The Savant Speaks

I still have images from this film burned into my brain.  Who can forget the phallus with the spiked rotating head, or the girlfriend who is killed by it during an erotic tryst.  So much blood, rendered in black and white. The stop motion animation in the film stays with me to.  

 When the movie was over, I said to my friends, "I think this must be what it's like to be Japanese."

This film did an excellent job of getting you to empathize with the protangonist, so much so that you are willing to watch him ride the same ferry boat over and over again when he detours to china.

I have this sense as well, that something was lacking from this film at least in comparison to Iñárritu's previous little opuses.  Maybe there is nothing lacking.  Maybe these movie is so true to its attempt to convey the disconnect between cultures, language, and lack of language that it cannot be completely understood until we can empathize to some degree with the different cultural and linguistic contexts the characters are in.

Maybe until we've herded sheep in Morocco (or wherever they were) or experienced deafness or been an illegal alien we can't really begin to understand Babel.  

But is that what Iñárritu intended?  Part of me thinks he wanted to portray characters that we all could relate to in some way, despite their and our differences.  I don't think he pulled this off though.

So maybe I am just making excuses for Iñárritu because I don't want to admit that he may have faltered in some way on Babel.  Maybe too much money and big stars was not a good thing.

Maybe.

Ok, yeah, I have actually seen this DVD.  Here's the story:

 

I teach at this little film school in the city I live in, Grand Rapids, Michigan. (It's where Paul Schrader is from, the guy who wrote Taxi Driver and the Last Temptation of Christ adaptation).  At this film school, there is this other teacher, D. Anderson.  D., was at Fry's Electronics in LA this week and he spotted, The 50 Worst Movies Ever Made.  He bought it and brought it home with him.

 

So Today, (wed, April 18) he is telling me about these awesome film history books he found at this book store, and how much these books will help with me with the classes I teach, but he can't remember the names of the books (he is getting kinda old), so that bums me out and I don't really hide very well that I am frustrated that he can't remember and then I feel bad for being dick.  Then, he hands me this DVD.  He says, "I think we can learn from this too."  I am intrigued, so I rip it open and start watching.

 

And it's actually pretty interesting.  It moves along quickly with fairly snappy and appropriately cheesy commentary on each of the 50 films.  Between film segments, there is this purposefully cheesy animation of theatre filled with a booing crowd who throw hotdogs, popcorn, soda and other sundries at the screen in protest of the horror just surveyed.  I would list the films out for you, but why ruin it, eh?

 

But here's the funny thing, in the end, I really want to see some of these movies.  So, I may have to being searching for them on Spout.com.   Maybe, just maybe I will start a group around the films listed on this DVD.  In the meantime, other Spouters should get their hands on the DVD and watch it.

Things got off to a bit of a slow start in this film.  I think I may have even rolled my eyes once early on.  But, I began to fall in love with the characters.  By the end, tear or two sprung forth from my beleaguered eyes.  i liked it.

Jindabyne centers around the marriage of Stewart (Gabriel Byrne) and Claire (Laura Linney). As the film unfolds scene by scene, we discover that Stewart and Claire have unresolved matters in their marriage stemming from Claire's intense postpartum depression after the birth of their son. Claire constantly strives to be the mother she wasn't when her son was born. Stewart finds himself in the middle of his life, wondering where his marriage is and what kind of a man he has become. The film draws us into this domestic life, which seems to be in a kind of stasis.

When Stewart goes away on an annual fishing trip with his friends, however, this stasis ends, bringing their wounds to the forefront. An incident followed by a collective decision by the men ignite a crisis for Stewart and his friends, as well as their wives and girlfriends. Ultimately, all of their secrets and deceptions are brought out into the light, along with a piercing question: What kind of men would make such a decision? For Stewart and Claire, this question forces them to face where they are wounded and decide ultimately what they will do and how they will move forward.

This story unfolds in the Australian outback in a little town called Jindabyne. The locations for this film are both stunning and haunting. Filmed entirely with natural light, the film has a sensibility to it that reminds the viewer of Malick, but what Ray Lawrence, the director, does with the landscape is wholly original. The vastness of the outback, the desolation of it, the beauty of it, guides the characters in a way. This approach casts the landscape as a kind of character all unto itself. Its secret and sacred places try to warn the characters against the tragedy that awaits them. Some of them can sense this, but other cannot because their lives have caused them to dull their sensitivity to the beauty around them and what it wants to tell them.

Each scene of the films unfolds the way it needs to, for how long it needs to. Lawrence doesn't seem to be interested in making sure the audience is "entertained" at all times. Rather, his concern seems to be with the emotional truth of each scene and what that truth means for the characters. Lawrence leads us, and them, towards a conclusion that is utterly profound and moving, while at the same not heavy handed or emotionally manipulative.

One of the highlights of watching this film at Telluride was the presence of lead actress, Laura Linney. After the film was screened she answered questions about how it was made and how she created her character, Claire. One of the most interesting things she had to say involved the director's decision to only use natural light for the film. He made this choice, she explained, so that their performances could shine through and be the centerpiece of the story. This decision, while risky, imbued the film with beauty and a sensibility that is not often seen in the cinema.

Me and You and Everyone We Know

I watched Me and You and Everyone We Know by Miranda July last night.  I have to say it was about what I would expect from the likes of a quirky performance artist like July.  The film is essentially a series of concepts and images strung together on a razor thin narrative that just barely justifies this being a feature length film and not an extended experimental piece.   So the story is the not the greatest thing or the most original thing, but it affords July a place to hang the s**t that’s in her head.  S**t like a 7 year old boy instant messaging an anonymous woman online who is touching herself because he is telling her that he wants to do a “poop” exchange with her. 

“Back and forth...back and forth”

Or S**t like two 16 year old girls who flirt with their middle aged neighbor who then in turn posts graphic signs in his window, describing what he would like to do with them, if only they were 18.   This S**t leads to the teenage girls fellating a teenage boy (brother of the poop exchange boy) so he can tell them which is better at giving head - all this in preparation for what girls believe will be their eventual 3-way with the aforementioned middle aged neighbor. 

“I always thought my first time would be with someone I cared about, but this way will be better because if we do something wrong, it wont matter.”

But then there are some truly beautiful moments.  Like the moment when a goldfish in a clear plastic bag is left atop a big SUV as it speeds down the highway. Eventually the bag flies forward and lands on the trunk of a car in front of the SUV.  This allows the little girl riding in the SUV to watch as the bag, containing the fish, eventually falls to the ground. 

“We should say a few words...”

Possibly the most bizarre and magical image of the film is when the quirky shoe salesman, Richard (John Hawkes) decides to set his hand on fire with lighter fluid as a kind of ceremony to commemorate the beginning of the his separation from his wife.  He gleefully performs this immolation in front of this two sons - poop exchange boy and double fellatio teen.

“It seemed like a good idea....but then it hurt...so it was OK”

My personal favorite image/concept/moment was the poop exchange boys inquiry about this odd, metallic tapping early in the morning outside his dad’s apartment.  When he first asks, his mother tells him that it’s the street lights turning off--street lights that are controlled by a big computer somewhere in the city.  (HERE comes a spoiler) At the end, poop exchange boy discovers the metallic tapping is man, tapping a quarter on the bust stop sign while he waits for bus.  “What are you doing?” poop exchange boy asks.  “Just passing the time” answers the man.  And with that the bus pulls up, all bathed in the light of early morning sign.  The man hands the quarter to poop exchange boy and the movie ends. 

So I get the Miranda July understands how the cinema works, how it can aid you in the creation of beautiful images.  I think she has a great cinematic sensibility.  But where she falls short is the story.  But what can I expect from a performance artist?  Her craft is one the thrives on high concepts and spectacle.  Any story that makes its way into her work is just a justification for another bizarre image or concept.  In other words, beautiful concepts and images alone, do not a great film make.