Pieces of Time

fragments of cinema

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The Night of the Iguana (1964) dir. John Huston

"Even I know the difference between loving somebody, and just going to bed with them. Even I know that."

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Personal Problems (1980), written by Ishmael Reed and directed by Bill Gunn

This "Tell It Like It Is: NY Black Independents" program at Lincoln Center is quickly becoming one of my favorite film series. This film, shot on video-tape, was another revelation-- offering a glimpse into a late century, middle-class life rarely represented in American cinema. Much of the dialogue is improvised and there's a palpable energy, chemistry, and camaraderie amongst the cast. Another movie that captures pieces of time long past that, one can only hope, will inspire a young marginalized filmmaker to go out and make something.

That's the triumph of this series and I sincerely hope it does motivate minority filmmakers and female filmmakers who have continued to feel increasingly shut out over the past few decades to understand that not only do their voices matter, but that they're integral and necessary in order for the cinema to function at its greatest capacity.

From writer and producer Ishmael Reed, "During the last decades, films about the black experience have been produced, directed, and even scripted by white men. Some of them are excellent. But most reflect George Bernard Shaw’s warning that 'if you do not tell your stories others will tell them for you and they will vulgarize and degrade you.

"What happens when a group of unbankable individuals tell their stories? Actors who have final say over their speaking parts? A director who was found 'too difficult' for Hollywood? A composer who would not submit the hack soundtracks required by the industry? A black male lead who was not black enough? A black actress who was not light enough? An actor who had been retired because he belonged to another era? A cinematographer who chose art over expediency? An unmarketable co-actor who didn’t look like Clark Gable or a male version of Vanessa Williams? Two producers, having no experience, had the audacity to organize a production with the amount of money that Hollywood spends on catering? Maybe less."

Again, revelatory, inspiring work.

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A Most Violent Year (2014) dir. J.C. Chandor

The key to the film, I think, comes early on when older, wiser, Andrew Walsh (national treasure, Albert Brooks), attorney to Oscar Isaac's Abel Morales, asks, "Why do you want all this?" He is referring not just to a land deal that Morales is attempting to secure, but the larger business pursuits that take up that majority of his time and life. Isaac stares at him, almost incredulous, "I have no idea what that means." For him, there is no other way in this world, in this America, than crazy, driven, capitalistic, vaulted ambition. There's no time to even think WHY he should be pursuing the American dream. The why is besides the point. The pursuit itself is the justified answer. Because "it's what a man is supposed to do."

A companion piece, in a way, to another fantastic 2014 film, Nightcrawler-- that film to about an ambitious, driven young American man-- it actually offers a kind of funhouse mirror look at that movie's lead character: Jake Gyllenhaal's, Lou. Because, while Lou has no qualms or misconceptions about how and why he is doing what he's doing, we get the distinct impression that Morales is incredibly self-deluded, earnestly believing he could make his way in the industrialized, capitalist world without compromising himself or his morals (in this way, we are reminded of  Pacino's Michael Corleone, and Isaac certainly owes a kind of debt to that famous performance).

A fine film, although what ultimately holds it back (as film critic Matt Zoller Seitz has pointed out) is that it is referential and reverential to those old films of the 60s and 70s almost to a fault. It invokes the gritty NY worlds of Sidney Lumet and Martin Scorsese without fully taking ownership of its own design. That doesn't mean it's not a good film (it most certainly is), but upon reflection you spend a good amount of time thinking of the time and past work that inspired it as much as you do the film itself.

Regardless, the fact that the film can be spoken about in the same conversation as those classics is nothing if not a compliment. Fine work from everyone involved, especially cinematographer Bradford Young whose dimly lit interiors are all kinds of wonderful.

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Losing Ground (1982) dir. Kathleen Collins

The (deservedly so) centerpiece to The Film Society of Lincoln Center's "Tell it Like it Is: Black Independents in New York, 1968 - 1986," Ms. Collins' second film (and first and only feature-- she sadly passed away from cancer six years later) is finally receiving a theatrical run more than 30 years after production. Having not been familiar with many of the films and filmmakers in this series (outside of Spike Lee, whose NYU short, Joe's Bed-Stuy Barbershop: We Cut Heads  and his debut film, She's Gotta Have it, will also be featured), Losing Ground acts as a revealing introduction to this underseen world of cinema. Of note, it is widely considered the first American feature film to be directed by a black woman.... and it only took 30 years to screen in theaters. So progress? (Shakes head with shame).

Pointedly, Collins' exploration of race and (especially) gender roles are as timely now as they were in the early 1980s. But what makes this film especially rich is the sense of a time and energy of a New York long gone. And, though only 30 years old, the film has more in common with the European cinema of the 60s and 70s (one could imagine Buñuel admiring the film, not in that it reflects his surrealist ideals, but certainly plays with similar themes of gender and middle class living) than it does with the American cinema that was to follow as the century closed. There's a raw edge, an immediacy, to the film-- yet also a tenderness.

The closing shot has already become an indelible cinematic image in my mind and, I imagine, will stay with me for days to come. 

[tinypiecesoftime]

Hard To Be A God (2013) dir. Alexei German

The film is a nightmare. Man's ignorance, brutality, and inhumanity to one another cannot be contained to Earth. And the way German packs each frame with bodies and mud and muck and all the other repulsive things is astounding. Really does feel like an awful living dream.. one in which we're powerless to stop the massacre and then remember, sadly, of the similar atrocities committed on our own planet.

I'm reminded of a quote from the original, 1968 "Planet of the Apes" (another film about a scientist visiting a "foreign" planet):

"Beware the beast Man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother's land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death."

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Belle de Jour (1967) dir. Luis Buñuel

Eyes Wide Shut (1999) dir. Stanley Kubrick

On the things we won't ever quite know or understand about those closest to us. Fears, desires, fantasies, anguish. A revealing double feature.

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The Look of Silence (2014) dir. Joshua Oppenheimer

How can we learn to forgive when those who have committed such atrocity, inflicted so much pain, and caused so much harm and trauma, cannot even begin to understand, and take responsibility for, the enormity of their cruel actions?

There may not be an answer.

But until then, at least we can reflect and hope, through our anguish, for a future metamorphosis and change of perspective.

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Dark Passage (1947) dir. Delmer Daves

"You're just too marvelous. Too marvelous for words."

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Do The Right Thing (1989) dir. Spike Lee

"Mothafuck a window. Radio Raheem is dead."

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The Wizard of Oz (1939) dir. Victor Flemming

75 years to the date since Dorothy went over the rainbow. Aren't we the lucky ones?

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Lauren Bacall (1924 - 2014)

She was the last of her kind. The last of the true movie stars. The last cowgirl. And boy, oh boy, was she just too marvelous for words. RIP Lauren Bacall. My favorite of the old Hollywood actresses. It was a wish of mine to one day meet her. To ask her about Bogie, about Hawks, about the Golden Age of Holllywood. About living through the first century of cinema. Hope you're grabbing a drink with Bogart right now, Ms. Bacall.

[tinypiecesoftime]

"You know that place between sleep and awake? That place where you still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you... That's where I'll be waiting." - RIP Robin.

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A Mechanical Eye

Man with a Movie Camera (1929) dir. Dziga Vertov

“I’m an eye. A mechanical eye. I, the machine, show you a world the way only I can see it. I free myself for today and forever from human immobility. I’m in constant movement. I approach and pull away from objects. I creep under them. I move alongside a running horse’s mouth. I fall and rise with the falling and rising bodies. This is I, the machine, manoeuvring in the chaotic movements, recording one movement after another in the most complex combinations. Freed from the boundaries of time and space, I co-ordinate any and all points of the universe, wherever I want them to be. My way leads towards the creation of a fresh perception of the world. Thus I explain in a new way the world unknown to you.”—Dziga Vertov

Watch the mesmerizing "Man with a Movie Camera."

[tinypiecesoftime]

"We have many names for what we do – cinema, movies, motion pictures. And…film. We’re called directors, but more often we’re called filmmakers. Filmmakers. I’m not suggesting that we ignore the obvious: HD isn’t coming, it’s here. The advantages are numerous: the cameras are lighter, it’s much easier to shoot at night, we have many more means at our disposal for altering and perfecting our images. And, the cameras are more affordable: films really can be made now for very little money. Even those of us still shooting on film finish in HD, and our movies are projected in HD. So, we could easily agree that the future is here, that film is cumbersome and imperfect and difficult to transport and prone to wear and decay, and that it’s time to forget the past and say goodbye – really, that could be easily done. Too easily.

  It seems like we’re always being reminded that film is, after all, a business. But film is also an art form, and young people who are driven to make films should have access to the tools and materials that were the building blocks of that art form. Would anyone dream of telling young artists to throw away their paints and canvases because iPads are so much easier to carry? Of course not. In the history of motion pictures, only a minuscule percentage of the works comprising our art form was not shot on film. Everything we do in HD is an effort to recreate the look of film. Film, even now, offers a richer visual palette than HD. And, we have to remember that film is still the best and only time-proven way to preserve movies. We have no assurance that digital informaton will last, but we know that film will, if properly stored and cared for.

  Our industry – our filmmakers – rallied behind Kodak because we knew that we couldn’t afford to lose them, the way we’ve lost so many other film stocks. This news is a positive step towards preserving film, the art form we love." - Master Martin Scorsese on the production and preservation of film stock

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The Shining (1980) dir. Stanley Kubrick

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

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What's Up, Doc? (1972) dir. Peter Bogdanovich

"What's wrong?" "The future." "What's the matter with it?"

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Little Caesar (1931) dir. Marvyn LeRoy

"When I talk about him, I start off saying, 'Edward G. Robinson this. Edward G. Robinson that.' By the next sentence I'm calling him Edward G. and then, forget it, it's Eddie; like I know the guy. But that's just the point. Eddie reaches the audience in a way that ordinary actors can't. Look at Little Caesar. All through the movie, he's a psychopath. Right on the edge. Scary like nobody in the movies had ever been before. But the key scene is when he cracks. He's got to shoot his best friend, but he loves the guy and he just can't do it. I look at Eddie here and I see anguish. Not just weakness, but despair. Every bit as real as the anger. That takes so much talent to show rage and love simultaneously." - Chazz Palminteri on Edward G. Robinson