Monday, August 13, 2018

THE WEEKLY RECAP: August 6 - 12



The Conformist (1970)

Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci

* * *

We get to know the reserved yet insecure Marcello Clerici (Jean Louis Trintignant) through a series of flashbacks. An atheist, he marries Giulia (Stefania Sandrelli) under the condition that he goes to confession, where he reveals that he has murdered before. As a matter of fact, he will commit murder again – Clerici is a member of the secret police of Fascist Italy, and his next target is one of his college professors, who is located in Paris. To get the job done, Clerici uses his recent marriage to his job’s advantage, as he and his now-wife decide to Honeymoon in Paris, making for the perfect cover.

I’m just going to get it out of the way now: believe every single bit of hype you’ve heard about its visuals, because The Conformist is one of the best-looking movies I’ve ever seen. It is filmed in a radical and progressive style that is never forced, and still feels fresh to this day, almost 50 years later. The shot composition, the maneuvers of the camera, the lighting, the set design, absolutely everything on this film’s visual level is beyond masterful, and there is not one shot I will ever forget. I can give you my utmost sincerity that you don’t even need to pay attention to the story; get lost just watching the film and it’ll still be worth the price of admission. It’s truly amazing (and a shame) that The Conformist wasn’t nominated for a Best Cinematography Oscar.

Speaking of The Conformist and the Academy Awards, it was in fact nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay, and here is not only what stuns me but also leads to my major criticism of the film; the writing. I had a huge difficulty getting invested in what was going on. First off, the dialogue is quite dry and lackluster, and considering the film’s themes of fascism and conformity, you’d think there would be something poignant in the script. In turn, the characters aren’t particularly interesting (though the performances are solid, considering the material provided). Second, the way the plot is structured – namely the handling of the flashbacks – borders on abstraction and makes things very difficult to follow. The Conformist is yet another entry into my “need to see it again” list. In the meantime, I can appreciate it only from an arm’s distance. But at least I can still watch from that distance, and for now, that’s more than enough.


The Limey (1999)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

* *

Wilson (Terence Stamper), a jaded and hardened Englishman, is out of prison and now out for blood. His daughter, Jenny, has died; allegedly in a car accident, but Wilson is convinced she was murdered. He flies from England to Los Angeles, and the first subjects of his investigation are Eduardo (Luis Guzman) and Elaine (Lesley Ann Warren), two of Jenny’s acquaintances. Talks with these two bring out a probable suspect for Wilson: Terry Valentine (Peter Fonda), a drug trafficker hiding behind a legitimate record business. For Wilson, there is no compromise; with a couple of handguns in his possession, he hits the streets in search of Valentine.

Steven Soderbergh has made some great films in his expansive catalogue, but in between every great film are a handful of unmemorable flashes in the pan, and The Limey is one of those flashes. First off, read the plot synopsis above and tell me you haven’t heard of a million other films with the same story. Okay, in all fairness, it’s not so much the general plot that matters as much as what is done with the material. Even then, Soderbergh doesn’t really do anything that interesting. There weren’t any particularly compelling characters, no sharp dialogue, no engaging story, not to mention the film is tonally confused. One moment, it wants to be a sort of mature thriller; next moment, it adopts many of the usual ‘90s crime-thriller tropes, and this sort of imbalance leaves the film in this kind of bland limbo and never quite gets out. Hell, even the otherwise underrated and talented composer Cliff Martinez offered nil with his score.

Granted, Stamper can muster up a striking screen presence, but considering the lackluster material, there’s not much for his presence to contribute to. The visual style is kind of cool, but Soderbergh would utilize a borderline identical style to Traffic (which I consider Soderbergh’s towering masterpiece) just the following year. I don’t really know what else to say about this one. While it’s not a terrible movie, it never once gripped me. I just finished the movie right before I started writing this, and I’m already forgetting it.


The Rules of the Game (1939)

Directed by Jean Renoir

* * * *

The Rules of the Game opens with a message of impending doom, that war across Europe – what would be known as World War II – is steadfastly approaching, but this is the only time this will ever be mentioned. After all, there are better things to worry about – for a group of bourgeois socialites, anyway. The people in question are the focus of the film, as they gather at a countryside estate, where their worries will include tangled romance, sexual affairs, petty arguments, rabbit hunting, and a masquerade ball to follow.

Considering The Rules of the Game is often regarded as one of the greatest films ever made, I admit with shame in jest that it has taken me this long to actually getting around to it – hell, this is even my first Renoir film. While this most likely won’t go down for me as one of my all-time favorites, there’s no denying that I have seen a great film. You’ll notice the fairly bare-bones plot description above, and upon typing that paragraph is where the film’s biggest joke hit me, as virtually nothing happens at all in the entire movie, in spite of the fact that there always seems to be something happening. There is not one moment of stillness in this movie, and with the wide cast of characters, this is one I will need to revisit again (and maybe again) to get a fuller perspective on the movie.

Don’t let that last sentence make you think the movie’s a mess by any means, because it’s not – it’s just a matter of so much going on at once. Renoir’s directing of the petty madness throughout is quite stunning in its confident control. As frenetic as everything going on is, it never boils over into complete chaos, but the film is always on that threshold. What I admire most in The Rules of the Game its audacity, that Renoir had the guts to confront the frivolity and blind-eyed upper-class in the wake of something as terrifying as oncoming war. Repeat; I will need to see this again for further appreciation, but I still know I’ve seen a great film. It’s just a matter of uncovering what makes it great.


Sunrise (1927)

Directed by F.W. Murnau

* * * *
This is the story of a nameless Man (George O’Brien) and Wife (Janet Gaynor). They live a simple life in the countryside, and though they were once madly in love, time has unveiled a stale, mundane, and frustrating marriage. The Man finds sexual gratification with a Woman from the City (Margaret Livingston), who tempts the Man to drown his Wife to run away with her. Though the Man begins the attempt, he realizes what he’s really doing as his Wife runs away in horror. He begs for her forgiveness. Though she is reluctant at first, she warms up to his sincerity. They spend a day together in the city, and it is throughout this day that they rediscover their undying love for each other.

Sunrise is one of those films, like Citizen Kane or City Lights, that exists not so much as just a film, but rather as fact. It is one of those films that not only had such an impact on the art form for its time, but stands the test of time as a truly great film that knows no specific audience, region, or topic. As for my own personal thoughts; I not only acknowledge Sunrise’s place in film history (it was one of the very first films to utilize sound), but you have my assurance that I’m not just arbitrarily acknowledging its greatness, as this is an unbelievably great film, and I can’t think of a single bad thing to say about it.

The characters, though nameless and essentially archetypal, are universal, and watching their love blossom from a previously rotten state is nothing short of sweet. There are countless sequences that only bolster the power of their love – the sequence in which they walk into a church during a wedding, undoubtedly my favorite scene in Sunrise, I can only describe as angelic. F.W. Murnau was one of the most prominent figures of the silent era, and films like Sunrise only further justify such a reputation.


Won’t You Be My Neighbor? (2018)

Directed by Morgan Neville

* * *

Though originally driven to become a Presbyterian minister, Fred Rogers made an unexpected decision to pursue a career in television. His reasoning; concerned with the effect of trash TV programs on children, Rogers wanted to provide a more credible and valuable alternative. In time, this would become Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, a warm and welcoming show that, in spite of a demographic of young children, talked about various hot-button topics, from racism to the Kennedy assassination. Won’t You Be My Neighbor? chronicles the overall picture of Mr. Rogers’ impact on television as well as his legacy.

Sometimes I question whether Fred Rogers was actually a real human being, as it is borderline unbelievable that a man as warm, loving, and caring as him could possible exist among a cynical and emotionally hardened society. While I jest, I cannot deny that the unconditionally graceful nature of Mr. Rogers can only be described as magical, if not miraculous, and Won’t You Be My Neighbor? does nothing but honor and cherish this saint of a man. Though I saw episodes of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood here and there as a child, I can’t exactly say I grew up with it, so imagine how taken back I was at just how much guts this man had and just how much he accomplished.

As spellbound as I was by the memory of Fred Rogers, the film itself, while good, isn’t anything too special. It’s been 15 years since Fred’s passing, so I find it unusual that nobody made a film until now, considering his remarkable legacy. Much of the story presented here is already out there, so if you’re already familiar with Fred Rogers’ story, you’re probably not missing much. Additionally, the transitions from chapter to chapter feel a little awkward, like they don’t weave together too seamlessly. I may present criticisms, but this is still a powerful movie, and nothing can take that away. I dare you not to tear up (at the very least).

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