Cinema Talk

Maybe it’s just the fact that I haven’t watched a “long static shots depicting alienation” type film in a long time, but this is seriously one of the greatest films to be filed under the faux-genre. It is not unlike Tsai Ming-Liang’s films with its surreal moments of transgressive activity, but the overall mood is even more somber and more “gritty.” In fact, it also can filed under a Dardennes-style social drama but with much more mature camerawork. It can be most accurately described as poignant, static, deadpan sort of film with a sense of glue-sniffing aesthetics. Not only a great movie, but one of the most technically breathtaking achievements in all of cinema.

Teenage mom Tina has no clue what to do with her newborn baby. She seems slightly suicidal, so the baby’s father (who remains unnamed) decides to take the baby and head for the streets of Lisbon. He uses the baby as a prop for panhandling, which is how he meets a Nurse by the name of Eduard. She takes him and the baby in, and begins attending to both. Her relationship with the father doesn’t exactly blossom as he tends to keep quiet, but the tension is there.

Describing Ossos probably makes it sound a lot less interesting than it is. The plot bears some similarities to L’Enfant but only on paper. Most of the film focuses on very unassuming moments in the lives of these characters and occasionally, presents them doing some befuddling. Like Tsai, Costa seems to capture his best moments from observing superficially mundane activities. His approach will not appeal to everyone, obviously, but those who it does appeal to, know exactly who they are. In the case of Costa’s accessibility, it certainly helps that he has one of the most beautiful and captivating actresses ever in Mariya Lipkina, to perform the “mundane” activities.

That isn’t to say this is just another long static shots / alienation film, because Costa has plenty of quirks to separate his film from others. I went into this issue a bit in my review for Maria Speth’s The Days Between, which is a film that has everything right in place, but doesn’t have anything special, so to speak, to separate it from its like-minded peers. Costa, on the other hand, has plenty of things to be more than just a Tsai clone, which is fine too, by the way! If anything, he is the more innovative and experimental of the two. He has the same saturated visual look, but uses it in a much more subtle (and perhaps, more effective) manner. The lower-class setting, filled with plenty of distinct sights and sounds brings to mind the texture of Hector Babenco’s Pixote if it were as attentive as an Ulrich Kohler film. All these names may seem to downplay Costa’s unique style, but they are just desperate “starting points” for a stunned viewer.

Another great western from Anthony Mann, though this is actually only the first one I’ve seen with James Stewart, who I’m not particularly fond of. Still, under Mann’s control, he does deliver one of his better performances. It probably helps that, like many of Mann’s heroes, Stewart doesn’t really have much to say. This bodes well for the film for two reasons, one because the audience doesn’t have to deal with Stewart’s far too familiar voice that often and two, it reinforces the “contemplative” nature of Mann’s cinema as well as the notion that he is pretty much the best genre film director ever.

Bounty hunter Howard Kemp captures long time rival and outlaw, Ben Vandergroat and plans to turn him in for the $5,000 reward. However, he needed the help of Roy Anderson and Jesse Tate to do so. The men reluctantly decide that they must split the money three ways. Greed begins to get the best of everyone and to make things worse, the trip is taking much longer than expected. In addition, Howard begins to fall for Ben’s girlfriend, Lina Patch, which only deepens the complications of the scenario.

Of the “psychological westerns” (as critics have penned them) that Mann made in the mid to late 50s, this is probably the least subtle. The back story of Howard Kemp and his wife’s betrayal is a nice touch, but Mann’s hints at it are pretty obvious. There’s one particularly embarrassing sequence in which a dazed Kemp starts speaking to Lina as though she was his ex-fiancé. I would have greatly preferred for such exposition to end at the little mention that Robert Ryan makes at the very beginning. Other than that, though, this is standard Mann, which is to say it is pretty much amazing. I missed the widescreen compositions present in The Tin Star and God’s Little Acre but the addition of technicolor provides for some of the most lush visuals moments in the history of Hollywood filmmaking. Then again, I expect nothing less from Mann.

Without question, the best John Ford film I’ve seen so far. While it understandably seems silly and juvenille on the surface, it is also by far the most mature and complex of Ford’s work. Yes, this is a film about rednecks and yes, a lot of them are fit into clichés but their world is still one of disappointment and regret. There is an in comparable sense of sadness underlying every scene, and that includes the bits that are outright slapstick. It’s probably also worth acknowledging that not one particular character in the film is sympathetic nor is anyone the voice of reason, with the exception of Captain Tim, who only makes two short appearances anyway. Instead, Ford paints a subtly devastating and heartbreaking portrait of people. Most people will see the Lester family as pathetic, but that doesn’t make their story any less tragic.

Jeeter Lester and his wife, Ada Lester have kept their family together through dozens of children. Every since they were first married, they have lived in a small log cabin. Now, they only have two children living with them, Dude and Ellie May. Jeeter’s sister, Bessie Rice (though not his real sister?) comes into town and falls for his son, Dude. His intelligence (or lack there of) does not make difference, and before the day is over, the two decide to get married. Jeeter approves of the spontaneous decision because he anticipates that Bessie can help the family out with money. Before the week ends, Jeeter has to scrap up $100, or else the family will be relocated.

I do this a bit too often, but I can’t help but draw a parallel between Ford’s film and (yes, you guessed – or didn’t!) Harmony Korine’s Gummo. If there is anyone likely to be the “Ford of our generation” it is Korine, as his vision of Midwest is as startling yet oddly poetic as Ford’s. The poetry of Korine’s film is a bit more apparent, due to its formal experimentation, but considering the time, Ford does attempt many unorthodox things in the technical department. Nothing physically different I suppose, but his whole visual style here seems far more rich than anything else that came out at the time. Of course, such rich visuals present some superficially “disgusting” images, which is exactly what Gummo would do so many years later.

Underscoring all the moments of redneckism and craziness, is an uncomfortable sense of tragedy. Not of a Greek mythological kind, but a sense that is far more subtle. A tragedy that comes from memories, not from physical misfortunes. Nothing specifically bad even happens in the film. As one can expect, the family doesn’t get the money together to pay off their debt, but it is the gradual process that Ford takes us on, that is bursting with poignant moments. Even with all this, none of the intended comedy turn out bad. In fact, it goes completely as planned, and creates the perfect balance between the moodier sequences. This is what cinema is all about, people.

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.