I have thrown myself in to film. Luckily, I am on a major winning streak. Because nearly everything I have picked (from my couch in lovely Walnut Creek) has been v good.
I bought Page Eight, Tabloid (I have already seen it), Beginners, Rosemary's Baby (Halloween, natch), 28 Days Later (Halloween, already seen it), and dvr'd Catfish, Some Like It Hot (already seen it, one of my all-time faves), and La Fille Coupee en Deux.
Beginners, Tabloid, and 28 Days Later have all been discussed in this space, already, but I might have some stray notes at the end re these films and Le Nom des Gens, as well.
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Believe it or not but I had never seen Rosemary's Baby until four days ago. I am not quite sure why. I
like the Horror genre, even if I am not
passionate about it, per se. And I am a huge fan of Roman Polanski, particularly Repulsion, Chinatown, Knife in the Water, The Tenant, etc, ... But, for whatever reason, this one had escaped my attention. The wife and I had company over for dinner on Halloween and watched "scary" movies, and Renee wanted to watch this.
My favorite scene in the entire film was a simple, static shot from Mia Farrow's point of view, staring in to the living room, seeing nothing but pipe smoke fill the space from right to left on the screen. I liked the v first dream/nightmare sequence, too. And I naturally
loved the whole
idea that the story is set in motion because a struggling actor (Farrow's husband, John Cassavetes) wants to make it big on Broadway.
Still, despite great pacing; great shots; and some great performances from Elisha Cook Jr, Sydney Blackmer, Ruth Gordon, Ralph Bellamy, and Charles Grodin (!); the film seemed woefully dated to me. I will stick with the black and white, Swinging London, Repulsion, thank you v much, which is
still provocative and shocking today.
But, do not ever forget that a year after Rosemary's Baby, another monstrous "Family" would brutally murder Polanski's wife and child in Hollywood. Bizarre and awful. The sweep of Polanski's tragic, insane life deserves an epic novel. I do not know who would be sensitive enough to write it, though.
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Page Eight, written and directed by the stellar playwright, David Hare, has a top shelf cast, sublime dialogue, and perfect dramatic structure (of course.)
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| "Spud. Casual sex, Spud." |
Here is your top shelf cast: Bill Nighy, Michael Gambon, Rachel Weisz, Judy Davis, Ewen Bremner, Ralph Fiennes, and Tom Hughes, just to get you started.
The film is not groundbreaking or profound or
seminal in any way. It is just a solid dramatic entertainment, full of memorable scenes, and a positive ethical/moral message.
The best scenes, with the best dialogue, are reserved for Nighy and Ms Weisz (who is
extremely fetching, wearing all black throughout the entire picture, yet never once showing us her legs), particularly the "meet cute" and the few scenes they have right after that.
My favorite lines are, "As mean at cat meat." and "I'm (You're?) living in injury time."
Page Eight is good stuff, and will be on Masterpiece Contemporary on PBS this Sunday.
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You know, I do not care if Catfish is a hoax. More power to the film makers, then, if it is. I am biting at that hook, anyway. There are some genuinely scary moments in the film and the way the "stars" of this (ostensibly a documentary) film handle the situation in such a loving, sensitive way is v touching to me.
I am fine with being conned if it produces this kind of empathy and warmth.
The trailer and the marketing for the film are a whole different issue, though. I would like to believe the film makers had little or nothing to do with that.
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Ludivine Sagnier (what a preposterously gorgeous name) is a v fine actor. I have seen her in two films now, Love Crime (where she is v good, indeed) and La Fille Coupee en Deux. She is not pretty, really. She can sometimes be v sexy, especially in her walk, and she most certainly looks better in jeans than she does in skirts or dresses. (There is nothing wrong with her legs, that is just the way she is.) She reminds me of Chloe Sevigny (another blonde with a similar French name), though Ms Sevigny, while attractive, is definitely more masculine in her appearance than Ms Sagnier. Ms Sagnier is a better actor, as well.
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| The magician has his work cut out for him. |
La Fille Coupee en Deux is one of the last films the French
nouvelle vague Master, Claude Chabrol made. And it is not at all unlike any of his other forty (or fifty) or so films. Still, it is a pleasure to watch.
Chabrol loved Hitchcock and made many many many thrillers. But Chabrol's thrillers, like this one, were not quite the same thing. My favorite Chabrol film, Les Bonnes Femmes, barely gives the viewer even the slightest
hint of what the climax ultimately becomes. Which is something Hitch would absolutely abhor and is antithetical to Hitch's entire film making aesthetic (even if he might have enjoyed the film, personally.) There are certainly more hints in 2007 with La Fille than in 1960 with Les Bonnes Femmes.
What is also remarkable about Chabrol's films is that so many of them are stories about women, and that if you just heard their story lines, without ever seeing any of them, you would think they are blatantly misogynistic. But seeing the films, you do not get that feeling, at all. Chabrol's work reminds me of the
furore surrounding Mike Leigh's near-Masterpiece, Naked, suggesting quite loudly that the film was an attack on women. How absurd! Naked is a proto-apocalyptic millennial critique of Thatcher and the right-wing's destructive influence on men. It is a hyper-active reflection of Susan Faludi's excellent book, Stiffed.
La Fille is quite funny, as well. And its' suggestion that the author might be more twisted than the playboy is so skillfully handled, and with such grace and wit, that you understand exactly Ms Sagnier's plight, and probably agree with her decisions.
Or, maybe, you do not. What is it about French directors, who seem to have such a talent for expressing ambiguity and objectivity?
"Everyone has their reasons."
It is a lesson American artists could do well to pay intense attention to.
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Some stray notes:
I did not mention earlier how much Mills' work in Beginners reminded me in tone, and editing, and "tricks", of Wes Anderson's work. Which is funny, 'cause Godblesshim, Anderson is one of the most derivative film makers working today. (And I am a
massive fan of Anderson's films, especially the first two.)
And speaking of derivative, Le Nom des Gens has a lovely original score but it also contains a crucial piece of music that sounds near just about like a Neil Innes song for the Rutles,
Another Day. Which is hilarious because Another Day is a pastiche of the Beatles' song, Martha My Dear.
Love you all,
mwah, ...
