THE WEEKLY RECAP: July 9 - 15

Every Man for Himself (1980)

Directed by Jean-Luc Godard

* *

Every Man for Himself follows Paul (Jacques Dutronc), Denise (Nathalie Baye), Isabelle (Isabelle Huppert), and their rather troubled sex lives and tumultuous paths to independence – Denise has recently broken up with Paul, seems to be enjoying her newfound independence, but finds out that she still needs his assistance. Paul not only has to live without Denise, but also still has an ex-wife and daughter he must tend to, to his chagrin. He eventually engages in an encounter with Isabelle, a mechanical and seemingly emotionless prostitute, saving all of her earnings to gain an independent life.

Once again, Jean-Luc Godard misses the mark for me, this time because of a jumbled narrative and uninteresting characters, and combined they make the film rather difficult to follow. The only character who caught my interest in any way was Paul, but because of just how unlikable he is (and I mean this in the worst way possible). Everybody else isn’t necessarily a blank slate, but not interesting enough to make them worth getting invested in. Godard frequently experiments with extreme slow-motion, which is effectively used once, but other times just feels like he’s doing it just for the sake of it. I was also taken aback by the frequent crude and explicit sexual references that seem to come out of nowhere (a less-than-subtle reference to child molestation was very discomforting).

All things considered, I never knew Godard to be a man with a keen eye for landscapes, but here he proves himself the opposite – much of the film’s early scenes are shot on France’s countryside, and the visual results are absolutely gorgeous. Kudos, as well, to Gabriel Yared’s hypnotizing score, which is reminiscent of ‘70s krautrock from time to time. There is also one remarkable scene when Isabelle sternly inquires to a young prostitute-to-be if she’s really ready for such a lifestyle, fearlessly telling her how it’s going to be. Overall, there are some great ideas present here. If only someone other than Godard was helming the project.

I Fidanzati (1963)

Directed by Ermanno Olmi

* * *

Not a word is spoken between factory worker Giovanni (Carlo Cabrini) and his girlfriend Liliana (Anna Canzi), and it doesn’t take a split second to sense a tense and troubled relationship between this couple, who are both fiancées to each other. To add to the tension, Giovanni has been offered a promotion on the condition that he relocates (alone) to Sicily for a year and a half – of course, he takes the gig. Now, stuck in a drab industrial landscape without his loved one, Giovanni can do nothing but reflect on his relationship and ideas on love.

Working in the shadows of Italian titans such as Fellini, Antonioni, and Pasolini, it’s no wonder that you don’t hear Olmi’s name mentioned that often. Perhaps I have no room to speak on this, as this is my first Olmi film, but I consider this a shame; I know I’ve just watched the work of an exceptional filmmaker. In the case of I Fidanzati, it opens with an absolutely breathtaking dance sequence, and we can sense so much about the couple that the film centers on without a single word of spoken dialogue. In general, the film is filled with these kind of Antonioni-esque meditations (though not nearly as difficult), and combined with some terrific and dynamic camerawork, I was captivated from start to finish.

Though I have awarded this film a 3, I was originally going to award it a 2.5. Like my recent experience with Smithereens, I liked it the more I thought about it, but there’s no getting away from its problems. The main issue with I Fidanzati is its lack of depth with the character of Liliana. The primary concern of this film is about a relationship on the rocks, but we are only shown Giovanni’s experience, and I would have liked to have seen what was going on with Liliana from time to time – hell, the film’s opening insinuated that she was going to be the focus (this is debatable). In spite of this, the letters that Giovanni and Liliana exchange show graet poignancy in I Fidanzati’s final moments. Not a perfect film, but Olmi has proved his chops enough to make me keep his work on my radar.

Schizopolis (1996)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

* * *

I usually like to open my Weekly Recap micro-reviews with a brief synopsis on the film, but doing that on Schizopolis would be a daunting task, and arguably an exercise in futility. In a time when the world of independent cinema was booming, indie juggernaut Steven Soderbergh unleashed Schizopolis in 1996. Though there is a narrative involving an office worker (played by Soderbergh himself), his drab job, his generic home life, and his doppelganger, Schizopolis is more concerned with taking all of the ingredients and tropes of the independent film and putting it into the most vicious blender you could imagine. The result is an assault on the senses, with a scathing quality that curiously prompts a re-visit – perhaps satirizing the pretensions and clichés of the independent film world? The wonderful opening sequence alone suggests that enough.

I don’t want to look too deep into this film, as the experience of watching it is most important – everything else is secondary (a lesson I learned from Eraserhead) and I must say that I really enjoyed it. There are some genuinely clever moments, particularly with the depictions of the protagonist’s home life and the pre-packaged dialogue he and his wife exchange (HIM: “Generic greeting!”; HER: “Generic greeting returned.”). Also, Soderbergh should consider doing more acting, because he is actually very funny in a Coen brothers sort of way. Don’t quote me on this, but I remember reading somewhere that Schizopolis was made at a time when Soderbergh was completely out of ideas and decided to just unleash a barrage of various different elements into one single film, and the result is one that seems to only exist for that single purpose of getting the creative momentum flowing – nothing more, nothing less. That said, the result was undeniably entertaining and a film I won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Trouble in Paradise (1932)

Directed by Ernst Lubitsch

* * * *

Gaston (Herbert Marshall) and Lily (Miriam Hopkins) make for the perfect couple: not only do they both have an irresistible charm, but they’re both expert thieves – who knows how many possibilities their mischievous skills will bring them? Well, enter Madame Mariette Colet (Kay Francis), a wealthy owner of a perfume company. Gaston has stolen her diamond-encrusted purse; Colet puts up a hefty reward, which Gaston claims. Next thing he knows, he is working as her secretary – jackpot. Gaston invites Lily in on this gig to pull off one hell of a con-based robbery, but things get complicated when feelings might be developing between Gaston and Colet.

This week marks two first films for me, with my first Olmi and now my first Lubitsch. The latter’s films never really caught my interest, but I knew I would have go get to Lubitsch eventually, considering just how many of his films are in that “Greatest” category. After watching Slavoj Zizek’s(who I have a soft spot for) trip into the Criterion closet – in which he calls Trouble in Paradise “Lubisch’s ultimate masterpiece” – I knew this would be my starting point, and I’m so glad it is.

This mini-review is going to be fairly short, because I have not much to say other than that it’s absolutely wonderful. Its script is witty, always getting more than a few laughs out of me. And then there’s the lovable characters – the first dinner scene between Gaston and Lily, where they reveal just how many items they’ve thieved from each other, is one of the most adorable movie scenes I’ve seen yet. There’s not much else remarkable beyond those elements. No exceptional cinematography and no outstanding score, not that those are bad by any means. It’s just that Trouble in Paradise gets its story and characters so right that absolutely nothing else matters. What does matter is that Trouble in Paradise is indeed a great film.