyone understood how to make a great film, surely it was him.

A group of off-beat characters board a stagecoach headed for Lordsburg, but it must go through the dangerous Apache territory. On board is Dallas – a prostitute who is being driven out of town by the local “moral” police, Doc Boone – an alcoholic doctor, Lucy – a pregnant woman eager to be reunited with her husband, and Samuel Peacock – a whiskey salesman. The town marshal, Curly Wilcox, joins along while searching for Ringo Kid, who is quickly found and proceeds in joining the gang. Hatfield, the local “gambler”, also joins along, mostly due to an infatuation with Lucy.

It is quite alarming, at least to me, how much of a similarity this bears with Hiroshi Shimizu’s Arigato-san, which came two years earlier. It is very unlikely that Ford ever saw Shimizu’s film, or even had the opportunity to do so for that matter. Still, the similarity is so striking that I can’t help but bring it up. Most of the things that I like about Shimizu’s film apply here as well. Yes, Ford’s film becomes dramatic where Shimizu’s continues at a leisurely manner, but this is pretty good company for a Hollywood director to be mentioned alongside. Of course, I would never want to imply that Ford was a typical Hollywood director, but more that he was just as in tune with Renoir and Shimizu than any other directors I could think of.

Back to the film in and of itself, like in Young Mr. Lincoln, Ford’s (seemingly) dated aesthetics capture an oddly poetic tone. That’s a rather strange remark for an action film, but the action sequences, most of which were filmed on location, only add to this sensibility. The relatively hamfisted performances are another contributing factor. John Wayne is thankfully nowhere near as over-the-top as I expected him to be and in fact, has a charming type of low-keyness at times. I’m not sure if this’ll hold true in his later performances, but at this point, he had yet to slip into his iconic persona.

First, a little personal background information: about a year, Luis Buñuel was one of my favorite directors. However, it’s been about the same amount of time since I’ve last seen a film from him. Taking that into account, this probably wasn’t the best place to get re-acquainted considering how specific most of the satire is, but still, I did enjoy it a great deal. It probably doesn’t hurt that I’ve been (re)watching a lot of Mr. Show episodes lately, which definitely displays the same type of absurdism. On a similar note, this seems to have had a direct influence on Monty Python, which would account for the Mr. Show connection. In other words, a wonderful opportunity for Buñuel to flex his comedic muscles, but not quite a masterpiece.

Pierre and Jean are two drifters making their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain to visit the shrine of Saint James. Their pilgrimage is often stopped by many figures, both real (and historically relevant) and fictional. These figures all have their own absurd anecdotes, which are juggled with Pierre and Jean’s pilgrimage as well as scenes from the life of Jesus.

Like the other two films (The Phantom of Liberty and The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie) in Buñuel’s proposed trilogy, The Milky Way rejects a single and straight-forward narrative and instead, branches off into a series of sub-plots that could be seen simply as vignettes. Of course, since this is Buñuel, all of these stories seem to lack common sense, which is also what makes them so great. Perhaps some bits verge of the side of being childish, but one never gets the feeling of “weird for weirdness” sake. In other words, the more “out-there” aspects of the film work because they are not mindlessly inserted. At the same time, Buñuel does not intellectualize the meaning of his sequences. They aren’t stiff chess pieces for metaphors, but natural and believable characters in absurd situations.

What I’m saying is not all that critical or even reflective, but that only speaks to the impenetrable nature of Buñuel’s universe. To classify him simply as a surrealist would overlook some of the best things he has to offer as a filmmaker. There’s something very basic, in a positive sense, about his work. As if he has gone back to the structure of a simple story, and removed most of what is inherently implied in most films. The result is always low-key, but it perfectly compliments the quiet and deadpan humor present in almost all of his films. This is no exception. One of Buñuel’s easiest to enjoy, as well as one of his most outrightly humorous.

A decent and perfectly harmless movie, but not anything particularly special. There’s a good chance that this is only deemed “relevant” by film cannons because it is John Ford’s last film. In Ford’s defense, it doesn’t even seem like he is attempting to make a remotely serious film. In that sense, it would probably make for a solid double bill with Nicholas Ray’s Johnny Guitar. It’s not as outrightly campy and silly as Ray’s film, but it is a feminist western of sorts. Of course, one will have to make a little logical jump as a film that takes place in China isn’t technically a western, but still, this plays out like one anyway.

Dr. D.R. Cartwright arrives at her newest place of employment, a Christian mission in North China, with several skeptics. Her modern ways clash greatly with that of the stiff, conservative Agatha Andrews, who seemingly runs the mission. Cartwright drinks, swears, and most importantly, doesn’t believe in God. Needless to say, she quickly gets under Andrews’ skin, who intends to fire her in a short time. Her plans are thwarted when the mission is taken over by a Mongolian warlord. On top of everything, Mrs. Pethers, the wife of Charles Pether (the mission’s lone male), goes into labor.

Initially, it is (oddly) amusing to see Ford handle so many atypical themes. As mentioned earlier, this is a film largely centered around women and it takes place in North China of all places. In other words, about as far away as one can get from one of Ford’s usual films. Still, it is pretty much standard Ford affair, which is certainly not a problem with me. It does indeed turn into a western, and even then, it is not up to the standards of, say, Anthony Mann and/or Nicholas Ray. My inexperience with westerns clearly shows here, as this is only the second John Ford film I’ve seen (the other being the great Young Mr. Lincoln) so excuse the ignorance.

With that all said, I’m sure there’s a lot more here that the film can offer, if only on a more contextual level. Since Ford was accused of being racist, and most likely, of being sexist, it is pretty interesting to see what is essentially a reaction to such claims. In some ways, all the feminist content can be seen as somewhat of parody on Ford’s part, which isn’t to say that he is an evil misogynist (nor am I) but just nice to see the whole “I am woman hear me roar” taken down a peg by the complications of real life. Of course, the film isn’t exactly “realistic” but the ending, which is where most of my previous statement is drawn from, is open-ended and perplexing where it could have so easily been hokey.