Frem Here To Awesome Festival
Advertisement

ShaunHuston filmblog

  • The Tracey Fragments

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful. [What do you think?]
    Under discussion:

    The Tracey Fragments is a movie that plays with your mind, but not for common, plot-driven reasons. Rather, director Bruce McDonald, writer Maureen Medved, and editors Gareth Scales and Jeremy Munce, blur the lines between forms of reality – interior/exterior, perceived/objective – not to misdirect or form a puzzle, but to pull the audience into the world of the film's teen protagonist, Tracey Berkowitz (Ellen Page).

    I have no doubt that others in the overstuffed Salem Cinema auditorium last weekend would have a different a take on the film, that there is a thread of external/objective reality running through the narrative. And maybe there is. However, I don't think that the filmmakers provide any grounds upon which to establish which images are meant to signify, for certain, some bedrock reality and which represent Tracey's subjective experience of the world.

    The Tracey Fragments visualizes its title by showing its (non-linear) narrative in split screen and “picture-in-picture” images. Sometimes the audience is shown the same scene from different angles, both simultaneously and synchronically, and sometimes the audience is provided with images from different scenes (childhood memories alongside present-day action, for example). Perhaps most interestingly are the singular, but split, images, that is, different parts of the screen are given their own frame, but within each frame is some piece of the same shot, rather than a distinct view. There are images which are clearly plucked from Tracey's memories or fantasy life. There are also those that seem like composites of her exterior and interior realities. Her therapy visits to Dr. Heker (Julian Richings) are cases in point.

    Taken separately, one could write off Heker's apparent cross-dressing (male dressing as female) or pure white office, as quirky affectations in a film already populated with interesting and odd people, but together they create a mise-en-scène too surreal to be taken as objective. At the same time, it seems highly likely that Tracey is, in fact, in therapy. While no single image seems grounded in certainty, that something bad happened to Tracey's younger brother, Sonny (Zie Souwand), and she feels culpable somehow, are clearly and consistently shown to be the sparks for the journey/ordeal she undergoes.

    One scene in particular makes me doubt the “reality” of anything the audience sees. We see Tracey in a medium long shot, after having apparently run away from home, moving to a phone booth. In close-up, she dials. The screen splits and we see her mom (Erin McMurtry) answer the phone. She listens, but doesn't speak as Tracey says, “Mom? Mom?” The images go from split screen to p.i.p, one and then the other assuming the position of the dominant view. They hang up. Tracey loses it.

    The scene seems mundane and real enough, but the shots of her mother are the only ones in the whole film where Tracey is absent (to truly confirm this, I would have to see the movie again, but I think I am correct in asserting that Tracey is present, in one way or another, in every other shot). This leads me to think that the conversation, however objective it appears to be, is, in some part, imagined by Tracey. Maybe she made the phone call, and maybe she didn't. Maybe she dialed home and dad (Ari Cohen) actually answered. Maybe she blocked out whoever answered the phone. Maybe no one answered. Maybe she dialed up the time. The world of the film, that is, Tracey's world, is slippery and polysemic, meaning that there is always more than one possible meaning or interpretation to any shot. While this is, at some level, true of all films, in The Tracey Fragments the multiplicity of possible meanings, rather than cultivation of preferred meanings, is consistently foregrounded.

    There are brief moments where the screen holds a single, undivided shot. Maybe these are objective, exterior reality, or moments of clarity for Tracey, but I think that that singularity is too easy to grab onto. In the context of the film, I can only see them as additional fragments. Perhaps larger and more occupying than others, but still just fragments. A piece of some lived/perceived reality, but not the undivided whole.

    The Tracey Fragments will likely leave some feeling thankful that they are not screwed up like Page's heroine, that they, unlike her, have a firm grasp on the world. Others, myself included, will leave thinking how close our own experiences of the world are to Tracey's, particularly as visualized by McDonald and Company. Tracey's feelings of fragmentation, of being split into multiple selves and living in different realities, may be more intense and debilitating than it is for most, but how many of us truly live lives where perception, thought, and external reality are in perfect alignment? Not many, and, compared to Tracey, we are, perhaps, simply better at maintaining the illusion of coherence than we are truly free of our own splitscreens and pictures-in-pictures.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Salem Film Festival: The Tracey Fragments forthcoming

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Roadkill  (1989)

    Hard Core Logo  (1996)

    Anne-Marie and I had Saturday passes to the Salem Film Festival. I was motivated to buy the passes so we would be sure to see The Tracey Fragments, the latest from director Bruce MacDonald (Roadkill, Hard Core Logo), and starring Ellen Page. It was a full house and a truly interesting film. As much as Canadians may mourn the lack of commercial traction for their indigenous films, especially English-Canadian film, The Tracey Fragments demonstrates why the world is better when artists feel free to experiment. A full review by next weekend. I promise.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Robson Arms, season 2 at PopMatters

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    I have a review of the Robson Arms, season 2 DVD set up at PopMatters.

    Read the review.
    PopMatters home.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Girls Rock!

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Girls Rock!  (2006)

    Girls Rock! is an involving, alternately depressing and inspiring, documentary about the Portland, Oregon-based Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Girls. If the film makes anything clear, it's this: as much as opportunity and choice have been expanded by and for girls and women, the world is still basically a boys club, making women-controlled spaces and gatherings like the camp absolutely necessary for girls to assert ownership over their identities and to develop tools and skills for approaching the world with confidence and a sense of self.

    Indeed, as represented in the film, the camp experience is as much about catharsis, and even therapy, as it is about rock. Besides the playing of music, the forming of week-long bands, and song writing, the curriculum includes a self-defense class, opportunities to talk about body image, and exercises for gaining confidence for self-expression.

    Looking at that list of activities, it would be easy to see the “rock 'n' roll” and “for girls” parts of the camp as being only incidentally related, but filmmakers Arne Johnson and Shane King tie these pieces together with multimedia digressions, developed with animator and motion graphics artist, Liz Canning, covering issues such as adolescent media consumption, research on girls' self-image, and the traditional place of women in rock, which is to say, as sexualized eye candy for male fans and sexual prizes for male performers.

    The first such side note goes into the history of the camp. Though abrupt and cursory, this first digression roots the camp in the legacy of 1990s Northwest bands like Bikini Kill and Sleater-Kinney and the broader Riot Grrrl movement. The film represents this movement as having been hijacked by corporate-manufactured pop tarts like Britney Spears, figures who have been used to domesticate girl power and reinscribe it for heterosexual male desire and fantasy.

    The film, perhaps unfairly, makes Britney into a central argument for why the camp is vitally necessary. Ultimately, the brief glimpse of a male corporate suit waving dollars around tells more of the underlying story than the more numerous images of Spears bopping around like a naughty school girl. This is important, I think, because as Anne-Marie put it, “So, is the conclusion here that all girls in America are special needs kids?” In a different life, Britney could easily have been one of the featured girls in the film, rather than its straw-villain.

    One of King and Johnson's most difficult jobs must have been choosing subjects to focus on. They chose a group of four: Laura, a fifteen year old Korean adoptee from Oklahoma City; Misty, a seventeen old from Beaverton who has lived most of her life in institutional settings; Amelia, an eight year old with divorced parents and a “funny brain;” and Palace (yes, really), a seven year old with a single mom and brother with Down syndrome (I assume these two younger kids are from Portland).

    While it isn't clear to what extent any of these girls have or will carry on with their music beyond camp, all of them clearly benefited from having gone, even if it is just this once. Learning how to work with others, finding friends and self-satisfaction from learning and creating, experiencing solidarity with other girls and women, grabbing opportunities for self-expression without immediate censure, these are all ways in which the camp is a positive experience for the quartet of kids at the center of Girls Rock! While different viewers will undoubtedly come away with their own favorites, each girl is compelling in her own way and is represented with thought and sensitivity (For myself, I was consistently fascinated by Laura, a great kid with issues of self-worth that are both frustrating and all too easy to understand).

    The adult voices include camp leaders, teachers, and “band managers,” as well as a parents, notably Palace's mom.

    Why Palace's mother gets most of the screen time devoted to the girls' parents is not entirely clear, but the time spent with her, and at the family home, does offer some extra insight into what seems to be an angry little kid. Palace has clearly had to take on some of the jobs that would normally fall on a second adult. I don't think that I or the filmmakers are being unfair to mom in this case, she seems loving and supportive, but also stressed. We simply can't control everything that happens to us or our children, but that fact doesn't save us or them from consequences. No amount of love and concern can correct for an adult looking to their seven year old kid to be their “rock” in dealing with adult responsibilities.

    Of course, these, and the challenges faced by the other girls, would be difficult regardless of gender. However, as the movie points out, girls demonstrably face added problems, particularly in the areas of self-image and esteem, that are directly tied to social constructions of sex and gender.

    Such talk is fuel for the “War against Boys” crowd, who will insist that the world has turned around, and that girls are the privileged set, while boys languish. The kernel of truth in such claims is that little attention has been paid to boys as boys. Boys and men have long benefited from being treated as the “norm,” as simply “people,” while girls and women have occupied the suppressed, marked category within the species. In this context, there is no comparable need for a Rock 'n' Roll Camp for Boys because, quite simply, Rock 'n' Roll is already for boys. In treating males as the human norm, relative little attention is paid to social norms of masculinity as compared to femininity. What it means to be a man has long been taken for granted. Historically, it is women, who are asked to change, to sublimate their own desires and identities, and mostly to enable men in their life choices. Feminism and the women's movement may have unsettled this arrangement, but it has hardly reversed it (just witness, for example, the media manufactured “mommy wars”; and for a more detailed deconstruction of the “war against boys” see Michael Kimmel's 2006 essay in Dissent).

    One of Anne-Marie's other observations after Girls Rock! was to note that, even though most of the girls had clearly spent much time working out their stage look for the camp-ending concert, none chose to adopt the kind of highly sexualized, soft core pose more typically assigned to women in rock (or, to use her exact words, “None chose to skank themselves out”). It's hard to imagine that this is unrelated to the fact that their primary audience here is other girls, and not a mixed group of peers including boys, or, even, adults, who are, after all, the primary carriers of social expectations for kids.

    I don't want my reading of the movie to give the impression that Girls Rock! is a dry polemic. Far from it. While clearly polemical, it is, more than anything, infused with the complexities, fun, and irrepressible spirit of its subject.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • On Vox: Fun, very short video on lo-fi cinema

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    If you're a Dazed and Confused (1993) fan, I suspect you'll like my newest post to lo-fi cinema. And even if you're not, it's an interesting, if minor, experiment with the pliability of digital media; I made the video from digital still photos taken of a TV broadcast of the movie on Encore. If nothing else, it's a short look.

    Watch the Flash version.
    Watch the Quicktime version.

    Originally posted on shaunhuston.vox.com


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Well written and thoughtful piece on Anthony Minghella

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    I was not moved myself to write about Anthony Minghella following his shocking and tragic death, but if i had been, I'd like to think that I would have written something as pitch perfect as this piece by Asad Raza on 3 Quarks Daily. Minghella isn't one of my favorite filmmakers, but we do own The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) and I can certainly appreciate his other films, including The English Patient (1996), a movie that has been subject to far too much post-hoc revisionist criticism, especially after that Seinfeld episode.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Geography and film class

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    It's Spring "Break" for the Oregon University System this week, which mostly means faculty get a few days to prep for their Spring term courses. To that end, I have established a list of the films I'll be screening in my Geography and Film class on Spout. I choose a different theme each year, and this year the theme is "immigration and the experience of place."

    My interest here is in how filmmakers have represented the experiences of immigrants in different times and places and the ways in which immigrants and immigration contribute to place-making. Even though I teach film within a social science, I do not use movies simply to illustrate social themes. I also endeavor to teach students film theory and criticism. My text of choice is James Monaco's How to Read a Film. Monaco's focus on semiotics works well in a social science context as it raises questions about film practice and social contexts.

    Monaco devotes an entire, extended chapter to semiotics, which I cut up into small pieces for students. Each term I make more or less use of other chapters depending on the individual films I've selected and what the theme is. This term some of the films, The Godfather, part II, for example, are ways of discussing issues like the relationship of films to novels and the role of music.

    In choosing what to screen, I had a number of criteria in mind. I wanted to provide students with a diversity of stories and representations of immigrants in the U.S. At the same time, I wanted to emphasize the diversity of contemporary experiences, although not to the exclusion of historical examples. These two choices are motivated by the tendency in U.S. politics and in the mainstream media to treat immigration as purely a matter of Mexicans streaming across the border, and to treat immigration from places other than Mexico as part of the distant past somehow. In choosing Lone Star as the primary film for discussing the U.S. and Mexico, I want to draw attention to the longstanding nature of that particular "mobility." I also selected a range of films set in Europe to get students thinking about immigration in a wider context and to guard against the idea that only the U.S. is somehow unique in its attraction as a destination state.

    I am using Doreen Massey's essay on "A global sense of place" to frame our discussions, which, as I note here, is available free online in an archive of Marxism Today. I've also selected a variety of background readings on specific immigrant populations and patterns of immigration, and some articles that address theoretical issues related to transnationality, mobility, and globalization.

    In the past I've relied on introductory lectures to provide the geographical grounding for the term, and I'm still going to do this, but this will be the first time that I will have a consistent textual reference to use. I plan on using class time on day one, we meet once a week, to do a collective reading of Massey's essay.

    I also look forward to this class with a sense of optimism and excitement. Sometimes that carries through the term, and sometimes it doesn't. Usually I tip the scales in favor of the film studies aspect of the class. This year I'm going to be asking students to do some heavier lifting on the geographic side as well. I can only hope that my currently fairly small group will respond well to this challenge.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Gattaca review at PopMatters

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Gattaca  (1997)

    I have a review of the Gattaca (1997) Special Edition DVD up at PopMatters.

    Read the review.
    PopMatters home.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • New documentary review at PopMatters

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]

    I have a review of A Hundred Dollars and a T-Shirt, a documentary about zines and Pacific Northwest zine culture, up at PopMatters.

    PopMatters home.
    Direct link to review.


  • The egalitarian Oscars

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    As I indicated in my comment to Anne-Marie's pre-Oscars post, this year wasn't one where I felt a strong rooting interest in the awards. In part, this is because the best film I saw in the Oscar year, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, was barely noted in the nominations. But also I think that this year's slate of nominees, particularly in the ???big??? categories, was eminently reasonable, if not exceptional, for its recognition of works with real artistic merit.

    Which is not to suggest that the Academy got the year exactly ???right,??? see above, for example, but it is worth remembering that the Oscars are the Industry's awards. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences isn't a critic's circle, or the staff for a film publication or website, and it certainly isn't an idiosyncratic collective of cinephiles. On the other hand, it isn't just the box office top ten, either. The nominations always reflect the tension between art and commerce that runs through Hollywood writ large. So, No Country for Old Men can have a big night in spite of not making anyone rich, but Jesse James, like Children of Men in 2007, was pretty well doomed the moment its studio decided not to promote it. I don't think that it's coincidental that the most notable controversies about this year's nominations were in the documentary feature and foreign-language categories, both of which are relatively marginal in commercial terms.

    My overall impression of this year's awards is that they were defined by an almost improbable ???fairness.??? With the exception of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and Jesse James, every film with multiple nominations that included at least one shot at a high profile statue, came away with hardware. Not always in a marquee category, but something is certainly better than nothing (and, indeed, I think that Diving Bell and Jesse James were likely sunk for only having nominations in late-in-the-evening and valued-by-the-public type categories).

    The biggest surprise of the evening was Tilda Swinton 's Best Supporting Actress trophy. Not at all because she isn't good, on the contrary, see what I wrote about her performance for PopMatters, but because there was no indication that this award would land in her hands. Before the SAGs, it seemed like Amy Ryan, who I also wrote about for PM, or Cate Blanchett were the only real contenders. After the SAGs, Ruby Dee seemed like the dark horse. Swinton's award is exactly the kind of surprise that doesn't happen at the Oscars. In year's past, a win like this would have been a harbinger that a given film was going to have a big night, see Juliette Binoche, but Swinton's honor was the extent of Michael Clayton's wins.

    Like many, I was probably most happy with Glen Hansard's and Marketa Irglova's Best Song win for ???Falling Slowly??? (and I can't say enough about Jon Stewart's class in using his role as host to give Irglova a chance to say something on stage after she was unceremoniously drowned out by music, and this after John Travolta's pre-award speech actually seemed to capture why the song should win). This category is often dismal, a virtual lock for Disney in many years, and, if not, then likely some drivel played over the closing credits of some blockbuster. This year the Academy awarded a song that, quite literally, captures the heart-and-soul of a beautiful little film whose makers likely had no thoughts of Oscar until they were nominated.

    The recognition for Once, in the only category in which it appeared, leads to me to believe that the sharing of the wealth that happened last night came from an artistically honest place, that Oscar voters looked at their ballots, saw a lot of deserving films and gave some real thought as to what made each of those films worthwhile, and made their selections accordingly. Anyhow, that's what I prefer to believe after a more or less satisfying evening.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • There Will Be Blood

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    The second act of There Will Be Blood begins with a wide shot of train tracks heading off into the distance. It's a classic Western image. But one that's disturbed by a slight movement and a chugging sound from along the right side of tracks. A small car carrying Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis) and H.W. Plainview (Dillon Freasier) comes into view. The shot is a perfect metaphor for America's shift from steam power to the internal combustion engine, and Daniel Plainview's role in bringing that change into being. It is also indicative of the film's impeccable artistry.

    There Will Be Blood is both in the mold of a classic Hollywood epic, full of big people doing big things in a big land, and a risky independent work that is undoubtedly challenging audiences hoping to get a look at one of the leading contenders for multiple Oscars. Above all, it is a true collaboration between its makers on both sides of the camera.

    I just saw Daniel Day-Lewis at the Screen Actors Guild Awards, and he looked so pale and gaunt. Daniel Plainview, on the other hand, is a ruddy, beefy bull of a man. It's hard to imagine that the two are built on the same frame. Day-Lewis is, perhaps, the most skilled physical actor I've ever seen. In There Will Be Blood he not only transforms his appearance so as to be barely recognizable, but has to carry a leg injury the entire film, subtly worsening its effect on his movement as Plainview grows older. In the movie's opening sequence, he has the air knocked out of him after falling into a hole. My chest immediately tightened up as I saw him gasping for breath.

    The challenge of taking on the role of antagonist to Day-Lewis' Plainview fell to Paul Dano as would-be prophet Eli Sunday. Dano is, I think, equal to Day-Lewis in his commitment to his character, but both actor and part are noticeably lesser presences. On the one hand, this makes the film's final scene an anti-climactic. On the other hand, I think that this is a deliberate choice on the part of Paul Thomas Anderson. Eli is meant to be a lesser man, a charlatan grasping for a greatness he knows he doesn't have. Plainview may be willing to fill people's ears with sweet nothings to further his business, but at no point does he lie about what he can deliver when it comes to developing oil. If I had any doubts about Eli's pitiable emptiness, they were erased when he declared Daniel to be a sinner because he had ???lusted after women.??? One reason that so many seem to wonder after H.W.'s mother must be that Daniel seems positively asexual. This imbalance between protagonist and antagonist is one notable risk that Anderson takes. Another is making his antagonist a misanthrope and, eventually, a monster (something ably signified by the film's title and its gothic, old English-styled font).

    If you begin to feel There Will Be Blood's length, it is likely due to the fact that it becomes increasingly difficult to sit and watch Daniel Plainview. First his son and then, briefly, ???brother??? Henry (Kevin J. O'Connor) provide Daniel with his links to the rest of humanity. As he loses or cuts away those links, his distance from others grows into full-blown hatred. Anderson and Day-Lewis take the frontiersman's typical unease with civilization, and civilization's unease with the frontiersman, and push it to a new level of mutual alienation. One of Daniel Plainview's unique qualities as a character is how he starts out as something of a classic American hero, taciturn, able to walk in society but without really trusting it, creating wealth from the sweat of his own brow, and then gets turned into a villain, full of bile, bitterness, and violence. This is redemption in reverse.

    Johnny Greenwood's discordant score is another risky and challenging element of the film. Like Plainview himself, it is effective without being likable.

    More subtle, but no less interesting, is Roger Elswit's photography. There Will Be Blood is shot in cool tones, an unusual choice for a movie where the characters spend hours working in the desert heat. However, it helps to punctuate Daniel's cold and calculating nature. The scene where he confesses his hatred for humanity to Henry is perfectly lit, bringing out both the fire and the ice in Daniel's soul.

    Say what you will about the Oscars, in the case of There Will Be Blood, they are doing at least one thing that they should do, which is to draw attention to a worthy film that might otherwise only find a limited audience.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • The Savages

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    The Savages  (2007)

    The good in The Savages has, at this point, been well and duly noted elsewhere. Philip Seymour Hoffman and Laura Linney are utterly convincing as siblings Jon and Wendy Savage. Watching them together is certainly worth the price of admission. Tamara Jenkins' script is refreshingly authentic and low-key in its treatment of big issues ??? family, death ??? although it suffers from a few clunky moments where cheap laughs are bought at the expense of emotional insight. I was not, however, so blinded by the film's strengths that I was able to ignore otherwise sloppy craft behind the camera.

    When Philip Bosco's Lenny Savage first appears on screen I was stunned to see a microphone bobbing around at the top of the frame. After my momentary surprise, I thought, ???Well, sometimes you just have to go with the best take for the performance, I guess.??? But, then it kept happening. At one point, you can even see the boom pole as it is positioned from the right of the screen.

    I've tried to come up with some reason why this may have been intentional, and particularly so after learning that writer-director Tamara Jenkins has a few shorts and the perfectly respectable Slums of Beverly Hills (1998) to her credit.

    The obvious possibility coming out of The Savages is that the appearance of the mic is a Brechtian device, intended to draw attention to the film as a film. However, if that is the reason, it does not seem to have worked very well. The audience at Salem Cinema seemed pretty well engaged with their emotions, and the keywords for critics appear to be ???naturalistic??? and ???emotionally real.??? I found the microphone to be more a distraction than a provocation. And while I'm no expert in theories of drama, I'm fairly certain that randomly dropping the mic into the frame in an otherwise realist film is not enough by itself to ???distance??? the audience from their emotional reactions to the characters and their stories.

    In addition, the photography is best described as flat (it seemed very much like The Savages was shot on digital video, a medium which does tend to flatten an image if you don't work at creating a sense of depth or richness). There are a couple of nicely composed images, a moving overhead shot of Jon and Wendy napping on the same bed, a long shot of Wendy standing alone in front of a colorful theater storefront, but the film is knitted together by oddly framed and forgettable shots of the winter landscape. Perhaps these images are intended to prompt viewers to mediate on the end of life, but they're far too casually composed to achieve such an end.

    Similarly, the editing is, strangely, both challenging and banal. At the beginning, risks are taken. One sequence, for example, cuts from Jon on the phone with Wendy to a plane in the air to Jon in an airport terminal without any information as to how he got there, if he's coming or going, or where he is. Typically, the audience would be provided visual and aural cues regarding those pieces of the narrative. Here the film invites a sense of disorientation and asks the audience to catch up without being fed information in a linear sequence. Eventually, though, the movie settles into a conventional rhythm, forgoing further demands on viewers.

    Rough edges, in and of themselves, are not a problem for me. If they were, I could hardly teach and write about Canadian film and television as I do. I take great pleasure in seeing filmmakers play with and subvert conventional norms. But such choices are best made with intelligence and purpose, or at least verve. The Savages just looks and feels sloppy. The actors, and, ironically enough, Jenkins' own script, deserved better.

     Post-Script:

    On my home blog - link below - a friend and reader informed me that the mic issue was not a problem of the filmmakers, but  the projectionist. I am somewhat embarassed that this possibility hadn't occurred to me, and now I feel a little bad for critiquing Tamara Jenkins' direction on this score. I do, however, stand by the basic argument of the review - the movie is not as thoughtfully made as it could or should have been. I would also add that, given the general lack of professional projectionists in the world, as a director I would hardly want to be at the mercy of the untrained seventeen year olds who staff local theaters. Aside from keeping mics and other equipment securely off camera, I understand that you can guide or force the hand of the projectionist by blacking out the "extraneous" area of the frame.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Review of Criterion DVD of Drunken Angel

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Drunken Angel  (1948)

    “National cinemas” is a central concept in film studies. At a broad level, it is a useful and effective device for discussing differences between groups of films made in particular times and places. Theoretically, it is given weight by the role that national states have played in developing cinematic traditions and movie industries in many parts of the world. However, like many frameworks for generalization, the idea of national cinemas starts to fray at the edges the closer one looks at individual films and filmmakers. The work of Japanese writer-director Akira Kurosawa is a strong case in point.

    On the one hand, it is easy to code Kurosawa’s films as “Japanese”. His best known works are historical period pieces redolent with characters and landscapes that appear to be so very culturally and geographically specific: samurai, Buddhist temples, light dappled forests. So, too, with recurring themes: honor, duty, fealty.

    On the other hand, beneath the surface, it is possible to see Kurosawa drawing from a cultural heritage that is more global than national. He adapted and borrowed from various “Western” literary and cinematic figures, including William Shakespeare, John Ford, and Dashiell Hammett. From the other side, his works have inspired and been adapted by “Western” filmmakers such as Sergio Leone, Sam Peckinpah, and George Lucas, as well as influencing Hong Kong action cinema. Kurosawa’s Drunken Angel, recently released in a new DVD version by the Criterion Collection, highlights the blurriness of the boundaries between national cinemas.

    Initially released in 1948, Drunken Angel is set in a Tokyo neighborhood immediately after World War II. The central feature of this district is a sump or bog. Bubbly, murky, full of waste and bacteria, the sump is a powerful signifier for the neighborhood as a whole as its residents struggle to survive against the challenges of resource shortages, disease, and domination by organized crime. As the central character, Dr. Sanada (Takashi Shimura), tells his gangster patient, Matsunaga (Toshiro Mifune), the bog represents all of the “scum” surrounding the young, TB-ridden yakuza, holding him down and keeping him from healing. Sanada’s fight to get Matsunaga to adequately care for himself, both in terms of his illness and the way he lives, drives the film’s narrative.

    The dramatic tension rises palpably with the arrival of Okada (Reizaburo Yamamoto), formerly in charge of the neighborhood now managed by Matsunaga. Okada’s return also poses a threat to the doctor’s female assistant, Miyo (Chieko Nakakita), who had some kind of unspecified, but clearly abusive, relationship with the older gangster before he was sent to prison. The movie culminates in a showdown between the two yakuza.

    As noted by more than one of the contributors to the supplemental features included with the new disc, and notably by Kurosawa himself, Drunken Angel is often cited as the writer-director’s “first film”. This is not a literal statement, Kurosawa had already directed some seven features before Drunken Angel, but a figurative one, implying that it is the first film over which Kurosawa believed he had true authorship. And, indeed, the movie exhibits a number of qualities typical of his subsequent work.

    There are, initially, the flawed protagonists of Drunken Angel. The title, in fact, refers to the doctor, who is an unapologetic alcoholic. His work in a down trodden part of the city is presented as the result of both an instinct towards serving the poor and the marginal and the good doctor’s alcoholism. Unsurprisingly, Matsunaga is a conflicted and conflicting character. Even his final decision to throw himself to the wolves can be read more than one way, as equally noble and ignoble.

    Complicated heroes and deeply flawed central characters populate virtually all of Kurosawa’s later films, and particularly touchstone works like Rashomon (1950), The Seven Samurai (1954), Yojimbo (1961), and Ran (1985). Drunken Angel also shares with these films, Rashomon excepted, implacable, far less ambiguous villains for its flawed protagonists to face.

    Throughout the film, Kurosawa, photographer Takeo Ito, and art director Takashi Matsuyama play with light and shadow. Characters continually move into one and out of the other, and, as in Sanada’s and Matsunaga’s first scene together, are sometimes bisected by light and dark. The careful use of light and shadow to signify qualities and complexities of character, and moral choices, is a persistent visual trope in Kurosawa’s work, one that also contributes to the distinctive look and feel of his films. Indeed, his movies often seem to be worlds unto themselves, and this is no less true of the gritty, contemporary Drunken Angel than it is of the fairy tale-like The Hidden Fortress (1958).

    The Hollywood influence on Kurosawa is evident in Drunken Angel on a number of levels, including the costumes, especially the zoot-suited gangsters, the noirish urban setting, and the inclusion of musical production numbers. Indeed, like all Hollywood gangsters, the yakuza in Drunken Angel hang out in a dance hall-****-night club, the perfect setting for breaking out into song and dance.

    The carefully selected and produced extra features included with the new Criterion Collection DVD all intelligently locate the film within its time and place and in the context of Kurosawa’s filmography. The disc includes a booklet featuring an essay by Ian Buruma and excerpts from Kuroawa’s own Something Like an Autobiography (Vintage, 1983).

    In addition to a commentary track from scholar Donald Richie, the DVD itself includes two supplemental pieces. One, “Akira Kurosawa: It is Wonderful to Create,” is part of a series on “Toho Masterworks,” and is originally from 1998. It focuses on discussions with and about Kurosawa and the long term collaborators with whom he worked for the first time on Drunken Angel, chiefly Mifune, art director Matsuyama, and composer Fumio Hayasaka. The other, “Kurosawa and the Censors,” is a talking head documentary short featuring film scholar Lars-Martin Sorensen. The subject of this piece is the role that American censors and the attempt to re-engineer Japanese society after the War played in the production of Drunken Angel.

    Sorensen reviews censor notes on various versions of the story and scripts for the film and discusses how Kurosawa reacted to and dealt with these notes. This feature places the issue of national cinema, and Kurosawa’s “Japanese-ness” in a unique light, as it shows US government control over another country’s film industry occurring at a level far beyond that ever asserted at home.

    One of the distinguishing characteristics of Criterion Collection DVDs is the treatment of film as a form of art worthy of serious criticism and contextual examination. Richie’s commentary track is richly interpretative, moving from discussions of post-War Japan to Kurosawa’s body of work, and back to Drunken Angel itself. As it happens, Richie is able to speak about the film both from a more detached academic perspective and from first hand observation of the film shoot.

    Interestingly, Richie and Sorensen offer radically different interpretations of the movie’s ending, wherein a ray of hope is brought to the film in the form of a 17-year-old school girl (Yoshiko Kuga) Sanada had been treating for TB, but who appears to have fought off the illness. Richie sees this ending as being consistent with other choices made by Kurosawa over the course of his career, and notably in Rashomon, while Sorensen sees it as false, at least as much a product of the censorship regime as it is from Kurosawa’s artistic vision.

    Presenting these kinds of discussions of their selections is one of the primary values of a Criterion DVD. Another is in the attention paid to the film-to-DVD transfer. While hardly pristine, the newly restored and digitized film is bright and clear, and the sound quality is excellent.

    One need not know much about Japanese national cinema or Akira Kurosawa or post-War Japan to enjoy and appreciate a film like Drunken Angel. Knowledge of the film’s historical and artistic contexts will enhance one’s appreciation of the movie and open up new ways of seeing the film, but its basic artistry, dramatic power, and eminently translatable narrative are perfectly capable of standing virtually alone. Whatever one’s interest in seeing the movie, the new Criterion Collection edition allows viewers to experience Drunken Angel on multiple levels.

    Originally published 01/10/2008 by Shaun Huston on PopMatters: http://www.popmatters.com/pm/film/reviews/52837/drunken-angel/

     


  • Review of Criterion Drunken Angel at PopMatters

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Drunken Angel  (1948)

    When it rains it pours, or so they say. My review of the new Criterion Collection DVD of Akira Kurosawa's Drunken Angel (1948) is up at PopMatters. In addition, though yours truly does not have a contribution, PM's picks for the best in film, TV, and DVD from 2007 continues today with The Best International/Indie Films.

    Read the DVD review.
    Read the Best International/Indie Films.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

  • Juno: take 2

    Was this review helpful? [Be the first to tell us!]
    Under discussion:

    Juno  (2007)

    As noted in take 1, David Reinhard devotes his sunday column this week to Juno. Predictably,  Reinhard praises the film for its ???life-affirming text and subtext??? (wow, the text and subtext deliver the same message, must be powerful). For those outside of Oregon, Reinhard is The Oregonian's designated columnist from the right. More particularly, he's a Republican loyalist and conservative Christian.

    Reinhard's interpretation largely rests on his reading of Juno's encounter with classmate Su-Chin (Valerie Tian) outside the ???Women Now??? clinic. Su-Chin's exclamation, ???Your baby has fingernails!??? is taken by Reinhard as a moment that alerts ???Juno to the humanity of the unborn child she carries.??? And, as a result, she decides to have the baby rather than an abortion.

    This is, of course, one way of reading the sequence of events in the film's first act. However, it is not a point so tightly made that one would jump to a ???pro-life??? interpretation of the text unless one was looking for it (subtext is, of course, notoriously more slippery, so fair enough on that score. Ha! I joke, but with love).

    Screenwriter Diablo Cody, for example, claims that Juno's decision not to have an abortion was merely necessary for the advancement of the plot. Cody states that her interest was to tell a story about a pregnant teenager, and in order to do that credibly, she needed to, first, address the question of abortion, and then get beyond it.

    I would point out that Juno seems primarily motivated by her determination that she isn't ready to raise a child. Once she reaches that conclusion, then an abortion seems like one viable option, and not one that she ever rejects on principle. Her ultimate decision is the other reasonable option: adoption.

    Why does she opt for this alternative? As Reinhard notes in his column, we, and she, may not fully know. The women's clinic she goes to does not seem all that warm and welcoming, and, yes, her brain seems to have been scrambled by the declaration about fingernails, but are these words given any real moral weight in the film or by Juno? Reinhard certainly thinks they are, but they can also be looked at as an obscure, and questionable, bit of trivia that simply weirds Juno out. I think that there's room for Reinhard's interpretation, but I don't think that it stands as the only possible reading of Juno's rejection of the abortion option (and, indeed, I have to wonder to what extent Reinhard looked into Diablo Cody's biography and politics before writing his piece).

    As certain as Reinhard is about Juno's anti-abortion/pro-life ???text and subtext???, he worries about the film's lack of a clear ???moral universe.??? He describes the film's morality in terms of the slogan ???random acts of kindness and senseless beauty,??? a phrase that leaves him sad for its apparent picture of an irrationally good world. The key passage from the column is here:

    Oh, the characters generally do the right, life-affirming thing in the end. But I'm not sure they -- or anyone else in "Juno" -- could tell you why. There are no moral or ethical structures to guide them. There's no overarching belief system. The characters are at the mercy of their feelings. Those feelings can prompt you to do the right thing -- not having an abortion, giving your child to a childless couple, not raising a child if you're a teenager -- but they can just as easily lead you in less life-affirming and responsible directions. And those feelings can change moment to moment even if you're not a teenage girl.

    So, clearly for Reinhard, morality, the right decisions, can only come from a higher power. But for the existence of an explicit moral authority, humans will just as easily do bad as good.

    The word ???feelings??? is important here. Reinhard seems to see people as prisoners to their emotions and impulses, and those emotions and impulses are often base and unpredictable. We need to control them, and the only way we can be expected to do that is if we accept a set of rules for right conduct and living that come from on high. Otherwise ???good??? becomes a matter of chance.

    Of course, human beings are not simply prisoners of their emotions and impulses, at least not all the time. We develop relationships and a sense of obligation to other people. We often do react to situations such as the one at the center of Juno with base feelings of panic, fear, despair, desperation, etc., but we rarely rest on those feelings. In most cases, and I would argue in the film, our rational brains enter the picture. We reflect. We confide in our friends, families, doctors, and counselors. We solicit advice.

    Maybe Juno's decision isn't the product of random kindness and senseless beauty. Maybe she arrives at her decision because she comes from a supportive, comfortable home, and  has close friends who also love her (and I would add that her step mom, Allison Janney's Bren, is overtly depicted as a Christian church goer, albeit a Unitarian one, which no doubt hardly counts to Reinhard). Maybe these things give her the strength to weigh her options and come to a decision that is right for her.

    As much as Reinhard is dismayed by what he sees as a chaotic moral universe, I am left unsettled by his lack of faith in people. However, this lack of faith clearly explains why he wishes that Juno were weighed down by a script with an explicit moral message, and, more generally, why he desires to legislate away individual choice and freedom, particularly when it comes to what people do with their bodies.

    It needs to be pointed out that as much as Reinhard is taken with Ellen Page's Juno, he, ultimately, cares more about what decision she makes regarding her pregnancy than he does about her. Doing what's right by herself, however thoughtful, however right even by Reinhard's standards, is not good enough. She needs to have the correct reason for her choice, which would seem to be because God or the Bible says so. It is short step from this statement to authoritarianism or fascism. What Reinhard seems to fear more than anything is freedom, and primarily because he fears what people, and one imagines he, himself, will do if empowered to make their own decisions about how to live. He has no trust in individual rationality and decency or human sociality.

    If Reinhard wants a film where individual and collective choices are undergirded by a clear moral structure, I would recommend that he see Lars and the Real Girl (2007). Here you have people gathering together in a church basement to discuss how to support one of their own in a time of emotional crisis, and concluding that the right thing to do, the Christian thing to do, is to embrace Lars' (Ryan Gosling) ???girlfriend??? as a member of the community. However, I suspect that there is no room for anthropomorphized ???sex dolls??? in Reinhard's clear moral universe.

    Both Juno and Lars and the Real Girl are about human relationships, not imposed moralities. Religion is one way in which we articulate our obligations to each other, but it is not the only way. Nor, I would argue, is it actually the cause of the good we do. If it were, there would presumably be fewer lapses, and convenient interpretations of doctrine, among believers of all kinds.

    As Juno shows, people choosing to do right by each other is what makes the world a good place. This is why the question of whether Juno has an abortion or not is beside the point, despite the attention this issue has received. What matters is that we're there for those who need us, and here that includes Su-Chin as much as it does Juno's parents, her BFF Leah (Olivia Thirlby), and her "part-time lover and full time friend," Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera). If Reinhard can't live with that, then no wonder he finds himself conflicted by his love of the film.


    Originally posted on:Short-Circuit Signs

 

Like what you're reading?

Subscribe
Search
  Go

Browse previous
<May 2008>
SunMonTueWedThuFriSat
27282930123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031
1234567


Categories
 


Advertisement