I was listening to an interview with author/photgrapher/wanderer extraordinaire Dan Price where he said something to the effect that while it's good to have friends, it's important that they not become too much of an influence. That's something I think about a lot. I'm not that concerned with friends becoming too much of an influence on me, keeping in touch with people can be challenge enough, but I do try to manage outside influences as best as I can. I'm happiest doing my own thing and while I very much appreciate a nudge here and there, I don't do well following anyone else's curriculum. I've been truly satisfied with my movie-watching over the last month and a lot of that has to do with seeking out whatever has piqued my interest and not following up on too many outside recommendations. Of course, this "feeling" of self-determination is illusory to a large extent. I've watched collections curated by other people, my watchlist is teeming with films that have been suggested to me one way or another, and I'm at the whim of theater and streaming service programmers as much as the next person. Still, if you need someone to encourage you not to get caught up in hype or FOMO, you'll always have an ally here at Kino Ventura.
It wasn't a big month for theatrical viewings for me - some of that was scheduling and some of that was that I just wasn't particularly drawn to what was showing. I did get to see a nearly sold out matinee of Nights of Cabiria which was part of the Italian Film Festival at The Main Cinema. My first viewing of Cabiria was at the now defunct Uptown Theatre shortly after the film had been restored in the 90s. I had no idea what it was besides being a Fellini film, and I was absolutely blown away by what I saw. It remains one of my cherished movie going memories and it was a genuine joy to be back in a theater with people who either loved Cabiria as much as I do or were discovering it for the first time themselves.
Symphony for a Massacre (1963) - Tremendously enjoyable crime thriller from Jacques Deray featuring some outstanding location work and solid performances. I loved the 60s-cool mood and the extended dialogue free sequences that held my interest as the various plot threads unraveled only to become thoroughly entangled. There's not a big mystery at the heart of this one, but Deray holds the tension brilliantly as the actions and motivations of the characters are unfurled. I confess I do not have a deep affection for the film-noir narration and much prefer this kind of quiet reveal. I also watched Deray's Le Marginal in March which is in many ways a bog-standard popcorn action movie but it won me over with Belmondo, Morricone tunes, 80s France, and some UNREAL stunt work. Deray put out some bangers.
Fail Safe (1964) - I'm not sure what I have to add after finally catching up to Sidney Lumet's sweat and suspense drenched political thriller. It's an absolute masterclass in polished entertainment that's also smart, dark, and disturbingly plausible. I've been meaning to watch it for years and I picked it up while browsing discs at the local library. It felt very much like the video store experience of years gone by which only added to my enjoyment.
Story of Women (1988) - Spurred to viewing by the Criterion Channel's curated selections, I watched a lot of Isabelle Huppert films in March including Chabrol's Story of Women. Set in occupied France, Story delivers a pragmatic and empathetic look at (mostly) women doing what they can to survive and occasionally thrive in a world turned inside out by war and fascism. I was reminded very much of the attitude towards sex, sex work, and the transactional nature of relationships found in French film of the 30s and 40s. This is not the moral rigidity found in American film of the same time and similar themes, it's the kind of attitude that comes from people who survived unjust times and emerged with understanding. Huppert is a delight and Chabrol takes what could have been a ponderous period drama and renders a briskly moving, entertaining, and no-less significant film. I also finally got around to seeing La Cérémonie which I (unsurprisingly) found to be fantastic and will undoubtedly send me on a quest to watch as many of the Huppert/Chabrol collaborations as I can.
Loulou (1980) - I confess that I knew very little of Maurice Pialat when I fired up this Huppert/Gerard Depardieu drama about desire and self-destruction. It's unhurried, it's bleak, and I can see not everyone appreciating Depardeiu's "charm", but I was totally taken with it. Pialat's natural style combined with actors of this quality makes for some beautifully rendered, immediate-feeling sequences that really drew me in. There's a final confrontation of sorts where Huppert attends a Sunday meal at Loulou's (Depardieu) family home that is believably electric with tension, danger, and some tragedy. I was also able to catch A Nos Amours from Pialat which takes his free-form approach and applies it to a brilliant coming of age performance from the (as of yet) untrained Sandrine Bonnaire. Amours contains a wild dinner scene of its own featuring Pialat raging as the patriarch who has managed to alienate himself so thoroughly from his family. Both movies are great and I'm looking forward to catching up with more of Pialat's directorial filmography.
Amateur (1994) - I'm not a year-round Criterion Channel subscriber but I like to pick it up for a month or two depending on what's being featured. Part of the reason I signed up last month was because they were including Hal Hartley's 90s crime oddity, Amateur, as part of their Huppert collection. Hartley's stuff has been somewhat out of circulation lately and I couldn't recall if I had actually seen Amateur when it was originally out on VHS or if the striking cover image of Huppert holding a drill was lodged in my memory. Either way, I'm glad to have watched or re-watched it. Idiosyncratic crime stories with deconstructed timelines and characters prone to spontaneous philosophical conversations were having their moment in the mid-90s. Hartley's film distinguishes itself from its contemporaries largely via Huppert's performance and a willingness to allow for reflective moments amidst the quirkiness and violence. The actors are fairly mannered but Huppert has some fantastic lines that rise above the deadpan delivery. There's also a nostalgia factor at work for me, not only with the actors and locations but perhaps most effectively via the soundtrack. Loaded with the likes of PJ Harvey, The Jesus Lizard, and My Bloody Valentine, the sonic texture of Amateur definitely nails the decade. Hartley's films were notable releases back when I was tearing tickets at our local indie theater and I'd love to see some new physical media editions of his films.
The Daytrippers (1996) - Since the Fun City Editions release of Party Girl, I've been quietly watching and re-watching a chunk of Parker Posey's 1990s output. Of the new-to-me films where Posey has a lead or fairly prominent role, I think The Daytrippers has been my favorite. Independent film took on some different guises in America during this timeframe and while some of them were somewhat mid-tier budget films produced by a subsidiary of a larger company, Daytrippers is the real deal. Initially budgeted for around 50k, shot in 16 days, and heavily utilizing the apartments of the cast and crew as locations, Daytrippers is a film that only exists because a small cadre of filmmakers willed it into existence. The actors undoubtedly make the picture - Posey, Liev Schrieber, and Hope Davis give terrific early career performances anchored by a emotionally visceral turn from Anne Meara. Despite the limited means, Daytrippers looks more polished than you might guess. Greg Mottola along with cinematographer John Inwood and production designer Bonnie J. Brinkley (Slime City!) took real locations, shot them well, and made them look believable as opposed to the kind of sterile, soundstage vibe that low-budget films can have even when actual places are used. Admittedly the laughs aren't always huge and the ending feels like it could have benefitted from some more consideration, but there's a ton of heart behind Daytrippers and it's definitely something I'll return to.
Sudden Manhattan (1996) - A much less heralded film also shot in NYC for no money at the same time as Daytrippers was Adrienne Shelly's directorial debut - Sudden Manhattan. Very much in the quirky yet dark, romantic comedy with elements of crime pantheon, but one that has been largely overlooked. Shelly is totally charming and I appreciated the screwball vibes even though I liked it best when it was more quietly strange. Louise Lasser delivers a riot of an appearance as the psychic Dominga - Ms. Lasser has a fascinating filmography having wrapped Frankenhooker a few years before Suddenly and having Happiness and Requiem for a Dream come out in the years following. I'll be looking for Shelly's follow up film I'll Take You There and would love to see restored versions of both.
An Unmarried Woman (1978) - Sticking with NYC for one more film, I finally caught up to Paul Mazursky's final entry to his phenomenal 1970s run of pictures. I adore Mazursky's movies from this period with both Harry and Tonto and Next Stop, Greenwich Village being longtime favorites so it really did take me a while to sit down for Unmarried Woman. Though this isn't an independent feature like the previous two films I mentioned, it is the product of a time when a studio would be willing to greenlight a modestly budgeted movie and sign near total control over to the director. So we have Mazursky firing on all cylinders here with a veteran crew composed of people he had worked with on previous films and a tremendous troupe of actors. Jill Clayburgh is perfectly cast in this and Mazursky is smart to keep his camera focused on her expressions and how she is reacting in scenes - it's her story after all. Great themes involving adult friendships and self-determination, Bill Conti contributes an excellent score, the funny parts land, the emotions feel lived-in, and I (naturally) love the setting. Something about seeing packed diners, parties, and city streets hits differently when my city is still definitely reeling in the hangover of lockdown.
Bronco Bullfrog (1969) - A genuine obscurity restored and brought back from the brink of disappearing - Bronco Bullfrog is an astonishing document of working class youth culture in Britain at the end of the 60s. Director Barney Platt-Mills takes a documentarian approach and used non-actors to populate a very authentic feeling world of work, boredom, and rebellion. The actors exist somewhere between the working class interpretation of Mod and the nascent skinhead subculture of boots, braces, and youth gangs. Though they were frequent fodder for tabloid papers, there isn't a abundance of media capturing these kids closer to their own terms. That alone makes Bronco compelling but it also works as an excellent counterpoint to the swinging 60s narrative that seems to be so dominant.
Gothic Fantastico: Four Italian Tales of Terror - I picked up this set of four Italian films released by Arrow last year and I thought it would be easiest to talk about the set as whole. I'm a fan of Italian Gothic but have generally stuck to the safe waters of Bava and/or Barbara Steele. I was interested in Arrow's set (particularly after their fantastic restoration of Mill of the Stone Women) but was moved to pick it up due to a combination of a good sale and Unsung Horror's episode covering The Third Eye. Franco Nero's first starring role - though Django would release earlier due to delays from censors - is probably enough to draw people to this set and The Third Eye makes for an interesting example of a modern gothic that dispenses with the cobwebbed corridors and crumbling castles normally associated with the genre. I think my favorites of the four are the much more traditionally gothic Lady Morgan's Vengeance and the other modern film in the set - The Witch. Lady Morgan is one half romantic mystery and one half supernatural chiller. There's an awkward flashback device employed part of the way through the film, but it still delivers on atmosphere and even treads into proto-gore territory. At one point Gordon Mitchell puts someone in an airplane spin and hurls them off a castle wall resulting in a splendid dummy drop. Maybe that works against the overall tone of the film, but it enshrines it as a classic in my book. Damiano Damiani's The Witch is set in contemporary (1966) Rome but manages to evoke a good deal of classic gothic spookery. It exchanges the ancient castle for a labyrinthine apartment building filled with secrets, death, crumbling manuscripts, strange family histories, and fractured reflections of reality. It's probably a little longer than it needs to be, but I was swept up all the same. The collection also includes The Blancheville Monster (1963) which is enjoyable if not as distinguished as some of the films that preceded it or would follow. My shelves are becoming more and more populated with Arrow sets and they do a terrific job - Gothic Fantastico is beautifully produced with one of Arrow's essay booklets and a poster. I've really enjoyed the film introductions and the video essays included but I haven't had a chance to check out the commentaries.
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