Some good ones mentioned here since my last contribution, though I can't say I share the same enthusiasm for Polanski's Chinatown. I tend to think Repulsion is better, or at least his most disturbing, with the possible exception of his underrated Bitter Moon. (I'm somewhat ashamed to confess that I've yet to see Rosemary's Baby.) Catherine Deneuve's turn as a sexually repressed ingenue whose madness slowly manifests itself is not to be missed. (It probably wasn't by Bunuel, who cast her in his equally discomfiting Belle du jour.)
Speaking of whom I saw Polanski's Tess recently, based on Hardy's eponymous novel. Rather tame, partly the director's fault but due in large part to Nastassja Kinski who simply wasn't ready for the title role (a far cry from her mature self who turns in a much more successful performance in Wenders' Paris, Texas). Both the novel and the film attempt to portray a girl on the cusp of womanhood who is not only oppressed by social conventions and self-centered men but also by her own passions and impulses, but Kinski's heroine comes across as a cardboard figure completely lacking in the latter and only occasionally affected by the former. Of course Colin MacCabe in his Criterion liner notes argues that the movie is "stronger" than the source. Nice try, but cinematic adaptations of literary classics that merit such a bold comparison are exceedingly rare and this ain't one of them.
A couple more recent viewings:
- Lars and the Real Girl (2007) by Craig Gillespie. Its premise is so outrageous and cringe-inducing I won't spoil it here (without it the movie simply falls apart), and I suppose there's something laudatory about a film that asks us to look willful ignorance directly in the eye rather than cloak it in sugary nostalgia and disingenuous disinterestedness a la Forrest Gump, but much of it will depend on your willingness to suspend belief and picture the improbable in probable terms. It didn't quite do it for me, though the ignorance on display here is of a much gentler kind and Ryan Gosling is excellent as the mentally and emotionally impoverished title character.
- The 47 Ronin (1941/42) by Mizoguchi. All the Mizoguchi trademarks are here: masterful long takes, lack of close-ups, righteous condemnation coupled with noble sacrifice (this being a Mizoguchi film a female character often absent from the story joins in the bloodbath). Not on par with Ugetsu, let alone Sansho the Bailiff and The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums, but compare this to the infantile revenge fantasies of Tarantino that serve as "rewritten history" these days and you'll see that "oldies but goodies" isn't always an idle cliche.
And now onto particular posts....
The Earrings of Madame de ... - (1953). Charles Boyer, Danielle Darrieux and Vittorio De Sica. Directed by Max Ophüls.
One of my desert-island movies. Not the most profound plot, but as I like to say, perhaps the best-looking couple in cinema and also the best line in movie history ("Our marriage is superficially superficial") which manages to amuse, admonish and aggrieve at the same time. Probably second only to Children of Paradise among my French favorites (though Renoir's The Golden Coach comes close). Hope you enjoyed it.
A Room With a View - 1985. Ivory/Merchant production based on E M Forster's 1908 novel. Judy Dench, Maggie Smith, DDL.
Romantic drama spread across Florence and London. Eight Oscar nominations, won 3.
Helena Bonham Carter plays a young girl in a repressive environment (Maggie Smith always watching over her and controlling her), falling in love with another English boy in Florence.
Like most Merchant-Ivory productions this one doesn't really rise above Masterpiece Theatre as a period piece. Not even the stellar cast can save it from mediocrity.
The Spirit of the Beehive (1973) - Spanish film, set in 1940, just after the civil war. Delectable.
Like I said on the Kubrick thread, when it comes to movies about children only Hallstrom's My Life as a Dog is its true rival.
Sentinel, what did you think of The Earrings of? Ophuls made some great ones.
He sure did. Heck, I'm even partial to his much-maligned valedictory Lola Montes, which admittedly is a mess but a fascinating mess still and also a most admirable way to bow out. There aren't many instances of auteurs in their last days refusing to slow down and instead putting together what may well be their most ambitious and/or uncompromising work yet. Off the top of my head I can only think of Vigo's L'Atalante, Eisenstein's Ivan the Terrible, Part II (the only movie of his I care for, but also one of my faves), Bresson's L'Argent and Satoshi Kon's Paprika.