tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49567831675160823902024-02-18T19:33:45.446-08:00DVDBlu ReviewChristopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.comBlogger305125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-56571747080013985042022-01-31T13:32:00.002-08:002022-02-01T13:38:46.946-08:00My Dinner With Andre<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjus2Fye5wMcRQYyTIjcawiQHO-iJ3cRriz--8XGtnasMgXgg7recZng5yU3NsJlb2I8kKSoy7HVWPKG-1IfYFRd_1O-zvIVeFRMv9PEyvPLg8NjxXhxy6eXmsbGKlURRhF2vnlI4dTYgKfjy_FiElfyHten0izfxxSRPwdDYcxaARq3bMGz9bTTJovw=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjus2Fye5wMcRQYyTIjcawiQHO-iJ3cRriz--8XGtnasMgXgg7recZng5yU3NsJlb2I8kKSoy7HVWPKG-1IfYFRd_1O-zvIVeFRMv9PEyvPLg8NjxXhxy6eXmsbGKlURRhF2vnlI4dTYgKfjy_FiElfyHten0izfxxSRPwdDYcxaARq3bMGz9bTTJovw=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">(<i>“My Dinner With Andre” recently celebrated its 40<sup>th</sup> anniversary of release, prompting me to watch it once more. The first time I saw the film I was fairly young and both characters seemed to have much more mature “adult” concerns than I could quite connect with at the time. The second time I watched it, I was about Wally's age, and Andre still seemed so old, practically in his twilight years. On this revisit, I'm somehow older than Andre and I gotta say I find these two kids absolutely adorable! Here is a slightly re-edited version of the review I posted for the film's 2009 Criterion release on DVD. Criterion later provided a Blu-ray upgrade in 2015 and that's probably you best bet if you're looking to add “Andrew” to your collection.</i>)</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion is releasing three of the
most iconic art-house films of all-time this month. Ingmar Bergman's
“The Seventh Seal” (1957) helped to establish the art-house
exhibition circuit in America and its imagery has been parodied in
films like Woody Allen’s “Love and Death” (1975) and, perhaps
most famously for American audiences, in Pete Hewitt’s “Bill and
Ted’s Bogus Journey” (1991). A hit. You have sunk my battleship.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This month's other releases define two
of the extremes of the perceived tendencies of art-house cinema.
Alain Resnais' <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/07/last-year-at-marienbad.html" target="_blank">“Last Year at Marienbad”</a> is, for some, the very
definition of the impenetrable, hyper-intellectualized puzzle box
pitched at self-styled intellectuals who pretend to glean meaning
from a flurry of pretentious signifiers. Which is to say, it's just
one of those “weird ass” movies that only movie geeks would watch
(Ed. Note: It's in my personal Top 10, of course).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“My Dinner with Andre” (1981)
represents a different art-house extreme, the quotidian movie in
which nothing happens. Two men sit at a table and talk. That’s the
whole damn movie, or almost all of it. No Marienbad mysteries here,
it's all easy to understand: just soup, a plate of quail, and a lot
of jabber. Which is to say it's one of those “boring ass” movies
that only movie geeks would watch.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All three movies have carved out a
place in popular culture, though “Marienbad” in a more roundabout
route through fashion advertisements. For the sheer audacity (or
absurdity, depending on your perspective) of its structure and its
title, “My Dinner with Andre” has spawned its share of jokes. In
“The Simpsons,” nerdy Martin Prince plays an arcade game based on
the film, and in “Waiting for Guffman,”Christopher Guest’s
character shows off his “My Dinner with Andre” action figures.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The joke in both cases in based on the
contrast between “action” and the inertia of the film. But “My
Dinner with Andre” is a pretty lively affair with dramatic ebbs and
flows like most narrative films. Wally (Wallace Shawn, playing a
fictional version of himself) is a playwright who is on his way to
visit old friend Andre (Andre Gregory, also playing a fictional
version of himself.) On the bus ride to the restaurant, Wally worries
about his girlfriend and his career but mostly worries about Andre.
He hasn’t seen Andre, also a playwright, in years, and the rumor is
that Andre has gone totally crazy.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once dinner begins, Andre doesn’t do
much to dispel the rumors. He speaks of wild adventures in what can
only be called “extreme improvisation,” acting workshops in the
woods somewhere in Europe that evolve into sub-cultures centered
around pagan rituals like ceremonial burials, communing with spirits,
and related gibberish.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“My Dinner With Andre” is a
downright transgressive film because it brazenly allows its
characters to just talk. Actually it allows Andre to talk and, just
as importantly, for Wally to listen. For the first hour or so, Wally
does almost nothing but say “So what else happened?” as Andre
rambles from one silly anecdote to another. Few actors would be
willing to just sit there and do nothing but listen, but then again
Shawn and Gregory did conceive and write the play, only bringing
Louis Malle in to direct at a later stage of the project.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Watching the movie again, I realized
that Wally is a genuine hero. As Andre blathers about one spiritual,
transcendent experience after another, he becomes increasingly
annoying, his mind so “open” to possibilities that he has
abandoned all skeptical rigor. Finally Wally, fortified by the first
few dinner courses (fish pate and roasted quail), can’t take it
anymore: “Do you want to know my actual response?” Yes, Wally, we
do! Slay that New Age dragon with your sword of reason!</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Wally defends his bourgeois existence
with gusto. Andre, to his credit, is a good sport about it. Deep
down, he knows he’s peddling snake oil and it becomes clear that he
really does value Wally’s friendship. It would have been too easy
for the final act to end acrimoniously, providing a traditionally
dramatic denouement. But they do what respectful friends do. They
talk out their differences and get to know each other a little better
in the process.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One of the pleasures of “My Dinner
With Andre” is the opportunity to see things not normally
considered important enough to depict on screen. As mundane as it
seems, we rarely get to watch other people have a simple dinner
conversation. Of course, this is a rehearsed, highly polished
conversation between two performers riffing on their real life
personas, but still the film’s explicit argument is that a mundane
event like this is worthy of being put on film (directed by a genuine
celebrated auteur, no less!) and subsequently being viewed by others.
And the fact that it remains a popular draw even today is proof that
the film’s argument is a valid one.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSzEXBdWt6WsldWK2klUGZL9G8wQccNpm6NkXE3aCtR1vp9dGPhlmGcaQY-H2xopnLECYFRfQwVsWyFhAoTXf9nv19xe9v-IUjATZixolbKTw-lUKS3RbOGw1laRcV28IJ5o5KOPqlaQjYafi4yYxHX9G3C7IVkWtzLRecZvTVinCFpn2L4JH__MR_SQ=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiSzEXBdWt6WsldWK2klUGZL9G8wQccNpm6NkXE3aCtR1vp9dGPhlmGcaQY-H2xopnLECYFRfQwVsWyFhAoTXf9nv19xe9v-IUjATZixolbKTw-lUKS3RbOGw1laRcV28IJ5o5KOPqlaQjYafi4yYxHX9G3C7IVkWtzLRecZvTVinCFpn2L4JH__MR_SQ=s320" width="258" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in a
1.66:1 aspect ratio. “Andre” was filmed in 16mm and blown up to
35mm, so the image is grainy and the resolution is not as sharp as
we’ve become accustomed to from Criterion but that’s because of
the source material, not the transfer. It’s a very solid effort.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DVD is presented in
Dolby Digital Mono. Dialogue is clearly mixed. Optional English
subtitles support the English audio.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Both extras are on Disc
Two of this 2-disc set.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director Noah Baumbach records separate
interviews with Andre Gregory and Wallace Shaw, each about a half
hour long. They’re included in the same feature and can be watched
either separately or an hour long program. They were recorded
recently for the Criterion Collection.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“My Dinner with Louis” (42 min.) is
a 1982 episode of the BBC program “Arena.” Wallace Shawn meets
with Louis Malle in Atlantic City to discuss Malle’s career.
Directed by Tristram Powell.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The insert booklet includes an essay by
Amy Taubin and the prefaces written by Wallace Shawn and Andre
Gregory to their published screenplay.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Watching “My Dinner with Andre” on
DVD gives viewers the chance to pay attention to the lesser-discussed
aspects of the movie.While Louis Malle shoots in a fairly
straightforward matter, shifting between close-ups and two-shots, the
strategic placement of a mirror behind the dinner companions gives
the longer shots more energy and keeps Andre’s face in view even
when he’s turned away from the camera. And then of course there’s
the marvelous waiter, played by non-professional actor Jean Lenauer,
who likes like he might have snuck in from a French B-horror movie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If you’ve only heard of “My Dinner
with Andre” by way of its pop culture parodies, you may have some
preconceptions about the film. Place them aside and watch the movie
with a fresh eye because it’s a lot more vibrant and flat-out
entertaining than you might think. It’s not just a “boring ass”
movie for movie geeks. It’s lots of fun.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-11730057071148551202022-01-12T18:49:00.002-08:002022-01-15T05:55:07.834-08:00My Favorite Films of 2021<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg54I_SPWe2vWtGi8YI0WsiEx2z5Pq_-3Gdy1BPhsgjwljUbx93LlLknXaKXdcfuYqzxk7sy6OEisVu3SnJQMGLcT_TbHkvkFNWEklFt-57u0zt3edUWxnaDQ4rNlERJWI756a8RKE5FXu--tTtLN0f6CkqvCJapjtQy63aM0zlpXqGZeKc7xQeFD0xwQ=s930" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="930" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg54I_SPWe2vWtGi8YI0WsiEx2z5Pq_-3Gdy1BPhsgjwljUbx93LlLknXaKXdcfuYqzxk7sy6OEisVu3SnJQMGLcT_TbHkvkFNWEklFt-57u0zt3edUWxnaDQ4rNlERJWI756a8RKE5FXu--tTtLN0f6CkqvCJapjtQy63aM0zlpXqGZeKc7xQeFD0xwQ=w400-h240" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Petite Maman</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The focus of this blog has always been
on coverage of DVD and Blu-ray titles. It's right there in the name
of the site. A few years ago my supply of screeners, once a raging
torrent that flooded my mailbox each month, slowed to a trickle, and
now appears to have shut off completely, a rough match for the
trajectory of DVD sales over the past decade. I believe physical
media is as important as ever – who wants to be dependent on the
vicissitudes of the array of mercurial streaming channels we've all
cobbled together to form our personal archives – but I can't escape
the fact that it's mighty difficult to review releases that I don't
have.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Do I now have to resort to reviewing
new theatrical releases? What a depressing thought. Not that there
aren't worthwhile films produced every year, but I've always been
mildly embarrassed that the bulk of film criticism ignores 125 years
of film history to focus on whatever happens to be in a theater (or
its streaming proxy) this month. Just imagine only reading new books.
Bo-ring!</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Anyway, speaking of those worthwhile
films released every year, it's time to talk about my favorite movies
of 2021. As always, I'm sure I've missed seeing plenty of quality
contenders: Tsai Ming-Liang's “Days,” Ryusuke Hamaguchi's “Wheel
of Fortune and Fantasy,” Joanna Hogg's “The Souvenir, Part II”
and more.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>My Top 10 of 2021:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Petite Maman (Sciamma)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Pig (Sarnoski)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Spider-Man: No Way Home (Watts)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Summer of Soul (Questlove)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Memoria (Apichatpong)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The Tragedy of Macbeth (J Coen)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Bad Luck Banging or Looney Porn (Jude)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The Card Counter (Schrader)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Passing (Hall)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Flee (Rasmussen)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>And Six More That I Liked A Lot:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">The Worst Person in the World (Trier)</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Annette(Carax)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">About Endlessness (Andersson)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten
Rings (Cretton)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Nightmare Alley (Del Toro)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Bergman Island (Hansen-Love)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If you don't count the end credits,
Celine Sciamma's <b>“Petite Maman”</b> clocks in under 70 minutes, but
that's not the only reason this little gem is one of the year's best
movies. Eight-year-old Nelly (Josephine Sanz) has just had to say
goodbye to her beloved maternal grandmother. While grieving, Nelly
helps to clean out the old family home and meets a very special new
friend. The film spends almost all of its compact running time
following young Nelly closely, relishing in the opportunity to show
little girls at play, and providing a fresh, intimate perspective on
the mother-daughter relationship. The film subtly and methodically
builds up to an ending that's both surprising and deeply affecting.
I'm still thinking about it a month later.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Pig”</b> has been creatively marketed
as “John Wick, but with Nicolas Cage and a pig” which sounds
freaking awesome and also promises some bonkers thrills. Cage plays
Rob, a bearded recluse holed up in a shack in the woods with only his
truffle-hunting pig for companionship. When his best friend is
pignapped, Cage reluctantly treks back to the seedy urban jungle
(Portland, OR to be precise) for either rescue or revenge. As you
watch Cage get beaten half to death in one of those infamous
underground fight clubs run exclusively by off-duty restaurant
workers, you're expecting the gonzo fury to fully erupt, but
screenwriter/director Michael Sarnoski provides the biggest shock by
steering the film in a much more serene, contemplative direction.
“Pig” winds up being a surprisingly moving portrait of grief and
an impassioned testament to the value of artistic integrity in an
increasingly homogenized commercial world. Cook what you want to cook
– your very soul may depend on it.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Spider-Man: No Way Home”</b> is packed
to the gills with shameless fan service and constructed by an
established crowd-pleasing formula, but just as the Egg McMuffin is
designed in the lab to be the tastiest damn sandwich in the world,
this new MCU entry sure goes down smooth. I think what I love best
about this goofy plot is that all of its multiverse-spanning mayhem
stems entirely from the fact that Peter Parker just can't shut the
hell up for a minute. Talk about respect for the source material!
From the instant I first saw Tom Holland in “Captain America: Civil
War” (2016), I thought he fully embodied the Peter Parker of the
comic book pages, and he still owns the role, even while sharing the
screen with his worthy predecessors. This movie is pure Marvel joy
from start to finish. After a bit of a lull, the MCU finished the
year very strong with both “No Way Home” and the immensely
entertaining “Hawkeye” series.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Speaking of pure joy from start to
finish, <b>“Summer of Soul,”</b> Questlove's jawn/documentary about the
1969 Harlem Cultural Festival, is an absolute blast. Held over six
weeks in the summer, the “Black Woodstock” featured an
all-universe lineup, ranging from newcomers like a teenager named
Stevie Wonder to veteran stars like Mahalia Jackson, with Gladys
Knight and the Pips, The 5<sup>th</sup> Dimension, Sly and the Family
Stone, and Nina Simone sprinkled in just to keep everyone
entertained. I admit that I knew nothing about this concert and I
suspect the same will be true for many viewers, which is one of the
primary reasons Questlove decided to edit together this long-unseen
footage into the most electrifying music documentary to come along in
years.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In Apichatpong Weerasethakul's
<b>“Memoria,”</b> Jessica (Tilda Swinton) hunts down a sound that has
been haunting her (waking?) dreams. It's a bounce, a thump, kind of
earthy. Are we even hearing the same noise Jessica does? When an
audio technician who helps her pinpoint the elusive sound suddenly
disappears, “Memoria” begins to feel like a detective story or
perhaps psychological horror, and it might be both of those things,
but to pigeonhole it as anything other than “the new film by
Apichatpong Weerasethakul” seems inadequate. As with the Thai
master's earlier films, perhaps it's best to just immerse yourself in
the sensory experience, turn off your cognitive filters, and just
dream along with it.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhM37DZJ4GrTml0JxNwEoZTYU4KI7RAg_D1SSg-aHpRQ6H50XaWu47RzAxr1p4gKhwiT9Zp1WdU0I1uSQqVyPwRDpQqvAyxh2MjvkJcvagWIuiKTPOVUwfylpF1um3_R1kuBmMryReTZGJqlszHMKtRHVjZtqSh-xi4xFYzgAtwboCMgNBmWoIxaL7tPg=s1920" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhM37DZJ4GrTml0JxNwEoZTYU4KI7RAg_D1SSg-aHpRQ6H50XaWu47RzAxr1p4gKhwiT9Zp1WdU0I1uSQqVyPwRDpQqvAyxh2MjvkJcvagWIuiKTPOVUwfylpF1um3_R1kuBmMryReTZGJqlszHMKtRHVjZtqSh-xi4xFYzgAtwboCMgNBmWoIxaL7tPg=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Scottish Film<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><b>“The Tragedy of Macbeth”</b> is easily
the most visually seductive film I saw this year, and cinematographer
Bruno Delbonnel deserves to win every award for his black-and-white
photography that somehow looks both sleek and archaic at the same
time. Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand deserve all the praise
they've received for this primal scream of a staging, but I have to
give a shout out to Kathryn Hunter for bringing an intense
physicality to the Weird Sisters that I've never seen in any other
adaptation of the Scottish Play.<p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Romanian director Radu Jude's <b>“Bad
Luck Banging or Loony Porn”</b> may be the first great feature film set
in the pandemic year(s). Emi (Katia Pascariu) wanders through a
Bucharest populated by people wearing masks, face shields, animal
costumes, and billowing cloaks of incoherent rage. But lest you think
the film suggests a year-plus of lockdown has made everyone crazy, it
ticks off a methodical checklist of historical lunacy proving that
the crazy has always been there, just bubbling to the surface now in
a different form. For a film that starts with a four-minute hardcore
sex tape, “Bad Luck” covers a dizzying range of subjects with a
radical flair that makes it feel like a forgotten film of the late
'60s. It must have been part of some kind of New Wave, right? Its
final act also demonstrates how exhausting it must be to be a
rational, educated person calmly making an informed argument in an
environment where the most meticulously researched facts can be
dismissed by someone blowing you a raspberry and calling you a bitch.
I also appreciate that Jude chose a title guaranteeing that the film
will only be seen by film critics and other perverts.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I still don't understand what card
counting has to do with playing poker, but that's no hindrance to
appreciating Paul Schrader's latest take on God's Lonely Man by way
of Robert Bresson. In <b>“The Card Counter,”</b> Oscar Isaac (delivering
one of the best lead performances of the year) plays a man recently
released from military prison, though not released from his blighted
past. While atoning for his sins (to be identified later), he scrapes
together a peripatetic living as a low-stakes gambler, content to bet
small and stay off everyone's radar – maybe even God's? Backed by
an investor (Tiffany Haddish, in a sparkling supporting turn), he's
willing to play for higher stakes in order to save the soul of a very
angry young man (Tye Sheridan) he meets on the road. Anyone familiar
with Schrader's work can call out the Bresson influences along the
way (we start with <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/09/a-man-escaped.html" target="_blank">“A Man Escaped,”</a> yep that's “Diary of a
Country Priest” right there, and you better believe we're gonna end
with <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/pickpocket.html" target="_blank">“Pickpocket”</a>) but Schrader has long since synthesized the
Bressonian sensibility into his own purified vision. As a follow up
to the indelible “First Reformed” (2017), this film is clear
evidence that Schrader is doing the very best work of his career
right now.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Rebecca Hall's adaptation of Nella
Larsen's novel <b>“Passing”</b> is so assured and focused it's hard to
believe it's her directorial debut. Hall also adapted the screenplay
which doesn't waste a scene, hurtling forward through a series of
itnense moments in the developing friendship/rivalry between Claire
(Ruth Negga), a light-skinned black woman passing as white in
prohibition-era New York, and her old high-school friend Irene (Tessa
Thompson). The slight resentments and affections each feels toward
the other propel the narrative to its powerful and seemingly
inevitable conclusion, all bolstered by luminous black-and-white
cinematography by Eduard Grau. Thompson and Negga are both
sensational.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>“Flee” </b>is simultaneously one of the
best animated films of the year as well and one of the best
documentaries. Danish filmmaker Jonas Poher Rasmussen tells the story
of his friend Amin (name and animated likeness changed to protect his
identity), an Afghan refugee who immigrated to Copenhagen as a
teenager. Amin's harrowing refugee tale is paired with his story of
coming-of-age in Kabul while realizing he is homosexual, a journey
that quite charmingly involves an obsession with the films of
Jean-Claude Van Damme, The Muscles from Brussels. Amin's voice is the
star and organizing principle of this riveting story.</p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-40889112176888783422021-09-30T11:34:00.001-07:002021-10-05T11:37:50.133-07:00Love & Basketball<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWfaub4O4xJoU4q269Omua2UStEuaJMjMOz_C9sEf60VBFw8g4zP0HpsIRtPh-CMIptlxhpR4jNxNbp5v5LnHxNVUGpcKlucnY6s6pqle6gtqBOM1R3MFZt4NxhjxFZMnNoadjWXzel8c/s1600/lovebasketballcap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWfaub4O4xJoU4q269Omua2UStEuaJMjMOz_C9sEf60VBFw8g4zP0HpsIRtPh-CMIptlxhpR4jNxNbp5v5LnHxNVUGpcKlucnY6s6pqle6gtqBOM1R3MFZt4NxhjxFZMnNoadjWXzel8c/w400-h225/lovebasketballcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>LOVE & BASKETBALL</b> (Prince-Bythewood, 2000)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Sep 21, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p>Battle-tested by the age of 11, Monica
Wright (Kyla Pratt) already understands that she's going to have to
prove herself over and over again. After her family moves into an
affluent black neighborhood in Los Angeles in 1981, she must earn her
right to play on the basketball court with the boys. One cocky
youngster barely has time to scoff that “Girls can't play no ball”
before she's driving to the hoop. Her game impresses young Quincy
McCall (Glenndon Chatman), no mean feat since Quincy has high
standards: his dad Zeke (Dennis Haysbert) plays in the NBA. For the
Clippers, mind you, but that still technically counts as the NBA.</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Quincy decides Monica should be his
girl, an “honor” she grudgingly accepts with a kiss, then
promptly rejects once she realizes Quincy now expects to be the boss
of her. Monica has no intention of taking orders, or guff, or crap of
any kind from anyone, something Quincy discovers once she jumps him
and wrestles him on the lawn. It's tough to like Quincy's chances in
this match.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This childhood interlude is the muddy,
grass-stained launching pad for a lifelong romance, one told with
conviction and panache by writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood in
“Love & Basketball” (2000). The film, divided by title cards
into four quarters, leaps ahead to the second quarter, circa 1988,
when both Monica (now played by Sanaa Latham) and Quincy (Omar Epps)
are high-school basketball stars. Quincy is the golden child, a
pedigreed star guaranteed his choice of any college program. Monica,
as always, has to fight much harder for everything she wants, playing
her heart out for the tenuous hope of being recruited.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dating is a nuisance she hardly has
time for- gotta work on her outside game - but the spring dance is
coming up, and she feels pressured to go, partly by her devoted
mother (Alfre Woodard), who wants to see her tomboy daughter dressed
to the nines, and partly because Quincy will be there. They're just
friends who happen to live next door and share a love of basketball –
honestly, they're just friends, but still, she wants to check in with
him on the school's big night.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Love & Basketball” has become
a fan favorite since its release just over 20 years ago, and I
suspect admirers fall in love with it at the same point Monica and
Quincy officially declare their love. Prince-Bythewood's script
deftly balances authenticity with the occasional fairy tale flourish
that puts the romance over the top. Perhaps her savviest decision is
to have Monica's and Quincy's bedrooms facing each other. Any time
Quincy needs to escape from hearing his parents argue, he can just
climb out onto the thin hill of grass that separates their rooms,
knock on Monica's window, and have a safe refuge for the night. After
they've both returned home on the night of the dance, their
respective dates long since dispatched, they meet on the lawn and
fall into each other's arms, a lifetime of yearning finally boiling
over.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's a beautiful moment, but college,
with its whole new set of challenges, awaits in the third quarter.
They both play at UCLA where they are now officially girlfriend and
boyfriend. Repeating a pattern, the much-ballyhooed Quincy weighs
leaving school early for the promise of being a lottery pick, while
Monica scraps just for a chance to get on the court and showcase her
mad skills. On first consideration, I felt the film took a wrong turn
here, as the sweet, loving Quincy abruptly turns mean and selfish,
but now I think Prince-Bythewood, herself a gifted high-school
basketball player, understands well the difference in entitlement
between male and female college athletes. Praised his whole life,
Quincy expects the support of everyone on his predetermined path to
fame and fortune. So when Monica makes even one modest decision to
pursue her career (observing team curfew) instead of consoling Quincy
when he feels down, he turns on her, placing their entire future in
jeopardy. He's not accustomed to adversity and responds petulantly to
even the slightest setback.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Monica truly loves Quincy, but she
won't abandon her career plans for him, the way she feels her mother
did to support her father, a successful banker. “Love &
Basketball” would be a far lesser film if Monica ever lost focus on
her own goals, and her commitment only makes their relationship, as
well as Monica's ultimate on-court fate, feel all the more
fully-earned.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“All's fair in love and basketball,”
says Quincy. And all feels true in Prince-Bythewood's “Love &
Basketball”, even its happily-ever-after ending.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5If2eJAd_ltuREojPfsJoHZoSuKsmV4vjhkLllJYI2Yot8hJTEyQGViLFZeoWViVTIDmgA0L41PqKC87heMZ-mUroOArEMCozKXW_EpUwLVQjINsZubUB1YMv9-5_9TTwwUgtTlD7NWfD/s1600/lovebasketballcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5If2eJAd_ltuREojPfsJoHZoSuKsmV4vjhkLllJYI2Yot8hJTEyQGViLFZeoWViVTIDmgA0L41PqKC87heMZ-mUroOArEMCozKXW_EpUwLVQjINsZubUB1YMv9-5_9TTwwUgtTlD7NWfD/w323-h400/lovebasketballcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. From Criterion: “This new digital transfer,
supervised by director Gina Prince-Bythewood, was created in 16-bit
4K resolution from the 35 mm original camera negative...” This
1080p transfer is pristine, another top notch Criterion release.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master 5.1 audio track is
sharp and robust with strong depth throughout. The score by Terence
Blanchard as well as the film's pop songs also sound great with this
mix. Optional English SDH subtitles support the English audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by two older
commentary tracks. The two options are a track by Prince-Bythewood
and Sanaa Lathan, recorded in 2000, and another track by
Prince-Bythewood, editor Terilyn A. Shropshire, and composer Terence
Blanchard, also recorded in 2000.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The “Making Of...” feature (2021,
38 min.) involves several cast and crew members, including
Prince-Bythewood, Omar Epps, Sanaa Lathan, and Alfre Woodard.
Prince-Bythewood speaks about her own experience as a high-school
basketball player as well as her early career as a writer on “A
Different World” and other shows.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In another interview (2021, 16 min.),
editor Terilyn A. Shropshire discusses her work on the film, and how
she came to join the project via a recommendation from Spike Lee (who
is also a co-producer on the film).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a short
feature (2021, 22 min.) which consists of a Zoom meeting between
Prince-Bythewood, WNBA Hall of Famer Sheryl Swoopes, and
writer-actress-producer Lena Waithe. The three women discuss how
they've pursued success in their various careers, as Monica does in
“Love & Basketball.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes Deleted Scenes
(8 min.) and Audition tapes (9 min.), of both the adult actors and
child actors who portrayed Monica and Quincy.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion continues to stack the disk
with two of Prince-Bythewood's short films. “Stitches” (1991, 31
min.) was her thesis film at UCLA Film School and tells the story of
a troubled female stand-up comedienne. “Progress” (1997, 3 min.)
is a very short film that juxtaposes Klan violence in the 1960s with
gang violence in the 1990s.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final extra on the disc is a
Trailer (2 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Prince-Bythewood recently scored a
Netflix hit with “The Old Guard” (2020), but her debut feature
“Love & Basketball” has been winning hearts for over 20
years. Criterion has given the film a proper treatment with a great
high-def transfer and a strong collection of extras.</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-4857948329060548932021-09-29T14:12:00.002-07:002021-10-04T14:15:59.866-07:00Throw Down<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXczw0bHAg-VwdXBuWNYMjcXbT86nUCB1WupCgOzTElEs8cFKAQxj2B7Gzt58QIKdhyXLhGmAkgsCxbd-lRQYaKzfnWvuwbtWGG8372vL5r3LNRyAtWfL49zb2QWrueDj0iDX1axcGHfH/s2155/throwdowncap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="2155" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkXczw0bHAg-VwdXBuWNYMjcXbT86nUCB1WupCgOzTElEs8cFKAQxj2B7Gzt58QIKdhyXLhGmAkgsCxbd-lRQYaKzfnWvuwbtWGG8372vL5r3LNRyAtWfL49zb2QWrueDj0iDX1axcGHfH/w400-h168/throwdowncap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>THROW DOWN</b> (To, 2004)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Sep 21, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p>At first blush, Johnnie To's “Throw
Down” (2004) appears to be the rare martial-arts movie in which
nothing much is at stake. Cocky young Tony (Aaron Kwok) challenges
the best judo fighters in Hong Kong not to seek revenge for a past
slight or to restore honor to his family name. Nobody will live or
die based on the outcome of these bouts; heck, there isn't even a
cheap tin trophy cup on the line. Tony just wants to fight because
it's fun, and the big goofy grin on his face when he has the chance
to spar against a worthy opponent speaks of the sheer kinetic thrill
of the moment, the rare opportunity to test your skills and feel
alive, the chance to really just, well, throw down.</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tony particularly craves a match with
Szeto Bo (Louis Koo), a celebrated former judo champion turned
karaoke bar manager. Szeto, however, is mostly in grappling with his
next glass of whiskey or pulling of his next scam, as he sinks deeper
into depression every day. Tony tries to bolster Szeto's spirits (he
needs him in peak fighting shape, after all) and is joined in the
endeavor by the high-spirited Mona (Cherry Ying), an aspiring
singer/actress eager for a life free of a manager who'd rather be her
pimp. Szeto resists with a masochistic stubbornness familiar to
anyone who has wallowed in their own misery for years, but Tony,
Mona, and several supporting characters refuse to give up. Soon it
becomes apparent that the stakes in “Thrown Down” are actually
quite high - nothing less than the redemption of a lost soul.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">To hurtles into each scene as if it's
the only moment that ever existed, sometimes with disorienting
results. Shortly after they all meet, Szeto leads Tony and Mona to an
arcade where, for some reason, he insists that Tony play a Mortal
Kombat-style game, something the young man does with his usual
ferocity, attracting attention from the other gamers. The whole
sequence then abruptly shifts into a heist, one that hasn't so much
as been hinted at before, but Szeto knows his plan and the audience
can just catch on at their own pace. Character introductions are
handled with efficiency as well. We meet Mona as she blissfully
slurps a bowl of noodles while being harangued by the furious
landlady who has just evicted her, instantly establishing both her
predicament and her personality with no wasted set-up.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film also provides no obvious clues
as to why Szeto is so depressed, until a sudden late revelation, and
by then it hardly matters. OK, it matters quite a bit, but of far
greater significance is the devotion of so many of Szeto's friends
(some old, some new, all equally supportive) to his rehabilitation.
Even the mobster Szeto rips off at the arcade wants to help and, oh
by the way, he wants to fight too. Almost everybody in the movie is
crazy about judo, a bit of a joke by the filmmakers since judo isn't
particularly popular in Hong Kong.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">While “Thrown Down” features
several rousing judo fights, both one-on-one matches and chaotic mass
street rumbles, its central appeal rests on its emphasis on the
healing power of friendship. A charming sequence in which the three
main characters join forces to rescue a red balloon trapped in a
tree, only to immediately release it to the heavens, captures the
true essence of this sweet and idiosyncratic film, a genre mashup
both melancholic and life-affirming.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A relative lack of exposition (relative
to Hollywood narrative, at least) may make “Throw Down”
occasionally frustrating for viewers who always want to know why
characters are doing what they're doing. But once you realize you can
trust the filmmakers to be sincere, true both to the characters and
to the audience, you can just relax and live in the moment, like the
film does.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieityagFaUjmqCqtAiwzXivKDLfDy7ZG-Gmjn9g_6M6xexHFNslO3IsQBTqtTItnx_XgOyaHdXhhj-iTIrrRREhL3lcwLvLrBXdowb4WTKCxZiSjIE4vICG1x2JKc_7xPHGLBvbUa3sALB/s1600/throwdowncover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieityagFaUjmqCqtAiwzXivKDLfDy7ZG-Gmjn9g_6M6xexHFNslO3IsQBTqtTItnx_XgOyaHdXhhj-iTIrrRREhL3lcwLvLrBXdowb4WTKCxZiSjIE4vICG1x2JKc_7xPHGLBvbUa3sALB/w323-h400/throwdowncover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
2.35:1 aspect ratio from a “new 4K digital transfer.” The 1080p
transfer is sharp with deep, rich colors. No noticeable issues with
another top-flight Criterion transfer.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master 5.1 surround track is
clean and efficient, and sounds great even in some of the messy
crowd/fight scenes. Optional English subtitles support the Cantonese
dialogue.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has includes several features
for this release, some older and some made just for this release.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The collection starts with a 2004
interview (40 min.) with Johnnie To, in which he discusses the
genesis and development of “Throw Down.” The disc also includes a
2004 “Making Of” featurette (11 min.) which is mostly a
promotional film that doesn't offer too much insight.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The new features consist of four
interviews conducted by Criterion. First up is screenwriter Yau
Nai-Hoi who talks about how the script was originally a light comedy
which To wanted to develop into something more nuanced. He also
speaks about To's propensity to improvise on set. Composer Peter Kam
(11 min.) credits To with a natural musical rhythm in his pacing of
scenes, while echoing Yau's comments about To's preference for making
changes on set.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also invited two film
scholars to contribute. David Bordwell (21 min.) speaks about some of
the differences in the film's narrative and editing vs. more standard
Hollywood approaches. Caroline Guo (12 min.) discusses how atypical
“Throw Down” both in terms of genre conventions and compared to
most of To's other work.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The extras wrap up with a Trailer (2 ½
minutes).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The fold-out insert booklet features an
essay by film critic Sean Gilman, who discusses both the film and
To's prolific output in the late '90s and early 2000s.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Johnnie To also styles “Thrown Down”
as an overt homage to Akira Kurosawawa, particularly his early judo
film “Sanshiro Sugata” (1943). This only adds to the film's
upbeat message. “Throw Down” is ultimately a great hang-out
movie, with unlikely friends finding pleasure in each other's
company, just chilling and helping each other out. Who wouldn't want
to throw down with that?</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-65582667521564830182021-09-13T17:31:00.000-07:002021-09-21T22:04:28.691-07:00A Touch Of Sin<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WSHbvapgoB3ZbNLGBGQGYNfn4_lT0RB2Bfyy_Iz7vYtcz-tpruGWNMZLZk4cJh0FYguaIgv3c8BybID5qRdI1kDfOOxW7nmObg4_p9YdkPQDeEn8761bvE_JD-5_TBUCO5uKw_088ia6/s1600/touchofsincap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WSHbvapgoB3ZbNLGBGQGYNfn4_lT0RB2Bfyy_Iz7vYtcz-tpruGWNMZLZk4cJh0FYguaIgv3c8BybID5qRdI1kDfOOxW7nmObg4_p9YdkPQDeEn8761bvE_JD-5_TBUCO5uKw_088ia6/s1600/touchofsincap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahai (Jiang Wu) gets even</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>A TOUCH OF SIN</b> (Jia, 2013)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kino Lorber, Blu-ray, Release Date April 8, 2014</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Review by Christopher S. Long</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's both exciting and confusing when a
filmmaker appears to make a decisive break with his previous work,
complicating the picture for critics who thought they had him
conveniently pigeonholed. Jim Jarmusch caused plenty of consternation
with the release of his revisionist Western “Dead Man” (1996).
While he certainly laced his entry in the quintessential American
genre with his trademark deadpan humor, the easy-going satirist had
made a surprisingly violent film, a scabrous indictment of the
genocide inflicted by “stupid fucking white men” on Native
Americans. Blood spurted, skulls were crushed, and bodies piled up in
this nightmare on earth. Fans looking for the gentle laughs of “Down
By Law” didn't quite know what to do, and a few former critical
boosters (like Roger Ebert) took the opportunity to jump ship.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“A Touch of Sin” (2013) is, at
least in some ways, director Jia Zhangke's “Dead Man.” There are
noteworthy parallels between Jia and Jarmusch, though they shouldn't
be overstated. Both directors cite Robert Bresson as a formative
influence and both have often been attracted to marginalized
protagonists surviving on the fringes of urban society. Like Jarmusch
(born in 1953), Jia (born in 1970) is viewed as one of the defining
figures of his generation's independent film movement; bootleg copies
of Jia's heavily censored early films like “Pickpocket” (1997)
changed hands regularly on the Chinese black market and inspired
legions of cineastes from Jia's home province of Shanxi all the way
to Beijing (and even attracted financial support from Takeshi
Kitano's production company in Tokyo).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
From the festival breakthrough
“Platform” (2000) through critically praised works such as “The
World” (2004) and “Still Life” (2006), Jia established himself
as one of the preeminent chroniclers of China's rapid transformation
to an industrial and capitalist economy, a globe-altering
metamorphosis that displaced millions of Chinese citizens. Jia's
characters face off against forces too big even to acknowledge their
existence, but while his movies are inevitably tinged with a sense of
sorrowful resignation, they also became increasingly playful,
occasionally outright hilarious. They have also been, to the
exasperation of many “slow cinema” skeptics, long on patient
observation and short on dramatic incident.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“A Touch of Sin,” by contrast,
plunges headlong into incident: no fatalistic watching and waiting
here. In the first few minutes, a man on a motorcycle is accosted by
thugs armed with hammers and axes; his handgun wins the day and
initiates a body count that reaches double digits. And he's not even
the main character of the opening section of a film organized into
four separate but loosely connected segments (another Jarmuschian
parallel, though JJ doesn't exactly own the format). </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0QwUY5x5dvgVFIAyR_ih_baZKGL8hBYf0MqN0rvLemzy8_oIDWo1RpCDJpn-VgcKhPsR7EmFZCND2ARNdW2Y17svHYomY3_RMgLWgW1YO7ebhF7ctoDC3eJsReFJU7Tz4fx_PSEZdEU8/s1600/touchofsincap4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO0QwUY5x5dvgVFIAyR_ih_baZKGL8hBYf0MqN0rvLemzy8_oIDWo1RpCDJpn-VgcKhPsR7EmFZCND2ARNdW2Y17svHYomY3_RMgLWgW1YO7ebhF7ctoDC3eJsReFJU7Tz4fx_PSEZdEU8/s1600/touchofsincap4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dahai is still mad</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That honor belongs to Dahai (Jiang Wu),
a former coal miner turned social crusader in Shanxi who rages
against the corruption of local officials who sold the publicly-held
mine and clung very privately to the profits. Brash and loud-mouthed,
he has probably never been good at winning friends and influencing
people, but he does his best to funnel his furious protests through
official channels before personally confronting the big boss, a
meeting that winds up with Dahai being savagely beaten with a shovel
wielded by one of the boss's thugs. Whether spurred by his head
trauma or his innate obstinacy, Dahai grabs a shotgun and cuts a
bloody swath through town starting with a low-level crooked
accountant and ending with the money-grubbing politicos at the top.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like most of the violence in the film,
the shootings are artfully and artificially staged. Heads explode,
bodies launch through the air on wires, geysers of blood soak
clothing and walls. Nothing coy here, but also nothing particularly
realistic. These are movie murders and Jia makes overt references to
films most Western viewers (including yours truly) aren't too
familiar with; the movie's English title is a pun on King Hu's
popular wuxia (martial arts) film “A Touch of Zen” (1971). </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFBGXuhidmG9lTHW-g9ggXhJCplb0cF6dt4NBdycDKGcHK9hhNtEugg0NQr9fTYridX-Cw6vFQ_nWIkSc2g-eUUpyO8xfsvrss7UNGxN3kDbCJOEROLj8rYeqgxoeA_Lg7NbeEk7YexhF/s1600/touchofsincap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFBGXuhidmG9lTHW-g9ggXhJCplb0cF6dt4NBdycDKGcHK9hhNtEugg0NQr9fTYridX-Cw6vFQ_nWIkSc2g-eUUpyO8xfsvrss7UNGxN3kDbCJOEROLj8rYeqgxoeA_Lg7NbeEk7YexhF/s1600/touchofsincap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Xiaoyu (Zhao Tao) makes her point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Jia loves to collapse the barriers
between documentary and fiction, and freely mixes surrealism with
naturalism. That's not quite what he's up to here, but it might
explain the movie's abrupt detours into full-blown “movie-dom.”
In the third segment, Xiaoyu (Zhao Tao, Jia's long-time muse and now
wife) works in the “Nightcomer Sauna” as a receptionist. A pushy
businessman mistakes her for something else and won't take no for an
answer as he insists on a “massage.” The otherwise passive Xiaoyu
reaches in her purse for a switchblade and, posing like an avenging
angel from one of a host of wuxia films, slices the abusive john to
bits, then wanders the streets in a daze, drenched head to toe in
blood. I've spoken to some viewers who find moments like this
distracting or phony, but they're intended to disrupt the apparent
realism of each situation, though with my lack of familiarity with
the cultural touchstones Jia references, I'm reluctant to guess
precisely what his motivations are.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All four of the movie's major stories
are drawn loosely from real-life incidents in China that went largely
ignored by the state-controlled media. I don't know enough to claim
that violent crime has become more common in China over the past
decade or two, but “A Touch of Sin” definitely portrays a nation
traumatized by upheaval, with money being the root of all brutality.
In the final segment, a feckless but generally well-meaning teenager
(Luo Lanshan) loses his soul to the twin destructive forces of young
love and factory work, Jia's response to a rash of suicides by
assembly-line employees at the multinational corporations that rushed
in to exploit cheap Chinese labor. The protagonist of the second
segment (Wang Baoqiang, also the motorcyclist from the opening) may
be the most damaged character of all, but his dysfunction is more
difficult to link to current events: he is a killer who likes to
shoot guns because everything else (including village life with his
family) is too boring. Perhaps the fresh whiff of prosperity,
tantalizingly out of reach by legal means, has made it difficult for
him to play by the rules anymore.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I should note that I haven't seen Jia's
first film “Pickpocket” so it's possible that what I'm describing
as a major departure is a return to roots. However, “A Touch of
Sin” is not only much more graphic than Jia's previous 21<sup>st</sup>
century movies, it also moves at a more relentless pace with few of
the long, contemplative takes that have marked most of his work. The
movie races from one violent eruption to the next, and the sense of
inevitable tragedy builds implacably. There are still a few moments
of Jia-esque humor (Dahai, in the midst of his righteous rampage,
prepares to kick down a door but stumbles when startled by a phone
ringing off-screen) but everyone here is just circling the black hole
at the center of capitalist China, waiting to spiral into its gravity
well and be torn to shreds.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It's all quite a shock for a Jia fan
expecting more “Still Life” and it's a challenge to process. It
might be my least favorite of his movies, but I still count it as one
of the best films of 2013 which should tell you what I think of this
extraordinary filmmaker. I can't wait to see whether this marks a new
turn in Jia's career, or if it will turn to be a bracing exception. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwIw-N0aCG6-Ahv5hn2nyojvymDAbHSmUYx2T6zE3TdyGOmYDtMAFOXADyb8ReNoTYL-ZuT4DjTwTW-ha391q8BpsbJRJF7Lk1EUfx-OL2FAgR97dnM4qmFcxWOPNF7qRVOFNQqZkb1MF/s1600/touchofsincover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwIw-N0aCG6-Ahv5hn2nyojvymDAbHSmUYx2T6zE3TdyGOmYDtMAFOXADyb8ReNoTYL-ZuT4DjTwTW-ha391q8BpsbJRJF7Lk1EUfx-OL2FAgR97dnM4qmFcxWOPNF7qRVOFNQqZkb1MF/s1600/touchofsincover.jpg" width="326" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Video:
</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The film is presented in a 2.35:1
aspect ratio. This high-def transfer from Kino Lorber has the
slightly soft look of a movie originally shot on HD with the
occasional instance of digital blurring in scenes with rapid motion,
but nothing significant that would detract from the viewing
experience. Image detail is sharp throughout and colors are vibrant,
though the film (shot by Jia's long-time collaborator Yu Lik-wai) is
not exactly meant to look beautiful. The look ranges from drab (a
lonely, ignored statue of Mao overlooks a declining town square in
Shanxi) to gaudy (a nightclub/sex fantasy room made up to look like a
train car reserved for party officials) and the 1080p image presents
it all vividly, though with a few flaws.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Audio:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 soundtrack
is crisp and has a convincing sense of depth; gunplay almost
overwhelms the speakers at times. The sound is as angry as the story
at times. Optional English subtitles support the Mandarin and
Cantonese dialogue.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Extras:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All we get are five trailer for films
from Kino Lorber.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Final Thoughts:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In my review of “Still Life,” I
described Jia Zhangke as my favorite under-50 director. I've had no
reason to revise that claim. “A Touch of Sin” may be his most
accessible movie, admittedly an ambiguous description. It won Best
Screenplay for Jia at Cannes in 2013 and placed highly on most
year-end critical polls. Unfortunately this is a bare-bones release
from Kino Lorber, but it's great to have this available to more
viewers. Everyone needs “A Touch of Sin.”</div>
Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-8140998021993128892021-09-02T21:47:00.000-07:002021-09-02T21:47:12.900-07:00Still Life<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzqk45c95dasJFoVvxhhYS2Jm1COukemmqYZABi0qn-Y7JwkMyhbSoUOH8CVSBpqchgNIYYYpRv1VCgPn-y4Pm8OlAzFLFqlKXocqCxCh52iezahda73ivQPFd4RT8_HJwGqrrLeWB6bo/s2048/stillifecap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzqk45c95dasJFoVvxhhYS2Jm1COukemmqYZABi0qn-Y7JwkMyhbSoUOH8CVSBpqchgNIYYYpRv1VCgPn-y4Pm8OlAzFLFqlKXocqCxCh52iezahda73ivQPFd4RT8_HJwGqrrLeWB6bo/w400-h225/stillifecap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>STILL LIFE</b> (Jia, 2006)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Playing on the Criterion Channel in September 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p><br /></p><p><b>This month, the Criterion Channel is
featuring eight films by Chinese director Jia Zhangke: “Xiao Wu”
(1997), “Platform” (2000), “Unknown Pleasures” (2002), “The
World” (2004), “Still Life” (2006), “24 City” (2008), <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/touch-of-sin.html" target="_blank">“A Touch of Sin” (2013)</a>, “Mountains May Depart” (2015).</b></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Jia may be my favorite filmmaker of the
21<sup>st</sup> century, so I'm posting a few reviews intended to
encourage viewers to check out these extraordinary films while
they're available on such a great platform.
</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Writer-director Jia Zhangke is perhaps
the most prominent member of the Sixth Generation of Chinese
filmmakers; he also happens to be one of the very best filmmakers
working today. His first breakthrough hit on the festival circuit was
<a href="“Platform” (2000) " target="_blank">“Platform” (2000) </a>and he sealed his reputation as a modern master
with 2004’s “The World”, the best movie ever made about cell
phones.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jia’s career continued to soar, and
in 2006 he exploded onto everyone’s radar by winning the Golden
Lion in Venice with “Still Life.” “Platform” was set in Jia’s
hometown province of Shanxi in central China. In “Still Life” he
sends two Shanxi natives south to Fengjie along the Yangtze River.
Like many areas along the river, most of the residents of Fengjie
have been displaced by the massive Three Gorges Dam project, now the
largest power station in the world.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Coal miner Han Sanming (Han Sanming, a
real-life coal miner who had small roles in earlier Jia films) has
come to Fengjie to find his ex-wife and daughter, neither of whom he
has seen in sixteen years. Treated in a largely separate story, nurse
Shen Hong (Zhao Tao, Jia's frequent collaborator and now his wife)
comes searching for her estranged husband. Both of these seekers will
have to be very patient, as will viewers.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The only growth business left in the
2000-year-old town is demolition. Unable to locate his wife at her
now submerged address (“See that island? That’s your town.”),
Han settles for work on a crew while he waits for his wife to return.
There’s really not much left to do in Fengjie except to wait. Shen
Hong has to wait too, as her husband is a big-time boss (of the
demolition company) who is difficult to track down. She whiles the
time with one of her husband’s friends and glides along the fringes
of the local business community.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As is usually the case with Jia, plot
recedes into the background as time and location are emphasized.
Working with high-def video, Jia and his great cinematographer Yu
Lik-wai explore the environment so thoroughly and with such attention
to detail that “Still Life” has the feel of a documentary, which
is not a coincidence since Jia simultaneously shot the documentary
“Dong” (2006) in the same setting. Nominally about painter Liu
Xiaodong, the documentary rambles freely, sometimes observing Liu at
work, and other times simply roving through the city. The two lead
characters from “Still Life” wander through the documentary at
different points as Jia’s fictional universe bleeds into his
non-fictional one. One shot is even repeated in both movies. Jia
isn’t necessarily making a formal point about the two modes of
filmmaking so much as he is telling one unified story from multiple
perspectives that are readily interchangeable.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In his early works, Jia could loosely
be described as a neo-realist but beginning with “The World” he
tapped into a more fanciful sensibility. In “The World” he used
animated sequences when characters texted each other on their phones.
In “Still Life” he blurs another boundary as live-action (“real”)
settings suddenly become animated. A UFO abruptly shows up in one
scene, providing an unlikely transition from Han’s story to Shen’s.
It is never mentioned again. In another shot, a tall building in the
background shrugs off its foundation and launches into the sky like a
rocket ship. Why? According to Jia, it just looked like a rocket
ship. Simple enough.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This playfulness reflects a generosity
of spirit that imbues even the drabbest of Jia’s settings with a
sense of vibrancy. Fengjie may be in the process of being sucked into
the maelstrom of the Three Gorges Dam but the city and the
countryside still shine like jewels. The beautiful river and hills
always lurk in the background whether partly shrouded by polluted
skies or shown in full bloom on a rare crystal clear day.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The people of Fengjie also refuse to go
gentle into that good night. Even with limited options for work and
play, they do their best to thrive. A boy shows up from time to time
to whistle a tune and bum a smoke; he breezes through life just fine.
Han also befriends a young man who models his every mannerism after
Hong Kong movie star Chow Yun-Fat. He’s a wanna-be gangster with a
smile and a snappy way of lighting a cigarette. Their budding
friendship leads to yet another great cell phone scene in Jia’s
oeuvre when the two exchange numbers and ring tones, setting up a
powerful payoff later on.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Exchange is another major theme in the
film as the characters trade luxury items with each other. Jia even
uses on-screen titles to divide the film (very loosely) into
chapters: cigarettes, tea, liquor, and toffee (or candy.) According
to the director, these are items that were all strictly rationed in
the past and had only recently become more widely available by 2006.
They function here as means of forging a quick connection, or showing
affection.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like so many of my favorite films,
“Still Life” affords the pleasure of spending time with
characters and watching events leisurely unfold in real time. Jia’s
use of long takes isn’t nearly as programmatic as in films by
notoriously “challenging” directors such as Tsai Ming-liang or
Bela Tarr. He varies duration and scale freely, moving from
long-distance landscape shots to close-ups (though he seldom uses
extreme close-ups) to strike a balance between the people and places,
both of equal importance, in his movies. While “Still Life”
offers several beautiful shots of distant hills, the most enduring
image of all is probably that of Han in his tattered t-shirt that
somehow looks distinct even compared to all the other tattered
t-shirts.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Playful and moody, naturalistic and
surreal, “Still Life” is a film not to be missed. It's probably
my favorite Jia film, which means I also consider it one of the best
films of the 21<sup>st</sup> century.</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-20607439035534134912021-09-02T20:04:00.000-07:002021-09-02T20:04:03.460-07:00Platform<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIDbgS_L8_zYYSD2qYM9_XKa3JZk6xC08eIBBlUB4GQdFTIx5EBpnUKy32VkH7L-_5jpesULa7FRPcV7SvSyv-MIH1w8rKteFLFvVORz1dj-DnWwyswnHUMfk3352x071MpqcuOvk-YRz/s1021/platformcap1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="1021" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZIDbgS_L8_zYYSD2qYM9_XKa3JZk6xC08eIBBlUB4GQdFTIx5EBpnUKy32VkH7L-_5jpesULa7FRPcV7SvSyv-MIH1w8rKteFLFvVORz1dj-DnWwyswnHUMfk3352x071MpqcuOvk-YRz/w400-h215/platformcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>PLATFORM</b> (Jia, 2000)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Playing on the Criterion Channel in September 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>This month, the Criterion Channel is featuring eight films by Chinese director Jia Zhangke: </b><b>“Xiao Wu” (1997), “Platform” (2000), “Unknown Pleasures” (2002), “The World” (2004), "Still Life' (2006), "24 City" (2008), <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/touch-of-sin.html" target="_blank">"A Touch of Sin" (2013)</a>, and "Mountains May Depart" (2015).</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Jia may be my favorite filmmaker of the
21<sup>st</sup> century, so I'm posting a few reviews intended to
encourage viewers to check out these extraordinary films while
they're available on such a great platform. And speaking of Platforms...</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><br /></b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On one of the most famous intertitles
in film history, Jean-Luc Godard proclaimed that his film “Masculin
Feminin” (1966) could also have been called “The Children of Marx
and Coca-Cola.” Jia Zhangke could just as easily describe
“Platform” (2000), his second feature film, as “The Children of
Mao and Coca-Cola.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Platform” is history writ small.
Though the Cultural Revolution “officially” ended with Mao
Zedong’s death in 1976, Mao’s influence on Chinese culture was
still enormous in 1979 when “Platform” begins. In the opening
scene, the Fenyang Peasant Culture Group performs a tacky play in
which the actors portray the various cars in a train as it pulls into
Mao’s hometown of Shaoshan. They have doubtless performed the play
hundreds of times, and are resigned to performing it many times again
all for the glory of the late, great Chairman.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But life in China is about to change
significantly. Deng Xaoping, desperate both to distance himself from
the “misguided” policies of Chairman Mao and to improve China’s
competitive position in the global arena, opened up China’s culture
and economy in the 1980s. New ideas, new fashions and new popular
culture flooded into the People’s Republic from Taiwan, Hong Kong,
and points much farther west.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The title “Platform” refers to a
Chinese pop hit from the early 1980s, and music plays a central role
in the film. One night, the troupe members huddle around a radio as
it picks up a faint pop song from a Taiwanese radio station. Later,
one of them gets hold of a cassette tape of rock-and-roll music, and
just as paranoid parents in many 1950s films warned us, rock music
encourages the kids to run wild. OK, maybe not exactly wild, but a
transformation has begun. In just a few years, the Fenyang Peasant
Culture Group becomes the All Star Rock ‘n Breakdance Band and the
members of the troupe swap their Little Red Books for electric
guitars (the film actually opens with a burst of electronic feedback
which then turns into a traditional Chinese melody).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If I haven’t discussed any of the
characters so far, there’s a reason. It’s not that we don’t get
to know any of them. Mingliang (Wang Hongwei, a frequent Jia
collaborator) is the protagonist and his faltering relationship with
not-quite girlfriend Yin Ruijuan (Zhao Tao – Jia's muse and future
wife, making her film debut) is the only narrative strand that runs
through the entire film. Singer Zhong Ping (Yang Tianyi) and her
boyfriend Zhang Jun (Laing Jingdong) are more of an official couple,
but have plenty of their own problems along the way. But Jia’s main
focus is not on any one character, but rather the changes that occur
to the entire troupe, which serves as a stand-in for the broader
changes in China in the 1980s, the decade in which Jia (born in 1970)
came of age.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The characters are all in their 20s
during this pivotal period in Chinese history, and they’re trapped
between a Maoist heritage they are only distantly familiar with and a
budding capitalism that is courted, but never fully welcomed, in
China. The film focuses on this sense of suspension between
conflicting ideas or lifestyles. Is it OK to pursue individualistic,
materialistic goals? Their parents certainly don’t think so,
creating even more tension. Besides, exactly how “open” is Deng’s
new China anyway?</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Here is a valuable geography lesson for
you: China is a big country. “Platform” is not just a Chinese
film, but more specifically is set in Shanxi province, in Jia’s
hometown of Fenyang, west of Beijing (Jia's first three films are
sometimes called his “Hometown Trilogy”). All the characters
speak in Shanxi dialect. When Mingliang returns from a trip down
south, his friends ask him if the food was any good there. “Yes,
but not as good as here.” There’s no cooking like home cooking.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Transportation is another major theme
in the film (“Platform” also refers to a train platform) and the
characters travel often: by foot, by bus, by train. But every journey
is an endless circle which always brings them back home. Even more
disturbing, though, is the fact that home is constantly changing. New
freedom may (or may not) be liberating, but it's also destabilizing.
The future holds promise, but has also never seemed more uncertain.
Though they have shucked off the trappings of Mao Zedong Thought, the
characters have taken on new burdens and new responsibilities. It’s
not easy to keep on rocking in the not-quite free world.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jia shoots most of the film in long,
master shots, his camera only seldom moving in close to the
characters. Each scene plays out as a discrete episode that could be
a short film unto itself. Some viewers might be put off both by the
film’s leisurely pace and its lack of any obvious narrative drive.
I was absorbed by it all, but I sometimes found it difficult to keep
track of each character’s story.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Platform” was Jia's second feature
film, though the first movie that many festival audiences and critics
saw as “Xiao Wu” (AKA “Pickpocket”) received a more limited
release. I didn't fully appreciate it at the time, but today I see it
as one of his best, along with “The World” and “Still Life”
(two of my favorite films of all-time). Like all of Jia's work,
“Platform” demands patience and effort from viewers, but meet it
halfway and I think you will be amply rewarded.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-24978297424418015282021-08-27T07:14:00.005-07:002021-08-27T07:14:50.483-07:00Beasts of No Nation<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLX3ViQKODK6vFpww7cwXDW0SSlW7jcVAUixWlgumo8_FuOVuLbbmiAFheeqpvHFu2czqcauv0z4MxlfbdjOIoASV5ahJX5upWDme0l3BXuzIiDNiiGLnpL0LRb6T7nxJJ2FS3pOkTT4x1/s2155/beastsnationcap2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="2155" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLX3ViQKODK6vFpww7cwXDW0SSlW7jcVAUixWlgumo8_FuOVuLbbmiAFheeqpvHFu2czqcauv0z4MxlfbdjOIoASV5ahJX5upWDme0l3BXuzIiDNiiGLnpL0LRb6T7nxJJ2FS3pOkTT4x1/w400-h168/beastsnationcap2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>BEAST OF NO NATION</b> (Fukunaga, 2015)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Aug 31, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p>In the opening act of “Beasts of No
Nation” (2015), young Agu (Abraham Attah) plays soccer, performs
impromptu “imagination TV” acts with his friends, and pisses on
his older brother as a bath-time prank. Embraced by his loving
family, Agu has managed to lead a relatively happy childhood even
though his country (an unnamed African nation, as per the title) is
in a state of war between government and rebel forces.</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Agu likely has little sense of how
fragile the buffer zone in which he lives truly is, but all innocence
is shattered when government soldiers round up the villagers, declare
them rebels, and begin mass executions. Agu escapes into the bush
where he is discovered by a rebel faction, a group consisting mostly
of child soldiers led by the menacing Commandant (Idris Elba).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Commandant is all ambition and no
conscience, a sociopath capable of slaughtering villagers, raping
children, and then piously leading his young charges in a prayer
before their next righteous mission. Writer-director-cinematographer
Cary Joji Fukunaga, adapting a novel by Uzodinma Iweala, turns his
agile camera on a gallery of unspeakable horrors, never more
effectively than when showing the carefully orchestrated
indoctrination program used to brainwash vulnerable children like
Agu. The Commandant initially dehumanizes Agu as “this thing”
before later establishing himself as a domineering surrogate father,
the boy's only protector. Agu (along with others) is subjected to
ritual execution and burial alive to be “reborn” as a loyal rebel
soldier, ready to follow all orders. Even to kill innocents on
command.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Any movie on a topic so grim must stare
into the abyss; to shy away from depicting violence for fear of
alienating viewers would be irresponsible. But there are times when
Fukunaga's unflinching gaze strays into questionable territory. What
is the benefit of filming a meticulously choreographed sequence in
which a boy shoots a woman in the head while she is being raped?
That's a sincere question. Nobody has been appointed as the official
moral gatekeeper in such matters, and Fukunaga's urgency in
portraying the bleak plight of child soldiers is never in doubt.
However, not everything that can be depicted audiovisually should be.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Elba received wide acclaim for his
smoldering but never showy performance. A savvy exploiter, the
Commandant is a plausible monster, a man who mistakes his ability to
bully frightened children as heroic leadership, styling himself as a
man of destiny entitled to fame and glory. He feels sincerely
betrayed when he learns that his superiors see him as what he truly
is, a disposable cog in a profitable war machine. The praise for Elba
is fully justified, but Abraham Attah, a non-professional actor from
Ghana making his debut, deserves every bit as much attention for his
ability to navigate a perilous journey from playful child to trained
killer while not fully losing his humanity.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Filmed primarily in Ghana, “Beasts of
No Nation” showcases landscapes along with characters, from the
red-brown soil along battle-scarred roads to the vast forest canopy
stretching to the edges of the wide-screen frame. Fukunaga's
cinematography is perhaps too beautiful at times, considering the
ugliness of the events depicted, but his mobile camera immerses the
audience fully in a harrowing environment.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film ends on a note of tentative
hope that may feel like the first “safe” choice made, allowing
viewers a respite from the misery. After such a grueling experience,
it's a welcome decision, even if it may seem a bit forced.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhSmoqV_eUkpf0yKqRRRz1TR6u1taLwxA4sL4ObqEQFrJLYRDXvgXV8iN6lKqsDT3IZ6Dg0gaEN_uR360ziYYYt7MLgQOnnermGPkE2rsp5nOZXuFAQOFAlJK-41eoLl9oxhidlldVVf1/s1600/beastnationcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhSmoqV_eUkpf0yKqRRRz1TR6u1taLwxA4sL4ObqEQFrJLYRDXvgXV8iN6lKqsDT3IZ6Dg0gaEN_uR360ziYYYt7MLgQOnnermGPkE2rsp5nOZXuFAQOFAlJK-41eoLl9oxhidlldVVf1/w323-h400/beastnationcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
2.39:1 aspect ratio. This “2k digital master, approved by director
Cary Joji Fukunaga” looks great, with vibrant colors and sharp
image detail. It's a recent film shot digitally, so this 1080p
transfer likely looks very close to the original image.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround
track is “remastered from the original digital audio master files”
and sounds both sharp and dense, with dialogue, sound effects, and
music all well-presented. No distortion or drop-off, etc. Optional
English subtitles support the audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a new 2021
feature-length commentary track by Fukunaga and first assistant
director Jon Mallard.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Passion Project' (2021, 61 min.) is
a new documentary produced by Criterion which features interviews
with Fukunaga, novelist Uzodinma Iweala, producer Amy Kaufman,
Abraham Attah, Idris Elba, and others. Fukunaga discusses his
long-standing interest in the plight of child soldiers, and how he
had been preparing a project on the subject for some time before he
came across Iweala's novel. Iweala speaks about his book's genesis,
including being mentored in college by Jamaica Kincaid. This feature
also spends a good amount of time making it clear that the child
actors were protected while filming this frightening story, a
question that has to occur to anyone watching the movie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a
discussion (21 min.) between Fukunaga and cultural commentator
Franklin Leonard which touches on some of the same issues as the
documentary does.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get an interview (20 min.) with
costume designer Jenny Eagan and a Trailer (2 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Beasts of No Nation” received
attention not just for its content, but for its release strategy.
Netflix won a fierce bidding war for distribution rights, then
debuted it on their platform along with a simultaneous theatrical
release. It was a groundbreaking decision at the time as well as a
controversial one, prompting major exhibition chains to boycott the
film. It's not the crowd-pleaser you might have expected Netflix to
favor for such a daring move. The gambit didn't pay off in box-office
returns, but the film earned both critical plaudits and numerous
awards, though, to much derision, the Academy snubbed it completely.</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-52138397719192130292021-08-23T19:02:00.002-07:002021-08-23T19:02:42.506-07:00After Life<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-z_0vosYMTXm0FFjfp9Py76DWNOj6FRNp4Xoc67gxQGjdQDQ7OK7FUTJGAIYT6pEMzKSbOxceljYyUVjF1rnf5PgR9XHHOuYn69P6o-_4nsXDvdkeesFKBYNzssKid2ZSwksGchCvQEo/s1600/afterlifecap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy-z_0vosYMTXm0FFjfp9Py76DWNOj6FRNp4Xoc67gxQGjdQDQ7OK7FUTJGAIYT6pEMzKSbOxceljYyUVjF1rnf5PgR9XHHOuYn69P6o-_4nsXDvdkeesFKBYNzssKid2ZSwksGchCvQEo/w400-h225/afterlifecap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>AFTER LIFE</b> (Kore-eda, 1998)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Aug 10, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“You died yesterday. I'm sorry for
your loss.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In writer/director/editor Hirokazu
Kore-eda's “After Life” (1998), the recently deceased gather to
be processed for their impending eternity. You can understand how it
might take a little time to adjust. Their way station is a ramshackle
office building run by a small staff of functionaries who gently
explain the situation to the newcomers. Each arrival has three days
to select their most cherished memory – a team will then
reconstruct that memory as a short film in which the dearly departed
will live forever, shuffling off the rest of their mortal coils.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like much of the greatest speculative
fiction (Octavia E. Butler's “Kindred” springs to mind), “After
Life” spends no time explaining or justifying its fantastical
premise; it is simply the stipulation around which this film's
reality is constructed. The dead souls accept the set-up with few
questions as well, though one person asks if everyone gets sent here,
both good and bad. A counselor merely nods yes before continuing with
business.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Most of the cases proceed routinely;
the staff has been handling them for years. Perhaps many, many years;
it's hard to judge time here. But a few clients have difficulty
choosing a memory. Watanabe (Taketoshi Naito), a company man who died
at 70, looks back on his unremarkable career and his unremarkable
marriage and struggles to choose a vivid, happy memory he'd want to
relive on an endless loop. His dithering causes trouble for his
caseworkers, Takashi (Arata) and Shiori (Erika Oda), who try to guide
Watanabe through the process while also struggling with their own
personal challenges. They wait as Watanabe re-watches his life on a
series of low-fi videotapes, one for each year lived.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Perhaps surprisingly, “After Life”
hardly deals with theological issues at all. There is little talk of
gods or heaven or even who recorded those VHS tapes of Watanabe's
life, only pragmatic references to the next place to which all the
clients must be sent by the end of the week to clear room for the
following week's batch of dead travelers. The job is to keep the line
moving as efficiently as possible.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kore-eda is much more interested in the
nature of memory, elusive and protean. When an older woman fondly
recalls the beautiful dress she received as a childhood gift, her
memory has clearly diverged greatly from the actual lived reality.
Had she died ten years earlier or ten years later, that same
recollection would have been different still. She has bent, blurred,
and buffed that treasured memory over the years to best suit her
present, a vast improvement over the more mundane reality. Like
everyone, she is a writer, the author of her own history, a work in a
constant state of revision. Well, at least until a few days after you
die.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Memory can also be a burden. One client
is relieved to learn that when he chooses his special moment, he will
forget everything else. The rest of his life, it seems, only caused
him pain, but once it is forgotten, it can't cause any more
suffering. Sometimes memory can be trite. A teenage girl initially
chooses to relive the joy of a ride on Splash Mountain at Disney
Land, until a weary Shiori explains to her that dozens of other
people make the same selection. Maybe she should pick something a
little more personal.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kore-eda honed his craft as a
documentarian, and he brings that non-fiction sensibility to his
second feature film. He actually interviewed about 500 people, asking
them to share their fondest memories, ones they might want to relive
in the next life. About half of the clients in “After Life” are
played by these interviewees. Much of the film is shot as a series of
head-on interviews, where the recently deceased speak at length about
their experiences, smiling about happy childhood idylls, bragging
about their sexual exploits, or recounting harrowing stories of
survival during the war.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kore-eda credits cinematographer Yutaka
Yamazaki, an accomplished documentary camera man, with much of the
film's naturalistic design, not just the interviews but the lived-in
feel of the run-down office building, and the details of that space
seemingly caught on the fly. There is nothing the least bit mystical
or even slightly surreal about this unique workplace – just a big
waiting room, dormitories, and harried, underpaid staffers rushing to
get their cases resolved. Kore-eda also employed a second
cinematographer, Masayoshi Sukita, to shoot the reenacted
memory-films, which are integrated into the whole by showing
“behind-the-scenes” work of the crews trying to find creative
solutions on a tight budget. How about cotton balls to recreate the
clouds in one pilot's memory of flying?</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By remaining so understated in style,
“After Life” focuses its attention respectfully on its subjects,
both the newly dead clients and the workers who help to ease them
through what could otherwise be a traumatic experience. The result is
an empathetic and sometimes deeply moving meditation on memory, loss,
and perseverance.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8J2KGrTPFSFhGAbA9Bt6J_E9_ugf9ids8nbny3Q0jYWNZhqX_yzWrIwvv1I5msbq3MbyAn1sXKTxT9i2Na1CXGj93issnOPZ6EEMBSmqQUtGJPEtpMOoy5A6taWUL2Ilj8OA_ZhQ5fzlL/s1600/afterlifecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8J2KGrTPFSFhGAbA9Bt6J_E9_ugf9ids8nbny3Q0jYWNZhqX_yzWrIwvv1I5msbq3MbyAn1sXKTxT9i2Na1CXGj93issnOPZ6EEMBSmqQUtGJPEtpMOoy5A6taWUL2Ilj8OA_ZhQ5fzlL/w323-h400/afterlifecover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.66:1 aspect ratio. From Criterion: “Approved by director Hirokazu
Kore-eda, this new 2K digital restoration was created by TV Man
Union. A new digital transfer was created in 2K resolution on a DFT
Scanity film scanner, from a 35 mm duplicate negative made from the
Super 16 mm original camera negative, at IMAGICA Lab in Tokyo.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The high-def transfer of this film,
which was shot on Super 16, is grainy and features a muted color
palette – the drab building that houses most of the action isn't
exactly decorated to impress. Detail is sharp and the naturalistic
look of this transfer feels just right for the material.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono track is fairly
simple, handling the spare, functional sound design of the film quite
well. Optional English subtitles support the Japanese audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a commentary
track by film scholar Linda C. Ehrlich, author of “The Films of
Kore-eda Hirokazu.” She covers a broad array of topics, from
details about the film's production to an analysis of the film's
major themes, including the nature of memory.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a new
interview (19 min.) with Kore-eda, in which he discusses the film's
genesis, including how he was at least partly inspired by his
childhood experience with his grandfather who suffered from
Alzheimer's. He also talks about his early time working in
documentary and how that influenced his feature film making.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get interviews with each of the
film's two cinematographers. Yutaka Yamazaki (19 min.) also talks
about how his documentary experience influenced his approach to
“After Life,” his first feature film. Masayoshi Sukita (15 min.)
provides a bit of a career overview, from his experience as a
photographer (including many portraits of David Bowie) to his days
covering counterculture movements in both Japan and America.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final extras are a collection of
Deleted Scenes (17 min.) and a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an
essay by Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist Viet Thanh Nguyen.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Kore-eda won the Palme d'Or in 2018 for
“Shoplifters” and has earned critical praise for numerous other
films like “Still Walking” (2008) and “Like Father, Like Son”
(2013). He also directed “Air Doll” (2009), proof that you don't
have to get it right every time to still be viewed as a modern
master. “After Life” was Kore-eda's second feature, following
<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2018/07/maborosi.html">“Maborosi” (1995)</a>, and was his first break-out hit. Criterion's
Blu-ray release features a sharp high-def transfer and a handful of
supplemental features that do justice to this thoughtful, sensitive
film.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-83379917889540510642021-07-21T14:21:00.001-07:002021-07-23T14:26:26.902-07:00Mirror<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis37aMxhWtNPuesbzLyMCpWuJTfUUpftXOAS18my7NlhBolqPzwdzv2YS6UZQ8ir0UWclmQh5cCTahu9YXpqpMg8xL9-fayutUjrHFHDn6hbt6aUgXdhENmJbO-kahHDI3kXtNcaMVJ6f_/s1200/mirrorcap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis37aMxhWtNPuesbzLyMCpWuJTfUUpftXOAS18my7NlhBolqPzwdzv2YS6UZQ8ir0UWclmQh5cCTahu9YXpqpMg8xL9-fayutUjrHFHDn6hbt6aUgXdhENmJbO-kahHDI3kXtNcaMVJ6f_/w400-h300/mirrorcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>MIRROR</b> (Tarkovsky, 1975)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 6, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p>Andrei Tarkovsky's most overtly
autobiographical film may also be his most impenetrable film, at
least for viewers who insist on interpreting meaning, onfiguring out
how the various piece fit together. But why waste a trip (either your
first or your fiftieth) through “Mirror” (1975) on such childish
games? Stop trying to solve the puzzle – there is no solution, and
possibly no puzzle at all. Let the images and sounds of this poetic
journey flow over you, cherish them for their sheer beauty and
emotional resonance, and you may find “Mirror” to be a cinematic
experience like few others.</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Co-written by Tarkovsky and Alexander
Misharin and loosely structured (and unstructured) as the
reminiscences of a dying poet named Alexei, “Mirror” ranges
freely across time periods. Young Alexei (Ignat Daniltsev) lives with
his loving mother Maria (Margarita Terekhova) while also yearning for
an absent father who only intermittently visits the family home, an
isolated sanctuary that can only protect the boy for so long from the
eruption of World War II. An adult Alexei (heard, not seen) argues
with his ex-wife (also played by Terekhova), often about their son
Ignat (also played by Daniltsev). The fact that the same actors play
two different characters in two different time frames provides just
the faintest essence of how disorienting “Mirror” can be even
after repeat viewings.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It would be misleading to talk much
more about plot. Just as the dying Alexei quests through his timeline
to relive his most vivid memories, a viewer fresh off a screening of
“Mirror” will likely recall a handful of evocative scenes with no
particular connection to each other. In one of the film's
most-referenced sequences, young Alexei and his mother watch
helplessly as their barn burns down. The camera peers through a
doorway partially veiled by a cataract of rain as the flames outside
lick high and whip in the wind. Like so many Tarkovsky films,
“Mirror” heavily emphasizes the natural elements. A field of tall
grass ripples in a sudden breeze, a room crumbles apart under a flood
of water pouring through the walls.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a moment likely dreamed by Alexei,
the mother washes herself at a basin. As she lifts her head from the
water, her face is completely obscured by a thick mass of her
dripping wet hair. Any way she moves, her mask of soaked hair hides
all vestiges of human expression, a monstrous image straight out of a
horror movie, yet perhaps intended simply as a tangible remembrance
of mother. Later, we see the mother levitating above a bed, this time
with her hair stretched out behind her, defying gravity, mother as
the all-powerful mystical figure beyond mere mortal comprehension.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With actors playing multiple roles and
the film drifting from era to era and from dreams to reality with no
clear delineation among them, the most concrete presence in “Mirror”
may be the camera itself. Free-ranging, cinematographer Georgy
Rerberg's camera roams in long takes through the corridors of the
house, slowly turning corners, panning to look into and away from
many mirrors and through windows to the outside world, frequently
from no identifiable perspective save perhaps that of Tarkovsky
himself.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A brief listing of autobiographical
elements may be relevant. Tarkovsky meticulously reconstructed his
childhood home on its original foundations to serve as a major
production set, and cast as his mother as the older (briefly
glimpsed) version of the mother in the film. His father, writer
Arseny Tarkovsky, was also largely absent from home, but is present
in the film in voice-over, reciting his own poetry. But while Alexei
(at all ages) is clearly a stand-in of sorts for Tarkovsky, don't
assume a direct, literal correlation. That's too facile a take for
such a complex, ambitious film.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Mirror” doesn't just relay the
experience of an individual recalling his life, but also the
collective memory of a nation. Mixed in with the recollected moments
and the dream sequences, Tarkovsky also uses black-and-white newsreel
footage, including a harrowing sequence of Red Army soldiers crossing
muddy Lake Syvash in 1943, material that had not been seen previously
by the public. Alexei's story of a childhood before the war, an
adolescence defined by the war, and an adulthood in the aftermath of
the war is also the story of his whole country. Likewise, the mother
in the film is not just a mix of Tarkovsky's real mother and Alexei's
fictional mother, but the embodiment of multiple generations of
Russian mothers.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But that's enough interpretation.
Better to remember “Mirror” for its indelible images: the
levitating mother, the disappearing heat ring left behind on the
table by a ghostly tea cup, and the bird that lands on a boy's head.
What does it all add up to? A masterpiece.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWil7h6NmpWv3h7G3WRmaVckWjaPPiGwcYQdeOKPLe-odEoJrfY_x-qeNJhFwsQYzMa5n7fM8hT5ri3PHtQpoAc6CQJS9Pq6dNKRR5vFNxAjg376O6fL-ngGryxUFRKSO24CxmlEPcXdIi/s1600/mirrorcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWil7h6NmpWv3h7G3WRmaVckWjaPPiGwcYQdeOKPLe-odEoJrfY_x-qeNJhFwsQYzMa5n7fM8hT5ri3PHtQpoAc6CQJS9Pq6dNKRR5vFNxAjg376O6fL-ngGryxUFRKSO24CxmlEPcXdIi/w323-h400/mirrorcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.37:1 aspect ratio. This new 2K digital transfer showcases
naturalistic colors and sharp image resolution. I've only ever had
the chance to see “Mirror” on the mediocre old Kino DVD from 2000
and this 1080p transfer looks like an entirely new movie by
comparison. I can't evaluate how true to the original it is, but it
looks great.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM Mono sound track is
sharp with no distortion. Dialogue, sound effects, and music (a mix
of classical – lots of Bach – and an electronic-heavy score by
Eduard Artemyev) are all cleanly mixed. Optional English subtitles
support the Russian audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has loaded this two-disc
Blu-ray set with a diverse array of extras, both new and older.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc One includes the film and a single
extra. “Andrei Tarkovsky: A Cinema Prayer” (2019, 102 min.) is a
recent documentary by Andrei A. Tarkovsky, the filmmaker's son. It
primarily consists of audio of director Andrei Tarkovsky speaking,
played along with film clips and family photos. The director speaks
frankly about this childhood, his philosophy, and his career.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc Two's collection begins with “The
Dream In the Mirror” (2021, 54 min.), a new documentary by Louise
Milne and Sean Martin, shot for Criterion. This documentary features
several of Tarkovsky's collaborators and family members, including
his sister Marina who tells us that their parents “weren't too
thrilled with what they saw” when they attended a screening of
“Mirror.” This feature touches on many details about the film's
production.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Islands: Georgy Rerberg” (2007, 52
min.) is a Russian documentary shining a light on the career of the
cinematographer who shot “Mirror” as well as Tarkovsky's
“Stalker” (1977).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes a new interview
(22 min.) with electronic composer Eduard Artemyev who explains that
Tarkovsky informed him he wanted the sound in the film to be a
character in its own right.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a 2004 interview (32 min.)
with screenwriter Alexander Misharin who co-wrote “Mirror” with
Tarkovsky. He's a great speaker and storyteller who goes into detail
about the tortured development of “Mirror.” He also speaks about
his friendship and long-term working relationship with Tarkovsky. And
he takes credit for “forcing” Tarkovsky to finally make “Mirror”
when the director remained uncertain about actually realizing his
passion project.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The extras wrap up with a couple of
short news clips featuring Tarkovsky on French television in January
1978, running 4 min. and 3 min. respectively.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick, square-bound insert booklet
runs 88 pages. It starts with an essay by critic Carmen Gray. The
bulk of the booklet reprints the original 1968 film proposal for
“Mirror” and then the literary script for the film, both by
Tarkovsky and Misharin.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For quite some time during
post-production, Tarkovsky feared his footage couldn't be shaped into
a coherent film, that he might have failed to achieve the dream
project he'd labored over for nearly a decade. Today, “Mirror” is
considered both one of Tarkovsky's masterworks and one of the
greatest films of all-time. In the 2012 “Sight and Sound” poll,
it finished in the top 20 films as voted by critics, and in the top
10 as voted by directors. Amazingly, it has never previously received
a proper high-definition release in the North American region, making
this Criterion release one of the major home theater events of the
year. With its sharp transfer and strong collection of extras, this
two-disc Blu-ray set from Criterion does justice to this remarkable
movie. To borrow a phrase from a great artist, it's true poetic
cinema.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZpjm9caUJLAZjj1TFJFqBK2MZslEojCEPfEG0AfjVieA0AkisIBFyr5tgJyRoTybR3BE4yqV8uuMOQbpFzyZQngJ3noMf2iPzlKRmQkhMiVupLe_F6L-0VoV3NHWrgrEKoDLo_6GSHOF/s1125/tarkovskypoeticcinema.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="820" data-original-width="1125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZpjm9caUJLAZjj1TFJFqBK2MZslEojCEPfEG0AfjVieA0AkisIBFyr5tgJyRoTybR3BE4yqV8uuMOQbpFzyZQngJ3noMf2iPzlKRmQkhMiVupLe_F6L-0VoV3NHWrgrEKoDLo_6GSHOF/s320/tarkovskypoeticcinema.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-32555143353190326102021-07-15T19:29:00.000-07:002021-07-19T19:29:33.015-07:00Deep Cover<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugQe6btACNmAgUDWzw4hJmzenuXiSg8t4sOhotpRxabNEJXY0tOf_G7KCtlQHx0Z8ej2Mv8xKecYk7gLSHuuDiLAjBOFGdWOqGeZnDS0t03D7jrnH7TBmj-xDpRo_MSIlBfZWwZzlT-tO/s1600/deepcovercap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugQe6btACNmAgUDWzw4hJmzenuXiSg8t4sOhotpRxabNEJXY0tOf_G7KCtlQHx0Z8ej2Mv8xKecYk7gLSHuuDiLAjBOFGdWOqGeZnDS0t03D7jrnH7TBmj-xDpRo_MSIlBfZWwZzlT-tO/w400-h225/deepcovercap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>DEEP COVER</b> (Duke, 1992)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date July 13, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director Bill Duke doesn't waste any
time plunging viewers into the grimy, fallen world of “Deep Cover”
(1992).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's Cleveland, 1972, and a car cuts
through the snow on a street festooned with Christmas lights as
distant carolers sing “Silent Night.” The holiday cheer is
undercut when the scene moves inside the car where a father snorts
coke before asking his young son, “Whatchu want for Christmas?”
The boy, Russell Stevens Jr., then watches helplessly as his father
robs a liquor store and is shot to death, his blood spattering the
car window. In voice-over, the adult Russell Jr. states bluntly that
as he watched his father die in the snow, “I only had one thought;
it wasn't gonna happen to me.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jump ahead twenty years and Russell
(Laurence Fishburne in his first leading role) appears determined to
keep his vow. Now a morally upright police officer, he reports for an
interview with DEA Agent Gerald Carver (Charles Martin Smith) ready
to do his duty. The smug Carver tries to ambush him with a racist
challenge, but Russell's cool refusal to take the bait lands him
Carver's respect and a dangerous assignment to go undercover as a
drug dealer to infiltrate a Los Angeles cocaine ring.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So Russell sinks deeper into the muck
where he encounters two-bit hoods, corrupt Latin American
politicians, and, filthiest of all, David Jason (Jeff Goldblum), a
crooked lawyer who dreams of becoming a drug kingpin, as long as it
doesn't take too much work. “Deep Cover” features many sleazy
characters and wild performances, but nobody embraces his own
vileness with as much gusto as Goldblum. David can shift seamlessly
from teaching his adorable daughter her multiplication tables to
celebrating his first murder by leaning out of a moving car and
shouting, “Then we'll have jumbo barbecued shrimp, you
motherfucker!” When told by Russell that his sexual attraction to
black women stems from his racism (“Maybe you feel like you're
fucking a slave”), David just shrugs – that's fine by him. Your
conscience can't be bothered when you don't have one.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The script by Michael Tolkin and Henry
Bean was originally written for a white protagonist, but a studio
executive hoping to cash in on the success of films like “Boyz n
The Hood” (1991) proposed shifting to a black lead. In the process,
director Bill Duke adapts many elements of classical Hollywood film
noir, predominantly the domain of white characters, to the American
War on Drugs, also depicted here as the American War on people of
color, waged on violent city streets heavily populated by
impoverished black and Latino citizens.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Young Russell may have sworn “it
wasn't gonna happen to me” but many film noir protagonists are
victims of a sinister fate beyond their control. In “Deep Cover”
characters like Agent Carver (who is white) seem determined to ensure
that “it” will indeed “happen” to Russell. That's what's
supposed to happen to the black child of a junkie burglar, after all.
Russell has his own plans, detailed in his frequent voice-over,
perhaps the most traditionally noir-ish element in the film. “Deep
Cover”, shot by cinematographer Bojan Bazelli, also transforms the
inky black-and-white shadows of classical noir to the hot reds and
sickly yellows of the City of Angels in the early '90s.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Race and/or class define most character
interactions. Russell (posing as drug dealer “John Hull”) and
David become business partners, but they'll never be friends for the
simple reason that David is an entitled racist who always considers
himself superior. Once, when Russell warns David, after one of his
smarmy racist rants, to “watch your mouth” the lawyer snaps back
like a spoiled child, “I can say anything I fucking want to say!”
Which has, indeed, always been an assumed privilege in David's world,
whereas the film shows Russell forced to constantly measure his
words, not just to maintain his “deep cover” but to survive in
American society.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The drug/crime plot is mostly standard
issue, but even its more cliched or implausible touches are delivered
with operatic flair by Duke and his cast, imbuing the film with a
nervy brashness that powers it through its rougher patches. The late,
great Gregory Sierra, playing a cocaine dealer, giddily channels the
animal spirit of Al Pacino's Tony Montana when he disposes of an
underling by the bloody and highly theatrical use of a pool cue.
Another major confrontation takes place at a drug kingpin's
headquarters, a movie theater where the bad guy is screening a Luis
Bunuel film because, as we all know, that's just the kind of thing
drug kingpins like to do with their free time. At least when they're
directed by a graduate of the AFI Conservatory.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fishburne shines in his first leading
role, as a man repulsed by his corrupt world and everyone in it,
including himself once he succumbs to the tempttions of the lifestyle
of a high-rolling drug dealer. Goldblum wears the mantle of a
shameless sleazebag so comfortably it's difficult not be won over by
his undeniable charm even though Duke never lets us forget for a
second that David is a loathsome, irredeemable pig.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ScakAWIspMmE5IjFXRCNPl2DhzOP8XBeZaC_fWzUNy7X_8MZFhJVUK3uqXusPBNVan7hkKbKYXiEq7nUGgAOtOaKOyZBbt5p8K7SiQbEnsy1wHSVyfGqmwx17qo7DznV7ArF7tXb22fb/s1600/deepcovercover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ScakAWIspMmE5IjFXRCNPl2DhzOP8XBeZaC_fWzUNy7X_8MZFhJVUK3uqXusPBNVan7hkKbKYXiEq7nUGgAOtOaKOyZBbt5p8K7SiQbEnsy1wHSVyfGqmwx17qo7DznV7ArF7tXb22fb/w323-h400/deepcovercover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. This new 1080p transfer “approved by director
Bill Duke” showcases bright primary colors and strong detail even
in the darkest nighttime scenes. It doesn't quite have the grainy
look you might expect from a (neo)noir, but this high-def transfer is
strong all around.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented with a DTS-HD
Master Audio 2.0 sound track. Both sound effects and music, a mix of
pop songs and original score by Michel Colombier, sound sharp with no
evidence of distortion. Optional English SDH subtitles support the
English audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion's collection of supplements
consist primarily of interviews with the filmmakers and with critics.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">First, the disc includes an interview
with Bill Duke (2021, 18 min.) in which the actor/director credits
some of his major influences (Gilbert Moses, Mario van Peebles, etc.)
then discusses his career both as an actor in films like “Car
Wash”, “American Gigolo”, and “Predator” and as a
trailblazing television director – he was the first black director
on series such as “Dallas.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Next we get video of a 2018
post-screening Q&A panel (56 min.) at the AFI Conservatory,
featuring Duke and Fishburne and moderated by critic Elvis Mitchell.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a wide-ranging discussion (35 min.),
film scholars Racquel J. Gates and Michael B. Gillespie help to place
the film in the context of the '90s boom in African-American cinema
and provide details about the film's production.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Scholar Claudrena N. Harold and
professor/DJ Oliver Wang talk (17 min.) about the title song “Deep
Cover” (by Dr. Dre and introducing Snoop Doggy Dogg) and its
significance in hip-hop at the time.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes a brief Trailer
(44 sec.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim foldout booklet features an
essay by Michael B. Gillespie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Deep Cover” was part of the early
'90s explosion of African-American cinema in mainstream Hollywood. It
didn't receive as much attention as John Singleton's “Boyz n the
Hood” or Mario van Peebles' “New Jack City” (1991), but it's a
significant film in its own right, helping to launch Fishburne as a
leading actor and and allowing director Bill Duke to rework film noir
in a unique fashion. It's also a hell of a lot of fun. This Criterion
release provides a strong high-def transfer and an array of features
that argue convincingly for the importance of re-introducing this
film to 21<sup>st</sup> century audiences.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-71718217570206652912021-06-21T20:41:00.006-07:002021-06-21T20:41:47.871-07:00Visions of Eight<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRoexM1jJs1szK4eAuBFodKxEa6BVYbgVm1Q1HRWTlidkzxYZS51Hb64WOhWclgKUMQhIHEOm6EKLmpdmwzqSei_HM-_WbB5kU1xUxkJcyn7xXCz9DscyPHL5DJVGDCrSTQ6PRIJGns70W/s1600/visionseightcap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRoexM1jJs1szK4eAuBFodKxEa6BVYbgVm1Q1HRWTlidkzxYZS51Hb64WOhWclgKUMQhIHEOm6EKLmpdmwzqSei_HM-_WbB5kU1xUxkJcyn7xXCz9DscyPHL5DJVGDCrSTQ6PRIJGns70W/w400-h225/visionseightcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><b>VISIONS OF EIGHT</b> (Anthology Film, 1973)</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Jun 22, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When executive producer David L. Wolper
scoured the globe for a dream team of directors to shoot a film about
the 1972 Munich Olympics, he didn't worry about whether any of them
were actually fans of the games. Swedish director Mai Zetterling
states explicitly that “I am not interested in sports” at the
start of her segment, but it's clear that most of her colleagues also
prioritize aesthetics over athletics.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With eight different “visions” this
anthology film reflects a kaleidoscope of interests and perspectives,
but a few dominant themes emerge. Zetterling, the only woman hired
for the project, trains her cameras on the burliest men at the
competition, weightlifters. She is primarily interested in the
obsession required to train for such specific feats. What kind of man
spends hours every day frog-hopping across a cold gym floor and
pumping his body full of eggs and boiled ham all so he press an iron
barbell over his head, preferably a bar loaded with 2 more kilograms
than anyone else in the world can lift? I dunno – the kinda guy who
really likes to lift heavy stuff, I guess.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">British director John Schlesinger
similarly wonders what would drive a man to spend hundreds of lonely
hours running along country roads day after day just to be able to
run a single marathon at the Olympics. While Zetterling's obsessive
giants can be viewed with a mixture of awe and affectionate
bemusement, Schlesinger's segment unearths a darker side to an
athlete's monomania. One competitor reads newspaper reports of the
murder of 11 Israeli athletes by Black September terrorists,
literally just down the road from him in the Olympic Village, and
tries his best to block it all out: “I'm here for one thing, and
that's to run a marathon.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Obviously, the murders overshadow
everything else about the Munich Olympics, something Wolper could not
have foreseen when he initiated the project. The failure to include
anything but a fleeting reference to the terrorist attacks until
Schlesinger's late segment also overshadows “Visions of Eight”
and was the source of much of the controversy surrounding the film's
1973 release, first at the Cannes Film Festival, then to many
negative reviews in the states. Perhaps an obsession with art above
all other concerns also needed to be examined.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Along with obsession, the film's other
dominant theme is failure. French filmmaker Claude Lelouch titled his
segment “The Losers” and he provides a moving portrait of
athletes at the moment they know their lifelong ambition has been
thwarted, at least for now. A losing boxer rages futilely against
cold fate in the ring before heading over to his corner for a
consoling hug from his trainer. A gimpy wrestler gamely fights on,
but has to be helped to the sideline by his opponent. As men and
women weep openly, having given it their all and still come up short,
the world moves on, leaving them alone and forgotten (except by
Lelouch's camera, at least for a few minutes more.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As Lelouch renders failure sympathetic,
American director Arthur Penn transforms it into a thing of beauty.
In the film's boldest stylistic segment, Penn composes slow-motion,
sometimes blurry images of pole vaulters racing to their destiny.
Soaring high and all alone in the universe, one man after another
trips that cruelly fragile bar, then freefalls back to earth along
with his dreams. When the montage of failed attempts finally morphs
into triumphs, with bodies gracefully contorting themselves to just
barely clear the bar, the strategic eruptions of applause (the only
audible sounds in many shots) accentuate the viewer's euphoria.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a segment by Japanese filmmaker Kon
Ichikawa (director of 1965's “Tokyo Olympiad”), we see a
Trinidadian sprinter pull up lame at the start of the 100-meter dash,
then we see him do it again and still again. Ichikawa filmed this
10-second race with more than 30 cameras, pointed at each lane, from
the sides and above, to document this brief blaze of kinetic energy.
He's not just interested in the failure of the one runner, but in the
experience of each of them, with slow-motion close-ups on their faces
twisted into grimaces of maximum effort. It's a beautiful piece, but
far too short.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The net result is indeed a film of
remarkable visions, heavier on spectacle than on insight or analysis.
Call it a sports film both by and for non-sports fans perhaps. Had it
been filmed any other year, it would be easier to celebrate its
chronicle of the beauty of bodies in motion, of the potential of
human willpower properly harnessed. But it's difficult to think of
the Munich Olympics for anything other than tragedy.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfDn54uAHibRVT0OUqC1r2Zc6FfQW7M696TdQTGmzO7NOnslgAHgQlX40L660ZQ-bVE5ttoYnWTFZ05OF7T2LZ6LhWb1CH3PDT_0Aj_GtpIIlxtitKtYnEZoPqPy-KFPYvP0OL4aN1eaU/s1600/visionseightcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfDn54uAHibRVT0OUqC1r2Zc6FfQW7M696TdQTGmzO7NOnslgAHgQlX40L660ZQ-bVE5ttoYnWTFZ05OF7T2LZ6LhWb1CH3PDT_0Aj_GtpIIlxtitKtYnEZoPqPy-KFPYvP0OL4aN1eaU/w323-h400/visionseightcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. Criterion included “Visions of Eight” as
part of its sprawling “100 Years of Olympic Films” set back in
2017. I don't own that set for comparison. However, this 1080p
transfer is sharp throughout, even with some of the extreme
slow-motion footage where detail might be harder to preserve
accurately. This 4K restoration “from the 35 mm original camera
negative” has no obvious flaws.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The linear PCM mono audio track is
crisp and provides a strong presentation both of the classical music
excerpts and the original score by Henry Mancini. Optional English
SDH subtitles support the audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a commentary
track by podcasters Amanda Dobbins, Sean Fennessey, and Chris Ryan of
“The Ringer.” To the best of my knowledge, this is the first
Criterion commentary done by podcasters. They add a sports savvy
that's largely absent from the film itself.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The main extra feature is a new Making
Of documentary (2021, 54 min.). I suspect many fans only sample
snippets from lengthy Making Of features, but this one is packed with
information about an unusual and complex production. Claude Lelouch
is the only director who worked on “Visions” who is still alive
and he is featured here along with historian David Clay Large and the
sons of both David L. Wolper and Arthur Penn. The most interesting
aspect of this feature is learning about the other directors Wolper
approached. Fellini never agreed to participate, but did allow Wolper
to use his name to attract other talent. Senegalese director Ousmane
Sembene shot a film about Olympic basketball, but his footage wasn't
used for reasons that aren't fully explained. What a huge loss for
the project – I'd love to know more.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The only other features are a short
promotional film (6 min.) that accompanied the film's 1973 release
and a short Trailer (3 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick insert booklet includes
George Plimpton's 1973 “Sports Illustrated” review of the film,
an excerpt from David L. Wolper's 2003 memoir “Producer,” and an
essay about the film by novelist Sam Lipsyte.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In 1972, tragedy eclipsed athletics at
the Munich Olympics. In 2020, global tragedy canceled the Olympics
for the first time in the post-WW2 era. Here's hoping the 2021 Tokyo
Olympics are remembered only for their pageantry and competition.</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-23681202791634138072021-06-15T20:31:00.002-07:002021-06-18T07:28:39.305-07:00Streetwise<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEH_Rya97uWKdG0Wea8A6NTIbv0KKm_w4QI7UixnNMzUhqRhwI2PqM5XTTcS00xo-o2HRnVw2HH8yKqoR9oXkwyG6GDGqNE-uOtyeanCdBbAYi0X478-cdjCpcPKKMxX__slbqpWT8Oycg/s1200/streetwisecap1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEH_Rya97uWKdG0Wea8A6NTIbv0KKm_w4QI7UixnNMzUhqRhwI2PqM5XTTcS00xo-o2HRnVw2HH8yKqoR9oXkwyG6GDGqNE-uOtyeanCdBbAYi0X478-cdjCpcPKKMxX__slbqpWT8Oycg/s320/streetwisecap1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>STREETWISE</b> (Bell, 1984)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date June 15, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After a decade of economic struggles,
Seattle officials were eager to rebrand the Emerald City as one of
America's “most livable” locations heading into the '80s.
Photographer Mary Ellen Mark and journalist Cheryl McCall were sent
by “Life” magazine to the new, more “livable”
Seattle and they returned with a devastating story about homeless
teens eking out perilous livings on the streets. Their article was
published in the July 1983 issue of “Life” by which time Mark had
already contacted her husband, director Martin Bell, about featuring
the kids in a documentary, a project that turned into “Streetwise”
(1984).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Streetwise” introduces viewers
first to the big city and its vibrant waterfront, then to the broad
array of teens who spend their days and nights along Pike Street near
the Pike Street Market. The boys aggressively panhandle while most of
the girls work as prostitutes. All look impossibly young while
sounding so very much older than their years. Several girls speak
quite matter-of-factly about being beaten and raped – by 14 or 15,
such horrors have simply become an expected part of their daily
lives. They calmly weigh the merits of various pimps (most of them
also teens), sizing up who might offer them the best protection.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film gradually begins to focus more
on a few emergent stars. Rat, a scrawny boy who can't weigh 100
pounds soaking wet, dumpster dives for food and constantly hustles for cash, preferably with a more muscular partner backing him up.
Lulu, a tough-as-nails lesbian, declares herself the unofficial
protector of Pike Street; she evinces no fear whether dealing with
violent homeless men or the police.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If this ensemble documentary has a
single lead, it's 14-year-old Erin Blackwell, better known as Tiny.
Tiny dreams of being “really rich” and living on a farm with lots
of horses, but her current reality sees her spending more time at the
free clinic where she worries about getting pregnant or contracting
another STD from one of her “dates.” With a wry smile and a quick
wit, Tiny appears to be a true survivor, though the threat of abrupt,
unavoidable violence hangs over even the most grizzled veteran of the
streets.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Unlike many of the other children, Tiny
hasn't lost all contact with her parents. Tiny's mother feeds her a
meager meal at the cheap diner where she works, marveling at how
quickly her daughter has grown up in her new life away from home. Mom
is fully aware of how Tiny earns her living, but dismisses the tragic
situation as “just a phase,” justifying her inaction (and her
preference for booze over parenting.) Tiny's decision to live on the
streets has its own logic. Her home situation seems even worse, and
the street offers the tantalizing illusion of freedom – new
friends, no rules, and more money than mom could ever make.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One of the film's most unforgettable
scenes involves another parent-child interaction. Dewayne, a skinny
scrapper like Rat, visits his father in prison. Dad tries to scare
Dewayne straight with a stern lecture about the right way to live
that fails to convince when delivered through the plastic screen that
separates them. He promises Dewayne “I'm gonna make it up to you” but
neither of them believe he'll get a chance to deliver. The poignant
image of the father pressing his hand helplessly against the screen
as Dewayne turns his back to leave is difficult to shake off.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In contrast to the hand-held “fly on
the wall” style associated with direct cinema, Bell prefers more
static compositions, sometimes with the camera mounted on a tripod,
producing many patient, beautiful shots of a hectic, ugly reality.
This aesthetic approach communicates an air of respect for the film's
marginalized characters, though it's fair to ask how anyone could
witness this brutal exploitation of children without putting down the
camera and intervening. In a 2015 excerpt included in the Criterion
booklet, Mary Ellen Mark says that she and Bell offered to bring Tiny
home with them in 1983, but that Tiny declined. Could they have done
more? Could the social workers or other support figures only briefly glimpsed in the film have done more? Whatever the answer, the
tragic fates that awaited so many of the film's characters (one of
the girls was murdered by serial killer Gary Ridgway) once again
raises doubts about the capacity of documentary to serve as a tool
for social change.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If they didn't bring Tiny home with
them, Mark and Bell did stay in touch with her over the years,
shooting several short films and eventually the feature “Tiny: The
Life of Erin Blackwell” (2016) which Bell completed after Mark died
in 2015. Now in her forties, Erin is the mother of ten children along
with many adorable little dogs. Erin raised some of her children;
others became wards of the state at various points. As Erin inherited
the problems of her parents, her kids have inherited many of her
struggles. Some of them, like Erin, are drug addicts, some in and out
of prison or juvie, and some are still wide-eyed, happy little kids.
Much of the film consists of Mary Ellen and Erin reminiscing over
footage from their earlier films, lending this follow-up project
echoes of the “Up” series of documentaries. Whatever her
travails, Erin keeps doing what she's best at: keeping on.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxR93a_Tq0EPkWvvz-jdEMrmkVPpZr3CqkaIOyBfpE4cAsTtIs7mZqs93kkQr3cYRg4MY9KbQmi9GVltTL_1BxJI2CnJZ9lC-QVqYrtiVNWPf_QYwyXxnce_AWsJHr_147CVkkJaKf_oKY/s1600/streetwisecover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxR93a_Tq0EPkWvvz-jdEMrmkVPpZr3CqkaIOyBfpE4cAsTtIs7mZqs93kkQr3cYRg4MY9KbQmi9GVltTL_1BxJI2CnJZ9lC-QVqYrtiVNWPf_QYwyXxnce_AWsJHr_147CVkkJaKf_oKY/s320/streetwisecover.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Streetwise” is presented in a
1.40:1 aspect ratio, pretty close to a fullscreen ratio. “Streetwise”
was shot on 16mm film and the 1080p restoration looks grainy as you
might expect from the source. This transfer looks fantastic overall
with rich detail and a naturalistic color palette.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Tiny: The Life of Erin Blackwell”
is presented in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio. It was shot on digital, but
includes a lot of 16mm footage from “Streetwise.” Obviously,
image quality varies based on the source, but this is another strong
1080p transfer.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Streetwise” is presented with a
linear PCM mono audio track. “Tiny” gets a DTS-HD Master Audio
5.1 surround track. “Streetwise” features both direct sound and
voice-over, as well as some overlapping dialogue and it's all crisply
and cleanly mixed here. The film also makes prominent use of a street
performance of “Teddy Bears' Picnic” by Baby Gramps and it sounds
great here, as do songs by Tom Waits. “Tiny” doesn't make much
use of surround channels, but doesn't need to – the audio is clear
and distortion-free. Optional SDH English subtitles support the
English dialogue in both films.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This single-disc Blu-ray release from
Criterion includes two feature films, “Streetwise” and "Tiny: The
Life of Erin Blackwell.” Extras are included along with each
feature.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Streetwise” is accompanied by a
commentary track by director Martin Bell.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a new
interview (2020, 10 min.) with Bell in which he discusses the film's
genesis (from the “Life” article by Mary Ellen Mark and Cheryl
McCall) and provides more detail about the production, including the
fact that the budget mostly consisted of funding from singer Willie
Nelson.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a new interview (2021, 17
min.) with editor Nancy Baker who discusses how she shaped many hours
of footage into a narrative. A Trailer (3 min.) is also included.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Under “Tiny: The Life of Erin
Blackwell,” Criterion offers several more features.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This includes two other short films
about Erin Blackwell's life, “Tiny at 20” (1993, 14 min.) and
“Erin” (2005, 23 min.) Much of the footage from these two shorts
is shown in “Tiny: The Life of Erin Blackwell.” “Streetwise
Revisited: Rat” (14 min.) is a new feature which catches up with
Rat, now a husband and a father and owner of a towing company.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Amazing Plastic Lady” (1995,
22 min.) is a short documentary. In 1993, Mary Ellen Mark published
the book “Indian Circus” about child acrobats in India. This 1995
documentary follows up on that material, largely focusing on Pinky, a
10-year-old girl who can contort her body into a pretzel at will. The
film covers both her family and work environment, and shares some
clear similarities with “Streetwise.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The last supplement is a Trailer (2
min.) for “Tiny: The Life of Erin Blackwell.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The fold-out booklet includes an essay
by historian Andrew Hedden, a reprint of the 1983 “Life” magazine
article by McCall and Mark (along with some of Mark's magnificent
photographs), and a brief excerpt from Mark's book “Tiny:
Streetwise Revisited” in which she discusses her relationship with
Erin Blackwell.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Streetwise” was nominated for an
Oscar for Best Documentary Feature, losing to “The Times of Harvey
Milk.” This two-film Blu-ray release from Criterion and its
supplementary features give viewers the sense of the scope of the
project that Mark, Bell, and McCall began with “Streetwise” and
continued for the next several decades.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-44462354100309972482021-04-20T19:02:00.000-07:002021-04-21T07:09:36.564-07:00The Shooting/Ride In The Whirlwind<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmX9hMgS10DyuYUfaTusL-qF2tQOcqnpj4e0L1HE1ogSYTcLvZeKbFnJVa4qizXE-zllS-x50XxskmILWWCFPLi_XAwSvUMhpIzb-1IpF5fuSUkqFbGxK6m6eFhg8mOdzWQoUgEeUC1NB/s1600/shootingcap1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdmX9hMgS10DyuYUfaTusL-qF2tQOcqnpj4e0L1HE1ogSYTcLvZeKbFnJVa4qizXE-zllS-x50XxskmILWWCFPLi_XAwSvUMhpIzb-1IpF5fuSUkqFbGxK6m6eFhg8mOdzWQoUgEeUC1NB/s1600/shootingcap1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shooting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE SHOOTING AND RIDE IN THE WHIRLWIND</b> (Hellman, 1966)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date November 11, 2014</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Review by Christopher S. Long</div>
<div><br /></div><div>[<b>Director Monte Hellman died April 20 at the age of 91. Often labeled a "maverick" filmmaker, Hellman first honed his craft under producer/guru Roger Corman before striking out on his own to craft entirely personal and often startling (not to mention trippy and existential) entries in familiar genres. His "Two-Lane Blacktop" (1971) is celebrated by many cinephiles, including yours truly, as the greatest road movie ever made. This Criterion release showcases two of Hellman's idiosyncratic Westerns, perhaps the genre he was most identified with. "The Shooting" is also a reminder of one of Hellman's greatest contributions to cinema: serving up some of the very best roles in the career of one of Hollywood's best actors, Warren Oates.</b>]</div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“The Shooting” (1966) and “Ride
In the Whirlwind” (1966) have always been joined at the existential
hip for obvious reasons. Funded by Roger Corman and directed by Monte
Hellman, the low budget Westerns were shot so close together they
even share some of the same horses and were both filmed near Kanab,
Utah, a hardscrabble moonscape of sterile rock and foot-high,
sickly-green sagebrush. It seems only appropriate that a portion of
the area now forms the bottom of Lake Powell as the people of both
films could only fully belong to locations that aren't quite there.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Though they'll always be connected,
each of Hellman's Westerns offers its distinct pleasures. “The
Shooting” is, at its core, a documentary about Warren Oates being
awesome. The best inventions seem so obvious you can't imagine nobody
had thought of them before, and this movie will leave you
flabbergasted that Hellman was the first person who had thought to
make Oates a leading man. Has the camera ever loved a face so much?
Oates imbues the role of cowhand Willett Gashade with a presence so
palpably dense you can almost imagine he's the only person in the
film who really exists and has simply dreamed everyone else (maybe
the audience too) into existence just to keep himself occupied.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTfYP8ABnFDrOBxj9dDx1I0v_uAHihJ9TPkwlNqYjai8HjMyq94onuvV24fj5EdlT1iOqnBqBlznD7yWN72aiTClnpq-Y-jLXEXIOzOu-D-hMH2LWoHM4CnL9mNcqnJRyz2HOz0oiTate/s1600/shootingcap2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTfYP8ABnFDrOBxj9dDx1I0v_uAHihJ9TPkwlNqYjai8HjMyq94onuvV24fj5EdlT1iOqnBqBlznD7yWN72aiTClnpq-Y-jLXEXIOzOu-D-hMH2LWoHM4CnL9mNcqnJRyz2HOz0oiTate/s1600/shootingcap2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warren Oates, being awesome</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Everyone else” in this case
includes only a handful of other people, one of whom (B.J. Merholz as
Leland Drum) is dead before the story begins. Among the living
(maybe?) are Gashade's twitchy sidekick Coley (Will Hutchins) and an
unnamed woman (Millie Perkins) who simply materializes on a distant
ridge before hiring Gashade and Coley to... well, we don't really
know. Mostly to pick a perilous path through an unpopulated desert in
pursuit of whatever the woman is pursuing and to meet up with a
toothy wolf of a hired gun named Billy Spear. Spear is introduced
with a close-up of his eyes which must have seemed evocative and
anonymous at the time, but which are now instantly recognizable as
Jack Nicholson who also co-produced both films with Hellman.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The script by Carole Eastman (writing
as Adrien Joyce and soon to be Oscar-nominated for “Five Easy
Pieces”) is peppered with terse dialogue like Gashade's “My
mind's all unsatisfied with it.” The essence of the project is
revealed in a typically efficient exchange: Gashade says, “I don't
see no point in it” to which the woman replies, “There isn't
any.” Beckett rides again!
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If the shooting of “The Shooting”
was rushed there's no visual evidence aside from the occasional and
irrelevant lapse in continuity editing; this film, like its twin,
features consistently gorgeous cinematography by Gregory Sandor. The
camera retreats to a high, distant vantage point for long panoramic
shots that situate the lonely riders as shimmering dots who almost
disappear into the landscape, then pulls in for meticulously composed
close-ups that seize the opportunity to explore that pensive
sculpture that is Oates' face which critic Kim Morgan so aptly
describes as “handsome and sometimes ugly... a face with history
and innocence.” In one of the most memorable shots, Oates squats
down in the foreground and scans the horizon for the trouble he knows
is brewing while Hutchins fiddles around with a bag of flour in the
background; a gunshot sends Hutchins into a panicked run for cover
with a trail of flour billowing behind him. Oates hardly budges
because, well, he's Warren Oates.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Ride in the Whirlwind” is, alas,
an Oates-less oater, but compensates as best as possible by dropping
us right into the middle of the no-nonsense action. I may not be
qualified to declare anything the “best” of all-time but I can
say the film begins with the most convincing stagecoach robbery I've
ever seen. A group of men, not yet individuated, mill about nervously
as they prepare to swoop in for the score. Shootings occur at a
clinical distance that renders them as confusing as they must feel in
the dusty swirl of action. It's all over quickly though nowhere close
to cleanly.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6Zw2THUinq5V_K_8f3yCX4ioX2dHnAOk0ltLSkqDQuRNl0EZF-7GA8B38FJ9VgVwXT4HubU9bVzi8V9uow_T1jEOciHXntqe-cBz_aCXaKZ6efBIbSo9UovglNiaM2R5TolKc_H1wBM0/s1600/rideinwhirlwindcap1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl6Zw2THUinq5V_K_8f3yCX4ioX2dHnAOk0ltLSkqDQuRNl0EZF-7GA8B38FJ9VgVwXT4HubU9bVzi8V9uow_T1jEOciHXntqe-cBz_aCXaKZ6efBIbSo9UovglNiaM2R5TolKc_H1wBM0/s1600/rideinwhirlwindcap1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging out in Ride in the Whirlwind</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Whirlwind” is slightly greener
than “The Shooting” and teeming with more human life. And death.
The film switches from the robbers to three riders who happen upon a
man hanging from a tree. These cowhands may be rugged but they don't
dismiss the grisly sight, savvy enough to know that there but for the
grace of a disinterested God go they. Vern (Cameron Mitchell) is the
veteran leader of this strictly working class bunch, Wes (Nicholson
again) the younger man who looks up to him, with the quiet Otis
(writer Tom Filer in his only film role) rounding out the pack.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Seeking shelter for the night, they
unwittingly stumble upon the thieves' hideout, a point at which
“Whirlwind” further distinguishes itself from more formulaic
genre entries. The film (with a script also by Nicholson) stages the
“duel” between the two groups as a volley of anxious glances,
awkward postures and forced politeness (everyone is "much obliged”).
They manage to co-exist but quickly huddle up separately to share
their fears, and the “bad” guys (led by Harry Dean Stanton without
the Harry in his credit) are just as worried as the “good” guys.
These are predators who know how easy it is to become prey.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The lesson is reinforced the next
morning when a posse, like the mysterious woman in “The Shooting”,
suddenly materializes in the morning. They threaten to smoke out the
robbers and think, quite reasonably, that Wes, Vern, and Otis are
with the outlaws as well, setting up the chase that structures the
rest of the movie. Young Wes sulks at the unfairness of it all, “We
wasn't doing nothin', damn it!”, an exclamation that now seems
connected by genre-veins to “Unforgiven” and its “Deserve's got
nothin' to do with it.”</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is the kind of world (maybe not
unlike ours) where the innocent can be forced by circumstance to
become the guilty and where the plainly guilty can still be victims
of summary justice. It's certainly not the kind of world with
muscular heroes or righteous lawmen, just survivors and the dead.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I always remembered “The Shooting”
as the better of the two, perhaps because of its more abstract,
hallucinatory qualities (I've avoided describing the doozy of an
ending just for your sake, dear reader), but revisiting the pair for
the first time in a half-dozen years I might give the nod to
“Whirlwind” now. There's really no way to lose with either.
Nicholson is marvelous, surprisingly vulnerable and looking even
younger than 28 in one of his earlier major roles. The landscape is
once again a character of its own, especially the box canyon that
hems in our unlucky fugitives and reminds them that neither the
terrain nor its designer will be providing them any refuge.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both films failed to make any kind of
box office impact on their initial release in 1966 but would
eventually find a second life, in part because of Nicholson's growing
reputation but also with fans drawn to Hellman's work through
masterpieces like “Two-Lane Blacktop” (1971), one of several
Hellman-Oates collaborations which also included the marvelous
“Cockfighter” (1974) and “China 9, Liberty 37” (1978).
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Hellman's entry in “The Film Snob's
Dictionary” pokes fun at the considerable art-house reputation his
low-budget genre films have earned, but the appeal should be obvious
(the relatively pedestrian IMDB user ratings for both films fall
under the category of “This is why we can't have nice things.”)
Flawlessly shot and edited, built around focused, concrete scripts,
these are the kinds of movies that should be held up as examples for
aspiring filmmakers. Of course, not every film student has access to
a Warren Oates or a Jack Nicholson or the talent of a Monte Hellman,
but let's not quibble over details.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2RZp1BVzZdfQwkXUTd3OMmECr5DaOuJqR6uP7RdwDdb7Bsw1z1FAJWGELqM6Y8gx1kiUtO2EAefUBU6WLGcSbkpml1zyS-3IzOWHOToNPIPVMgLr2kbwQPMo57Fdi-MU29KfuuQ3Vf4f/s1600/shootingcover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2RZp1BVzZdfQwkXUTd3OMmECr5DaOuJqR6uP7RdwDdb7Bsw1z1FAJWGELqM6Y8gx1kiUtO2EAefUBU6WLGcSbkpml1zyS-3IzOWHOToNPIPVMgLr2kbwQPMo57Fdi-MU29KfuuQ3Vf4f/s1600/shootingcover.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Video:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both films, included on the same single
Blu-ray disc, are presented in their original 1.85:1 aspect ratios.
These new 4K digital transfers (supervised by Monte Hellman) do a
fine job of capturing detail in the fairly uniform color schemes.
“The Shooting” is a whole mess of dirt and dirt-colored rocks,
the same hue filling the entire frame sometimes. The all-earth tone
scheme makes flesh tones really stand out and the image detail is
particularly strong in close-ups. Did I mention that the camera loves
Warren Oates' face? So does high-def.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Audio:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both films have linear PCM mono audio
tracks. The lossless audio is as crisp as usual from Criterion; those
old recycled ricochets never sounded so distinct. Optional English
subtitles support the English audio and might be needed for time to
with the idiomatic dialogue.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Extras:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Though Criterion has fit two features
onto a single disc, they've still found room to include a good deal
of extras without skimping on audiovisual quality.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Both films are accompanied by new
commentary track by Monte Hellman and film historians Bill Krohn and
Blake Lucas and Monte Hellman's dog Kona. Krohn and Lucas offer some
genre analysis but Hellman's stories of the film's production and his
thought process really power the commentaries.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The bulk of the extras are new
interviews conducted by Hellman, the first being a reunion of sorts
with Roger Corman (6 min.) Seeing these two together, and both
looking fantastic, is a real treat. Hellman also speaks with actress
Millie Perkins (16 min.), actor Harry Dean Stanton (3 min.), actors
B.J. Merholz and John Hackett together (17 min.) and Gary Kurtz (19
min.) who served as assistant camera on “The Shooting” and
assistant director on “Whirlwind.” A feature called “The Last
Cowboy” mixes footage of Hellman interviewing chief wrangler Calvin
Johnson (no relation to the Detroit Lions' Megatron) with footage of
Hellman revisiting (what remains of the) locations from the films (17
min.) Film programmer Jake Perlin also interviews actor Will Hutchins
(15 min.)
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One of the best pieces on the disc is
“An American Original” (14 min.), an appreciation of Warren Oates
written and narrated by critic Kim Morgan. It's a great piece, the
text of which I briefly quoted above and which you can also find at
her blog Sunset Gun. I think she might be a fan of Mr. Oates.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The fold-out insert booklet includes an
excellent essay by critic Michael Atkinson.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<b>Film Value:</b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“The Shooting” and “Ride In the
Whirlwind” were mostly seen on shoddy TV broadcasts for years and a
few undistinguished DVD releases years ago only improved the
situation marginally. These high-def restored transfers present the
films in a state at least approaching their original luster and it's
unlikely many people have ever seen them looking so good, maybe not
even Mr. Hellman at least in quite some time. The films work alone
and even better as a pair. Each deserves consideration in the
pantheon of great Westerns and this disc should provide ample
evidence to back up that claim.</div>
Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-39519621977196844232021-04-19T13:10:00.000-07:002022-01-15T05:53:32.076-08:00Irma Vep<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1CNYaAuQMtGBtUFtFkhrpYANSrgNLrWT_jC3yFwXV1rLfhX9Obmykl5vfKTKcC97s46d6Kgj7XNFTTsxBlhTIjmKpc1Q5vjPT7aT-SCvprb6BgAz6jhWhQUxORuzcF-DcXFIZq3bS_xFo/s1600/irmavep1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1CNYaAuQMtGBtUFtFkhrpYANSrgNLrWT_jC3yFwXV1rLfhX9Obmykl5vfKTKcC97s46d6Kgj7XNFTTsxBlhTIjmKpc1Q5vjPT7aT-SCvprb6BgAz6jhWhQUxORuzcF-DcXFIZq3bS_xFo/w400-h225/irmavep1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>IRMA VEP</b> (Assayas, 1996)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 27, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p>I remember first watching “Irma Vep”
(1996) in film school. Like many viewers, I was baffled by the film's
enigmatic ending and couldn't get those final scratchy, assaulting
images out of my mind for weeks. While struggling, like any earnest
film studies scholar, to interpret their meaning, I failed, like any
earnest film studies scholar, to notice the film's most obvious
quality: It's a total hoot!</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In his vertiginous portrait of the
joys, terrors, chaos, jealousy, and inspiration that form the
short-lived desert-bloom culture of a film set, writer-director
Olivier Assayas has plenty to say about the perilous yet exciting
state of French cinema as it celebrates its centennial and warily
eyeballs a new millennium. But whether “Irma Vep” turns out to be
a requiem for or a celebration of the seventh art, Assayas and his
cast and crew seem determined to have fun along the way.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Actress Maggie Cheung, playing a
fictionalized version of herself, arrives on the set of a low-budget
French art film in which she will star. She's three days late thanks
to her previous project, a big budget Hong Kong action flick that ran
over schedule, a reminder that Cheung (both the real one and the
film's fictional version) is one of the most famous movie stars in
the world, even if some of the members of the tiny, insular French
crew are barely aware of her work.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cheung meets with director Rene Vidal
(Nouvelle Vague icon Jean-Pierre Leaud) who has made the bold
decision to cast the Hong Kong star in his remake of the Louis
Feuillade silent film serial “Les vampires” (1915-16). Cheung
will play Irma Vep, the daring criminal thief first portrayed by
Musidora, an actress hailed at the time by surrealist poets as the
very definition of the modern, liberated French woman and who was
crowned Paris's Queen of Cinema in 1926. Why cast Maggie Cheung as
this most definitively French of French icons? Vidal attributes his
choice to Cheung's “grace” and her “mysterious” persona. In
other words, he's turned on by her.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Libido is one of the primary engines of
creativity, and Cheung's presence on set fuels a great deal of
creativity. Costumer designer Zoe (Nathalie Richard), tasked with
repairing the slinky but flimsy latex catsuit into which Cheung is
poured, both befriends and lusts after the actress. Some crew members
gossip about Cheung's alleged sexual exploits while others pigeonhole
her in xenophobic fashion as “the Chinese girl.” Cheung, for her
part, integrates herself into the film set's culture while retaining
a bemused detachment, something necessary to carve out her own
identity while being fetishized by her co-workers in this strange,
new land.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Assayas served time as a critic before
directing his own films, and he's keenly aware that everyone holds
their own loopy view of what makes a movie great. A hyperbolic
interviewer (Antoine Basler) browbeats Cheung with his unbridled
enthusiasm for John Woo (ah, the “ballet” of violence!) and his
devotion to Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean-Claude Van Damme, true
artists who make movies for real people, not the pallid arthouse fare
served up by intellectuals for intellectuals. Conversely, two former
militant leftist filmmakers screen their old agitprop movie at a
late-night cast party, but to minimal enthusiasm. For an on-set
accountant (Alex Descas), what matters most is that the film can be
projected to amortize at seven percent – now that's a great movie!</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Rene, described at one point as a
director who “used to be very good,” experiences a violent
breakdown and gets replaced on the project as it rapidly spirals out
of control. But just when all seems lost, we see the short bit of
film that Rene had a chance to edit before his ouster. The grainy
black-and-white footage, with its visual and audio scratches, and
crude animation seemingly drawn right onto the film, could be seen as
evidence of the director's mental turmoil, or perhaps as the promise
of a whole new direction in cinema, a merging of the experimental
(those two leftists at the party) and the mainstream (John Woo's
“ballet”) that has always defined the medium. Perhaps you can
still be a radical after all, even after a hundred years of
filmmaking and the need to coordinate budgets with a half-dozen
international production companies. No wonder Assayas describes “Irma
Vep” as his film that has the happiest ending. Of course “Irma
Vep” only pulled in a few hundred thousand at the box office on a
$1.4 million budget so, y'know, there won't be a sequel.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazuafbFsLAiH6b96GLh-icY4FrHbv6J_KyxlDxp1nli30ww3gQuaRLj7vFN-sljDD3Mef9t17Z8_zDwoxjcQarOb3sWS12Xhyphenhypheng4KKZmci5-QGNcxHp70cY0dVDVnaGOJSqAupzAlo2-xh/s1600/irmavepcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazuafbFsLAiH6b96GLh-icY4FrHbv6J_KyxlDxp1nli30ww3gQuaRLj7vFN-sljDD3Mef9t17Z8_zDwoxjcQarOb3sWS12Xhyphenhypheng4KKZmci5-QGNcxHp70cY0dVDVnaGOJSqAupzAlo2-xh/s320/irmavepcover.jpg" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.66:1 aspect ratio. According to Criterion: “This new 2K digital
restoration was undertaken from the 16 mm and 35 mm camera
negatives.” Most of the film was shot on super 16 and this 1080p
restoration preserves the grainy look with sharp detail throughout.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround
track provides a sense of depth and handle's the film's eclectic
soundtrack quite well. Optional English subtitles support the audio
which is in French and English.<br /><br />
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has packed this release so
heavily, they've spread the supplements over two Blu-ray discs.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In addition to the film itself, Disc
One includes a recent interview (2021, 28 min.) with Assayas. The
writer-director discusses the film's genesis, which started as a
project with filmmaker Claire Denis. He also discusses how he first
met Maggie Cheung (to whom he was married from 1998-2001) at Cannes,
then writing and shooting “Irma Vep” rather quickly while he was
preparing for a much larger project.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc One also includes two older
supplements previously included on other discs. First is a
conversation (2003, 34 min.) between Assayas and critic Charles
Tesson. They discuss their shared passion for Asian film, and a 1984
trip they took to Hong Kong, which turned into a major article in
“Cahiers du Cinema.” Second is an interview (2003, 17 min.) with
actresses Maggie Cheung and Nathalie Richard regarding their
experience on “Irma Vep.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc One also includes thirty minutes
of “On the Set” footage from the making of “Irma Vep.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc Two leads off with “Les
Vampires: Hypnotic Eyes” (2016, 59 min.), the sixth episode of
Louis Feuillade's landmark serial film. I think “Les vampires” is
public domain, though I'm not sure how that concept applies in French
law, but I know it's not hard to find online. However, this 1080p
upgrade of an episode is a pleasure to watch.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The second disc includes perhaps the
best supplement in this package, the documentary “Musidora: The
Tenth Muse” (2013, 68 min.) Directed by Patrick Cazals, this
feature tells the story of the much celebrated French actress who
portrayed the sultry Irma Vep, and inflamed the fantasies of a few
generations of French film lovers. Musidora (real name Jeanne Roques)
was far more than a fetish object. She was one of the first French
women to direct films. She also produced and wrote in addition to
acting, and hobnobbed with major figures of the time, including her
friend Colette. Later, she worked with Henri Langlois and the
Cinematheque. This is a fantastic documentary.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In “The State of Cinema 2020” (46
min.), Assayas holds court on what has and hasn't changed in film in
the quarter century since he released “Irma Vep.” He has devoted
a lot of thought to this and bombards the viewer with his
densely-packed arguments, which is fascinating and also might require
a few sittings to absorb.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc Two wraps up with two short
supplements. “Man Yuk: A Portrait of Maggie Cheung” (1997, 5
min.) is a short directed by Assayas, which sort of picks up where
those final images of “Irma Vep” left off. We also get 4 minutes
of Black-and-White Rushes of Cheung on a rooftop set in her Irma Vep
costume.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet
includes an essay by writer and film programmer Aliza Ma.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With “Irma Vep,” Olivier Assayas
appears to be asking a few major questions about his career and his
medium of choice: “What have I been doing?” and “What can I do
next?” The answer to the latter appears to be “just about
anything.” “Irma Vep” argues, in part, that boundaries between
genres and between high and low art are false. Cinema thrives on the
confluence of its many historical crosscurrents, and Assayas's
portrait of creativity as a gloriously chaotic mess is intoxicating
and downright inspiring. Criterion has loaded this two-disc release
with a strong array of extras to support this top-notch high-def
transfer.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-3942415144619080902021-02-21T13:10:00.002-08:002021-04-19T13:10:29.480-07:00Chop Shop<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gpDGlpI3daskvSzuIhRVzXQchGlwfWq7gTUVoS8VA7ILywuXij149K8G-1nZTjwP2kWnoXk2aJJ2Cg_qzqJK1khVemP99tBe05bQmE6PTYGKS5Gzn1h81ejqxYYNltJMXqzfJAgF73UP/s1600/chopshopcap1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gpDGlpI3daskvSzuIhRVzXQchGlwfWq7gTUVoS8VA7ILywuXij149K8G-1nZTjwP2kWnoXk2aJJ2Cg_qzqJK1khVemP99tBe05bQmE6PTYGKS5Gzn1h81ejqxYYNltJMXqzfJAgF73UP/w400-h225/chopshopcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>CHOP SHOP</b> (Bahrani, 2007)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 23, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In an early scene in director Ramin
Bahrani's “Chop Shop” (2007), twelve-year-old Alejandro (called
Ale, and played by non-professional actor Alejandro Polanco) and his
friend step onto a New York City train with boxes of candy for sale.
Young Ale delivers the passengers a brazen, honest pitch: “Excuse
me, ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the interruption. We are not
gonna lie to you. We are not here selling no candy for no school
basketball team. In fact, I don’t even go to school, and if you
want me back in school today, I got candy for you.” There you have
the entire film and its protagonist in a nutshell: no nonsense and a
whole lot of moxie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Chop Shop” takes place in the
Willets Point neighborhood of Queens, right in the shadow of Shea
Stadium; chants of “Let’s go Mets!” can be heard in the
background but they might as well be voices from halfway around the
world. Willets Point is its own hermetically-sealed world of garages
and body shops where Alejandro busts his ass to scrape out a living
among the mechanics (both legit and dubious ones) and the street
hustlers. Little Ale gamely flags down drivers who havecruised into
the area looking for cheap repairs, guiding them to the shop run by
his boss Rob (Rob Sowulski, a real garage owner.) A perpetual motion
machine, Ale skips up stairways, races across bridges, and squeezes
his tiny body through windows in the relentless pursuit of an extra
buck, selling bootleg DVDs, stolen hubcaps, or anything else he can
scrounge.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Soon, Ale's teenage sister Isamar
(Isamar Gonzalez) arrives from a safe house to live with him in a
cramped room above Rob's garage. Without parents, an education, or
any kind of social safety net to rely on, the siblings' life seems
precarious, but Ale is confident he can surmount any obstacle. He
assures Izzy there's nothing to worry about because: “I'm gonna
work this shit out.” Even when his faith in the value of all his
hard work is sorely tested by jarring revelations that challenge
what's left of his youthful naivete, Ale just keeps working shit out.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like Bahrani's debut feature, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2021/02/man-push-cart.html">“Man Push Cart” (2005)</a>, his second film immerses viewers in the working
world of marginalized characters, most of whom are persons of color.
Likewise, “Chop Shop” is also shot with a hand-held HD camcorder
(with Michael Simmonds back as cinematographer) that follows Ale
everywhere as he works and sometimes plays in Willets Point. Actor
Alejandro Polanco actually worked part-time in Rob Sowulski;s garage
for a few months during shooting, and this experience, enhanced by
the intimacy of the handheld camerawork, lends the film an authentic
feel few filmmakers have ever been able to capture so vividly. Don't
mistake it as a pseudo-documentary, however. Bahrani and crew shot
dozens of takes for some scenes in pursuit of that convincing
illusion.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Chop Shop” is also a city symphony
film. Hundreds of films have been shot in New York City, many of them
in Manhattan. Some have focused on other neighborhoods, but Willets
Point is a kind of forgotten land, unseen by the hordes of Mets fans
congregating right next door at Shea Stadium (at least until Shea was
dismantled in 2009). Manhattan is clearly visible across the river,
yet plays almost no role in the lives of the denizens of Willets
Point. But this neighborhood of cheap side-view mirrors and quickie
paint jobs is every bit as much a part of New York as anything “Sex
and the City” or Woody Allen have ever depicted.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Alejandro Polanco delivers one of the
best performances by a child actor that I've ever seen. Ale is plucky
and preternaturally poised but without a hint of precociousness, and
Polanco bought into the role completely, going places some adult
stars wouldn't dare. In the train scene mentioned above, Polanco went
onto a real train and sold candy to real passengers (a few were
plants from the cast) who, in typical New York fashion, barely paid
any attention to the camera. They just wanted some candy, like Ale
just wanted some money. No nonsense. And a whole lot of moxie. What a
great movie.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjt3gqINkNhzXDV3_5S0R-ZDQz-e17SFK2HcYXOJIxu-UJa70MtbUDJk2sc4SyQFZuR6XcSR1aEsfTfVQlOaQLLStvp_yacSbDP68eg_9R3ykxdfgNUs6dVDergTrXU4LTiU8PmQ9PdSbc/s1600/chopshopcover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjt3gqINkNhzXDV3_5S0R-ZDQz-e17SFK2HcYXOJIxu-UJa70MtbUDJk2sc4SyQFZuR6XcSR1aEsfTfVQlOaQLLStvp_yacSbDP68eg_9R3ykxdfgNUs6dVDergTrXU4LTiU8PmQ9PdSbc/w323-h400/chopshopcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.78:1 ratio. Like “Man Push Cart” this film was shot on an HD
Camcorder, but this high-def transfer looks a bit sharper, especially
in motion. Detail is strong, colors are naturalistic. It's a solid
improvement from the 2008 DVD released by Koch Lorber with its
interlaced transfer, the only other release of this film I've seen.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented with a DTS-HD
Master Audio mix. The sound mix provides some separated details
(background sound from location shooting) but is mostly spare with
clearly-mixed dialogue. Optional English SDH subtitles support the
English audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion is releasing both of Ramin
Bahrani's first two feature films this week, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2021/02/man-push-cart.html">“Man Push Cart”</a>
being the other. They've included a similar array of supplements for
each film.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by an old 2006
commentary track featuring Bahrani, Polanco, and cinematographer
Michael Simmonds. This is listed as a 2006 commentary even though the
film was released in 2007.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“In Search of the American Dream”
(2020, 27 min.) is a conversation between Bahrani and scholar Suketu
Mehta which touches on a variety of topics, including the influences
of Ken Loach and neo-realism on Bahrani's work.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Making Chop Shop” (2020, 22 min.)
is a conversation among Bahrani, Polanco (now grown up), actor Ahmad
Razvi (the star of “Man Push Cart” who also has a supporting role
in “Chop Shop”), and assistant director Nicholas Elliott. Bahrani
talks about first meeting Polanco in school as well as other details
about production and even about getting to watch the film in Cannes
while seated near Abbas Kiarostami. Viewers will probably be most
interested in seeing the adult Polanco, now a successful
entrepreneur.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included some
Rehearsal Footage from the film, two different sequences that run a
total of 33 minutes.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a Theatrical Trailer (3
min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an
essay by novelist Viet Thanh Nguyen.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts</b>:</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm certain I'm not qualified to
determine what the single best American independent film of the 21<sup>st</sup>
century is. I'm equally certain that “Chop Shop” is on the short
list of contenders for that honor. I fell in love with it the moment
Ale gave his pitch on the train, and I found it every bit as potent
on a rewatch 14 years later. Criterion has given this remarkable the
quality high-def release it has long deserved.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-788328935950704432021-02-21T13:05:00.002-08:002021-02-21T13:11:03.512-08:00Man Push Cart<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8yT0aoIN78PS4imkXCapyEVogOsI-yg5KlqbyfuVn_BBN0DGwwZNUMc4E-ZkFqtosUc2P8X0oZ4CRvcqcqdp9v82qzqJZAItbZvNWxZOLSfBki3uZ5XcG-PPBzQMuOgkt_N35dJf1tDMT/s1600/manpushcartcap1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8yT0aoIN78PS4imkXCapyEVogOsI-yg5KlqbyfuVn_BBN0DGwwZNUMc4E-ZkFqtosUc2P8X0oZ4CRvcqcqdp9v82qzqJZAItbZvNWxZOLSfBki3uZ5XcG-PPBzQMuOgkt_N35dJf1tDMT/w400-h225/manpushcartcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>MAN PUSH CART</b> (Bahrani, 2005)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 23, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p>In a dimly-lit warehouse, silhouetted men lift boxes, pry open
metal doors, and haul heavy equipment, all to prepare for another day
of work on the streets. In his feature debut, director Ramin Bahrani
immediately immerses viewers in the milieu of New York City food cart
vendors, and the daily routine of protagonist Ahmad (Ahmad Razvi) as
he attaches a propane tank to the back of his cart; he'll lug that
tank with him everywhere he goes, unable to risk abandoning the only
frayed lifeline still tethering him to the elusive American Dream.</p>
<p>Ahmad drags his bulky cart behind him, huffing and sweating his
way to his assigned corner so he can sell doughnuts and coffee (in
cups reading “We Are Happy To Serve You”) to yuppie office
workers. In one harrowing sequence, he loses control of the cart and
nearly tumbles into the path of merciless NYC traffic. The accident
really happened and Razvi, an amateur actor who actually ran a food
cart for a year, picked himself back up and heaved the cart as far as
he could, hoping that the camera picked up the shot.</p>
<p>“Man Push Cart” (2005) largely defines Ahmad by his work at
first, and we only gradually learn a few selected facts about him. A
fairly recent immigrant from Pakistan, he is estranged from his young
son, and his wife is dead for reasons unspecified though her parents
blame Ahmad for it. At one point, Mohammad (Charles Daniel Sandoval),
a Pakistani-American businessman, recognizes him as a successful pop
singer from back home - the “Bono of Lahore” as Mohammad puts it.</p>
<p>Mohammad tries to give “Bono” a career boost, but Ahmad
struggles to complete most tasks, whether they involve repainting
windows, working a shift at a concert, or taking care of a kitten he
finds in the street. Ahmad even watches passively as Mohammad vies
for the affections of Noemi (Leticia Dolera), a Spanish food cart
vendor with whom Ahmed has forged a modest connection.
</p>
<p>Slump-shouldered, eyes downcast, voice hesitant, Ahmad may be
suffering from depression, but it's fair to speculate if he might
simply be exhausted. Bahrani and cinematographer Michael Simmonds,
filming primarily with a handheld HD camcorder, stalk alongside Ahmad
as he laboriously tows that cart along the same streets every day to
the same corner to sell the same fifty-cent bagels - an extra ten
cents for butter, fifty for cream cheese - all for the privilege of
repeating the process the next day (yes, Bahrani cites Camus' “The
Myth of Sisyphus” as an inspiration.) The camera clings closer
still as Ahmad uses his totemic propane tank as a stepladder to hop a
wall so he can eavesdrop on his in-laws, just to feel close to his
son.</p>
<p>Every day demands hard labor made harder still in the aftermath of
9/11 and the shadow of the fallen Twin Towers. Ahmad and his fellow
immigrants, the bulk of the NYC food cart workforce, live and work in
a city where they can be targeted as “terrorists” at any moment,
something that actually happened to Bahrani and his crew while
shooting the film. If you wonder why Ahmad doesn't seize all his
opportunities like the hungry dog he's expected to be, just imagine
how tired he must be.</p>
<p>Bahrani researched this project for years, getting to know real
food cart workers and learning about their work days. Working with a
non-professional cast, a small budget, and an even smaller crew,
Bahrani produced a true American independent film of the old-school
DIY variety, one devoid of cloying indie quirk but heavy on
respectful, empathetic observation. “Man Push Cart” captures a
New York City seldom presented on film, a remarkable feat the
director would pull of again with his second feature, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2021/02/chop-shop.html">“Chop Shop”(2007)</a>, also released on Blu-ray this week by Criterion.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq64KEPh7_eBqupgZmJxiB4IOLP1FcRSkVcFF0s7omqXWwmo36qQFk_qhId2NfQlKdglWqL9Sb4wdtW_Cit-oiWiz8Q015JaWJ2YUOz8rUEKcOMcolW6p9nY4VsUmCdtmimyXqfNRWgHA/s1600/manpushcartcover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq64KEPh7_eBqupgZmJxiB4IOLP1FcRSkVcFF0s7omqXWwmo36qQFk_qhId2NfQlKdglWqL9Sb4wdtW_Cit-oiWiz8Q015JaWJ2YUOz8rUEKcOMcolW6p9nY4VsUmCdtmimyXqfNRWgHA/w323-h400/manpushcartcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p><b>Video</b>:</p><p>The film is presented in its original 1.78:1 aspect ratio. The
movie was shot on an HD camcorder, and it looks a bit washed out and
not always sharp in motion, even in this new 1080p transfer. Darker
scenes don't reveal a lot of detail at times. However, it all works
well for the authentic feel of a low-budget film shot on the streets
– a glossy, flawless look wouldn't be appropriate for the material.
The handheld photography in this film is sensational at times, and
this transfer does justice to the whole production.</p>
<p><b>Audio</b>:</p>
<p>The film is presented with a DTS-HD 5.1 Master Audio sound mix.
Location sounds (traffic, etc.) are well-mixed here and the
unobtrusive score by Iranian composer Peyman Yazdanian is well
treated. Optional English SDH subtitles support the mostly English
audio (with some Urdu).</p>
<p><b>Extras</b>:</p>
<p>Criterion is releasing two Bahrani films this week, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2021/02/chop-shop.html">“Chop Shop”</a>
being the other. They've included a similar array of supplements for
each film.</p>
<p>The film is accompanied by an old 2005 commentary track featuring
Bahrani, actor Ahmad Razvi, cinematographer Michael Simmonds, and
assistant director Nicholas Elliott.</p>
<p>Criterion has also included “Backgammon” (1998, 12 min.), a
short film by Bahrani about an Iranian-American family and a little
girl who just wants to play backgammon with her grandfather. Clearly
inspired by the works of Abbas Kiarostami, it even includes a direct
and very sweet reference to Kiarostami's “Where Is the Friend's
House?”</p>
<p>“Formation of a Filmmaker” (2020, 19 min.) is a conversation
between Bahrani and scholar Hamid Dabashi, a former professor of
Bahrani's at Columbia. They discuss some of Bahrani's influences,
including Persian literature. Bahrani also talks a bit about his
early production methods, including rewriting his script to suit his
actors and also how he shot “Man Push Cart” with virtually no
coverage, leaving little wiggle room in the editing bay.</p>
<p>The disc also includes a “Making Of” piece (2020, 25 min.), a
discussion among Bahrani, Razvi, and Nicholas Elliott. Bahrani talks
about first meeting Razvi as a server in his family's sweetshop. They
also talk about other incidents during production, including being
contacted by the FBI after a racist apparently placed a call claiming
they were engaged in suspicious activities.</p>
<p>We also get a Theatrical Trailer (2 min.)
</p>
<p>The slim fold-out booklet includes an essay by critic Bilge Ebiri.
</p>
<p><b>Final Thoughts</b>:</p>
<p>Bahrani's first feature film played at Venice and Sundance, and
helped provide the breakthrough for a career that has continued for
nearly twenty years now, with his most recent release, “The White
Tiger” (2020), debuting on Netflix. Criterion has provided a solid
release for the debut film of one of the best American independent
filmmakers of his generation.</p>
<p><br /><br />
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-54774346350078829212021-02-14T10:34:00.001-08:002021-02-14T10:34:16.870-08:00Mandabi<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50tcVFplGi5306cc9YcAHmc1NjIV3wSJIGb4mIzhnzZq5tf4QZzin9NLkc_qyJPSt02D84SSsCDI_gTrxURtnNl2upiroFd_R3h8Z-qFlP2qUxThJG2JoDcGRKXnwPD9w7N6EHwKHnCFD/s1600/mandabicap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50tcVFplGi5306cc9YcAHmc1NjIV3wSJIGb4mIzhnzZq5tf4QZzin9NLkc_qyJPSt02D84SSsCDI_gTrxURtnNl2upiroFd_R3h8Z-qFlP2qUxThJG2JoDcGRKXnwPD9w7N6EHwKHnCFD/w400-h225/mandabicap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>MANDABI</b> (Sembene, 1968)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Feb 16, 2020</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Senegalese director Ousmane Sembene's
first feature, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2017/01/black-girl.html">“Black Girl” (1966)</a>, may not have instantly earned
him the title of “father of African cinema” that now defines the
author and filmmaker's legacy, but its international success enabled
him to assume greater control over his work. Sembene could only
secure funding for “Black Girl” by filming in French, the
colonial language in which he also wrote his earliest novels, but he
was able to shoot his next feature, “Mandabi” (1968), in Wolof,
making it the first West African film shot in an African language.
This was crucial for an artist who wanted to speak directly to
Africans. As Sembene once said, “Africa is my audience; the West
and all the rest are just markets.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Adapted from Sembene's own short story,
the title “Mandabi” refers to a money order that arrives
unexpectedly in a working-class section of Dakar, Senegal. A young
man working as a street sweeper in Paris has sent the money back home
to his uncle, Ibrahima Dieng (Makuredia Guey), for safekeeping and to
help pay the bills. This windfall would seem to be a godsend for the
unemployed Dieng and his two hard-working wives, Mety (Yunus Ndiay)
and Aram (Isseu Niang) but in Sembene's tale misery soon follows,
albeit by an often-comedic route.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">To cash the money order, Dieng must
first scrounge up enough change for the bus ride to the downtown post
office. There the illiterate Dieng needs to pay a man (played by
Sembene) to read him the letter accompanying the money order. The
postal clerk then informs Dieng he can't cash the money order without
a birth certificate. For which he'll have to pay for a photograph –
a nearby photographer is eager to take his money, less willing to
deliver the actual picture. Every neighbor and relative holds a hand
out too, each with a story of legitimate need. Each step demands a
piece of flesh, which eventually leaves nothing behind but a skeleton
picked clean.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">While much of the cast was
non-professional, Guey was an accomplished stage actor and his
physical performance is a source of both the film's humor and its
tragedy. After a healthy repast served dutifully by his wives, Dieng
belches his satisfaction and can barely drag his portly body into bed
to sleep it off. He constantly fidgets, running his hand over his
bald head or picking at his brilliantly colored clothing while he
wanders the city on his doomed quest to complete what should be the
simplest of tasks. By the end, his head droops under the weight of a
bureaucracy designed to crush him, even nearly a decade after
Senegalese independence.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All is not lost, though. Just as “Black
Girl” ended with the promise of revolution in the form of a boy
wearing a traditional African mask, so “Mandabi” climaxes with a
cry for activism. Reminiscent of Charlie Chaplin's direct address to
the audience in “The Great Dictator,” the postman who originally
brought the cursed money order into Dieng's life exhorts the harried
man and his wives to change the country themselves, not to wait for
someone else to do it. Rise up! Sembene always had sympathy for his
oppressed protagonists, but sometimes also expressed frustration with
their passivity.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Mandabi” was Sembene's first color
film, and the contrast between the dazzling multi-hued clothing of
the proletarian characters with the plain monochromatic suits of the
bureaucratic predators is quite striking. Sembene may have emphasized
the political over the aesthetic, but “Mandabi” showcases the
vitality of life in the working-class neighborhood, from our hero's
first hearty burp to the stylish tailoring of both the men and women.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">These lives and these places were
seldom represented on film before Sembene, certainly not so vibrantly
or with such an eye for detail. As Sembene said, “If Africans do
not tell their own stories, Africa will soon disappear.” “Mandabi”
is a tale told by an African about Africans in their own language,
marking it as another major development both in Sembene's singular
career and for all of world cinema.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2Bphq-bbVdKLf3Sb913aVLNdn5iIt95GUgX0t3YIXBYigduWliO8InjcTsRpOyTjhYLa5CY0bjpId2dX67iPvvhTUPiiG_Vlo9suSZ7Y9oOaa6VHtezzCoJI6qJLUuMH6Yjo0pXYYyhV/s1600/mandabicover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2Bphq-bbVdKLf3Sb913aVLNdn5iIt95GUgX0t3YIXBYigduWliO8InjcTsRpOyTjhYLa5CY0bjpId2dX67iPvvhTUPiiG_Vlo9suSZ7Y9oOaa6VHtezzCoJI6qJLUuMH6Yjo0pXYYyhV/w323-h400/mandabicover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented in its original
1.66:1 aspect ratio. From the Criterion booklet: “This 4k digital
restoration was undertaken by STUDIOCANAL at VDM... from a 35 mm
interpositive.” The color palette is bright with blues and reds
that pop off the screen. Image detail is sharp and looks great both
with close-ups of faces and in longer shots of downtown Dakar.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented with an LPCM mono
audio mix. The percussion-heavy musical score sounds great and
there's no evidence of distortion from this remastered audio.
Optional English subtitles support the Wolof dialogue.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included several
supplemental features with this Blu-ray release.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Film scholar Aboubakar Sanogo provides
an introduction (30 min.) covering a range of topics concerning the
film's background as well as relevant political and social context .
This touches on Sembene's political beliefs, details about the film's
production, and an array of other topics.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A conversation (19 min.) between author
Boubacar Boris Diop and feminist activist Marie Angelique Savane
gives the perspective of people who lived through political upheaval
in Senegal in the 1960s, helping to provide more context for the
significance of the release of “Mandabi.” As Savane says, “For
the first time, a movie was speaking to us directly.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Praise Song: Remembering Sembene”
(15 min.) consists of outtakes from the 2015 documentary “Sembene!”
and includes several snippets of interviews.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included “Taux”
(1970, 27 min.), a short film by Sembene, adapted from his own short
story. Related to “Mandabi,” it tells of a young Senegalese man's
struggle to find a job, including having to pay for a ticket just for
the privilege of entering the workplace. It doesn't have the
satirical bent of “Mandabi” focusing primarily on the outrages
the characters must endure.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet includes an
essay by scholar Tiana Reid as well an excerpt from a 1969 interview
of Sembene conducted by film critic Guy Hennebelle.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And perhaps the best extra of all is
Criterion's inclusion of a separate booklet which reprints Sembene's
short story from which he adapted the film “Mandabi.” Translated
from the French by Clive Wake, the story runs just over 60 pages in
this format.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With a strong high-def transfer and
several extras, this release does justice to one of Sembene's major
works. “Mandabi” becomes the second Sembene film in The Criterion
Collection. Djibril Diop Mambety's “Touki Bouki” (1973) will also
be getting a stand-alone Criterion release next month. Here's hoping
this is the start of many African films set to join the collection.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-54935371922463494062021-01-25T07:55:00.001-08:002021-01-25T07:55:39.896-08:00The Ascent<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicQoBTaMQXgz3S6ps4db-wzJ3VdpK3VoKKj2UDfQajyKRq00JICkAi-p3Il6ssmpL3mzEgRFPGiy32OyWOqkSbzlaTtRxtW2Yvc8iH67L3sVAeFWz0JBQrMjEgwomcu4DnH4l75qqKDLkO/s1200/ascentcap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicQoBTaMQXgz3S6ps4db-wzJ3VdpK3VoKKj2UDfQajyKRq00JICkAi-p3Il6ssmpL3mzEgRFPGiy32OyWOqkSbzlaTtRxtW2Yvc8iH67L3sVAeFWz0JBQrMjEgwomcu4DnH4l75qqKDLkO/w320-h240/ascentcap1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>THE ASCENT</b> (Shepitko, 1977)</p><p style="text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Jan 26, 2021</p><p style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Larisa Shepitko scored fame and success
early in her career, first as a prize-winning student at Moscow's
film school (where she was a disciple of the legendary director
Alexander Dovzhenko), then with the film “Wings” (1967), released
when she was just 28. In the film, an ace jet pilot struggles to find
a sense of purpose after the war, finding life as a mother and a
schoolteacher less than fulfilling. What's the use of being a war
hero if hardly anybody remembers you? “Wings” generated
controversy in the Soviet press and also showcased Shepitko's ability
to express her characters' spiritual struggles with sensitivity and
insight.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In “The Ascent” (1977), adapted
from a novella by Vasil Bykov, Shepitko turns her focus to the inner
torment of two Soviet partisans in Nazi-occupied Belarus. Tasked with
braving the icy winter to scavenge supplies for their beleaguered
unit, the contemplative teacher Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) and the
peasant-class soldier Rybak (Vladimir Gostyukhin) are quite obviously
doomed from the start, and the story centers on the very different
ways in which they choose to face their inevitable fate.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Ascent” outchills “McCabe
and Mrs. Miller” as perhaps the snowiest film ever made, with vast
snowy landscapes blinding both its characters and the viewer in stark
black-and-white. In a virtuoso sequence, our two protagonists face
off against a group of Nazis. Shot in the leg, Sotnikov can barely
prop himself up in the snow as he fires into the whiteness at a tiny
dark figure in the distance. Has he hit somebody? There's no way to
tell. For a moment the battle appears to be over, but another return
volley rings out. He fires again at a hazy silhouette, ready to die
rather than be captured by the Huns. Rybak, not as eager to embrace
martyrdom, flees through the woods at a gruelingly slow pace as he
can only trudge through knee-deep snow, but eventually returns to
drag his wounded friend away from the fight.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The bulk of the first half of the film
pits Sotnikov and Rybak against the implacable elements, but they
face even more remorseless foes once the action moves indoors. Along
with a hapless mother (Lyudmila Polyakova, in a breakout role) who
tried to provide them refuge, they are arrested, interrogated, and
taunted with their impending “liquidation.” Faced with torture,
Sotnikov and Rybak, previously colleagues united against a common
foe, respond very differently.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This was the crux of the “neo-parable”
for Shepitko, the trying of men's souls in the ultimate crucible.
It's easy to speak of selflessness, but idealism can be burned away
by the sting of a hot poker on vulnerable flesh. Who will protect his
fellow soldiers and who will save his own ass? The film's gallery of
tight close-ups of faces both old and young, some crusted in ice,
some wracked with pain, others contemplating eternity, pull us ever
closer to these internal landscapes, the chilliest regions of all,
and the spaces Shepitko is most interested in exploring.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The grim final act is drawn out to an
almost unbearable length, made all the more grueling as viewers can't
possibly be deluded enough to expect a happy ending or a last-minute
cavalry rescue. Even the most heroic character may not be able to
maintain his resolve as he is forced to take one step after another
through crusted snow to the gallows.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"The Ascent” was hailed as
Shepitko's greatest achievement to date and won the Golden Bear at
the 1977 Berlin Film Festival. In 1979, Shepitko, aged 41, died in a
car accident along with several of her crew members during production
of a film that would later be completed and release by her husband,
director Elem Klimov.</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik28YXDUdt96c4ec0XfmwnFr2B8p4Edc_VHFgZuS2BOuNqenIegHw_C3cN8S_KNk7ogrwN2ZY7sX14t0V6IlXEzkHSLdA6FnfaY-h1-lN1rPlYQ8zSI8uBh2SQ7YwLw3GWE1U20pnN0t9i/s1600/ascentcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik28YXDUdt96c4ec0XfmwnFr2B8p4Edc_VHFgZuS2BOuNqenIegHw_C3cN8S_KNk7ogrwN2ZY7sX14t0V6IlXEzkHSLdA6FnfaY-h1-lN1rPlYQ8zSI8uBh2SQ7YwLw3GWE1U20pnN0t9i/w323-h400/ascentcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Ascent” was originally
released in <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2016/01/larisa-shepitko-eclipse-series-11.html">2008 by Criterion in their old no-frills Eclipse line</a> as
part of a two-disc set along with Shepitko's “Wings.” The old DVD
transfer was fairly strong, but this new 1080p transfer, “created
in 4K resolution from the 35 mm original camera negative and restored
by Mosfilm,” represents a substantial improvement. Presented in its
original 1.37:1 aspect ratio, this high-def transfer provides the
sharp black-and-white contrast needed to see detail in the many
washed-out snowy scenes. The extra detail visible in the numerous
closeups is a major improvement as well.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is presented with a LPCM mono
audio track. The sounds of wind whipping, of gunshots ringing out, of
feet crunching through thick snow are isolated quite clearly on this
crisp audio mix. The score by Alfred Schnittke gets a strong
presentation as well. Optional English subtitles support the Russian
audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The old Eclipse release had no
features. By contrast, Criterion has packed this new Blu-ray release
with a vast array of extras.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion hasn't provided many
commentary tracks in the past few years. For this release, they've
included a selected-scene commentary by film scholar Daniel Bird. The
commentary covers eight scenes and runs about 33 minutes, with a
focus on comparing film scenes to the original Bykov novella, along
with other topics.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">An Introduction (17 min.) by Anton
Klimov, son of Shepitko and Elem Klimov, discusses his parents'
artistic collaboration and touches on some of the challenges Shepitko
faced from Soviet censors concerned that her film bordered on being a
Christian parable.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Lyudmila Polyakova's interview (2020,
22 min.) allows the actress a chance to talk about her somewhat
unlikely path to an acting career – even when young, she was quite
tall and stocky and even her family doubted she had a future on
stage. She also expresses her great fondness for Shepitko, who became
a friend as well as her director.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included “The Homeland
of Electricity” (1967, 39 min.), a short film Shepitko directed as
part of the omnibus film “Beginnings of an Unknown Era.” It was
shelved by Soviet censors and not released until 1987, after much
promotion by her husband.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If there's a specific theme in the
features included on this disc, it's an emphasis on the love between
Shepitko and Klimov. “Larisa” (20 min.) is a short documentary by
Klimov, featuring footage of his wife and closing with the last
images she filmed before the accident that killed her. It's quite
moving. “More Than Love” (39 min.) is a documentary that aired on
Russian TV in 2012, and highlights the personal and working
relationship between Shepitko and Klimov.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“A Talk With Larisa” (52) aired on
Russian TV in 1999. It begins with an introduction by Elem Klimov
then shows a lengthy 1978 interview of Shepitko conducted by the
German critic Felicia von Nostitz. Shepitko had won at Berlin the
year before for “The Ascent” and was invited back to Berlin in
1978 to serve on the jury – this interview occurred during the
festival.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The final extra is “Islands” (2012,
40 min.), another documentary which aired on Russian TV in 2012, and
includes interviews with Shepitko's sister, son, and other friends
and colleagues.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet features an
essay by poet Fanny Howe.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I miss the old Eclipse line with its
modest packaging and bare bones releases of previously hard-to-find
films (at least in North America), but Criterion's Blu-ray upgrade
provides not only a newly restored high-def transfer, but a passel of
extras that put Shepitko's tragically short career into better
context. Perhaps Criterion can give the same treatment to “Wings”
in the near future.
</p><br /><p></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-34536962232763577912021-01-05T08:09:00.000-08:002021-01-05T08:09:50.995-08:00Three Films By Luis Bunuel<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6v0dbFUAavMsPsUePze2JGl__0Bii7C3qudGNCumnHsZmsXnk0G0u5hdiCk0yyUwKzW6maLa5hnoxQ-b7KkZBd4FVfHhk4-MUeYcNqNWf-MGMsOUuNV3-py1eQbY3D_NHhkQs7dG-ITYq/s1600/bunuelphantom2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6v0dbFUAavMsPsUePze2JGl__0Bii7C3qudGNCumnHsZmsXnk0G0u5hdiCk0yyUwKzW6maLa5hnoxQ-b7KkZBd4FVfHhk4-MUeYcNqNWf-MGMsOUuNV3-py1eQbY3D_NHhkQs7dG-ITYq/s320/bunuelphantom2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Phantom of Liberty</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>THREE FILMS BY LUIS BUNUEL</b> (1972-1977, Bunuel)</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Jan 5, 2021</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</p><p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You know how annoying it is when you
see a character in a movie suddenly jolt awake and you realize the
scene you've been watching was really just a dream? Director Luis
Bunuel certainly knew, which at least partly explains why this
exasperating trick plays out multiple times in “<b>The Discreet Charm
of the Bourgeosie</b>” (1972). The radical who first shocked audiences
by slicing an eyeball in “Un Chien Andalou” (1929) still hadn't
tired of his assault on complacency nearly half a century later.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I don't mean that Bunuel was just
trying to yank the chains of his viewers, no matter how bourgeois his
film festival audiences were likely to be, but rather that the
septuagenarian artist hadn't let success blind him to the fundamental
absurdities and inequities of a society he'd spent his professional
life mocking. Dream logic hardly seems more absurd than a social
structure which grants respectability to its worst people for the
flimsiest of reasons. Call yourself an ambassador and you can smuggle
cocaine while still being hailed as a gentleman. Wear a priest's
cassock and you can get literally get away with murder. Master the
courtly manners that help you negotiate a fancy dinner with grace and
everyone scrambles to serve you with a smile, no matter how much
contempt you have for them.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In “Discreet Charm,” that fancy
dinner never quite happens. Bunuel and screenwriter Jean-Claude
Carriere (who collaborated with Bunuel on most of his later films,
including all three in this Criterion box set) force the same set of
rich snobs to show up for a dinner that is constantly deferred for
various reasons. At first, they arrive at their hosts' home on the
wrong night which prompts them to dash out for a quick bite at a
nearby inn where they find that the owner has just died. In fact, his
dead body is on display for mourners in an alcove just off the dining
room. And then things start to get weird.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One party is spoiled because the host
couple (Stephane Audran and Jean-Pierre Cassel) sneaks off for a bit
of afternoon delight in the bushes, leaving their unattended guests
bored and offended. One dinner transforms into an impromptu stage
play with the diners unwitting actors. A duel brings a lavish buffet
to a bloody end. The local bishop (Julien Bertheau) drops by because
he wants to fulfill his lifelong dream of being a gardener. And, of
course, the vengeful spirit of a murderous policeman returns from the
grave to enact justice on our very hungry protagonists.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film only gradually fleshes out the
relationships among the upper-crust characters. Francois (Paul
Frankeur) and Simone (Delphine Seyrig) are married, but Simone is
also shacking up with the ambassador (Fernando Rey). There's little
to the players save their venality or outright corruption, and Bunuel
enjoys tormenting them by constantly delaying any substantive
gratification beyond a few sips of booze.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Which parts are real, and which parts
are dreams? All of them, of course. Bunuel doesn't distinguish in
such literal terms, and it hardly matters. A society that would
reward these vapid cretins with wealth and prestige is too ludicrous
to be believed (or respected) anyway.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At a few points in “Discreet Charm,”
a minor character suddenly claims center stage. For example, a
sad-eyed lieutenant interrupts the ladies' lunch (where they can't
even get tea or coffee) to tell his tale of a woeful childhood.
Bunuel and Carriere would expand on this discursive storytelling
approach in their next collaboration, the absolutely bonkers “<b>The
Phantom of Liberty</b>” (1974).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Phantom” fractures its narrative
into multiple vignettes with no main plot or lead actor. Each segment
is connected, however tenuously, to the previous one, but the film
frequently abandons a story just as it builds to a climax, often
following a minor character who then becomes the protagonist of the
next story. And so on.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As unconventional as the narrative
structure is, “Phantom” is still a quintessential Bunuel film,
relying on the twin engines of sacrilege and fetishism to propel the
action. Sacrilege: French troops with a bad case of the munchies
ransack a church and chow down on holy wafers. Horny monks play poker
with religious medals: “I'll open with a virgin.” Fetish: A young
man spirits his much older aunt off to a hotel for a weekend tryst. A
traveling businessman in the same hotel invites the poker-playing
monks to watch his dominatrix secretary whip him into an orgiastic
frenzy - as the guests flee in horror, the businessman cries: “At
least let the monks stay!”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's futile to relay the protean plot
in greater detail. But a focus on one segment provides a reminder
that surrealism is, etymologically, built “on reality.” In one
section, the mother of a young girl is called to school because her
daughter has gone missing. As the teacher explains what happened, the
young girl in question tugs her mother's arm. Mom tells her to keep
quiet because everyone is looking for her. Later, the girl is taken
to the police station so they can file the missing person report. The
officer deems it convenient that the absent girl is right there, the
better to prepare a detailed description so they can start the
search. This sequence deploys no disorienting stylistic techniques,
no canted angles or shocking reveals. It just plods through a mundane
series of shots of people directly interacting with a little girl who
they also consider to be missing, rendering the whole spectacle
profoundly uncanny and unsettling. Downright Bunuelian, you might
say.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“<b>That Obscure Object of Desire</b>”
(1977) was Bunuel's final film (he died in 1983), and is less
formally audacious than the other two films in this set. Toying with
an almost archaic classical story structure, the film centers on
Mathieu (Fernando Rey), an older man of wealth from an unspecified
job who boards a train and regales his cabin mates with his tragic
love story. Mathieu fell for the teenage Conchita, briefly his maid,
later a hat-check girl, and possibly a revolutionary. Conchita
allegedly falls for him too but steadfastly refuses to have sex with
him, leading to a series of tragicomic frustrations for Mathieu, one
involving the sudden appearance of Conchita's impenetrable chastity
belt. Mathieu cannot break the spell the seductress has over him, yet
also cannot break her spirit and possess her. “I belong to no one
but myself”, she insists.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though the film provides a few
surrealist touches (a doting mother turns out to be swaddling her
precious baby pig) the story, based on a 1898 novel by Pierre Louys,
unfolds in fairly linear fashion, though with Mathieu serving as the
unreliable narrator. The idiosyncratic touch this time is that
Conchita is portrayed by two actresses, Carole Bouquet and Angela
Molina. Supposedly, Bunuel made this decision partly as a lark after
he found it difficult to work with actress Maria Schneider, who was
originally cast. Bouquet and Molina sometimes switch off in the
middle of a scene, and there's no clear reason why either appears at
any particular moment. Each takes turns at playing Conchita as
diabolical or as innocent. Reportedly, most viewers at the time
didn't even realize there were different actresses, likely a
disappointment to the filmmakers.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Domestic terrorism plays a role in all
the films in this set, but becomes more prominent here with urban
ambushes, shootings, and bombings punctuating the anti-romantic love
story. In Bunuel's films, civilization is a thin veneer over a
violent society, and that's as true of the rituals of love as of the
cultured manners of the bourgeoisie. It can all blow up in your face
at a moment's notice, no matter how fancy your suit or how dignified
your title.
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3IPLKAJDJWIKN56q6iugLAySLPtB8BD7JxiUifItx1-RriQ9TvcbmsQ9VexLqWU5v03XUZTXz793TRt9q6v-Ah2pUxNZZY90uJUw4y-KTC5EbXBEH6F484cyvxq7XpD0Px_HucAXy6Vq/s1988/bunuelthreefilmscover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1988" data-original-width="1600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3IPLKAJDJWIKN56q6iugLAySLPtB8BD7JxiUifItx1-RriQ9TvcbmsQ9VexLqWU5v03XUZTXz793TRt9q6v-Ah2pUxNZZY90uJUw4y-KTC5EbXBEH6F484cyvxq7XpD0Px_HucAXy6Vq/w323-h400/bunuelthreefilmscover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video</b>:</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All three films are presented in their
original 1.66:1 aspect ratios. These “new high-definition digital
restorations” all showcase sharp image resolution and a rich color
palette. They also feature a fine grainy look. I only have the old
“Phantom” DVD as a comparison point, but the new Blu-ray image
represents a substantial upgrade.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio</b>:</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The films are all presented with linear
PCM mono audio tracks. The mono audio is crisp with no evident
distortions. The sound design isn't particularly robust, and the mono
track serves it well. Optional English subtitles support the French
audio.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras</b>:</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each of the three films in this set was
released as a stand alone DVD by Criterion 15 or more years ago. The
Blu-rays in this set maintain their old spine numbers (102 for
“Discreet Charm”, 143 for “Obscure Object”, 290 for
“Phantom.”) Some of the old releases had substantive extras,
others few at all. Criterion has pretty much packed each of these
discs for these 2021 Blu-ray upgrades.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each disc has its own keep case, all
three of which are tucked into the outer cardboard slip case titled
“Three Films By Luis Bunuel.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The “Discreet Charm” begins with an
import from the old DVD release, the documentary “Speaking of
Bunuel” (2000, 99 min.) Directed by Jose Luis Lopez-Linares and
Javier Rioyo, this feature-length documentary aims to be a
comprehensive biography of the filmmaker, detailing his childhood
through his early days as an artist (covering his friendship with
Salvador Dali and Federico Lorca) and his wanderings as a filmmaker
in several countries over many decades. Covering so much territory,
it doesn't dive deeply on too many subjects, but it's an informative
piece, spiced up with interviews from collaborators such as
Jean-Claude Carriere, actor Michel Piccoli, and many others.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Another import from the old release is
“The Castaway of Providence Street” (1971, 24 min.), an eccentric
feature filmed at the Mexico City home of Bunuel and his wife,
Jeanne. It shows Bunuel mixing drinks, while we also hear interviews
from friends and collaborators raving about Don Luis.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">New for this Blu-ray is a 2011 episode
of the French show “Once Upon A Time” (52 min.) which consists
mostly of interviews (Carriere again, actresses Bulle Ogier and
Stephane Audran, and others) discussing the production of “Discreet
Charm.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In addition to a Theatrical Trailer (3
min.), the final feature on this disc is a short “Making Of”
piece (14 min) that mixes interviews with some on-set footage.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The old “Phantom of Liberty” disc
only came with a short interview with Carriere. That interview (4
min.) is included here. The other features on the disc are new.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Film scholar Peter William Evans
analyzes (20 min.) “Phantom,” touching on as many of the
vignettes as possible while trying not to over-interpret.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A 1985 documentary (30 min.) turns the
spotlight on producer Serge Silberman, who worked with Bunuel on most
of his later films.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes an interview
with actor Jean-Claude Brialy (6 min.) and a separate interview with
both Brialy and Michel Piccoli (5 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The “Obscure Object” disc arrives
with another Carriere interview (19 min.) in which he talks about his
close working relationship with Bunuel, and how they'd live together
for long stretches while bouncing ideas off each other daily.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“The Woman and the Puppet,” the
Pierre Louys novel Bunuel worked from, had already been adapted to
film several times before. Criterion has included three scenes from
the 1929 silent version by Jacques de Baroncelli. Running 11 minutes
total, these scenes suggest that Bunuel borrowed considerably from
the film, one which he acknowledge as a favorite.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Portrait of An Impatient Filmmaker”
is a 2012 documentary short (16 min.) in which cinematographer Edmond
Richard and assistant director Pierre Lary discuss Bunuel's work
habits on set, with a focus on his reasons for replacing Maria
Schneider with two different actresses in the role of Conchita. A
separate extra titled “Lady Doubles” (2017, 37 min.) invites the
two actresses, Bouquet and Molina, to discuss their participation in
this unusual experiment.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Remembering Bunuel” (1977, 31
min.) is an episode of the French TV show “Allons au cinema” in
which a round table of collaborators (Carriere, Piccoli, Fernando
Rey, etc.) talk about Bunuel.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, Criterion has included an
excerpt (15 min.) from a 1977 episode of “Le monde du cinema” in
which Carriere, Rey, and Silberman discuss their work with Bunuel.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thick insert booklet includes
essays on all three films, with author Gary Indiana writing about
“The Phantom of Liberty” and film critic Adrian Martin writing
about the other two films. The booklet also includes some extensive
excerpts of interviews with Bunuel that were originally published in
“Objects of Desire: Conversations with Luis Bunuel” by critics
Jose de la Colina and Tomas Perez Turrent.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts</b>:</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's not that unusual to see a
filmmaker still at their creative peak into their seventies and
beyond. Agnes Varda, Robert Bresson, Frederick Wiseman, Manoel de
Oliveira, and Jean-Luc Godard spring to mind instantly. But it's
remarkable that the veteran Luis Bunuel of the 1970s was every bit as
radical and provocative as the young punk Luis Bunuel of “Un Chien
Andalou.” I guess he kept paying attention to the world and stayed
angry about it. </p><p></p><p><br /></p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-26570276323342428002020-12-08T08:00:00.001-08:002020-12-09T19:32:15.300-08:00Mouchette<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv37fpR-d7MkNMUPG3ZG3CaOG_66cnkpk7UGnYoJ6bBTJFPTULBxwaifloQXDH_UHGIoXJIfca1AriEaKjUdLVXM03E_5Orr-x__v3o3Gy0y5Frg3O8NuP12Yc_krfcAhN4ik3CEpYNXQG/s1600/mouchettecap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv37fpR-d7MkNMUPG3ZG3CaOG_66cnkpk7UGnYoJ6bBTJFPTULBxwaifloQXDH_UHGIoXJIfca1AriEaKjUdLVXM03E_5Orr-x__v3o3Gy0y5Frg3O8NuP12Yc_krfcAhN4ik3CEpYNXQG/w400-h225/mouchettecap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>MOUCHETTE</b> (Bresson, 1967)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Dec 8, 2020</p><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mouchette (Nadine Nortier) is a teenage
French peasant girl saddled with a dying mother and an abusive,
alcoholic father. With her raggedy hand-me-down clothes and clogs two
sizes too big, she finds no friends in school either, nor does she
invite them, preferring to lob mudballs at her classmates during
recess. Whether her aggression speaks of desperation or sheer spite,
the saddest part is that the other girls don’t even care enough to
retaliate. Mouchette simply means nothing to them. She doesn't matter
to anyone at all.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If you're expecting this grim setup to
turn into a triumphant redemption, you're obviously unfamiliar with
writer/director Robert Bresson or with author Georges Bernanos whose
1937 novel “Mouchette” (1967) is adapted from. Bresson had
previously tapped Bernanos as the source for “Diary of Country
Priest” (1951), the first film in which the director transformed
fully into the nonpareil Bresson celebrated by devotees today.
“Mouchette” is somehow far bleaker than the first
Bresson-Bernanos joint. Indeed, it's one of the most desolate films
ever made, on a par with Kenji Mizoguchi's “<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2016/10/sansho-bailiff.html">Sansho the Bailiff</a>”(1954), Kon Ichikawa's “Fires on the Plain” (1959), or
perhaps Bresson's career-capping “<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2017/07/largent-criterion.html">L'argent</a>” (1982).
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Mouchette slouches through listless
days at school and equally listless nights at home, where she is
expected to handle all the household chores and care for the baby,
while her no-account father and brother smuggle alcohol, mostly for
their own consumption. At least these quotidian rituals provide some
minor respite from a meaningless life, but Mouchette aches for an
escape from the tedium.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">She finds some relief in her daily
walks through the forest, taking the long way home (for
understandable reasons) but this “green place” offers her only
the modest gift of solitude, not redemption. On one such walk,
Mouchette is waylaid by a sudden rainstorm (she calls it a cyclone,
but nobody believes her) which brings her face to face with Arsène
(Jean-Claude Guilbert), a local poacher. Arsène believes he has just
killed a man in a drunken argument (the disease of alcoholism stalks
the countryside like the Black Death of half a millennium ago.)
Arsène enlists Mouchette’s aid in providing him an alibi. She
readily agrees, but their conversation turns ugly, and Arsène rapes
her. In the morning, Mouchette slinks back home just in time to see
her mother die.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Total abjection provides a form of
liberation for Mouchette. She has been pushed beyond caring about any
social niceties, about anyone’s rules. When the falsely pious
townsfolk extend sympathy for her mother’s death, she figuratively
spits in her faces, and literally treads mud all over their nice,
pretty rugs. But poor Mouchette’s awakening still finds her with
the same limited options she had before. She’s a rebel with nothing
to rebel against, simply because nobody cares and all the rules are
stacked against her. She cannot win, she can only leave the world on
her own terms. And so she does.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In Bresson's prior films, his
characters achieved a state of grace in their suffering, but it’s
hard to say the same of Mouchette. Her suicide is simply tragic,
painful, desperate, with no redeeming aspect. If she intends a big
“fuck you” to the town, it will go almost entirely unnoticed and
be quickly forgotten. Even dear old dad will use her death as just
another excuse to get piss-drunk. At best, it can be seen as
Mouchette’s defiant act of autonomy, taking control of her body and
her life in a way the rotted-besotted town patriarchy would never
allow. Ice cold comfort.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As in most Bresson, off-screen noises
play a prominent role in structuring the film. Trucks constantly
rumble by, unseen except when their headlights play across the wall
of Mouchette’s hovel. The modern world is encroaching on this
insular rural town that's wobbling on its last drunken legs. Bresson
also uses music sparingly, with Monteverdi’s “Magnificat”
serving as the only non-diegetic music in the film.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As usual, Bresson employs a cast of
mostly non-professional actors whom he considered more as “models”
than performers. Nortier is a typical Bressonian model, coached to
act with as little inflection as possible. She moves slowly, walks
slump-shouldered, and her face rarely registers much emotion, with
the notable exception of the bumper-car ride when Mouchette briefly
smiles and laughs like a “normal” girl. Some viewers have
difficulty adapting to Bresson’s idiosyncratic approach to film
acting, but for fans of the director he sometimes seems to be the
only one who ever got it right. That’s an exaggeration, of course,
but Bresson’s singular, obstinate body of work can really be
compared to no other.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By holding back so much that we
typically expect to see in a film (emotive acting, for example),
Bresson ultimately unleashes a powerful force that is difficult to
describe. Call it transcendental, call it sublime, call it ineffable.
Whatever label you choose, it has an impact like nothing else cinema
has ever produced. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzUWvqn_S0BHUrr2xsN01erwcSxTx97rNGNg5w24ey7QJtIsEQUAp9okzyb-HPgxGpzEbJ154jEGQBobqzNHQOyNuUbsowMcMHyBO3pxk-EGFEfz3mcl5FHl82VGl4c8fs7xrrVksGt0b/s1600/mouchettecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzUWvqn_S0BHUrr2xsN01erwcSxTx97rNGNg5w24ey7QJtIsEQUAp9okzyb-HPgxGpzEbJ154jEGQBobqzNHQOyNuUbsowMcMHyBO3pxk-EGFEfz3mcl5FHl82VGl4c8fs7xrrVksGt0b/w323-h400/mouchettecover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br /><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Video:</p>The film is presented in its original
1.66:1 aspect ratio. According to Criterion, this new 1080p transfer
is sourced from “a full 4K restoration.”“Mouchette” was
Bresson’s last black-and-white film, and this high-def upgrade
improves upon the original 2007 DVD release from Criterion, doing
justice to Ghislain Cloquet’s starkly beautiful photography.
Black-and-whit contrast is sharp, with most scenes looking rather
dark, as intended.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Audio:</p>The linear PCM mono track is sharp with
no signs of distortion. Bresson's sound design is spare with limited
music and only select sound effects. Optional English subtitles
support the French audio.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Extras:</p>All extras are imported from
Criterion's 2007 DVD release with no new extras included.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Mouchette” doesn't arrive with as
many extras as some other Criterion releases of Bresson's work.
However, the 2007 commentary track by Tony Rayns is superb, as we
would expect from Mr. Rayns.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The main extra feature is “Au hasard
Bresson” (1967, 30 min.), a documentary directed by German film
critic Theodor Kotulla. Kotulla visited the set of “Mouchette” to
speak with Bresson, and wound up with this little gem that delves
much deeper than the usual “behind-the-scenes” documentary.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Traveling” is an excerpt (7 min.)
from a French television show which features interviews with some of
the cast members of “Mouchette.” Nothing special here.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Perhaps the most intriguing extra for
die-hard cinephiles is an original theatrical trailer for “Mouchette”
cut by Jean-Luc Godard. Godard denied making this trailer, but it’s
hard to believe anyone could mistake it for anything but a Godard
work.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out booklet reprints the
2007 essay by critic and poet Robert Polito.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Final Thought:</p>“Mouchette” is grim, demanding
viewing which requires patience even at its brisk 81 minute running
length. If you have never seen a Bresson film before, don’t start
here. “Mouchette” is hermetic, and utterly despairing, even by
Bresson’s standards. Try “<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/09/a-man-escaped.html">A Man Escaped</a>” (1956), “<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/03/pickpocket.html">Pickpocket</a>”
(1959), or “<a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2015/09/au-hasard-balthazar.html">Au hasard Balthazar</a>” (1966) first before you tackle
this one. I don’t wish to convey the notion that Bresson is somehow
esoteric or inaccessible; I don’t believe that at all. His films
are concise and concrete, but their surface simplicity hides the
degree to which each image and sound is so densely packed, and only
proper context (training, if you will) can help viewers unpack them.
Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-78066106643305051282020-11-16T15:44:00.001-08:002020-11-17T09:29:40.146-08:00Ghost Dog<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMIOqAFJ1VcIBxAzVjobYk5zdapynOOBRmUCRHJ3E5ZPn5ZOFG3IACIX6PsfnytxiSmN_2o_xsLeyzC5I0_WOHmu68mlz-vjp0p72z6Tg4BX_m2sRONmLFYU_7GS1iSU4hKbGQJGhCqSw/s1600/ghostdogcap1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDMIOqAFJ1VcIBxAzVjobYk5zdapynOOBRmUCRHJ3E5ZPn5ZOFG3IACIX6PsfnytxiSmN_2o_xsLeyzC5I0_WOHmu68mlz-vjp0p72z6Tg4BX_m2sRONmLFYU_7GS1iSU4hKbGQJGhCqSw/w400-h225/ghostdogcap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI</b> (Jarmusch, 1999)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Nov 17, 2020</p><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Critics who thought they had Jim
Jarmusch safely categorized as a wry humorist and a minimalist
observer of outsiders and “dead-end kids” (as Pauline Kael
described the protagonists of <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2019/04/stranger-than-paradise.html">“Stranger Than Paradise”</a>) were
forced to scramble when the revisionist Western “Dead Man” (1995)
introduced shocking new elements to the writer/director's arsenal.
Periodically erupting in graphic violent outbursts, <a href="http://www.dvdblureview.com/2018/04/dead-man.html">“Dead Man”</a>
pointed an accusing middle finger at the “stupid fucking white men”
who engineered a mass genocide against Native Americans, a slaughter
so cruel and so vast it permanently scarred the landscape itself.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jarmusch stayed in his new bloody lane
with his next feature, “Ghost Dog: The Way Of The Samurai”
(1999). Now the stupid fucking white men are wheezing dollar-store
mafiosos, old men who can barely climb a set of stairs or scrape
together enough money to pay the landlord at their little clubhouse
where they mostly watch cartoons. But the single defining truism
about American life as portrayed in both “Dead Man” and “Ghost
Dog” is that any stupid fuck can pull a trigger.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Like the mobsters, the film's title
character adheres to an old code of behavior, but unlike them, he's
put a great deal of thought into his guiding philosophy. Ghost Dog
(Forest Whitaker) reads daily from the “Hagakure”, a book of
samurai aphorisms he uses to shape his idiosyncratic approach to
being a modern-day hitman. Ghost Dog samples freely from diverse
sources of wisdom as well, including Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein”,
Ryunosuke Akutagawa's short-story collection “Rashomon”, and
modern hip-hop - RZA of the Wu-Tang Clan provides the film's
propulsive, hypnotic score, and it seems like Ghost Dog can hear
every non-diegetic note. And talk about keeping it old school, Ghost
Dog even sends messages exclusively by homing pigeon.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Plot rarely matters much in a Jarmusch
film, but to provide a brief capsule: Ghost Dog serves as a loyal
retainer to low-level mobster Louie (John Tormey). While conducting a
hit for Louie, something goes awry, and the other mobsters decide the
assassin must be eliminated. To serve honor, or some such nonsense.
This confrontation augurs poorly for the aging made men, of course –
hell, Ghost Dog even knows how to shoot his mark from the other end
of a kitchen sink drain – but Jarmusch lavishes as much attention
on Ghost Dog's down time as on his killing exploits.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ghost Dog likes to hang out with his
friend Raymond (Isaach de Bankole), an affable Haitian ice-cream
truck vendor who only speaks French. Ghost Dog only speaks English
(or at least no French) but this doesn't interfere with their ability
to understand each other. The spoken word is only one limited form of
communication, a theme Jarmusch had already touched on in “Mystery
Train” (1989) and other films. The efficient killer also bonds with
Pearline (Camille Winbush), a nine-year-old bookworm who
instinctively seems to “get” Ghost Dog.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film piles up both bodies and
humorous vignettes. In a hilarious display of a lack of
self-awareness, a couple of the mobsters (including a stoic Henry
Silva whose face is fixed in a rictus) mock both black hip-hop
artists and Native Americans for adopting “funny” names like
Flavor Flav or Red Cloud before calling out for their compatriots
Joey Rags and Sammy the Snake. In the film's signature execution,
Sonny Valerio (Cliff Gorman) dances alone in his bathroom while
singing along to Public Enemy before Ghost Dog takes him out with one
laser-pointer shot to the head.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The great cinematographer Robby Muller
captures the moody night-time city streets (possibly meant to be New
York, though mostly filmed in Jersey City) with an impressionist eye,
employing multiple dissolves to show Ghost Dog gliding through the
streets in his unique fashion, largely undetected by the locals,
perhaps moving to the pervasive beat of RZA's driving score. The
film's visual centerpiece, however, is Forest Whitaker's face, his
drooping left eyelid (a congenital condition) drawing even more
attention to the magnetic power of his gaze. Ghost Dog sees all from
a serene vantage point, simultaneously positioned right at street
level but also observing dispassionately from a spiritual plane at
least once-removed.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Though the film pokes fun at its
clueless, impotent mobsters, it still ends with a lament for the
mutual obsolescence of both the way of the mafioso and the “way of
the samurai.” As Ghost Dog puts it when he confronts Louie at the
end, they both come from “different ancient tribes” now staring
down the barrel of a new millennium that has no use for either of
them. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmdqqn17ysHwGgqxpR5hiamU2LpuLPii46pJJtYmzw-P5PxupNDNuAyHMvBxP2CSTxxQ9On3c8asJHAKvNfMk5WP2AxaXYn_x4AFuvvGX_BnE6l4tDLDvHFpt36Itm3QlDVzen1V2D6A4P/s1600/ghostdogcover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmdqqn17ysHwGgqxpR5hiamU2LpuLPii46pJJtYmzw-P5PxupNDNuAyHMvBxP2CSTxxQ9On3c8asJHAKvNfMk5WP2AxaXYn_x4AFuvvGX_BnE6l4tDLDvHFpt36Itm3QlDVzen1V2D6A4P/w323-h400/ghostdogcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. From Criterion: “This new digital transfer was
created in 16-bit 4K resolution on a Lasergraphics Director film
scanner from the 35 mm original A/B camera negative” and was
supervised by Jarmusch. The only other North American release I'm
aware of is the 2003 SD release by Artisan. The colors on that one
look a bit garish while this 1080p transfer showcases more muted,
naturalistic colors. The image resolution is sharp and looks great in
motion.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>The DTS- HD 5.1 Master Audio mix treats
sound effects well while also presenting RZA's score with depth. The
disc also provides an audio option to listen just to the isolated
score in a 2.0 mix. Optional English subtitles support the audio.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>This Criterion Blu-ray release includes
both new and older supplementary features.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As with a few past Jarmusch releases
from Criterion, we get a lengthy Q&A session (84 minutes) with
the director. He fields a random array of questions sent in by fans,
touching on topics from the production of the film to what music he's
been listening to during the pandemic and so on. This was recorded in
June 2020.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Another new feature is a video
conference interview (20 min.) with actors Forest Whitaker and Isaach
de Bankole, conducted by film scholar Michael B. Gillespie. Again
they cover an array of topics, though mostly centering on their
memories of making “Ghost Dog” a little more than twenty years
ago.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included an audio
feature (15 min.) in which casting director Ellen Lewis discusses her
process for auditioning various actors for roles. This turned out to
be quite fascinating, especially because Lewis is clearly passionate
about the casting even of minor roles in the film. It feels like she
talks about virtually everybody who appears in the movie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get two older interviews,
which, though separate, are taken from the same taping session with
Jarmusch, Whitaker, and composer RZA. The first is a 15-minute
interview. The second is a 21-minute promotional piece titled “The
Odyssey: A Journey Into the Life of a Samurai” which was included
on the old DVD release from Artisan Pictures.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes a short
interview (5 min.) with Shifu Shi Yan Ming, martial arts teacher and
founder of the USA Shaolin Temple. He's friends with both Jarmusch
and RZA.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a 15-minute piece about the
music of “Ghost Dog” along with several short Deleted
Scenes/Outtakes (5 min. total) and a Theatrical Trailer (1 min.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has included two insert
booklets this time. The 40-page booklet includes essays by critic
Jonathan Rosenbaum and Greg Tate, as well as excerpts from a 2000
interview with Jarmusch, conducted by Ted Lippy. We also get a tiny
replica of the “Hagakure”, featured so prominently in the film,
though this just includes a few short excerpts from the book.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Film Value:</b></p>“Ghost Dog” has been in need of a
quality high-def release for some time now, and Criterion delivers
the goods with a sharp 1080p transfer and a strong collection of
extra features.
<p> </p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-17684668194349717682020-10-26T08:20:00.001-07:002020-10-26T08:20:27.870-07:00Parasite<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVhKdFs-MJzM5N5fQbckF-Kykkd0d5oXfb76LDtxSe-1uQ3X4QIhWFdMP228BO14bzk3lEbnHMR2GzezU8fD4pskaGl6p_gsTDz7A6vhlpBaaKJJm-xRhxhxMbuxDKdiEgzffT3mcoUto/s2155/parasitecap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="2155" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEVhKdFs-MJzM5N5fQbckF-Kykkd0d5oXfb76LDtxSe-1uQ3X4QIhWFdMP228BO14bzk3lEbnHMR2GzezU8fD4pskaGl6p_gsTDz7A6vhlpBaaKJJm-xRhxhxMbuxDKdiEgzffT3mcoUto/w400-h168/parasitecap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>PARASITE</b> (Bong, 2019)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Oct 27, 2020</p><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Oscars had a chance to make history
in 2020. Odds makers slightly favored Sam Mendes' “1917,” a
two-hour video game cut scene featuring wooden acting and a
histrionic plot that makes “Raiders of the Lost Ark” look like a
Wiseman documentary. Following on the heels of “The Shape of Water”
and “Green Book,” a Best Picture nod to Mendes' mendacious
misfire would have secured the Academy three years of historic shame
worth bragging about for life. Instead, voters eschewed a legacy by
handing the statuette to Korean director Bong Joon-ho's “Parasite”
(2019), an actual good movie, and the first foreign-language film to
win the big award. Which is history too.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Set in Seoul, the film opens in the
cramped semi-basement apartment of the Kim family. A long, thin
window peeks out at an alley where drunks stop to piss and
extermination trucks belch out thick billows of chemicals, unaware or
unconcerned that anyone might be living nearby. Ki-taek (Song
Kang-ho), the family patriarch, welcomes the death cloud that
envelops the entire family in their living room. After all, the
apartment is infested with bugs, and the family can't afford
pesticides on the salary they earn from folding pizza boxes. A job at
which, to be honest, they're not even that good.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The son, Ki-woo (Choi Woo-shik), soon
seizes a better job opportunity, serving as an English tutor to the
teenage daughter (Jung Ziso) of the wealthy Park family. Their gated
house (built by a famous architect you've surely heard of) provides a
stark contrast to the Kim estate. As Mrs. Park (Cho Yeo-jeong)
introduces Ki-woo to his new workplace, the camera follows as they
pass through glistening white rooms and walk down immense corridors
that sprawl to both ends of the widescreen frame. The mansion's many
windows offer a slightly more scenic view than a piss-soaked back
street, mostly acres upon acres of sculpted green space, just sitting
empty until the family decides to host its next party.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ki-woo might have forged his
credentials to get his tutoring gig, but initially he seems like an
ambitious go-getter just trying to climb the ladder and haul his
family out of poverty. By his own bootstraps, of course, just like
all successful people. But the Kims (and, presumably, Bong Joon-ho,
who also co-wrote the script) are too savvy to believe in the myth of
easy social mobility, at least by legally sanctioned means. They
realize that this situation calls for a full-blown caper, a con job,
an outright heist. Ferreting out the needs and vulnerabilities of the
upper-crust family, Ki-woo finds reasons to introduce his entire
family, under various aliases, into the employ of the Parks,
including his father, his sister (Park So-dam) and mother (Chang
Hyae-jin).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The distinct contrast in living spaces
potentially sets up a didactic clash of Kims vs. Parks as one of good
vs. evil, privileged vs. exploited, but the film offers a much more
nuanced social critique. To achieve their goals in a hardscrabble
world where every winner requires a loser, the Kims engage in
intra-class warfare, sabotaging the Parks' long-time servants,
including a housekeeper (Lee Jung-eun) with both plans and
working-class problems of her own. And the Kims' goal isn't so much
to supplant the Parks, as primarily to install themselves as servants
to the rich. Even the enterprising Kims at their most audacious can
only dream so grandly; they know their place in modern society.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Parks themselves are not malicious,
but mostly oblivious, though that may be even a greater sin in a
nation defined by economic inequity. While the Kims (and the
housekeeper and the chauffeur and virtually everyone else) struggle
for everything, the Parks remain blind to the fact that anyone has to
struggle at all. This makes them perfect marks for the Kims'
improvised schemes, and also leaves the Parks, along with audiences,
completely shocked by the eruption of violence in the third act. Why
would anyone be mad at us?</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film shifts deftly from wry humor
and the general warmth of the Kim family with each other to the
ruthless competition for the scraps left behind by the rich and a
Grand Guignol climax. The cast is uniformly convincing, with longtime
Bong collaborator Song Kang-ho shining as a defeated but not
despondent man with a cheerfully bleak view of a society which offers
little hope for those born without connections. In his view, it's
best not to have a plan at all, because then nothing can go wrong and
“nothing fucking matters.”
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's easy to understand why the Academy
voters were as excited as the Cannes jury members who awarded
“Parasite” the Palme d'Or in 2019. Still, just imagine: “The
Shape of Water,” “Green Book” and “1917” all in a row. The
Academy could have ended the decade in utter disgrace, the same as
America. It would have been glorious. </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxRW5fCSo9TdApn8-djcEuNZYCFRyMXWVQ_GeatF1nNJMR_U8a8fyLKhD2mc-iHZoOuXSQFxQ-8aueWptOMT_oQP5EC3a6-rOOf1bOWxeDWQwivCbk63T8p7XP3ahs7CvbZIGUXLR7LDT/s1600/parasitecover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxRW5fCSo9TdApn8-djcEuNZYCFRyMXWVQ_GeatF1nNJMR_U8a8fyLKhD2mc-iHZoOuXSQFxQ-8aueWptOMT_oQP5EC3a6-rOOf1bOWxeDWQwivCbk63T8p7XP3ahs7CvbZIGUXLR7LDT/w323-h400/parasitecover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><br />
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>The film is presented in its original
2.39:1 aspect ratio. This 1080p transfer looks nothing short of
immaculate, so much so that I can think of nothing to say save that
it surely looks as good as it did in theaters.
<br />
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>Criterion has provided a Dolby Atmos
sound mix (7.1), and I won't claim that I know enough about audio
formats to determine how different this sounds from the more typical
Criterion stereo mix in DTS-HD Master Audio. I also don't own a
system strong enough to showcase a more robust mix like this. I'll
trust other reviewers who are wowed by the depth of this surround
design. Optional English subtitles support the Korean audio.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>Criterion has stacked the extras on
this two-disc Blu-ray release.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The most notable feature is a
black-and-white cut of “Parasite,” included on the second disc.
This cut is identical in every way to the theatrical release of the
film, except that it is rendered in black-and-white. When asked why
he wanted to offer a B&W version even though the film was always
intended to be shot in color, Bong states simply that it was “an
itch I had to scratch,” and a nod to many of the classic films that
fueled his cinephilia. It looks just as sharp in high-def as the
color version on Disc One does.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Other supplemental features are spread
out across both discs.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On Disc One, the film is accompanied by
a new commentary track by Bong and film critic Tony Rayns.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The rest of the features on Disc One
consist of interviews with crew members: Bong Joon-ho (36 min.) in
conversation with critic/translator Darcy Paquet, cinematographer
Hong Kyung-pyo (21 min.), production designer Lee Ha-jun (22 min.),
and editor Yang Jin-mo (15 min.) The interviews touch on a range of
technical subjects, but the picture that emerges of Bong is of a
director who plans everything ahead of time and usually shoots very
closely to his storyboards. The disc also includes two Theatrical
Trailers (4 min. total).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In addition to the B&W cut of the
film, Disc Two includes a conversation between Bong and director Park
Chan-wook (“Oldboy”, etc.) They talk about the emergence of New
Korean Cinema, the film movement they played a major role in. They
discuss the gradual thawing of South Korean censorship beginning
around the early-1990s, which made many more films available to eager
young movie lovers like themselves. VHS and DVD also allowed these
budding filmmakers to watch scenes over and over to study them for
their own work.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">We also get a press conference (28
min.) from the 2019 Cannes Film Festival, where “Parasite” won
the Palme d'Or. This is a panel discussion with Bong and his cast
members.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Criterion has also included a “Lumiere
Master Class” (82 min.) in which Bong is on stage in an event
hosted by French director Bertrand Tavernier, who is a very, very big
fan of Bong. For any audience members who have been shamed for asking
silly questions at post-screening events, please note that the
legendary Tavernier begins by, basically, asking Bong where he gets
his ideas from.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Disc Two closes out with a Trailer (1
min.) and a “Storyboard Comparison” (6 min.) which, as you can
probably guess, provides split-screen comparisons of the original
storyboards to the final scenes from the movie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The fold-out insert booklet features an
essay by film critic Inkoo Kang.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>Did “Parasite” really win the Oscar
this year? This decade-long year? That's not possible.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">With a black-and-white version of the
film plus a ton of extras, “Parasite” fans can't ask for much
more than Criterion has provided with this two-disc set.</p>
<p> </p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-76194686919189208002020-10-18T20:14:00.005-07:002020-10-18T20:14:47.782-07:00The Gunfighter<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY0u1pBv9WMY8QOGx6-C1DUclr5jcuCkK1FCkDm7Af6YjrtrgYJta1lxB-RW5OgI7QzbxKsQgJ4fcWKqDYFYXjMtVgvKVZOkcXaeAVC-cIxcowfM9pQjNiHPbXxbqQf0_ckrb1kqjr8OMj/s1200/gunfightercap1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY0u1pBv9WMY8QOGx6-C1DUclr5jcuCkK1FCkDm7Af6YjrtrgYJta1lxB-RW5OgI7QzbxKsQgJ4fcWKqDYFYXjMtVgvKVZOkcXaeAVC-cIxcowfM9pQjNiHPbXxbqQf0_ckrb1kqjr8OMj/w400-h300/gunfightercap1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b>THE GUNFIGHTER</b> (King, 1950)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Oct 20,2020</p><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Nobody ever tried so hard to get shot
as Eddie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Poor, dumb Eddie (Richard Jaeckel).
Just a kid raised on the thrills of the dime-novel insta-fables of
the American West, and bored with the dusty, manure-drenched reality
of actually living in the American West. When the legendary
gunfighter Jimmy Ringo (Gregory Peck) saunters into the local saloon,
a toothy smile cracks Eddie's face. That's the fastest gun in the
West? The man who's tougher than Wyatt Earp? The killer who's gunned
down fifty men just for looking at him the wrong way?</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“He don't look so tough to me,”
says Eddie before confidently striding up to the bar.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Rest in peace, Eddie. Nobody will
remember you.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jimmy Ringo really didn't have a
choice. Honest. He gave Eddie every chance to walk away with his life
and even his dignity intact, but the kid wanted to make a name for
himself. And he drew first! You all saw it. Sure, but Eddie's
brothers don't care who drew first, so Ringo rides off to the town of
Cayenne where he is greeted with the familiar refrain: “He don't
look so tough to me.” There's always another Eddie.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Director Henry King and star Gregory
Peck had just bombed the hell out of the Nazis in “Twelve O'Clock
High” (1949), and reteamed in “The Gunfighter” (1950) to tear
down the myth of the fearless outlaw. Just 35-years-old, a weary
Jimmy Ringo already buckles under the burden of a lifetime of bad
decisions. He could have chosen love, but he wanted to be the best
and most-feared gunfighter of them all, and so he is. Which means
that every Eddie who wants to be the best gunfighter of them all
needs to go right through him. Preferably with all six shots. (See
also: The “Twilight Zone” episode “A Game of Pool” for a
variation on the same story.)</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ringo is all but resigned to his fate,
but he clings to one tendril of hope in the form of his old flame,
Peggy (Helen Westcott), and their son, who doesn't even know who his
father is. That's the real reason Ringo fled to Cayenne, but to get
to Peggy he first has to get past town marshal Mark Strett (Millard
Mitchell).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Up until this point, Peck has portrayed
Ringo as grim and slouching, a lost soul with no joy, but when he
sees the marshal he breaks out his movie-star smile. Mark and Ringo
used to ride together, and Ringo know this is the one man he can
trust in this fallen world. But the marshal also serves as a reminder
of Ringo's misguided life choices. The reformed Mark has a purpose
now, a community that relies on him. Mark is so at ease with his life
and his home he doesn't even need to wear his guns. Ringo is a living
legend, Mark is a grown man. Millard Mitchell, a reliable character
actor, delivers a charming, confident performance that, at times,
eclipses even Peck's leading man charisma.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film's gunfights are few and barely
glimpsed, over the instant they start, just a ringing shot and a puff
of smoke left behind. King and his creative team, including
cinematographer Arthur C. Miller and the redoubtable editor Barbara
McLean (who receives a lot of attention on this disc's extra
features), are more interested in creating a concrete sense of place
that grounds the legend in reality. Mark repeatedly strides the
length of the main road in Cayenne while Ringo remains trapped in the
saloon, just waiting, constantly checking the clock. Boys crowd in to
get a glimpse of the great outlaw, and the local Church ladies demand
justice, a quick hanging perhaps. The bartender (a then still mostly
unknown Karl Malden) looks forward to his saloon becoming a big
tourist attraction thanks to Ringo. Peggy sees Ringo's inevitable
fate even more clearly than he does.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And, of course, the next Eddie lines up
for his chance to take down Jimmy Ringo. After all, he don't look so
tough.
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypTRHXPfpn5iuSnPlWQYynsXkGspJN43mrYz0nBASV6nJ-W7w16GfafnJbozYQzAtCb0GqNg-jUd8bbecn5lX7CD5IZp4t1Ecbpef_9EfIL2N0QNLg_jWpVn2ACP5RoiTNjyJfPhDxdKX/s1600/gunfightercover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhypTRHXPfpn5iuSnPlWQYynsXkGspJN43mrYz0nBASV6nJ-W7w16GfafnJbozYQzAtCb0GqNg-jUd8bbecn5lX7CD5IZp4t1Ecbpef_9EfIL2N0QNLg_jWpVn2ACP5RoiTNjyJfPhDxdKX/w323-h400/gunfightercover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> </p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>The film is presented in its original
1.33:1 aspect ratio. From the Criterion booklet: “This 4k digital
restoration was supervised by the Twentieth Century Fox Restoration
Department in 2015. A new digital transfer was created from a 35 mm
duplicate negative and restored at Cineric in New York.” This 1080p
transfer presents the black-and-white photography in sharp detail
with a thick grain that lends it an authentic filmic look. Detail is
sharp in motion as well as in static close-ups.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>The linear PCM mono audio mix is crisp
with no evidence of distortion or drop offs. The film only features
music (by composer Alfred Newman) at the beginning and end. Both
sound effects and dialogue are treated well with this mix. Optional
SDH English subtitles support the English audio.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>Criterion has included a healthy
selection of supplemental features on this Blu-ray.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The extras start with an interview
(2020, 23 min.) with filmmaker, writer, and archivist Gina Telaroli
who champions director Henry King, often overlooked because he wasn't
as much of a stylist as more celebrated auteurs. She discusses his
early career as a silent film actor and his transition to directing,
emphasizing his interest in story and location.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Telaroli also discusses the
contributions of editor Barbara McLean, but film historian and author
J.E. Smyth takes a much closer look at McLean's career (2020, 23
min.) McLean received seven Oscar nominations and was the favored
editor of both producer Darryl F. Zanuck and director Henry King.
McLean was so powerful at Twentieth Century Fox she could not only
order re-shoots, but even direct them when needed. This is a
marvelous supplement and I would love to watch a full-length
documentary about McLean. The second half of this feature analyzes
the editing choices in a few scenes from “The Gunfighter.”</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The disc also includes two audio
features. Both compile audio excerpts from interviews conducted by
Thomas R. Stempel as part of the AFI Oral History Collection. From a
1970 interview (33 min.) we get to hear from Barbara McLean about her
career, while a 1971 interview (36 min.) hands the microphone to
director Henry King.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim foldout booklet features an
essay by film critic K. Austin Collins.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>Revisionist Westerns began well before
the 1960s. No single film is the first, but “The Gunfighter” is a
vivid early example of a deceptively simple story that interrogates
and undermines many of the conventions of the genre. With a sharp
transfer and a solid collection of extras, this release makes a fine
addition to the Western corner of the Criterion Collection.
Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956783167516082390.post-86089102922799755072020-10-18T15:33:00.000-07:002020-10-18T15:33:16.417-07:00The Hit<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4HOLK_qE_ul-SKPEgnHL6C2ahfpUv8hrIH6fJRBVBVuPv9aJDUtjkMbWd5CwkjLjY2ytGpMeSsfVuN_TkYbAIq9fwJhiFp-0vKNIqLB9DxbHwnjyxAn3YibO63JnW1ETeqdZieb1L14w/s650/thehitcap1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="650" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4HOLK_qE_ul-SKPEgnHL6C2ahfpUv8hrIH6fJRBVBVuPv9aJDUtjkMbWd5CwkjLjY2ytGpMeSsfVuN_TkYbAIq9fwJhiFp-0vKNIqLB9DxbHwnjyxAn3YibO63JnW1ETeqdZieb1L14w/w400-h225/thehitcap1.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>THE HIT</b> (Frears, 1984)
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release
Date Oct 20, 2020</p><div style="text-align: center;">Review by Christopher S. Long</div><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Willie Parker (Terence Stamp) is a
two-bit hood who sings like a canary to save his own skin. During his
testimony, the “supergrass” (British slang for a snitch) mugs for
his courtroom audience, relishing the brief moment when he actually
matters. He has no idea just how much he matters until the former
compatriots he's just sold out sing him off the stand with a menacing
chorus of “We'll Meet Again,” an absurdist touch rendered no less
absurd for the fact that it really happened to Bertie Smalls, the
crook turned stool pigeon whose story loosely inspired director
Stephen Frears's “The Hit” (1984).</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fast forward ten years and Parker is
living the good life in rural Spain, still under witness protection.
Parker's had time (he has nothing but time) to read and to think. The
thief has turned philosopher, adopting a dispassionate outlook on
life: “We're here. Then we're not here. We're somewhere else.
Maybe.” His detachment serves him well when the day he knew was
coming finally arrives (“Don't know where, don't know when”) and
a group of thugs kidnap him from his home. He resists at first in an
eccentrically staged fight that feels like a but of an homage to
Nicolas Roeg, but once trapped on the roof he shrugs and resigns
himself to his fate.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Parker is handed over to a pair of
thugs, the world-weary Braddock (John Hurt) and rookie smartass Myron
(an impossibly young Tim Roth in his first film role), whose
assignment is to bring Parker back to Paris where his old boss will
execute him. Myron snarls and preens, straining to look as cool and
tough as possible, while the veteran Braddock plays it close to the
vest, his tightly-drawn features revealing little, making his sudden
violent eruptions even more frightening.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Braddock is a consummate professional,
focused solely on the job at hand, but he becomes increasingly
agitated by Parker's impenetrable serenity. This man knows he's going
to die in a few days, so why the hell does he seem to be so happy
about it? The implacable killer has survived many tight spots and
outmuscled plenty of tough guys, but he may not be able to triumph
against the most remorseless foe of all – philosophy. A hired gun
can't maintain his sociopathic edge while contemplating the meaning
of life.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Stephen Frears directed a feature in
1971, but honed his craft in television before returning to the big
screen with “The Hit,” working from a smart script by Peter
Prince. Frears displays an easy command of scale and location,
contrasting numerous tense scenes in cramped cars with the wide-open
beauty of the Spanish countryside. Ramshackle gas stations are filmed
with the same beauty and dynamism as majestic windmills and
waterfalls. The film also cuts away frequently from tight-quarters
action to distant overhead analytical shots (tiny cars kicking up
dust on lonely back roads) that chill the action and refresh the
perspective. Prince's script, meanwhile, imbues each character with
an independent vitality, including young Maggie (Laura del Sol), a
gangster's fiery girlfriend who they pick up along the way. Everyone
may be traveling in the same direction, but they're each on their own
journey.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All of the film's knotty threads and
character arcs converge in one memorable moment. When Parker's true
devotion to his bespoke Zen doctrine is revealed, the irreverent punk
Myron laughs derisively. It's a brilliant bit of acting, and an
efficient expression of all the film's roiling tensions, all its
turbulent crosscurrents swirling together in a short, sharp snort
that says, “Are you fucking kidding me? Did we really come all the
way just for this bullshit?”
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Road movies frequently end up in the
heart of nowhere. Few chart the journey it with the bleak panache of
“The Hit.” </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtyR7DQ4vDkzxCYLhUQq6c6bsiYcRXTSHgWCqh7jDVXji4JyPqqeMQIyHsqqQj2XYwDVVZg4RCNqgyV0cV5I9EgpuURi_JAb0obrtkfCtiylnFVI7X2UWwE5ZnJtT1GAGmabYCEzPS6kq/s1600/thehitcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1288" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgtyR7DQ4vDkzxCYLhUQq6c6bsiYcRXTSHgWCqh7jDVXji4JyPqqeMQIyHsqqQj2XYwDVVZg4RCNqgyV0cV5I9EgpuURi_JAb0obrtkfCtiylnFVI7X2UWwE5ZnJtT1GAGmabYCEzPS6kq/w323-h400/thehitcover.jpg" width="323" /></a></div> <p></p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Video:</b></p>The film is presented in a 1.78:1
aspect ratio. This appears to be a 1080p upgrade of the previous
transfer used by Criterion when they originally released “The Hit”
on DVD in 2009. The color palette is rich and naturalistic and image
resolution is sharp throughout, as is customary with Criterion
high-def transfers.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Audio:</b></p>The linear PCM mono sound mix isn't too
dynamic, but is sharp. The raging title song by Eric Clapton and the
score by Paco de Lucia are both presented strongly here. Optional
English subtitles support the English audio.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Extras:</b></p>Criterion's 2009 DVD release was fairly
sparse on extras, and nothing has been added for this 2020 Blu-ray
upgrade.
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The film is accompanied by a commentary
track featuring Frears, Hurt, Roth, Prince, and editor Mick Audsley.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Aside from a Trailer (3 min.), the only
other extra is an episode of the British talk show “Parkinson
One-to-One” (1988, 37 min.) The entire show is devoted to an
interview with actor Terence Stamp. Stamp only briefly mentions “The
Hit” but discusses his career ranging from his start as a cool '60s
icon to his relative disappearance in the '70s and his return to
Hollywood in “Superman.” This includes a fun anecdote about
Marlon Brando.
</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The slim fold-out insert booklet
features an essay by film critic Graham Fuller.
</p><p>
</p><p>
</p><p style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Final Thoughts:</b></p>“The Hit” was not a hit with
audiences. Frears would have to wait a year for his break-out with
“My Beautiful Laundrette” (1985). It is, however, a splendid
gangster film that rejects any romanticizing of its lowlife
protagonists. The Criterion disc is short on extras, but provides a
quality high-def transfer of a very fine film.
<p>
</p><p> </p>Christopher Longhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05964148369227874063noreply@blogger.com0