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dir. Georges Franju
writ. Jean Redon, Claude Sautet, Pierre Boileau, Thomas Narcejac (adaptation), Jean Redon (novel)
feat. Pierre Brasseur, Alida Valli, Juliette Mayniel, Edith Scob
Franju's tale of a plastic surgeon (Brasseur) who can't successfully repair his daughter's face, damaged in an auto accident he caused lends a dreamy French quality to a story that feels much like the Edgar Allen Poe, Roger Corman, Vincent Price films of the same era. Opting for black and white over the striking Technicolor of the Poe pictures, Franju bounces between stiff and occasionally stark moments of police and medical procedural and the gauzy, floating wandering of daughter Christiane (Scob) about the gothic estate. In her thin, eerie mask, forced upon her by her father and his demanding assistant (Valli), Christiane appears just shy of lifelike, real enough to show her sadness, yet incomplete, keeping joy out of reach.
The horror surfaces in the Doctor's obsessive need to fix Christiane's face and his methods, kidnapping similar looking young women and using their fresh faces as transplants. The twisted story of love and devotion is anchored by an unsettling surgery scene, the Dr. methodically marking and cutting away the skin of his victim in a misguided, desperate struggle for redemption that only distances him from his daughter, even as it illustrates the gruesome lengths to which a father will go. But more powerful than the gore is the harrowing pain and despair experienced by Christiane, a once lovely young woman now trapped not just in her tower, but by her own face.
dir. John Huston
writ. Guy Gallo (screenplay), Malcolm Lowry (novel)
feat. Albert Finney, Jacqueline Bisset, Anthony Andrews
It's a wonder that Geoffrey Firmin (Finney) has survived as long as he has, rambling about Mexico, never far from a consoling bottle. As we find him, he has lost his position as British Consul to Mexico, a result more than a cause of his incessant drinking. As Geoffrey drifts drunkenly into his past, recounting military tales of heroics (and potential disgraces) to anyone within earshot, we never discover when he decided to drink himself under in this little corner of the world. We do find that an unfaithful wife, Yvonne (Bisset), has at least something to do with his condition, though her return and subsequent promises to rekindle the relationship doesn't remedy his situation.
While Geoffrey shows a glimmer of hope at the prospect of running away to a new land to restore the marriage, the booze and his embittered state bury him back again. Finney plays the perpetual drunk fluidly- clumsy, embarrassing, inept and dangerous both to himself and his companions - without turning morose, his severe moments coming with levity and a show of teeth paired with verbal wit. Geoffrey has given up and has no reason to mourn in advance.
dir. John Huston
writ. Leonard Gardner (novel)
feat. Stacy Keach, Jeff Bridges, Susan Tyrrell, Candy Clark, Nicholas Colasanto
Stacy Keach belongs to the 70s. Maybe that's unfair to a guy still turning up in a handful of TV and film roles each year, but I don't mean to critique his current work. It's about the way in which he owned the shambling, rough and tumble characters he played back then, whether as Calvin, a crook with big dreams, in The Gravy Train, Sgt. Stedenko, the always fumbling and delusional officer of the law, in Up in Smoke, or Tully, a down on his luck boxer, in Fat City. Keach doesn't need to sell hard to appear as the out-of-shape athlete considering another shot at the big time. His quiet cool, a confidence born from experience flows forth as he casually encourages Ernie (Bridges) to keep at the boxing game, sure after just a short round of sparring that the youngster has what it takes.
And Tully is right about Ernie, if less so about his own hopes for a return to the ring. Instead, he rolls around town, falling in with lonely lush, Oma (Tyrrell), as he drinks himself deeper into retirement. They form a mighty troubled pair, either perfect or the worst thing going for one another, drinking and sparring more violently than Tully can muster in a real bout, and wearing each other out in the process. Tully is a sucker for punishment though, unable to escape thoughts of Oma or the bars long enough to sustain the recovery he imagines.
As the film, and Tully, inhabit these places, Ernie nearly disappears, off to a bright future of boxing success, a wife, a child. But the men cross paths again, raising a glass for old times sake, both realizing that they've moved on and have little to share anymore. In this moment of revelation, Ernie sees his surroundings anew, sharply aware of the life he lives and the loss of his youth and prospects. And as a 70s Keach character, he doesn't even seem shaken, likely to keep cruising along, taking it day by day with an easy smile.
dir. John Huston
writ. Arthur Miller
feat. Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, Montgomery Clift, Thelma Ritter, Eli Wallach
For an all-star film with plenty of well-executed set pieces, The Misfits has a wonderfully ragged quality about it, evidence of the talented cast, with at least one at the height of her powers. Marilyn plays Roslyn, a lovely young woman securing a reluctant but much-needed divorce as the picture opens. Roslyn is shaken, losing faith in the world, particularly the men she attracts. While she would like to live free and love freely, that course has steered her wrong and left her uncertain as to how she should proceed.
Naturally, this glowing beauty, newly single and looking for the next step in life draws admirers, namely everyone else in the film. Gay (Gable) is an old school cowboy still struggling to live the rough and tumble single man's life in a decreasingly wild west. As the aging lothario, confidence waning, he nearly pleads for Roslyn's attention just as he begs for a few more years of the life he's loved. Guido (Wallach), an auto mechanic still trapped by the loss of his wife years ago, is revived by Roslyn as she inhabits his old house, left barren and incomplete when his wife passed away. This invigoration overwhelms him, forcing him to feel again after years of rolling along casually without probing too deeply into the past or moving ahead to a new life. Perce (Clift) rambles through town, following the rodeo, a jaded romantic who feels jilted by his stepfather for taking his legacy and lost without a new dream to set his sights upon. There are times when he seems the best match for Roslyn though the two might crumble together, neither with the assured substance to support them as a duo.
Isabelle (Thelma) is the only character who seems to have it licked, standing on her own two feet, well aware of how the world, and men, work. She appears caught between knowing satisfaction and mild resignation, neither of which thrill nor depress her.
The unavoidable pain in the world is at the heart of the film, and Roslyn suffers terribly when forced to face it directly, doled out by her closest friends. Her explosive reaction changes everything, for a moment, stirring the group to face themselves and their behavior, including herself. It's a stunning movie climax, the kind that may or may not change the day to day lives of those involved but most assuredly changes the way they think of them.
As notably, this period in Roslyn's life provides a bridge between the character and Marilyn's screen persona, allowing the actress to slowly shed the trappings of the ditzy blonde, molting out of that stereotype as though seeing clearly for the first time. It is a rare and stunning feat, revealing talents that sadly remained hidden previously and would never have the chance to mature, given that it was Monroe's last completed film.
writ. and dir. Michael Haneke
feat. Isabelle Huppert, Beatrice Dalle, Patrice Chereau, Rona Hartner, Maurice Benichou, Olivier Gourmet, Brigitte Rouan, Lucas Biscombe, Hakim Taleb, Anais Demoustier
Haneke kicks into the post-catastrophic tale with both a bang and a whimper, perhaps pegging the reality of such a situation more accurately than your typical Hollywood blockbuster without the explosions or media theatrics. After an unknown event disconnects France from the world and sends people panicking, stockpiling food and bolting the doors, Anne (Huppert) is left wandering the countryside with her two young children, Eva and Ben (Biscombe and Demoustier), struggling for survival. As Anne strains to keep the family together while seeking food and shelter, the slim and easily disrupted cover of civilization evaporates, revealing just how close people are to the hardscrabble life where the next meal is not guaranteed.
While there is no assurance of safety in numbers, the family joins other refugees to share resources and a rough sense of community in a tight space where fractures and conflicts come easily, the best and worst traits of man surfacing within seconds of one another. Eva seeks companionship from a boy slightly older than her, finding repeated disappointment in his selfish nature but returning to him repeatedly as though he is her last desperate chance to find hope in the desolate world. Meanwhile, though quieter and appearing less affected, the younger Ben is propelled into a realm of doubt rarely discovered before adolescence, anguish spurred and amplified by the evident meaninglessness of existence in the wasteland. While his moments on the brink of utter and irreparable hopelessness are brutally heartbreaking to watch, they are also the film's greatest strength and terribly unforgettable. As a Westerner who is aware that the great majority of the world's people live in similar situations- few resources, unclean water, on the verge of starvation- it's difficult not to see the film as a symbol of what many must go through daily, an added layer of resonance that may or may not be Haneke's intention.
writ. and dir. Michael Haneke
feat. Daniel Auteuil, Juliette Binoche, Maurice Benichou, Annier Girardot, Bernard Le Coq, Walid Afkir, Lester Makedonsky
Haneke commits fully to his title in this mysterious tale that begins as a who- and whydunit and veers into richer territory, exploring the hidden histories, both recent and distant, that informs people's daily lives.
Georges and Anne (Auteuil and Binoche), a seemingly stable and content upper middle class couple with a teenage son, Pierrot (Makedonsky), grow unsettled upon receiving haunting surveillance videotapes shot from just outside their door. As the tapes accumulate, the threat looms larger despite the absence of any demands or clearer message from the sender. Heightened anxiety leads to heated exchanges with overreactions that hint at other rifts in the relationship, issues that will also remain obscure, other than the suggestion of other secrets.
When a message points Georges to a strange address where he discovers a childhood friend, Majid (Benichou), upon whom Georges, as a young boy, had a life-changing effect, the mystery appears to surface, certain to be revealed. Instead, the story slides sideways and back into Georges past, revealing old conflicts and buried pain. From here, the film takes turns both subtle and sharp, plumbing satisfyingly complicated emotional territory such as the responsibility of a child and the measure of guilt while also overtly avoiding answering questions that seem overdue with regard to the tapes and the one responsible for them. The effects are too great to write off the cause as a mere entry point to the story, leaving a feeling of emptiness with regard to the story. However, perhaps Haneke (a dauntingly insightful filmmaker) intends this sensation as a way to better connect the viewer with Georges who is left with unanswerable questions that won't easily settle.
dir. Akira Kurosawa
writ. Hideo Oguni, Eijiro Hisaita, Akira Kurosawa, Ryuzo Kikushima, Shinobu Hashimoto
feat. Toshiro Mifune, Masayuki Mori, Kyoko Kagawa, Tatsuya Mihashi, Takashi Shimura, Ko Nishimura, Takeshi Kato, Kamatari Fujiwara, Chishu Ryu
Kurosawa's take on corporate corruption alternates between a routine procedural and a heated futile quest for revenge. Far too many conversations about who did what, when and to whom fall between Nishi's (Mifune) brutal yet calculated steps toward routing those who have done him wrong and exacting his own idea of justice upon them.
But instead of taking a straight line, the story wanders, emotions and confusion blocking any clear paths to retaliation, as though the writers (reportedly five of them on this one) couldn't resist exploring every avenue. Though this meandering muddles the plot from time to time, it also brings a human touch to characters such as Wada (Fujiwara), a whining, fearful executive assistant who manages to stop mewling long enough to force an unexpected emotional confrontation between Nishi and his wife. The time and energy spent on the relationship between Nishi and his wife, an otherwise pawn in his path to revenge, beautifully delineates the difference between people, rife with emotions and conflicts, and corporations, dedicated only to hierarchies and the protection of profit.
Naturally, there is some crossover between realms, people called upon to execute the needs and wishes of the company, those whose ultimate alliance is with the organization. Here, we have a perfect specimen in Iwabuchi (Mori), eager and willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to preserve the system. His boundless servility has an almost comic edge in the end, an early warning sign of explorations of foul systems to come, such as The Trial or Brazil.
dir. Akira Kurosawa
writ. Masato Ide, Hideo Oguni, Ryuzo Kikushima, Akira Kurosawa, novel by Shugoro Yamamoto
feat. Toshiro Mifune, Yuzo Kayama, Tsutomu Yamazaki, Reiko Dan, Miyuki Kuwano, Kyoko Kagawa, Tatsuyoshi Ehara, Terumi Niki, Akemi Nigishi, Yoshitaka Zushi
Coincidental timing brings a worthy sparring partner for Dogville to my small screen with Kurosawa's Red Beard. Mifune plays Dr. Kyojo Niide, a 19th century doctor committed to the poor whom he serves at his rigidly run clinic. Dr. Noboru Yasumoto (Kayama), a proud young doctor feels he's being punished in his appointment to assist Niide, ready for the glory and big bucks of serving as the shogun's personal physician. This common and long-winded setup introduces what at first appears to be a tedious lesson in the value of all humankind and the trials and troubles of the poor. However, the mood quickly shifts into that of a ghost story inhabited by the living, the sick, the healing and the dead.
Illness takes an ominous form in the guise of the madwoman (Kagawa), a multiple murderer, more prisoner than patient, a living spirit of the clinic with a tragic past worthy of sympathy despite her persistent compulsion to kill. Sahachi (Yamazaki), the dying elder, on the other hand, is second only to Niide himself in popularity and good intentions, though his dark secrets well up in a confession that reveal sad sordid origins to his behavior. People are complex creatures, not to be judged too harshly or easily. Even Niide misbehaves, shaking down the wealthy, vaguely threatening blackmail, and violently beating those who would threaten the health of a young girl. He criticizes himself most harshly, his tolerance reserved only for those he helps.
Niide's second guessing and additional vignettes exploring a variety of health problems and their sources bring great life and heart to the story. And the final return to a sweet tale with a predictable resolution can't diminish the power of these rich human moments. Ultimately Kurosawa's wealth of emotional depth tips the scales, posing a more convincing argument in defense of the oppressed and the wretched than von Trier presses against them. Though I definitely recommend them as a pair when you have about 6 hours to spare.
