Category Archives: Film
Criterion: Eraserhead
ERASERHEAD, DAVID LYNCH, 1977
Some might call David Lynch a weird dude; others would call him a visionary artist. To me, he’s a little of both, and I can take him or leave him. Some of his work leaves me cold, like Lost Highway[, while I consider others to be masterpieces, most notably Mulholland Drive, and also the under appreciated Inland Empire. Eraserhead is somewhere in between. It is something I respect far more than I like, and it represents a starting point for one of the most inventive and creative cinematic minds of the modern era.
One thing that is remarkable is that this film was made at all. That’s one reason why I love these Criterion releases. Every film has a story behind the story, and Criterion teaches as much about the process of getting it to screen as it does the images as art. Eraserhead took a long time to get made, and the project came about as a happy accident when Lynch nearly had a falling out with AFI. They were giving filmmakers a lot of rope, and they pretty much left him alone and did his thing. The final product, to me, is not perfect, but it is of unquestionably high quality, and not something you’d expect from someone who had previously directed a handful of experimental shorts.
The movie itself doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Lynch acknowledges as much and refuses to share his interpretation. I actually really admire that. As anyone who has been in a good English, Film or Art History course can attest, the creator’s original intent has very little to do with how people interpret and understand the film. In some of the marathon discussions in which I’ve participated, we have deconstructed the piece of art far far beyond the creator’s vision or intent, and that’s what makes it beautiful. Something that can be a lot of things for a lot of different people has power, and that’s why a films like Eraserhead and Mulholland Drive can take hold.
It doesn’t take a lot of searching to find popular theories on the Internet. Here’s one. Here’s another. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. You could scour blogs and discussion boards for hours just reading different interpretations. Lynch likened the film to a Rorschach test, implying that the way people interpret the film says more about them.
Aside from enjoying it as a piece of entertainment a few times, I cannot say that I’ve gained much more understanding of it, but I have picked up on several themes and motifs, just like everyone else. The sexual symbolism is overt, with the spermatozoa-like objects (for lack of a better word) popping up on occasion. In one scene Henry finds them all over the bed he is sharing with his girlfriend/wife. Could that be sexual guilty? We don’t know. Fatherhood is another key theme, as embodied by the freaky, mutated baby, that I’d still rather not know what it really was. On this recent viewing, I picked up on some commentary on modernity and technology. This is expressed all throughout the movie, most notably through the constant humming of the machinery. There are other moments where it comes into play, such as when Henry’s girlfriend’s father marvels at the smaller-sized chickens, which he proudly exclaims are new! And of course those chickens foreshadow the eventual baby, so if the message is of modernity, it is interwoven with the pressures of the nuclear family.
For such an independent and low budget film, it is technically brilliant. One element that stands out to me is the sound design — which is often a constant hum. The black-and-white cinematography looks terrific, especially on this Blu-Ray (I had previously seen this on VHS or streaming).
There are a lot of different avenues to take when interpreting the film, and there really is no wrong answer. David Lynch isn’t going to take out his red pen to anyone’s conclusion. He’s just proud that we’re still thinking about it.
Film Rating: 7/10
Supplements:
David Lynch Shorts: The majority of these are from early in Lynch’s career, prior to the release of Eraserhead. Some of them were created concurrently with that project since it took so long. The only exception is his one-minute contribution to Lumière and Company, using the same century-old equipment that the early pioneers of film used.
If Lynch hadn’t become the filmmaker that he is today, these most likely would not have seen the light of day. They are clearly amateur filmmaking, yet they are experimental and show glimpses of what would become his style. That’s not to say they are not good on their own right. For what are essentially student films, these are high quality. These were part of the reason AFI favored him and gave him freedom to make a feature.
And yes, as you might expect from Lynch, the shorts are weird. The Amputee has a double amputee transcribing a letter while her wounds are being tended to by a nurse. The Grandmother is about a bed-wetting child who grows some sort of object on his bed that births his an old lady. This was the longest and best of the shorts. Most of them mix crude animation with live action, which gives them an added surrealism. All of the shorts are worth watching, especially for Lynch fans.
Documentaries and Interviews: The remainder of the supplements are arranged by the year in which they were released, with no explanation. You just click the year and see what happens, which is a very Lynchian format. These were all interesting in their own right. I enjoyed the interview from the set that was conducted after the release about the time the film was achieving cult status off as a midnight movie. Lynch was frank about his methods, but silent about his meanings. That’s a silence he would keep throughout his entire career. There was another documentary that was basically Lynch talking into a microphone about the process. This one was the least interesting, even if he gave the most information. I particularly enjoyed the most recent documentary, which features some of the actors and crew members, which most likely was recorded just for this release.
Criterion Rating: 8/10
1975 List
1975 was an unusual year in that I have all five Oscar nominees for Best Picture on my list. Since the Academy rarely gets it right (in my opinion), that’s an anomaly that’s unlikely to be repeated. They got it right this year with the nominations and the winner is a solid film, even if it wouldn’t be my choice.
Another anomaly is that the majority of the films that made my list are in the English language. Hollywood was churning out quality content in the 1970s that overshadowed a lot of international products. Rainer Werner Fassbinder actually had three films that barely missed the list: Fox and His Friends, Fear of Fear, and Mother Küsters Goes to Heaven.
It was also a year for guilty pleasures. My #1 choice is a fine film and would make many lists, but maybe not the top spot. The fact that it has remained hilarious after 40 years speaks volumes. Even though it is not my favorite Monty Python (that would be Life of Brian), it is one of the most quotable and funniest comedies that I’ve seen. Rocky Horror Picture Show is another example of a guilty pleasure. I have seen it a number of times in theaters with audience participation and never on it’s own. It is not a good film, but the fact that it is still a great time at the theater gives it some sentimental value.
1. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
2. Nashville
3. Picnic at Hanging Rock
4. Love and Death
5. The Passenger
6. Night Moves
7. The Mirror
8. Dog Day Afternoon
9. Overlord
10. Xala
11. Barry Lyndon
12. One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest
13. Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce
14. The Man Who Would Be King
15. Three Days of the Condor
16. Deep Red
17. The Story of Adele H
18. Jaws
19. The Great Waldo Pepper
20. Rocky Horror Picture Show
Criterion: All That Jazz, 1979
ALL THAT JAZZ, BOB FOSSE, 1979
What separates All That Jazz from most musicals, is the level of honesty and authenticity. The musical numbers are all ways of expressing reality in an entertaining and artistic fashion, whether they are about the process and mechanics of putting together a Broadway music, or about one’s own mortality. Fosse’s mostly-autobiographical tale brings us into his world, the theatrical and directorial world, and uses that as a means to another world. More on that latter world in a moment.
The theater world is the one that Fosse knows the best, and he portrays it as a true insider. It begins with the cattle call, an arduous and brutal ordeal. The sequence goes on for a long time, nearly in a documentary style with clever editing to show the magnitude of performances that take place. George Benson’s version of “On Broadway” plays, reminding us what the stakes are. One of the dancers says he’s willing to change his given name (Autumn) if he gets the job. A job in a Gideon (or Fosse) production could make a career.
There are other theater sequences that are particularly effective. This was my third viewing, and one that struck me this time was the audition sequence with Victoria, who Joe had recently taken as a lover. Some may think that entitles her to special treatment, yet she gets none. She lacks in the talent department, so Joe pushes and pushes her away from mediocrity. You can see the pain on her face with every new attempt, and you sympathize when she thinks about quitting. This probably happens all the time in the theater world. She doesn’t quit and after a number of repetitions and being drenched in sweat, she gets the nod of modest acknowledgement. Gideon says that a take is better, and a sense of relief passes through her exhausted face. It was a nice character moment, performed well by the actress.
The other music pieces are part of Joe’s world. The adult-themed airplane number is performed as a dress rehearsal for the producers, but it takes a life of its own. It shows the director’s brilliance, but also his bravado. He’s not afraid to push the envelope, and the number is a reflection of how he lives – sex, drugs, and smoking. Another musical number is performed by his girlfriend and daughter, and is a great way of developing the character relationships in an entertaining and touching manner.
The other dance numbers were also part of Joe’s world, but not the same world. This world is just as open and honest, maybe more so, and they again show how Joe/Bob will go to depths that most filmmakers won’t.
Be warned, the remainder of this summary is going to be full of spoilers. This movie cannot really be discussed without referencing the ending.
Even though the dance numbers are entertaining and even fun, they are a contrast with the harsh reality of what Joe is facing. This is shown in graphic detail during the heart surgery, where they show the medical procedure happen – something I had never seen prior to this movie, and never expected to see.
That takes the movie to a different level. While in the hospital, Joe has a musical hallucination, which talks about how much he has done wrong, how he has failed. His decisions have led him to this point, with a fractured marriage, a stressful career, and literally, a breaking heart.
The final scene is pure brilliance. It is Joe saying goodbye to the world, including his professional peers, his family, even his enemies. The lyrics “Bye bye life. Bye bye bappiness. “ are dark, morbid, yet they are celebrational. “I think I’m going to die. Bye bye my life, goodbye.” Even though the movie clearly is leading up to the finality of Joe’s life, the harsh, abrupt ending is still shocking. It is still bold. It is still amazing. Even though the prior ten minutes were full of smiles and festivity, the stark reality is that you will be zipped up into a body bag.
Phenomenal movie. I’ve long called it my favorite musical ever, and that was cemented with yet another viewing.
Film Rating: 9.5/10
Supplements:
There are a ton of supplements, so I’ll give an abbreviated survey here.
Commentaries: There is one full commentary with Alan Heim, the editor, and Roy Scheider, the lead actor. Even with the shorter duration, Scheider’s is the more interesting, as is to be expected. Heim’s is good too, but there is already a featurette about the editing on the disc that is more effective. One thing that’s surprising from both commentaries is about Fosse’s take on the autobiographical details. It seems that he minimized the fact that it was based on his own experiences, yet they were undeniably him. Heim points out that the address on the medications was Fosse’s address, and he would refer to the lead character as “you” when addressing Fosse, which the director didn’t like.
Ann Reinking and Erzsebet Foldi: The actresses that played the girlfriend and daughter have a good rapport as they reminisce about their experience. The young actress had no idea of the scale of the movie when she was doing it, and it was something hearing her talk about seeing people lined up around the block.
TV Appearances: There are three of these; one with Fosse and Agnes de Mille, and the other two with Fosse solo. It’s weird seeing Gene Shalit doing an interview. I’m not a fan, but Fosse makes for an interesting subject.
Featurettes: There are several. My favorite was on the editing, which sort of negated Heim’s commentary. There were others about the music, on-set footage, and even one on the making of George Benson’s “On Broadway.”
Documentary: This is short by Criterion standards, but long considering everything else on the disc. It is roughly thirty minutes and has several interviews with people involved with the production, including Sandahl Bergman, who was flown in just three days before her scene and had to learn a complicated dance routine.
Between the quality of the movie, restoration, and the extensive features, this is so far the best Criterion release of the year.
Criterion Rating: 10/10
Criterion: The Essential Jacques Demy
THE ESSENTIAL JACQUES DEMY, 2014
This is the first completed box set for this blog, although there should be another one following pretty closely behind. This was a good one to start with. Going in, I had limited exposure to Demy, and wasn’t a huge fan of what I saw. Even though this set only includes the ‘Essential’ titles, it’s the best representation of his work, and with the shorts included, I felt that I had seen the development and evolution of style.
Even though I wouldn’t call any of his films masterpieces, I closed this set having a lot more respect for his craft. He went to places that other filmmakers wouldn’t go, and did some things that were truly original. I really like that his film universe had some connectivity, with reoccurring characters, motifs, and references to other films in the mise-en-scene. This would not be as easy to pick up if you watched the films individually over a longer span of time.
There are a couple of titles omitted that I wanted to see, especially Model Shop. My expectations are not high, but it seems to fit into the Demy universe since it is a sequel to Lola. Since the Demy family was so involved in this project, I am hopeful that Criterion will work on some of these other titles as standalone releases. On that note, I’m praying for an upgrade of Varda’s 4-films. The fact that this set was so comprehensive and she was heavily involved, I’d say it is a strong possibility.
Aside from Lola, the restorations were all impressive. Many of the discs had a short restoration supplement, and it was neat to see them remove blemishes as they found them. Lola’s restoration was poor, but I know that they had problems getting a workable master print. Since it was his debut feature film and it set the stage for so much of his later work, it had to be included regardless of the quality.
As for my impression of Demy, as mentioned, it improved. Musicals are my blind spot, but I found myself enjoying The Umbrellas of Cherbourg far more on this new visit, and I appreciated The Young Girls of Rochefort. As I progressed further into the set, I found myself appreciating Lola and Bay of Angels a little more, and will enjoy revisiting them at a later date. Donkey Skin was disappointing. While Une chambre en ville didn’t measure up to it’s stylistic sister, it was surprisingly effective, and it was refreshing to see Demy push beyond the boundaries he set for himself.
There were no commentaries on any discs. While that was disappointing, the vast number of supplements almost made up for it. I appreciated the two Varda documentaries a great deal. In fact, her The World of Jacques Demy is my favorite film of the entire set. I missed a lot of the critical examinations on the earlier discs, but was pleased to view James Quandt’s A-Z evaluation. His essay and Varda’s documentary were on the final disc, and that punctuated the set extremely well.
Here are all of the films:
Lola
Bay of Angels
The Umbrellas of Cherbourg
The Young Girls of Rochefort
Donkey Skin
Une chambre en ville
Box Set Rating: 8.5
Criterion: Une chambre en ville
UNE CHAMBRE EN VILLE, JACQUES DEMY, 1982
After an opening strikers versus police scene that seems yanked from the Les Miserablés play (it wasn’t), the camera cranes up to an overlooking room with a baroness looking down at the commotion. After the conflict dies down, the baroness speaks with her boarder, who happens to be one of the strikers.
Strike that. She doesn’t speak, she sings, and he sings back. The wallpaper is a blood red, which matches her outfit. Immediately this scene recalls The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. It may be unfair to compare the two films, but Demy clearly intended to use the same style to tell this new story, and there are parallels with both films, albeit with a far different tone. Every line is sung, wardrobes and sets have matching colors, and so on.
As a musical, Une Chambre is no comparison to Umbrellas. The missing ingredient is Michel Legrand. I’m not sure why his collaboration with Demy didn’t continue, possibly because of the time commitment as he was a busy man at the time. Either way, his presence is sorely missed in this format. Michel Colombier is the replacement, and while he has put together a decent career scoring films, the only other thing he has in common with Legrand is the first name. His music in this film is uninspired and the sung dialogue doesn’t fit into the narrative as snugly as Umbrellas. Without Legrand, I wish they would have chose to let the actors speak rather than sing (or lip-synch). The intensely dramatic script could have made for a much better acting vehicle. Alas, that is not Demy’s style.
From the first ten minutes as the two characters sing the exposition to each other, I was prepared to dislike this film. It was immediately clear that it was trying to be another Umbrellas, and it was also clear that this was anything but. It took some time to introduce the characters and get the narrative rolling, but eventually I found myself taken in. While the music was lacking, everything else was vintage Demy. The costumes, set design and wallpaper did compare respectfully with Umbrellas. I particularly liked the scene with Edith and Guilbaud in his room, with the earthy colors of yellow and brown. These are colors that aren’t bright or flamboyant enough for Umbrellas, but they fit better with the darker story in Une Chambre.
Speaking of dark, when I reviewed Umbrellas, I mentioned how the ending was bittersweet, yet it manages to leave us on a high note. Aside from that, it is bright and bubbly despite being about a romance interrupted by the Algerian War. Une Chambre has a similarly dour premise, with a romance happening at the same time as a 1955 worker’s strike, but this is not bubble gum and butterflies. We know that when Edith and her husband Edmond first fight and the result is domestic violence. Later when Edmond confronts Edith’s mother, the baroness, he threatens to kill both Edith and her lover, if his suspicions of adultery are correct. Edith wears a fur overcoat with nothing underneath and she is bold enough to share the mystery underneath, which is an act far too seedy for the characters of Umbrellas, or any other Demy film for that matter.
I will not spoil how this plays out because it is worth watching. I’ll just say that it lives up to the dark foreshadowing. Compared with Umbrellas, Une Chambre has more grisly violence, stark sexuality, and the characters are not nearly as likeable, but the payoff is daring and not something you would expect from Demy’s universe.
Film Rating: 6.5
Supplements:
There are a handful of supplements on this disc, such as a retrospective and a couple of interviews, but I’m going to ignore those and focus on the two big ones, which happen to be the best supplements in the entire box set.
The World of Jacques Demy: Agnes Varda is an excellent documentarian, but none of her works is nearly as personal as this one. Created within years of her husband’s death, this is a retrospective and love letter of his entire body of work, including all of the inclusions in this set and other notable films like Model Shop and his final film, Three Seats for the 26th. It features Varda and family to a certain degree, but the most powerful sequences are three young girls who are simply fans of Demy. One of them reads a lovely letter she wrote to the director, thanking him for giving her life beauty and inspiration. The others felt the same, and they shared personal stories of how they grew up to Demy, how much they adored him and his work, and how they were left empty with his loss. Neither Varda nor any of his two children talk about his death, but they don’t have to. These three girls say enough.
Jacques Demy, A to Z: Film Critic James Quandt narrates this Criterion-produced visual essay about Demy’s body of work. He uses the alphabet to track Demy’s career, talking about the people who inspired him, motifs in his work, characters, and especially his family. With the letter B, he mentions Robert Bresson. Quandt also did the excellent commentary for Bresson’s Pickpocket, so he knows what he’s talking about. My first reaction when I saw Bresson’s name was that the two filmmakers have little in common with each other. Bresson is austerity while Demy is an eruption of style. Yet, Quandt still demonstrates a number of similarities that I had missed. Many of the male characters in Demy’s world are quiet, austere and understated, especially in his first two black and white films. Quandt parallels these characters with Bresson’s Michel and shows certain Demy scenes that were directly inspired by Bresson scenes. Near the end we get V for Varda, which is the most fitting. Oddly enough, they never worked together and they convey distinctly different styes and tones, but they complement each other and are forever intertwined. Finally, we have Varda and the Demy family to thank for putting this box set together and letting us experience Demy through their eyes.
On the strength of these two supplements, this is the best disc in the entire box set. Also note that The Young Girls of Rochefort is included in the DVD version.
Criterion Rating: 9/10
Criterion: Donkey Skin
DONKEY SKIN, JACQUES DEMY, 1970
After watching two New Wave-ish films, and the two arguably most popular French musicals of all time, the last thing I expected was a surrealistic and unusual fairy tale. It is based on one of French Author Charles Perrault’s (Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty) lesser-known fairy tales, and is nearly a reverse Beauty and the Beast, which was not a Perrault work.
The tale begins with a king losing his fair wife and promising to not re-marry any princess that is not as lovely as her. This seems to be a typical and benign fairy tale premise until it takes a wide left turn. After reviewing the available princesses, he finds that none are worthy of the vow. Finally he realizes that there is one princess that he has forgotten to consider, his own daughter, played by Catherine Deneuve. He decides he must marry her. She isn’t opposed to the idea since she loves her father, but for some reason it doesn’t feel right. She demands that specific colored dresses be made for her, which the king obliges, until she finally requests a dress made out of the hide of a Donkey that, umm, defecates jewels. The king also obliges, and she uses this skin as a disguise to escape.
If that doesn’t sound weird enough, much of the rest of the film has Deneuve traipsing around with a Donkey head on top of her, looking ridiculously silly. On top of that, she encounters a kingdom that is obsessed with the color red. Everything is painted red, including the horses. The fairy tale aspect reminded me in a way of Louis Malle’s Black Moon, albeit with a clearer narrative and without the nudity. To my surprise, I found in the supplements that Demy intended this to be a children’s film, and he said that the incestual content would not seem unusual to young children because they naturally love their parents. I’m no prude, but I wouldn’t show my children a movie that even touches on them having a relationship with their parents, but maybe he is right that a child would miss this taboo. It’s difficult to put yourself in that position as an adult.
While this one doesn’t exactly fit tightly into the already established Demy oeuvre, it contains many elements that are familiar from his earlier films. I wouldn’t call this a musical, but it does contain a few Michel Legrand songs, which the actors sing in the same manner as Umbrellas and Rochefort, clearly lip-synching. The use of color and attention to detail is also Demy-esque. This is the case in the first palace, but it really stands out in the latter kingdom with the strong red color scheme. The costumes are also fantastic, and overall this is a technically accomplished film.
The problem is everything else. This does not quite work as a children’s fairy tale, and the reverse Beauty and the Beast plot is mundane and lazy. Some scenes go on for far too long, such as when the king is reviewing princesses, or later when the prince is trying to fit a ring on a maiden’s finger. It seems that Demy meant this as a commercial work without saying much. I’d say he failed on that level, yet still managed to put together a visual feast.
Film Rating: 4.5/10
Supplements:
Pour Le Cinema: This French TV program contained set interviews with Demy, Deneuve, Marais and others. This is the supplement that has Demy talking about how the children would not pick up on the incest theme. Aside from that, most of it was light and promotional, with the participants talking about how much they liked working on the film.
Donkey Skin Illustrated: This was rather interesting. They showed sketches, drawings and paintings inspired by the story. The best ones were those of the princess wearing her donkey skin. Many of them were the way that Demy portrayed it on screen.
2008 Discussion: This is a round table discussion with a critic, psychoanalyst, and literary buff about the film and it’s themes. While I said above that the film said very little, they brought out a few themes that I had missed, like the theme of liberation that embodied hippie generation of the time.
Demy AFI Interview: This was an audio recording at AFI, which I didn’t listen to in its entirety. In the parts I listened to, they talked about the process. Unlike a lot of other lighter interviews (like the French TV one), the AFI asks good questions about the filmic elements. It seems like an interesting interview.
Criterion Rating: 5.5/10
Art Vs. Commerce in Classical Hollywood
The Scarlet Empress
This semester I am taking a graduate Film Studies class about the Classical Hollywood period, mostly from the early sound movies until just beyond the end of the studio system. Even though I’ve seen my share of Classic Hollywood films, they are not my primary interest. With some exceptions, I far prefer the European products of the 1930s (especially French: Renoir, Duvivier, Feyder, Carne), and have never been a fan of Hollywood icons like Capra. The studio system was the barrier and it seemed to inhibit creativity to a degree, although there were some brilliant films out of that era — like those from Von Sternberg, Lubitsch, Hawks, Ford, and of course the later noir movement brought a lot more artistry thanks to people like Orson Welles (even though we was constrained and ultimately defeated by the system).
One noteworthy aspect of this class is that the textbook and a lot of the modules will focus on the business and economics of Hollywood rather than artistic merit. Of course when we examine the films, we cannot help but view and evaluate them as pieces of art, but we also look at them as instruments of entertainment and tailor made, easily digestible products.
When looking at this era from the 21st century, with film studies firmly established as an academic discipline and the debate settled as to whether film is art (spoiler alert: it is art!), it is a little odd to examine how they treated the early films as they were produced and released. The studios and the stars were the main attraction, and the directors were secondary. The auteur theory is ingrained in the fiber of modern film, but didn’t exist prior to Andre Bazin. There’s no question as to whether the director is the author today. Not so back then. Thus far we have seen films from Rouben Mamoulian (Queen Christina) and Josef von Sternberg (The Scarlet Empress). The former had talent and could be argued to be an auteur. The latter is unquestionably an auteur — one of the most notable working in Hollywood.
We have just scratched the surface, and soon will be looking at Depression era films, Noir, Musicals, and the end of the studio system. Since I’m enrolled in this class as a grad student, I’ll be leading the section about the end of the studio system, and will be doing my project on Elia Kazan and how his films were impacted by the system and, naturally, his part in the HUAC proceedings.
It should be a good class, and will inevitably change my perception of Classic Hollywood — probably just in time for me to revisit It Happened One Night just one more time. Maybe the ‘Walls of Jericho’ will finally come down and I’ll enjoy the movie.
Criterion: Vengeance is Mine
VENGEANCE IS MINE, SHOHEI IMAMURA, 1979
Shohei Imamura’s Vengeance Is Mine was his first foray into narrative films after more than a decade of working with documentaries. It shows, as this is based on true events. With a couple of exceptions, Imamura does not rely on artistic storytelling methods. Aside from bouncing back and forth across the timeline via flashbacks, the storytelling itself is a straightforward portrayal of a man who has committed crimes and is on the run.
Within the confines of this narrative, Imamura uses a great deal of creativity with his shot selection. Even though he had more than established himself as an auteur during the Japanese New Wave, he still borrows from his heroes, namely Kurosawa and Ozu. You’ll see a lot of unique framing, such as shooting through doorways or blocking shots with walls, which Ozu was famous for. The lead character Iwao Enokizu, played by Ken Ogata, is usually subdued, but has moments of rage and extreme behavior. He is reminisicent of Mifune characters in Kurosawa films — tough minded and rarely showing weakness, and generally a tough character to penetrate.
At the center of the film is a moral crisis. That is not confined to just the serial killing of the protagonist, but most notably by the peripheral characters and how his live impacts theirs. His father is a devout Catholic that is tempted by Iwao’s wife, who holds him with high esteem. She is also Catholic, but her husband has left her with an emptiness and she clings to his father for support, sexually or otherwise. The only instance that she encounters another man, she only succumbs (and this is not perfectly clear) because he was recommended by her father-in-law.
The other moral question is with the ladies of the Asano Hotel, who harbor Iwao after he masquerades as a professor. At first they are taken with him, and when they discover his true nature, they respond in curious ways. The mother, also a former killer, is opposed to Iwao being a part of their life, whereas the daughter believes in him and tries to hide and protect him.
The flashbacks are put together well, not to the point where they confuse the narrative, although the film benefits from being watched a second time. They range from when Iwao defies his father at a young age prior to Pearl Harbor, and continue to the time of his murders, his subsequent escape and time on the run, and his subsequent arrest and interrogation.
Iwao is not a character that is easy to understand. We do not and cannot see inside his soul to see why he does things. Instead, Imamura plants little clues that shows that he has complete disregard for anyone else. There are a couple occasions when he shows a bit of humanity, like in the second half when he is carrying on an affair, he at times shows feelings towards her. You wonder whether he is falling in love or just playing with her. Yet he ends the relationship in a way that clouds his feelings even further. The character is mostly an embodiment of evil. Anyone that he encounters is either an obstacle or an opportunity, and he has ways of handling both.
The title of the movie is ambiguous. Who is taking vengeance? Is it Iwao for all the people who he feels have wronged him the past? His father perhaps? I’m sure there are plenty of theories on the internet, which I have not read, but I have a feeling it relates to the final scene. His ex-wife and daughter throw his bones into the air, only to have them freeze midway through. Even though his final wishes were an act of rebellion, just to throw his bones off a mountain, they were not granted. You could argue that the vengeance was of the Christian God that he turned his back on, not letting him have his final resting place, damning his bones from reaching the earth. You could also argue that this is Iwao’s spirit, rejecting any sort of resolution, especially anything coming from his despised father. Imamura leaves this open-ended, which punctuates the film. Why did he freeze the bones in the air? We’ll never know the answer, just as we’ll never understand what possessed Iwao to perform such unspeakable acts.
Movie Rating: 8/10
Supplements:
Audio Commentary with Tony Rayns: This was an exceptional commentary. He filled in a lot of the gaps regarding the source material, Imamura’s career, his influences, actors, themes and styles. For the entire 2:20 running time, he barely pauses and always shares interesting details.
Interview with Imamura: This is a brief interview where he talks about the film. You can tell he is pleased with how it came out. One interesting tidbit was how the crew would frequent a noodle shop run by the real killer’s sister.
Criterion Rating: 8.5/10
1985 List
I don’t often think of the 80s as being the pinnacle of cinema. That was the decade of my childhood, so I remember vividly going to see a number of terrible films that I loved then, and have mostly forgotten now. I still feel that the 80s is a relatively weak decade, especially compared to the 60s and 70s, but this year in particular was surprisingly strong. The top three are extremely important films and would be near or the top of the list in any year. I have yet to do a best of the decade, but these films will unquestionably be featured prominently.
There are some schlocky, silly movies, like Re-Animator, Fletch, Pee Wee, and Return of the Living Dead. A couple of those are guilty pleasures, and some have simply held up. They are like a theme park compared to the serious top three. The 80s may have had some bad mainstream movies, but there is no shortage in cult comedies.
The one title is noticeably absent from this list is Back to the Future. I remember loving the movie as a child, even purchasing the novelization (not exactly high literature) and seeing it a few times. As I’ve grown older and seen it multiple times, I have become less fond of the movie. It just seems yet another one of those formulaic, mainstream adventure comedies. It is still better than most, but not one of the best.
1. Ran
2. Shoah
3. Come and See
4. Brazil
5. Vagabond
6. Purple Rose of Cairo
7. Breakfast Club
8. Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters
9. After Hours
10. Lost in America
11. When Father Was Away on Business
12. My Beautiful Laundrette
13. Re-Animator
14. Fletch
15. Pee Wee’s Big Adventure
16. Tracked
17. My Life as a Dog
18. Return of the Living Dead
19. Pale Rider
20. No End
Criterion: The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (long version)
THE KILLING OF A CHINESE BOOKIE, JOHN CASSAVETES, 1976
Criterion often packages multiple versions of a film. Often the theatrical release is cut to shreds and the longer release is the director’s cut, which is usually the better version. As a habit, I’ve usually chosen the longer cut for the first viewing, and sometimes (usually never) will revisit the film by watching the shorter version. That’s how I approached this Cassavetes film, but I forgot one important difference between his work and all the others. He didn’t have to worry about studios, editors, or final cut. He wrote, directed, produced and usually financed his own films, so he had the ability to cut the film however he liked. So in this unusual case, the longer version is the inferior version.
Chinese Bookie has a lot going for it, especially the performance of Ben Gazzara as Cosmo Vitelli, a down on his luck New York cabaret club owner who finds himself in a difficult situation. He plays it with subtlety, but also with charm. He’s a likeable guy. He acts as a sort of caretaker for his performing girls, and feels very close to them. One of them is his girlfriend. He takes pride in his club, and puts all the money he makes back into it. Cosmo is a well-drawn character, like most in the Cassavetes world, and Gazzara plays him exceptionally well. He keeps himself calm and composed for the most part, and only loses control for a brief moment later in the film, a moment that is powerful because of how the character has been played.
As much as I liked the character and the actor, everything else was a slog. During the first 40-minutes or so, the film seems like it is going to be up to par with other Cassavetes films, mostly because of the strength of the performance and the character. He carries the momentum through his interaction with Seymour Cassell’s character. After that, the film just hits a brick wall. It should have been exciting when the titled act is carried out, but not really. It is hard to tell whether Cassavetes was going for artistic photography, pacing and editing, such as he had with Faces, but it simply didn’t work.
From there it gets worse. We go further inside the club. Most of the ensemble actors were amateurs and it shows. They show full musical numbers with a made up character named Mr. Sophistication doing the narration and provocatively dressed women playing out the parts. The catcalls from the audience suggest what the show is really about, as they bellow “Take it off!” and erupt in applause when one of the women momentarily pulls down her top. The problem is that we see too many of these numbers; they go on far too long; and they are not interesting. It is hard to imagine this show being popular. Early in the movie when Cassell visits on a Sunday, it seems that it isn’t, but during the performance sequences, the place seems packed. On screen, these performance sequences were overlong, awkward, and unnecessary. They took away from the character moments that bookended them.
After completing the film, being disappointed and navigating the supplements, I discovered that the longer version was, in fact, not the preferred version. Cassavetes felt that he was rushed to edit the film and did a poor job. The second version, released in 1978, is about 30-minutes shorter, but it isn’t simply fat being cut out of the film. Scenes are re-arranged. Many are cut, like the performance sequences that I loathed so much, and other scenes are included that weren’t in the longer version. The shorter version is supposed to be the definitive and preferred version. After watching the monstrosity of the longer version, I was not ready and willing to give it another try. Take this rating with a grain of salt because someday I will revisit this, and will probably prefer the 1978 version.
Film Rating: 3.5/10*
Supplements
Interview with Gazzara and Ruban. This is where I learned much about the controversy with the versions. When the 1976 version was released, it landed with a thud. People hated it, just like I did, and the actor and producer talk about how difficult that was to deal with.
Cassavetes interview: I always enjoy hearing Cassavetes talk about his style and his films. He conveys his passion, which can also be seen on screen.
Aside from the two versions, this disc is relatively thin on extras. It is the weakest thus far from the Cassavetes box.
Criterion Rating: 3/10*
* Could change when I see the 1978 version.
Criterion Close-Up 