Herzog, Baby.

Film shots I like. James.

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A Spring for the Thirsty Directed by Yuri Ilyenko (1965) 

A man who lives by a well is turning over all the photo-frames hanging up in house. He turns his back to them and sighs. But, memory creeps in all the same. This well outside his home used to be a place where travellers passed, and friends and family would come to rest their feet and lend a hand. Those times seem far gone, presented in blown out footage with the white’s made near blinding. Memory made to be something that is blinding. Blind to the present, blind to what good can come from them, and blind to where our life can go. He seems so lost in the past that the present and his subconscious blend into each other. The more forthrightly surrealist flourishes are blended with the uncanny. Like a lot of Soviet films from this era (that I’ve seen) it’s so endlessly pretty. If I watch a film through my laptop (hooked up to TV) I’ll sometimes go through it afterwards and take screenshots of images I liked and such (unless it’s rented on a service that doesn’t allow that for some reason). I ended up taking 29 which is the most I’ve done recently. Here’s a lil taste to get a sense of how good this film looks through sometimes simple compositions- . All in all, it packs a lot in a small package with pinches of Tarr, Bunuel, Vlacil, and more.

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The Blood of a Poet Directed by Jean Cocteau (1932)- The first of the Orphic Trilogy is a series of vignettes as a poet explores the root of his art and more. Straight away art connects with pain, scars with voice. His hand literally channels his voice, what with a mouth appearing on it. Cocteau seems to have an affinity for the broken, with the seemingly impure shown to have the purest of interiors. “Do you think it’s that easy… to close the mouth of a wound.” Pain being a source of inspiration and meaning is a common concept, but Cocteau’s visualisation of it is novel and engaging. Most importantly layered through the images presented. Quite a short film and packed with images and moments that stuck with me, and clearly others too as even in a few pics above one can see an influence on Under the Skin, Inception, and more.     

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Othello Directed by Orson Welles (1952)- Haven’t posted in a while, but hey here’s some of Welles’ Othello. Wherein all are swamped, defined, and directed by the constructs surrounding them. Class, race, gender, everything; every channel society creates has us funnelled down a particular path. Through architecture Welles highlights our fragility within a concrete structure. Contrasted with intimacy, our inner lives show promise of being free from such systems. Yet, ultimately, some beliefs are so ingrained they are easily exploited. The individual seems so lost, so disposable, in a world long set. Even love, that which seems to flow outside of these bonds, has its own slew of expectations and preconceptions that constrain and corrupt like everything else. How Welles retains the text yet contorts it to be completely cinematic is brilliant. Like too many Othello adaptations it will be forever marred by not having a black actor play the title role.  I think I’m gonna try do this more regularly again. 

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Kwaidan Directed by Masaki Kobayashi (1964)- Kwaidan opens with a telling opening credits sequence. We see in close up different coloured inks floating around in water. That on its own is a neat effect, but also shows what this film will be. Disparate stories and ideas will be thrown together and create this fresh new enticing whole. That’s what basically all anthology films aspire to, but few do that this well. We’re treated to a series of traditional Japanese spook-tales shot predominantly in beautifully constructed, coloured, and lit set spaces. It’s like the prettiest moments in Shaw Brothers films and the best of Powell & Pressburger’s studio work. Forthrightly surreal in the way some strands of classical Japanese horror can be, with Junji Ito and Kiyoshi Kurosawa coming to mind, and becomes a collage of images and themes that get underlined by the perplexing. It’s often less pointed than the directness of Samurai Rebellion or Harakiri but that completely fits both the unknowability of the other realms seemingly existing alongside our own as well as the anthology structure. Some anthology films with looser ties can be unsatisfying for that reason, but not this. Formally everything fits so well as does the feel that I can’t imagine watching these stories any other way. There are so many brilliant little touches amidst the big bold ones. Like how sound, or the lack of it, is used. Horrors bringing forth silence has a power to it as things like Lost Highway and A Field in England show, and this is an early example of how affective and effective that can be. One of the prevailing themes is our past and our legacy; strictly things out of our immediate view, things that are hypothetical or only accessible through memory and imagination, but which will have a huge impact on the totality of our life. That may be the one major thing to take away from a film like this- so much of what will define our lives is the unknowable, unpredictable, and uncontrollable. How we respond to these things is ultimately all that’s in our control, so we’d best respond well.

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Simon Yam in Ringo Lam’s Full Contact (1992) is a non-stop style machine. Dude was too fly not to share.

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Until the End of the World (1991)- Directed by Wim Wenders:

Almost five hours long but never dull. Wim Wenders sci-fi road movie set to the music of Talking Heads, Depeche Mode, Nick Cave, and many more, is an oddball odyssey unlike most else that constantly unravels. His vision of the future (1999) ranges from delightfully retro to prophetic; including cg bears and addiction to personal screens. A world on the brink of the apocalypse and most of our characters can only focus on the now, not the future. Love, music, images, dreams, seem only to intensify with the potential for collapse. Stuffed with beautiful moments, music, images, and ideas, it covers so much ground to be comparable to many things but as a whole it is singular. The future has potential to be bleak or brilliant, but who we are can weather it all.

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The Golem (1920)- Directed by: Carl Boese and Paul Wegener- A prophetic Jewish fable of the creation of a beast to protect their community from the hate of the German Emperor. Fantastical expressionism evoked vibrantly. Along with films like Die Nibelungen it shows the unique wonder found in silent fantasies.

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Viy (or Spirit of Evil) Directed by Konstantin Ershov and Georgi Kropachyov (1967)- Evil Dead II by way of Russian folklore and 60′s cinema. That’s the easiest way to get across what a strange, original, and manic little film this is. Now it’s not quite as manic as any Raimi film but it’s influence can be felt in the Evil Dead films and even a bit of Drag Me to Hell. A young student priest gets in a scrape with a witch which leads to her dying and him having to do the last rites for her body. In those days that means spending three nights locked in with the body in the village church. He’s a coward and tries to worm his way out but it’s fruitless so he has to face three nights of being assaulted by everything this witch can muster. It’s not a perfect film but so endlessly imaginative and glaringly distinct for its time that it’s got enough going for it. Sometimes we’re shown the fantastical in a classical way, perfectly composed, but more often than not Ershov and Kropachyov try make the camerawork and effects as fantastical as the things they’re showing. Wonderful sense of scale too even though it’s ultimately a small story. Then by the end it throws everything they can imagine at the wall (sometimes literally) and it’s hits and misses but what a sight regardless. Some really funny moments too. It’s the 60s in Russia so I can get why not all the humour would translate but on the whole it’s a real intriguing oddity. 

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To Be or Not to Be Directed by Ernst Lubitsch (1942)- Imdb lists it as 1942 but I’ve read it was actually released in 1941. Made before the US joined the war with American and German stars it’s a sharp and poignant film about the tyranny of the fascist Nazi’s and the strength of the resisting Polish. Manages to be hilarious and pointed with its attacks during a time that desperately needed it. Compared to one of the few modern comparable films, The Interview, it’s crazy how this manages to be so funny and zany while never getting away from the horrible reality of the situation. Wes Anderson (particularly The Grand Budapest Hotel) and Banksy (maybe not as much) owe this film a lot.

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Karl Freund’s Mad Love (1935) immediately announces itself as something distinct and daring while also firmly establishing one of the key themes of the film. Within the first six minutes it’s basically made its mission statement. Credits appear as usual, seemingly superimposed over images of a city as viewed through windows. That is until the last credit, that of the actors, which is actually printed on the windows and smashed by a fist. What is “real” is already getting questioned. Then we see a hanging body, a dummy, followed by a gargoyles face adorning a theatre of horrors. Cut to a cashier wearing a mask of the same face. Before he moves though it could’ve just been another statue/gargoyle. Then we’re introduced to one of the main characters but she isn’t exactly like her image. Then comes Dr Gogol (Peter Lorre) and he’s the first thing with something to hide. He only sees the image version of her, the stage version, and he loves her like that. Mad Love is a film about multiple people becoming confounded by the reality of the situation. Doubles, fakes, and confusion around who someone truly is abounds throughout and it’s all seeded within the first ten minutes. All the way though the film is so ahead of its time while being aware of the past (Gogols house and surgery painted in German Expressionist style) in a sharp unique manner. All that’s without even mentioning it’s the classic tale of a murderer’s appendages getting sown onto an innocent which then compel them to kill. I love a good opening and Mad Love has one of the best. With little needing said it gets across the horror within, the central character dynamic, and one of the major ideas the film explores which is our tenuous grip on reality. Funny, clever, inventive, and still able to surprise after 80+ years. 

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The Right Stuff Directed by Philip Kaufman (1983)- Biopics or films of historical events aren't always my thing as it can feel less like a film with a perspective on something and more of a beat-to-beat retelling of things that happened without much insight. Or they go the other direction and just hit the familiar beats of most biopics with too much reverence for the subjects. The Right Stuff is not this kind of film. It tells the story of the Mercury 7 astronauts, their wives, and the others around them at the time. There are three groups in the film. The Sam Shepard-type pilots who want to break all the records and do it with freedom. The astronauts who want to push the limits as much as possible whatever the means. And there is the wives of these men. Early scenes personify the men as free, the world wide open for them. For the wives they're often cornered or cut off. Trapped by their love and responsibilities. By being in love with these men in dangerous roles they've taken on the burden of fear along with that, a burden that isn't shared by the husband and so disconnects them. When some of the pilots decide to become astronauts they lose some of their freedom for a greater aim. They're no longer in control, they're watched, they're ordered. For a while they make concessions to get it done but learn there's little fulfillment in not doing things your way and they manage to get some control back. Similarly the wives are at times able to take charge of their situation and not just be a slave to fear or what is expected of them. All the performances are excellent with lots of great folk such as Ed Harris, Sam Shepard, Scott Glen, Dennis Quaid, Pamela Reed, Barbara Hershey, Veronica Cartwright, Lance Henrickson, and so on. For something that's about such a serious subject it has a great sense of humour too. Jeff Goldblum and Harry Shearer in particular as incompetent Government agents are hilarious. As much as the film captures what the people on the ground have to reckon with it also nails the exhilaration and wonder these men feel in the sky and what their wives make the sacrifice for. Mainly through the excellent cinematography that jumps between the grand and the intimate. There is something wonderful about doing something better than anyone has before, doing things humans thought may not even be possible, and going places never seen before. It's like a much smaller scale version of the question posed in The Wind Rises, would you rather live in a world with or without pyramids?

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Christmas in July Directed by Preston Sturges (1940)- For a few quick flashes in Preston Stuges's delightful comedy we see the reflection of the cameraman and some crew shooting the film. Three taxi's fly past the characters we're watching and in the window's reflections you can faintly see a man looking into the camera, some of the lot behind him, and a guy smoking to his side. I don't usually notice these things but this just got me thinking. For so long films were not made with the expectation that every frame could be spilled over. That we'd be able to pause things at will and go over the same scene wasn't assumed. There are still definitely times today where a reflection or whatever isn't noticed but I wonder how much these kinds of changes in how we take in films altered the language of them. Even things like how now it's often likely that most of the people seeing the film won't be seeing it on a huge screen. Does that kind of stuff further the importance of everything else other than how things are shown to us, I don't know. But for a flash the middle of a very fun film all these questions came to mind. I also enjoyed how these snapshots of behind the scenes fit into my preexisting idea of 40s filmmaking. I guess other films about the subject were pretty accurate.

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Josef von Sternberg's Underworld (1927) has one of the most delightfully gangstery line-up of character names I've ever seen. The film and characters completely live up to that too. Sometimes the first of anything can be dull in the end because it’s so defining of things we’re now all too familiar with. This isn’t the case when the film’s so good it stands separate from the genre and that’s what’s up with Sternberg’s Underworld. Many of the hallmarks of gangster films are littered throughout the film but it feels so much more about the characters than the idea of being a gangster that it’s never weighed down. The three central characters are a bank robber called Bull Weed, a homeless man he befriends called Rolls Royce, and Bull Weed’s gal Feathers. Bull Weed shows Rolls kindness and quickly sees something in him that he respects and wants to keep around. Part of it is Rolls’ intelligence and defiance though the former becomes more of an issue later on. Later on one little moment shows the reality behind the relationship. Bull Weed hears a noise at the door, terrified the fuzz are on to him he has a gun ready to blast, but when he opens it’s just a kitten sniffing a milk bottle. He brings the cat and bottle in, dips his finger in the milk and then lets the kitten lick his finger. He sits finally relaxed. He’s a man on edge a lot, knowing he’s doing bad stuff and people want him for it. But he can escape it for a moment by helping someone out. Having someone depend on him seems more important to Bull Weed than making dough. Money seems more like a means to having people like, need, and respect him, than it is a way for him to just buy more stuff. He’s such a full character even when he’s often portrayed so hilariously broadly. George Bancroft is constantly throwing his head back in laughter like a pudgier Ray Liotta. He’s one of the best crazy laughing gangsters I’ve seen on screen. Then there’s Clive Brook as Rolls Royce who is the complete opposite. He’s so cool, calm, and silent. He emotes less broadly than everyone else, a very subdued guy, but gets across even more through his face and eyes. Even when he’s cleaned up and looking like a Hollywood handsome guy you still believe what he was and that he could so easily be that again. Sternberg’s camerawork is just as interesting as the characters and performances. He moves from energetic bar fights to intimate discussions to grander prison escapes and gunfights. Even though the film is short it’s not short on either action or character stuff. Like a lot of early films there’s a very quick romance but I really liked how he showed it. A conversation between Rolls and Feathers begins in wide shots in the apartment, plenty of open space. But as they talk more, connect more, we keep cutting to closer and close shots. They become less and less able to focus on anything other than the person in front of them. By the end we’re in intense close-ups and Feathers doesn’t even notice that her book’s upside down.

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Safe Directed by Todd Haynes (1995)- Though a dubious self-help group convinces Julianne Moore's depressed housewife that she has some kind of chemical sensitivity you can see in almost every shot her intense loneliness. She's nearly always disconnected or isolated from, or literally beneath everyone and everything else in the shot. When she does have a moment of intimacy or closeness it's rarely a natural thing. She orders the perm and Jessica Harper is told to lie with her and talk with her, she can't simply have a naturally intimate moment. Doctors tell her she's fine, these people tell her she's very sick, but with every moment we feel that she's deeply and painfully alone and becoming more detached from those around her as it worsens. Her husband begins to resent having lost the perfect housewife making her even more anxious. Things keep building and Julianne Moore's performance makes this poor woman's descent chilling as much as it is sympathetic. Though the film is ostensibly a drama set in the 80s it has a strange sci-fi edge to it. At times it almost makes you think that maybe in this version of the 80s the people afraid of fumes and whatnot were dead on. She's described as a woman allergic to life in the 20th century but it seems more like it's her life in particular she's allergic to. One thing the film really captures well is not necessarily the stigma people have towards mental health problems but the fear of it. She's sent to a psychiatrist but never really opens up and would much rather believe in these physical reasons for her problems. All of these self-help groups by extension end up feeling like conglomerations of people too afraid to accept they may not be mentally well. Physical problems can be more directly confronted and seen so they're easier to deal with, even if they aren't the source of the issue at all. Early on it seems like you might know what to expect but its strangeness and eeriness always surprises. Without having to disconnect things from "reality" by going full sci-fi it creates a unique tone on the precipice of the fantastical without ever taking the plunge. But we constantly get hints of it through the score, the throbbing slow zooms, and even Moore's performance that seems beyond real somehow. Maybe just because like the people in the film I'm too afraid to accept the reality of an awful situation. Safe's gotta be one of the top American films of the 90's, and one I ignored for too long.

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Cries and Whispers Directed by Ingmar Bergman (1972)- Bergman’s best films are time evaporators, and this was one of them. You just sink in and suddenly it’s over and you’re left with so much. Cries and Whispers is the first of Bergman’s colour films I’ve seen and man did he make the transition spectacularly. His usual sensibilities and aesthetic is evident yet injected with colour. He hasn’t just shot things the way he usually would but now it’s in colour, it’s as much of a presence as lighting and so on. As is usual for Bergman the film is lit impeccably, natural yet perfect for the scene. Some of the exteriors really reminded me of Tarkovsky's shots with how he shot light. The film tells the story of two sisters caring for the third dying sister. They’re more preoccupied with their own personal problems though and the family maid cares for her more than anyone. Like many Bergman films it’s seemingly very focused yet feels like it’s talking about everything. The sick sister often plays as a rogue element able to pull things out of the women around her who are so often closed off. Her specific situation makes others reflect on their own personal pains and pushes them to their limits of compassion and intimacy. She unveils the flaws of everyone in the house. She’s a saint in a house of sinners and every moment they’re around her their veils get pulled further back. But they’re not all awful, they have their own pains too. Her’s is objectively worse but it’s painful to have other sorrows force you to ignore your own. Those problems will fester and then make you worse for it and unable to help the other person anyway. The whole film is a house of pained people and the one woman who seems able to overcome her own problems for another. The maid. She’s less enveloped in sin as the others, it’s as if their past transgressions have build up more and more barriers, and that leaves her more open and able to connect. But that also leaves her open to exploitation, as does her position in society. Women are all shown to face struggles because of their sex but she has to face more because of her class. One of the most interesting things about it is how it constantly changes what it is from social commentary to scariness. Great film. Also, Bergman creates the best doubtful priest characters and there’s another dope one here.

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Jigoku/ Hell/ The Sinners of Hell Directed by Nobou Nakagawa (1960)- As it is Halloween why not post about this Japanese vision of hell. As phantasmagorical as these shots imply, there is a lot of set up to the horror. For the most part the film tells the story of one man and all the sinners in his life. He's almost like an accidental sinner or a sinner of circumstance but when his time comes he's judged all the same. He and a devilish friend (Yôichi Numata who is awesome in this) hit a guy with their car and drive off, then the family of the man hit chase them down. As this is all happening the main character has to go home as his mother is unwell and so is hunted down while embroiled in hometown drama. At the halfway point all of our sinners find themselves in hell and the film becomes really special. Up until this point it is a good film but doesn't completely stand out other than Numata's performance, this is probably worsened by the film not being available on blu-ray as everything looks a little dark and drab. The hell scenes are all amazing. It is such a unique representation of hell that mixes in emotional, physical, and spiritual torment that are all presented with vivid colours, striking compositions, and cool effects. From moment one the film is about the idea of hell and what it means to be a sinner so all of that build up really pays off well. There's a terrifying black and white morality to the hell of this film, if you have committed a damning sin whether intended or not and whether you're sorry for it or not you are eternally tormented. Spiritual failure is taken so seriously in this in a way I really dug. Sin is shown to be inescapable, like a web that sprouts out once you've sinned that only grows and grows. Here there is seemingly no escape from ones sins, it's a world with a hell and devil but no evidence of a heaven. I wouldn't be surprised if people in this universe either go to hell or just get the release of blackness. Such a unique film, half pseudo-melodrama and half journey through hell, that surprises with how crazy it gets. Dope title card too, I always love a good title reveal, it was blood splatter (reversed footage) that rose up to unveil the title of the film written in blood.

[herzogbaby]

To the Wonder Directed by Terrence Malick (2012)- Even though I love Malick it took me ages to actually see his most recent film. With everyone seeing Gone Girl though I thought I'd finally watch this, another Ben Affleck film about troublesome relationships. To the Wonder is kind of like all of the Before films blended with Winter Light. A man meets a woman abroad, they have a whirlwind romance until they come back to his homeland of the USA, as a priest (Javier Bardem) struggles with his faith. This isn't really about these characters that much though as it is about the concepts their struggles bring up. More so than most of Malick's films this feels like a film that almost solely follows the emotions of the characters and nothing else. By that I mean there's very little dialogue and it's not really a study about them but the bits of voiceover and beautiful imagery charts and follows how they feel as they go through everything they go through. For those who are not a fan of Malick this would probably be their least favourite of his but I really liked it. Love is similar to faith, it starts strong and has moments where it burns very brightly but for a lot of the time that fire isn't quite there. Both love and faith take being able to handle not feeling the same as one did before, there are emotional plateaus that may stay steady for a long time but one needs to be strong. That is unless the love we're working on is not the one that's right for us. If love at a certain point inevitably dies down in its intensity then how do you know when that's happening or one is actually falling out of love. Even though the story is so simple there is so much within it. Sometimes I did feel like I was seeing stock Malick imagery but the film also has some of the most beautiful work of his career. As is often the case the film is very poetic but this felt more purely visually poetic than some of his other stuff. Oftentimes dialogue/voice-over is whispered or fades out, becoming near unimportant at times. Everything is told through shots of life's ups and downs. Seeing Malick tackle a modern story felt natural too, I was amazed that a scene on Skype felt completely at home. A new kind of emptiness is present in modernity though. More than any of his other films there was a palpable sense of emotional isolation and disconnection. Badlands is probably the closest comparison in that regard yet there's something colder about To the Wonder that makes this feeling come through even more. Everything is so square and sharp, in a lot of the US set scenes at least, there's a rigidity to everything as there's an emotional rigidity to Ben Affleck's character. Even though the film didn't quite reach the heights of my favourite Malick films, it got really close and it wasn't the slight piece of work I feel like I'd been set up to see.