Elusive As Robert Denby

Italian Horror Blogathon: Zombie Creeping Flesh / Virus

2012-11-01T17:07:00.000-07:00

This was supposed to be my submission as part of Kevin’s Italian Horror Movie Blogathon at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. If you read my blog and don’t read his…well, that just doesn’t make any sense, but head on over and read the great submissions by himself and others.

(I thought that this singular screencap best summed up what was so great about this film -- for more great pictures, see last year’s post).

I don’t like that the last time I posted, now a full one-year ago, it was in essence a self-admitted defeat at the hands of Bruno Mattei, Claudio Fragasso, and a bunch of video editing software. Hopefully this post will somewhat remedy that. In taking a look at what I’ve contributed to this blog in that one year between posts I came up with the following list:

Nothing
I figured out how to re-encode the video I made about Zombie Creeping Flesh/Virus last year so that the sound was in sync.

That’s about it. Yeah, I couldn’t even be arsed to do a write-up on this film, even though I have a 3-page long list of notes. Maybe that will be my goal for November 1st, 2013. Still, I am quite proud of the video, my re-cut version of just the bare essentials of Zombie Creeping Flesh/Virus. It leaves intact all of the non-sensical moments and hilariously stilted dialogue while removing any of the needless padding or stock footage. In other words, it makes it watchable.

In other news, I’ve actually been watching movies again lately (even if a lot of them have been nothing more than Rifftrax releases), so perhaps I’ll catch the bug to start writing about them again. Or not, and if that’s the case, I’ll talk with all of you again in 365 days!

Argh

2011-11-01T10:42:00.001-07:00

I had been working on editing a video to post for Kevin’s 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon on the great so-bad-it’s-good Bruno Mattei/Claudio Fragasso film Virus (aka Zombie Creeping Flesh), but even after multiple tries AVIdemux and Youtube aren’t cooperating, creating tons of audio sync issues which are probably due to the source file I chose to use. So I give up and am just going to hold off on posting the thing until next year’s blogathon (that’s quite a teaser, isn’t it) and do the most practical thing and work on wrapping up the Bresson post I’ve had half-finished for months.

Yes, from Bruno Mattei to Robert Bresson seems like a logical progression to me…

Until then, a few screencaps indicative of Virus.

Italian Horror Blogathon: Suspiria

2011-10-30T09:00:00.000-07:00

This entry is part of the 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon hosted by my brother Kevin at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. It’s a repost from last year’s Top 100 Horror Movies project and is the film I find to be the best example of Italian Horror, ever. I’m back tomorrow with a BRAND NEW review of a film that is as far opposite of Argento’s classic as possible.

Suzy Banyon decided to perfect her ballet studies in the most famous school of dance in Europe. She chose the celebrated academy of Freiburg. One day, at nine in the morning, she left Kennedy airport, New York, and arrived in Germany at 10:40 p.m. local time.

So the narrator intones amidst a credit sequence consisting of a cacophony of pounding tympanis, screeching guitar strings, entrancing prog synths, and eerie background vocalizations. It would have been just as appropriate for Dario Argento to insert a title card which states "Once Upon A Time..." as it soon becomes apparent that Suspiria is Argento's stylized and lurid attempt at crafting a supernatural, gothic fairy tale (Argento has admitted to using the story and film of Snow White as an influence). Even while mixing a few of his earlier giallo tropes into the mix -- the Grand Guignol setpieces and a mystery that hinges on an unresolved memory come immediately to mind -- he begins moving even further away from the more literal constructs of those earlier films and into the dreamscapes that he would incorporate for his short run of intriguing films.

The opening shot shows Suzy (Jessica Harper, perfect as the naive ingénue thrust into a world where she will soon lose her innocence) leaving the airport, ominous red lighting filling the walls behind her. It's our first display of the use of unnatural lighting that Argento will use (surely influenced by his mentor, Mario Bava). The majority of the film involves the screen being bathed in some from of brilliant primary color -- reds and blues dominate, but greens and yellows make their way in as well. Argento famously chose to use the three-strip Technicolor process that films such as The Wizard of Oz used, making the base colors (red, blue, and green) luridly pop off the screen as if they were painted on the film stock. Each room and exterior are seemingly capable of being immersed in any shade of color, all changing at a moments notice from one scene to the next. There's no rhyme or reason as to why these lush colors are imbuing the environment, they just are, a key component to the creation of an eerie and mesmerizing atmosphere.

Suzy proceeds to leave the airport, a pensive look of unfamiliarity with her surroundings on her face. Argento immediately takes the viewer out of reality and into the fantastic by juxtaposing shots of Suzy, the natural sounds of the airport filling the soundtrack, with shots from Suzy's POV as she slowly moves closer to the exit, overlaid with Goblin's prog-rock ethereal score. As Suzy steps outside, a monstrous thunderstorm starts up, the soundtrack hitting us from all channels with rain, thunderclaps, and bass.

The strange aura that permeates the film begins during Suzy's taxi ride to the dance school. Bright lights ominously and fantastically fill the car, intercut with images of rushing water and passing cars with colored halos. As they arrive at the school during the storm, Suzy sees another girl leaving, yelling at someone inside. In a common narrative flourish of Argento's, what she says is unclear to us, but deciphering it will be the key to Suzy unlocking the puzzle at film's end.

We see the girl leaving the school run through the forest, Argento's purposefully anamorphic camera tracking alongside her as if flying by. The evil mutterings of the soundtrack (which the band titled "Sighs") and the movement of the camera add up to make it feel as if she is being chased by some unseen force. The girl eventually arrives at the apartment of a friend, though we get the feeling that the ominous entities she was vexed by have followed her there. In talking to her friend, she sums up the film perfectly by stating that her experience at the school seemed "so absurd, so fantastic."

The apartment's architecture and interiors showcase Argento's eye for striking compositions (and his brilliant use of Technicolor). The lipstick red walls consist of diamond and circle patterns interspersed with painted on columns. The marble floor is red, white, and black checked, forming a circular and triangular geometric pattern. Two seemingly lone aqua blue doors and a magnificently multi-colored stained glass skylight fill the rest of the entry hall. The apartment bedroom has painted birds on red walls next to a drawing room of blue walls with art deco doors. Even at the very end of the opening scene, where a splattering of blood is shown on the white marble tile, Argento's stylized use of such eye-catching colors is spectacular to behold.

Soon the woman is attacked by an unseen force that swoops in from outside. A pair of eyes is seen when she peers into the inky night and an arm smashes through the window to assault her. This all culminates with a bravura setpiece where a body smashes through the colored stained-glass ceiling, hung by a rope, and another is impaled by steel girders, face sliced in half from a shard of glass. It all takes place amidst the aforementioned vivid and symmetrical layout of the apartment complex, accompanied by the brutally discordant soundtrack by Goblin.

850 words in and I've done nothing more than describe the first fifteen minutes of the film. Just in this short amount of time Argento manages to create a brilliant introduction to the horror that will follow, encapsulating all of his tricks and techniques in a phantasmagoric melding of lurid colors and bizarre noises.

In gathering screencaps for the film, I found myself with over 100 individual moments that caught my interest. These screencaps can give insight into the beauty of composition and art design that Argento employs (and I'll be sure to go overboard with them at the end of this post), yet their static nature don't allow for the importance that camera movement plays in creating the spellbinding experience. Argento uses tracking shots throughout, a key way in relating the supernatural and fantastical events that are taking place (the aforementioned run through the forest, Suzy dizzying entrance to the dance studio and walking up the staircase, the marbles rolling along the floor). There are other sequences throughout that showcase Argento's mastery of motion and cutting -- the dog attacking its owner in an empty square, maggots raining down from above, a room filled with razor wire, shadows showing from behind a curtain, Suzy's strange walk down the hallway, and in the finale, where Suzy eventually "follows the breadcrumbs through the rabbit hole" (in keeping with the fairy tale allusions) leading to the final confrontation.

The soundscape is equally vital to creating the mood and atmosphere in the film. Much credit must go to Goblin's score -- during the most intense scenes they provide an avant garde barrage of pounding keyboards, drums, and strings, overlaid with cacophonous voices. At quieter times we merely hear whispered voices. Conceits such as the use of footsteps or loud snoring also come into play as important cues that further the story and add to the overall feel of the film.

I've gone all this way with nary a nod to the story or plot. That's due to the narrative being light, Argento stressing visual and aural style over a intricate or even fully coherent plot or recognizably realistic characters (a hallmark of all his films to come, really). It's apt to compare it to fairy tales and nightmares, as that points to the imagery Argento wants the viewer to conger up while the narrative unfolds.

Perhaps not the most horrifying film ever, with Argento often favoring stylistic ingenuity over generating real tension, it still contains some shocking and memorably frightful scenes. Ultimately, it's an amazing union of vision and sound that leads to a distinctly nightmarish horror classic (and a particular amazing one-two punch from Argento when paired with Deep Red).

Italian Horror Blogathon: Toby Dammit

2011-10-29T09:00:00.000-07:00

This entry is part of the 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon hosted by my brother Kevin at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. It’s a repost from last year’s Top 100 Horror Movies project and definitely a film that doesn’t often get considered when discussing Italian Horror. I’ll be back on Monday with a brand new review.

Federico Fellini's Toby Dammit is the final segment of Spirits of The Dead, an anthology film comprised of two underwhelming pieces and this one superior segment. It's a mere 40-minutes long, but in that short time Fellini has crafted a perfect mix of dark comedy that turns into horrifying madness.

Before I get too far, I implore you to spend the short amount of time to watch the film. There isn't an ideal version of the film on DVD as of right now*, as the only way to see Terence Stamp's incredible English language performance was in a terrible looking print with permanent subtitles. All other released versions included a French-voiceover for Stamp's dialogue. That just shouldn't be, for Stamp's portrayal is pivotal to the appeal of the film (this is one of those rare times where the dubbed version is superior to the original language version). So I put together my own "version" of the film, mixing the English language soundtrack and the best DVD quality rip I could find, coming up with the following:

* Fortunately, I just discovered a Blu-Ray release of SPIRITS OF THE DEAD is going to be released before the end of the year, completely restored and with the preferred language tracks.

Toby Dammit (played by the singular Terence Stamp) is an English actor setting out to Rome to promote a film he is to be a part of. Immediately upon landing, we see a cast of Fellini-esque characters occupying the airport. Toby is initially bombarded by the staring eyes of these people, before a horde of photographers begins incessantly snapping photos of him.

Toby next meets those involved with the film he will be part of, an amazingly pretentious "Catholic Western" that is "something between Dreyer and Pasolini with just a hint of John Ford" (God, if only Fellini had gone through with such a fantastic concept). He is inundated with thoughts and philosophies about the film, all during which it's obvious that Toby has no care about any of this. Pale faced and gaunt, as if fresh off a night of "whisky, hashish, cocaine, orgy, sex" (please watch that video -- fantastic stuff) Toby cares of only one thing, in fact it's the only reason he came to Rome in the first place -- "The studio promised me a Ferrari. Latest model. When do I get it?"

It's at this point that we first see a sinister looking girl with a white ball, an entity that has obviously been following Toby around for quite a while ("I told her to go away but she kept coming back"). Fellini has admitted as much that she was an homage to the ghostly girl from fellow Italian Mario Bava's Kill, Baby Kill. Fellini introduces her with a fantastic eerie effect, showing her face and then zooming in several inches suddenly via a jump cut.

He is whisked away to a television studio for an interview, all the while more absurd and fantastical faces are popping up at a hurried pace. Throughout the interview, Toby is full of himself, coy with his answers, and has a complete disregard for everyone around him, seeing this as an obvious waste of time. We find out here that Toby regards the little girl with the ball as the devil ("For me the devil is friendly and joyful. He's a little girl").

Toby's devil-may-care attitude continues, as he is suddenly at the Italian Oscars, a new group of bizarre people introduced to him one after the other. Toby accepts an award, gives a speech and then rushes off, wanting to do nothing more than get in his Ferrari and get the hell out of Rome.

Only he can't.

He races throughout the city in an effort to leave it. But he keeps coming across dead-ends -- roadblocks, a flock of sheep, cardboard cutouts of people -- everything telling him he can't escape. Until he sees a road with a ravine in front of it. On the other side of the ravine is the girl with the ball, her face almost taunting him to try to cross. Toby picks up enough speed to jump the ravine and in his madness fails to notice the wire just at head height, stretched across the road. Then, pop, off comes his head.

The girl with the ball comes over to collect it and we end our story.

The meaning of the whole thing? Fellini knowingly plays with the original Poe story that this is adapted from ("Never Bet the Devil Your Head: A Tale With A Moral"). As the title makes clear, this was Poe's jab at his detractors who claimed he didn't write with a moral purpose, a satirical spoof against his moralistic detractors. In a similar vein, Fellini uses the story as a satire on the pretentious, facile, and maddening world of film and the leeches and hangers-on that occupy that aspect of society. He shows that working in the film industry is a proverbial deal with the devil, the artistic pleasures that come with it balanced by the pointless interviews and vapid award shows that come with it. In many ways, this theme harkens back to previous Fellini, for as Steve Bissette (in the best review of the film I've yet read) so perfectly puts it, Toby Dammit is "8 1/2 goes to hell."

But even with this satirical edge occupying so much of the proceedings, Fellini doesn't fail to build toward a horrific finale (and really, this wouldn't be considered a horror film if not for the frenzied ending). Key to this is the uncanny image of the devil as the little girl with the ball. Fellini's vision of her is even more malicious than Bava, though, with an alluringly mischievous, threatening look.

Equally disturbing is the viewer implicitly going on this self-destructive voyage into madness with Toby. We too can see the girl, yet no one else can. We too are displaced in this world, with it's hellish tints and surreal award shows, grotesqueries all around, unable to understand anything anyone else is saying (another point towards watching this with Stamp's English only and no subtitles). It's Stamp's manic performance that gets across this feeling of losing control and just wanting out, while Fellini's fog-lit street scenes, showing us Toby's point-of-view as he drive, along with the sounds of the Ferrari's engine and squealing tires, provides the sense of delirium.

I find that in trying to discover the meaning of the film, there are many possibilities; Did Toby sell his soul to the devil for his 15 minutes of fame? Has his descent into self-destruction left him no way out but death? Has his constant tempting of fate finally come back to get him? Any or all of those are satisfying enough, but as with Poe's story, a moral isn't necessary here, not when our eyes and minds can tell us that Fellini and Stamp have combined to make an eerily beautiful and distinct horror film.

Italian Horror Blogathon: Kill, Baby Kill

2011-10-28T09:00:00.000-07:00

This entry is part of the 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon hosted by my brother Kevin at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. It’s a repost from last years Top 100 Horror Movies project, but one that highlights a film that doesn’t get talked about often enough (the same goes for tomorrow’s subject as well). On Monday I’ll be back with a brand new contribution.

Mario Bava's Kill, Baby Kill (I always lose track of where to put that comma) begins with a nightmarish scene which sets the stage for what is to come. A woman runs distressingly from an unseen assailant before leaping from a bell tower and impaling herself upon a sharp metal fence below (the likes of which are certain hazards whenever they show up in a horror film). From that image we immediately see that what caused her to jump was in fact a little girl, whom we are introduced to by a musical cue that is a mix of childish giggling and vibrating strings, both seeming to arise from a music box (this eerily resonant theme by Carlo Rustichelli will come to punctuate these moments of distress and disorientation throughout the film).

Soon after, we are introduced to, Dr. Paul Eswai (a wooden Giacomo Rossi-Stuart), who is called to the town to investigate this death, the latest among several. We later find out that the giggling girl is Melissa, the ghostly daughter of the demented Baroness Graps, proprietor of the ominous castle, Villa Graps, which overshadows the city. The town is in constant fear of Melissa, as her presence tends to drive her victims to their deaths. Paul, with the help of his tepid love interest, Monica Schuftan (Erika Blanc), and the town's raven-haired sorceress, Ruth (Fabienne Dali, an earthier version of Barbara Steele), soon begin to unravel this mystery and find out who is at the root of the deaths. Conflict arises when the scientific reasoning of Paul meets up with the superstitions of the townspeople. Ruth, acting as Paul's witch doctor-esque double, eventually forces him to see that there may not be a rational answer to who Melissa is and what is taking place.

Even with a decent mystery at the center of the film, the story is mostly irrelevant. There are some thematic flourishes that stand out, such as Ruth's progression to becoming the sacrificial heroine of the story and Melissa's unveiling as a sympathetic monster, both providing more characterization than is typical with Bava's female characters. As Bava guru Tim Lucas points out, Bava flips the standard archetypes, placing the dark haired witch on the side of good and making the blond haired girl the harbinger of evil.

Particularly interesting is the impact of the character of Melissa, which can likely be seen as a visual influence on Fellini (Toby Dammit), Kubrick (The Shining), and Scorsese (Last Temptation of Christ). The most hypnotic and eerie aspects of the movie all seem to revolve around her. Whether it's the first time we see her face and hands pressed against the window, her hand suddenly grabbing for Monica's, the surreal nature of a ball bouncing down a corridor in a manner not beholden to the laws of physics, or the jarring nature of the zoom-in/out while we see her moving back and forth on a swing, her presence is always imbued with a sense of dread. Part of this is due to her off-putting appearance, with gaunt skin and features that look as if they were frozen in time at the moment she died (part of the jarring nature stems from the person playing the role actually being a young boy with a wig on).

It surely speaks to Bava's inclination toward images that Melissa's story is nearly forgotten by me while her haunting visage remains in my memory. That's because this is foremost a showcase of Bava's mastery of the visual aspects of the Gothic horror film and it soon becomes obvious that Bava is more interested in creating hallucinatory moments like those I've mentioned than dealing with things like plot and dialogue.

With Kill, Baby Kill, Bava takes the mood and atmospherics of Black Sunday and splashes them with color, providing a series of striking images and set pieces. My favorite aspect of any Bava movie is his command of his mise-en-scene. His compositions have a painterly quality to them, not only with the way he places props and people in each shot, but particularly in his use of color. Like a painter with his palette, Bava uses several hues of oversaturated gel lights to create an uncanny quality to the surroundings. This technique allow for shades of green in one corner of the set, blue tones covering an actors face, all while shadows permeate the remainder of the screen. Each scene and setting allows Bava to use a different mix of shadows and colors, all arranged in an otherworldly manner (there's a reason that Tim Lucas entitled his Bava book "All The Colors of the Dark," as it provides the perfect representation of Bava's palette). Bava also uses many of his trademark camera tricks and effects to build up the expressive atmosphere -- the distorting ripple in the camera lens which hints to the ethereal nature of the events and various pans across the deteriorating landscape showing the ruins of the city. It's all enough to make you ignore the sometimes comical overuse of the zoom by Bava (surely part of which is due to the necessities brought upon by the low budget and short shooting schedule).

Bava saved his best moments for the final minutes of the film, with two sequences that work showcase the visual power of the film.

While inside a room at Villa Graps, Paul begins chasing someone, following him through a door. This door leads Paul right back into the same room he was just in, with the object of his chase somewhat closer. Paul continuously does this, closing in on the other man until he catches up to him and suddenly realizes that he has been chasing himself in a Mobius strip. Before he can figure out what is going on, he finds himself abruptly transported to the outside of the house.

The other scene befalls Monica, who is suddenly being chased by the ghostly Melissa. As she makes her way down a spiral staircase, Bava begins having his camera circle the staircase in the opposite direction, creating a vertiginous effect. Then, as if stuck in the same Mobius strip as Paul was in the aforementioned scene, she seems to run around and around the staircase endlessly, before suddenly being ejected from the castle entirely, as Bava's fades from the swirls of the spinning staircase to a pull back from her prone body (and thus getting in two Hitchcock homages in one scene).

The two scenes comprise a bravura set of shots, which thanks to Bava's editing and camera movement is at once capable of grounding and disorienting the viewer. Even though you may consciously realize the trick Bava is playing, you are still swept up by the illogical sensation that is afoot.

Italian Horror Blogathon: Blood and Black Lace

2011-10-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

This entry is part of the 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon hosted by my brother Kevin at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. Yes, it’s a repost from last years Top 100 Horror Movies project and in fact, this is the third time a post on this particular Bava film has been on my blog. Overkill? Maybe. On Monday I’ll be back with a brand new contribution.

Post-Psycho there would be many films that attempted to trade in on the style that Hitchcock revolutionized (as Jamie so wonderfully described here), trying to push things in a new direction. In Italy, Mario Bava took the visual style he had honed doing Gothic horror and added to it the most notorious aspect of Psycho, the severity of the on-screen murders, the result being Blood and Black Lace. Bava takes us to the next logical place, formulating the basis for the subgenres of the giallo, the bodycount film, and the slasher (and whatever mish-mash you get from all three).

From the opening credits, Bava showcases the playfulness he will use throughout the film. Each character is shown standing next to a mannequin, positioned as to be no more relevant than the dummy itself. It's entirely appropriate, as Bava eschews providing us with character development since these people are merely props used to stage lurid death scenes. Sordid goings-on take place at and around a haute couture fashion house, but these setting seems to be used simply to provide Bava with the setpieces his eye demands. The story is a whodunit procedural involving drug use, blackmail, illicit affairs, and murder, all in the Edgar Wallace mold (as is true of many of the giallo that would follow). But the story is hardly pertinent here and though themes can be gathered (beautiful people committing ugly actions; women being spectacle in the fashion industry as much as they are in Bava's garish murder scenes) I don't find them wholly satisfying. Throw in the fact that the film doesn't provide any great acting and seems to relish in the killing of female characters and you may as well be describing any number of generic 80's slasher films.

So why exactly is this film any better, considering all this?

The answer to that question is apparent upon watching and has everything to do with style. Lush reds, seductive blues, and cool greens seem to drape the entirety of the screen. As always, Bava uses colored gel lighting to place specific colors right where he wants them to be. Here, he also makes great use of ambient light, typified in one scene where a flashing neon sign punctuates every moment of a stalk-and-chase throughout an antique shop. His camera movement and mise-en-scene create an uncanny feeling by masking the shape of surrounding items to make you think you see something amidst the shadows, akin to the chair you see in the middle of the night that you momentarily mistake for a person. Yet here, sometimes that chair (or in this case, mannequin) IS a person. Furthermore, he layers these objects in such a fashion that our eyes are constantly moving from the background, to the foreground, and then the midground in an attempt to scan the entire frame for what may be a threat (a technique which John Carpenter would use to great effect later in Halloween).

Bava has a way of glamorizing the deaths, of which there are six, making them violent, but alarmingly beautiful, some may even say erotic (a style that his protégé, Dario Argento would build upon). Most notable in this respect is the final murder, involving Tao-Li (Claude Dantes). As she is drowned in a bathtub (see the screencap above), our gaze inexplicably becomes mesmerized with her alluring and haunting face (a face that is akin to that of Barbara Steele, the most iconic of the horror actresses with fetishized facial features).

As influential on the genre as anything that came out post-1960 (I didn't even get into how it formed the signature look of the giallo killer), it's a true feast for the eyes, as the following screencaps attest to.

Italian Horror Blogathon: Welcome To Spring Break

2011-10-26T08:56:00.001-07:00

This entry is part of the 2nd Annual Italian Horror Blogathon hosted by my brother Kevin at Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies. It’s also the EXACT SAME POST that I used 2-years ago for the inaugural blogathon. I decided to re-post this and four other much more reputable Italian Horror posts over the next few days (those four being from last years Top 100 Horror Movies project) and then on Monday I’ll come back with a brand new contribution in a review of one of the worst (and thereby, funniest) Italian Horror movies ever.

Welcome To Spring Break was chosen for the blogathon by taking the latest example of 1980's giallo from this list and also for its name, which clues you in immediately to the poor quality of what is to come. Really, that's an extremely unimaginative name for a giallo film (the other name it goes by, Nightmare Beach, isn't any better) and also clues you in to , especially when you consider Luckily for me, it also ended up being an Umberto Lenzi film. Lenzi, the man behind the fantastically terrible Nightmare City and the infamous Cannibal Ferox, is in my viewings not much more than a third-rate director who specialized in exploitive, violent, and often very bad knockoffs of whatever the rest of the Italian industry were making at the time (sword-and-sandal epics, gialli, gritty Eurocrime police movies, war films, cannibal and zombie films, Conan-esque movies, and finally slasher films). I am told that his Poliziotteschi films with Maurizio Merli, like Violent Naples, are quite good for exploitation films, but I've not had a chance to sample them yet.

First, it may be a bit of a stretch to call this film Italian to begin with. It was filmed and set around Fort Lauderdale, all of the principle actors look to be native English speakers, and there's no dubbing of any of the voices. Yet, it's helmed by Italian schlock-auteur Lenzi (under the pseudonym, Harry Kirkpatrick) and produced under the Italian sounding Elpico Cinematografica, plus IMDB says the country of origin is Italy, so all of that is enough for me to consider it a valid choice for this project.

We start the film with the electric chair execution of convicted murderer Eduardo Diablo Santor, who goes to his death claiming that he's been framed for this and that he'll "come back to get even." At this point I was expecting a reprise of Wes Craven's Shocker, but alas, we are not so lucky. During this scene we are also introduced to a few of our principle characters, including several great character actors, who chew the scenery quite well throughout the film.

Lance LeGault (Col. Decker from the A-Team) plays Reverend Bates, the moral conscious of the town who has a lewd (his words) daughter, Michael Parks of Kill Bill and From Dusk Til Dawn fame plays the alcoholic, guilt-ridden Doc Willet, and our dull heroine, Gail (not pictured here), who's sister was the supposed victim of Diablo. But best and most important of all, we are introduced to Strycher (I love that spelling), a dirty cop played by a toothpick-chewing John Saxon. For those not familiar (and really, who isn't), John Saxon is THE go-to man if you want a bad guy played by an American actor in your Italian horror movie (just above Henry Silva), so seeing him show up here made me quite happy. I was disappointed that he wasn't credited in the opening credits with a

and
John Saxon
as Strycher

but you can't have it all.

This horrific and grueling execution (which is later described "like Julia Childs, roasting a turkey") leads us effortlessly into the credits and a super upbeat pop song by Kirsten along with beach footage that looks to be straight from Meatballs 3. Seriously, it's a fantastic transition

It's here that I see "music by Claudio Simonetti" (he of Goblin fame) and have hopes for at least one decent thing in the movie. Sadly, I'll tell you now that I never even noticed anything close to a Goblin sound in the whole movie, as it appears that it's Claudio in his pop-metal mode, with a fairly basic guitar and drum beat used for a minute here and there whenever our killer is killing or there's a chase (if you've seen Argento's Phenomena or Opera, you've heard this exact sound). Beyond that, the soundtrack as a whole is mostly comprised of crappy pop/buttrock songs.

From here, we get a lot of exposition -- the reverend's daughter is a slutty party girl, Strycher has been trying to take down Diablo's gang for a long time, the mayor doesn't want any bad press for the city, since it's spring break and all. Blah blah blah. No one cares about any of this, so I'll skip it.

We then get to meet our bland lead, Skip, and his stupid, "please let him be the first to die" friend, Ronnie. Seriously, Skip and Ronnie. Anyways, they've taken the ultimate chick magnet, their mom's LeBaron convertible, to go live it up for Spring Break - woooooooo. This transition below sums up all you need to know about these two:

There's also plenty of other incidental characters (read: meat)

a pervert hotel owner, a prostitute who targets rich men, a small-time thief (who I now realize we don't see die...cut-scene perhaps?), a practical joker who pretends to be dead or stab himself (just GUESS where that storyline ends), and plenty of members of the aforementioned biker gang. We also get the all-time greatest character in movie history, the man I like to call "GO GATORS!!!" Check him out in his only two moments of the movie:

So, we find out that Diablo's body has been stolen. Or, could it be that he has actually come back from beyond the grave, as he promised. The truth will shock you. We also find out that Skip and Ronnie are football teammates and that Skip is sad, because he apparently lost the "big game at the Orange Bowl" by throwing 5 interceptions and that he's also a shoe-in to be a first round draft choice. He doesn't really want to be at spring break, but Ronnie, the self-proclaimed head of "Beaver Scouting Patrol" thinks that one week of non-stop partying should be enough for him to get over losing the big game and uses some odd Easter basket/sex analogy, a slur, and annoying sounds and laughs to get his point across.

I'd like to point out here that believing that Skip (or Skipper, as Ronnie calls him) was any kind of college quarterback strains all credulity for me. Moving on. It's here that we finally see our killer and the high concept killing machine he uses, an electric chair strapped to the back of a motorcycle. Well, that is except for when he DOESN'T use that, as he actually kills more people without it than with it. You'd think that as a master killer that obviously put a lot of work and money into the engineering of such a device, that you would make it your calling card and use it as many times as you could. Perhaps, though, he didn't want to attract lots of attention to himself with it, so he switches it up from time-to-time.

From here on out, stuff happens -- Skip and Gail develop a relationship, although they show as little on-screen chemistry as any two actors I've ever seen, Ronnie sadly dies in a mesh shirt, kicking off the Scooby Doo portion of the movie where Skip and Gail try to figure out whodunnit, red herrings are introduced, wet t-shirt contests are had, more murders take place, the mayor tries to cover it all up (since it's bad for business), there's a driving montage complete with music from Magnum P.I., there's plenty more John Saxon, and the slowest bike chase in history commences

Eventually, Skip finds the body of Ronnie (it was hidden in a police cover-up!), which leads to this emotional scene, which I'd place on par with Ben Affleck's from Armageddon. And to think, he's now let Ronnie down twice, first by throwing those 5 INTs and now by letting him get murdered. It's been a rough few months for the Skipper

Now, however bad the acting seems there, it's nothing with what we get a few minutes later by "girl on beach." Something tells me that acting talent wasn't the number one quality that was looked for when casting these female roles...

Sadly, she dies for some reason in the next scene. In her honor...

If you think Lenzi hasn't done anything of use so far in the movie, then I direct you to the following scene, where he obviously delves into the repressed sexuality of the ol' Skipper. I can think of no other reason for why this scene is edited the way it is (I included the last few frames from the previous scene to show that there is only one way to contextually view this).

Whatever Lenzi was going for there, it's never expanded on. I'm almost willing to say that it was totally random, but it's just too obvious to be so.

From here, our heroes Skip and Gail continue solving the mystery, make enemies with Strycher (who we are supposed to assume is the killer), some more killings happen, zzzzzzzzz, all of which sets into place the final chase scene and the denouement of the identity of our killer. That's all well and good, but the real gem of the last 30 minutes is the padding provided by an awesome concert that all cool spring breakers would surely be at, involving this band, ZETA! They include a spandex laden, big-haired lead singer, a Kenny G looking guitar player, Barry Gibb on keyboards, and a Zubaz wearing, mulleted saxophone player.

There isn't much to this picture that screams "Umberto Lenzi." Say what you will about him, but his most interesting stuff at least lent itself to exploitation qualities that made it stand out. I'm sure this is partially due to the low-budget this assuredly had, but there isn't even an iota of creativity on display from the man who took the cannibal film as far as it could go. No, this is the work of an uninspired, generic director, which despite some above average moments in his career, is all I believe Lenzi to be. On the other hand, the movie is never explicitly boring, as you are usually able to laugh at whatever is going on, making it a fun bad-movie experience. Plus, all things being equal, it's a lot better looking than a lot of slasher films from this era (1988) were, as the cheap DTV era was just beginning.

Another question I had while watching this was "is the film really a giallo," as it is classified. Frankly, it seems funny to even care, when you consider how bad the movie is, but humor me. There isn't much beyond the whodunnit procedural aspect, the red herrings, and the look of the killer (clad in an all-black motorcycle outfit with helmet) to really make the film feel like a giallo. There's no psychosexual undertones, little blood, and no lurid murders. The "electric chair motorcycle gimmick" behind the murders is definitely more in line with an American slasher than it is with Italian giallo, as is the location of the proceedings.

To finish, I leave you with some more stills of this fine film...

DC’s New 52 - The Bad

2011-10-06T17:40:00.000-07:00

(This is the third of three posts. Go to the following links to read about the “Good” and the “OK” comics of DC’s new 52)

After reading Ed Howard's reviews of all 52 first issues of DC Comic's new 52 over the last 4 weeks, I decided I would try to read all 52 myself and write some quick comments on them and see what I'd like to continue with going forward. Little did I know that reading 52 first issues consecutively would turn in to quite as much of a slog as it was, but it's inevitable that with 52 books all having a similar editorial mandate of rebooting or reintroducing a character or team there was bound to be some feeling of reading the same thing over and over again. I admit that I was a bit cynical of this entire concept of starting 52 issues at once by DC (and still am cynical as to how long before they try this exact same endeavor again). However, I have to consider it a success in the end as it's gotten a lot of people (including me) interested in a lot of books that would probably be dead off the ground or lost in the shuffle without the line-wide reboot and has likewise introduced me to some creators whom I wasn’t really familiar with before that I’m now interested to follow.

I ranked each #1 and then sorted them into one of three tiers -- the good comics, which I'm excited to continue reading for the foreseeable future, the ok ones, where I may or may not sample them again, but won't follow along closely unless word of mouth convinces me otherwise, and the bad ones, which I have no interest in reading anymore of. In each of those tiers I've also listed the comics in order of preference.

As for the reviews, three things to keep in mind:

I read and reviewed the comics in alphabetical order, so the stuff at the beginning of the alphabet has a bit more thought put into it and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was unnecessarily harsher as I went along (I was really beginning to get fatigued and ready to be done with this around the time I got to the "S" books).
I feel adequate enough at figuring out what works and doesn't work with comic book writing, but I struggle to find the words to critique artwork, so don't be surprised if my comments on the art are a bit pedestrian
I've done a bit of editing on the reviews, but with 52 of them, I figure there will be a lot of repeated phrases and adjectives.

Bad

35. Legion of Super-Heroes -- This is certainly better than Legion Lost, but it still suffers from a lot of the same issues that don't make it a very good reboot at all -- these books were supposed to be introduction points, but beyond some captions introducing us to the characters (which is better than just throwing us in ala Legion Lost), there's still a huge amount of backstory being assumed as known here. Also, this might just end on the least interesting cliffhanger of the whole lot of 52 comics.

36. Justice League International -- A global team of U.N. run superheroes that are concerned with their image and used for PR is a good concept when done right. Obviously, this is trying to be the Giffen/Maguire JLI from the late 80's, but Dan Jurgens is all kinds of wrong as the writer here. His writing lacks the proper playful tone and comedic timing in the dialogue and while Aaron Lopresti's artwork has brief moments, it lacks the bright, cartoonishness and fluidity that would help make the book fun. The end product feels very generic, static, and boring instead.

37. Green Lantern: New Guardians -- This reads and looks like an Image comic from the 90's and it totally loses me when it shows me tons of different colored “lanterns” (red, blue, pink, yellow) and expects me to have any idea as to what the hell is going on.

38. Suicide Squad -- This comic lost me when it tried to get me to believe that a superpowered, drug dealing, gang leader is so shocked by the knowledge that what he's doing might be killing kids and women. Plus, “shorties.” Is that term still used?

The thing is, the concept of Suicide Squad is a good one (I really enjoyed the original run of the series) but this does absolutely nothing to make you care about any of these characters, as they are pretty much all characterized as "hardened villains who are crazy enough to withstand torture."

39. Blue Beetle -- So a teenager gets bitten by a bug that gives him powers...hmm, where have I seen this before. If that's not enough, the rest of the plot background revolving around the origins of his powers and where the series is likely headed seems to be lifted directly from Invincible (DC could surely offer Kirkman enough money to do a series for them if they really wanted to, no?). The characters all seem to fit some pretty stock Hispanic stereotypes, with the only positive I could find being the art design of the villains in the book.

40. DC Universe Presents: Deadman -- I find it funny that with 52 books launching, DC still felt the need for a catch-all title like this. Because Voodoo and Captain Atom can certainly hold a long-running solo title, but not Deadman. Anyways, this is Quantum Leap: The Comic, complete with all the wacky hijinx and overdone narration about what's worth living for.

41. Detective Comics -- Four Batman specific comics seems like overkill, but I guess if you are going to have "regular Batman," "Batman w/ Robin," and "grim Batman" then there is at least room for three. And as far as “grim Batman” goes, Tony Daniel's Detective IS better than David Finch's Batman: The Dark Knight. But it's still not anything particularly good -- his artwork is decent enough, but his dialogue is bargain basement Frank Miller, so overwrought that it makes me wonder if it was a a joke. For instance:

or better yet:

Beyond that it's some pretty un-nuanced Batman. with a last page reveal (“fangasmic?” Really?)that looks like it’s going to be stolen directly from Face/Off, perhaps?

42. Red Lanterns -- Ed Benes is one of those artists whose style I really can't stand, especially how all his women stand in pinup poses at all times, but his hilariously ridiculous double splash of the Red Lantern cat actually made me laugh out loud (not sure if that was the intended reaction).

Similarly ridiculous is Milligan's dialogue (including the cat’s “rrrrrrr”), with the ruminations of the leader of the Red Lantern's, Atrocitius, being so over-the-top that that I have to almost wonder (or hope) that this is a parody of dark and brooding style of comics book.

43. Savage Hawkman -- How Tony S. Daniel (a note to Tony -- just using your middle initial does not give instant credibility to your writing prowess) was able to get two books, when he doesn't have enough good ideas between them to write one, is beyond me. Philip Tan has some nice artwork here, but Daniel's storyline, characters, and dialogue are all awful. I guess if you just want to flip through this and look at the pictures, that's fine.

44. I, Vampire -- Setting Twilight/True Blood in the DC universe definitely isn't for me. So just imagine the dialogue as coming from one of those series and you’re pretty much bang on. The art is pretty in concept, but in execution, every page looks exactly the same and it’s so muddled and drab that it’s extremely difficult to follow the story or discern between characters. Not to mention the static posing of the vampires:

To be even more nitpicky, captions are used capture the back and forth between the two leads, yet for some reason both character's caption boxes are colored red, with one just the faintest bit of red darker than the other.

This just comes off so poorly.

45. Green Arrow -- Oh wow, is this bad. I guess this is supposed to be Steve Jobs as a superhero, or else it's DC's version of Tony Stark? JT Krul's dialogue is, I don't know, pedantic? It's either try to be relevant by talking about “YouTube” or an attempt at a bunch of witty one liners (which I guess fits with the general goofiness with which Green Arrow has always been portrayed with in the past), but when they don't fall flat on their face, they simply are "there."

Beyond the dialogue, the story here is paint-by-numbers with no hook to pull you in and when the villains and supporting cast aren't at least generic, their instead entirely forgettable. And Dan Jurgens art is pedestrian, not horrible, but entirely uninspiring. I almost, ALMOST want to stay around just to see if this batch of villains at the end is going to be as lame as they appear to be:

46. Legion Lost -- I read some Legion books at one time or another, but always had trouble not feeling like an outsider trying to understand some secret club. This is certainly a comic that shoves you right into things off the bat, with a million names and made up swear words and characterizations given in the first few pages alone. In some ways, I appreciate this, as it's better than the ultra decompressed mode of storytelling that has become the norm, but on the other hand, this is such an inelegant shoehorning of all these things that it destroy any goodwill I was going to give it right off the bat. There is tons of backstory that goes unexplained, tons of motivation and powers and everything that you are expected to just know...this is really, really headache inducing stuff.

47. Voodoo -- Here is the splash page to Voodoo:

And that pretty much says it all. Shameless T&A wrapped up in a bunch of tired clichés that always follow around any comic or movie or TV show involving strippers (I think Heroes also did the "strippers -- they need babysitters just like you and me!" storyline) The problem is, despite all of that, I think there is a good underlying premise here (and both Alan Moore and Joe Casey have managed to make Voodoo an interesting character in the past), but the lack of any nuance whatsoever in this first issue doesn't lead me to believe that Ron Marz will take it to any kind of satisfying place.

48. Blackhawks -- Here's one where the art is entirely too distracting with all its cross-hatching and scratchiness and yet another story that doesn't have enough to it to make me care about where it leads or about whatever the hell "nanocites" are.

49. Men of War -- I'm really, really struggling to find the point of this. I know it's hard to tell war stories without SOME cliché, but the Sgt. Rock story is ALL cliché and stranger yet, it seems to have some kind superhero tie-in at the end. The backup story is just generic it is, to the point I found myself laughing at it. I guess if you are going to do war comics, get Garth Ennis or just reprint old Sgt. Rock stories from the 60's.

50. Red Hood and the Outlaws -- The joke with Destro in the old G.I. Joe cartoon/comics was about why his helmet had a mouth. Apparently Red Hood missed that joke:

One page after those two panels we get the line "Who do we know who carries a pair of 38s?" that preceded the appearance of Starfire. Because see, she has boobs and they are big. Seriously, I simply stopped reading after that.

51. Hawk and Dove -- I give to you, Rob Liefeld’s “The Many Faces of Hank Hall.” Enjoy.

(I personally like that he has VAMPIRE TEETH in one panel…)

And just for more fun, the ending splash page of the issue.

As this is essentially the comic book equivalent of watching Birdemic, I’ll definitely keep checking in on this book as long as Liefeld is on it (the over/under on which is probably 3 issues) just to get a good chuckle.

52. Batman: The Dark Knight -- Oh, the "great" things I've heard of the David Finch run on Batman -- this one actually has me intrigued to see just how bad it is...First off, his artwork is as far removed from the style I enjoy -- Finch still firmly embraces the more “Image-y” aspects of his art. In fact that kind of describes the entire issue, all 90's style crap with women in cheesecake poses, stiff layouts, and lines like "Fear is a cannibal. A goblin. An unruly tyrant armed with a bludgeon of doubt."

Then it's capped off with a laughable final panel (see the picture at the very top of this post) -- what the hell is the meaning of "One-Face" in this instance, as Two-Face still has, um, two faces? This is bad to the point that I want to pick up a second issue to see how much worse it can get.

DC’s New 52 - The Good
DC’s New 52 - The OK
DC’s New 52 - The Bad

DC’s New 52 - The OK

2011-10-06T17:39:00.000-07:00

(This is the second of three posts. Go to the following links to read about the “Good” and the “Bad” comics of DC’s new 52)

As for the reviews, three things to keep in mind:

I read and reviewed the comics in alphabetical order, so the stuff at the beginning of the alphabet has a bit more thought put into it and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was unnecessarily harsher as I went along (I was really beginning to get fatigued and ready to be done with this around the time I got to the "S" books).
I feel adequate enough at figuring out what works and doesn't work with comic book writing, but I struggle to find the words to critique artwork, so don't be surprised if my comments on the art are a bit pedestrian
I've done a bit of editing on the reviews, but with 52 of them, I figure there will be a lot of repeated phrases and adjectives.

19. Justice League -- Jim Lee's art hasn't impressed me since I was 13 and he was drawing the X-Men. I think Scott Williams was inking Lee even back then, so I'm not quite sure what has changed about Lee's art that makes it look so…unfinished? Perhaps it's the coloring, which seems to overpower the inks, or perhaps it's just a purposeful thing with how Lee draws Batman -- his Green Lantern and Superman do have a much cleaner look to them.

Bottom line, Lee's art isn't anything that really entices me, so it's up to Johns' writing and the high-concept of the series to pull me in here. This already has one up on Meltzer's last volume of JLA, which was less an origin of the team than it was the creation of a pecking order in who's cool and who's not in the DC universe. Here, we are seeing the genesis of the early days of these heroes and how they first get to know each other. It's something that hasn't really been done in so long that there are a lot of story possibilities here. Johns uses Hal Jordan similarly to how he’s represented in the core Green Lantern book and I liked the dynamic of the two most self-assured guys in Batman and Green Lantern trying to one-up how much better they were than the other. I guess I do find it odd that the cover doesn't really hold back any of the suspense of who will be on the team, yet even after the first issue we haven’t been introduced to everyone -- it kind of shows the odd mix of marketing and storytelling that is going on here. Not a bad first issue, but I'm not quite as excited for this endeavor as I hoped I might be.

20. Stormwatch -- There's something so expositionally clunky about much of the dialogue here, where characters talk to each other like "<NAME>, your <POWER> is this," or "My <POWER EXPLAINED IN DEEP DETAIL> tells me that <SOMETHING ABOUT OTHER PERSON'S POWER>." It's just such an inelegant way to introduce all the characters by Paul Cornell and in the end, it ends up making none of them very distinguishable (the only ones I really got what they do are the ones whose powers are actually shown to us). The visual of the giant, tentacled eyeball was good, but the art is overly dark and muddled throughout. I'm stupidly intrigued as to how the DC analogues that were the original Authority are incorporated into the DCU long-term and if somehow Cornell finds a way to tie in his Demon Knights series with this (as a panel in the comic hinted at). I like the overall concept enough that I think I'll give this a few more issues to see if it evens out.

21. The Fury of Firestorm -- Ethan Van Sciver and Gail Simone have a good feel for telling a story here, providing a good setup, though I was a bit confused at the end (I assume that when the two protagonists don't get along, they turn into an uncontrollable creature?). I'm not sure how long I’ll care, but this is a moderately creative start.

22. Nightwing -- Dick Grayson as Batman has proven to be an interesting character (a lot of which is due to the limited time he’s been under the cowl). Dick Grayson as Nightwing is usually kind of boring. So with that in mind, I thought that Kyle Higgins did a good job of at least making me care about Dick as Nightwing, even if it's a bit of a step back to the mundane for his character. The story may or may not tie in with the Batman finale, which is probably going to keep me looking in for the time being.

23. Teen Titans -- Ending with the same last two pages as Superboy -- I guess it hammers home the connection between the two comics. If I'm going to go ahead and read Superboy, I might stick with this too, as I did like the light tone, even if it felt a tad bit pointless. It's fine and I'll be okay sticking with it for a bit to see where it goes.

24. Captain Atom -- Okay, so all the stuff I heard about this being a "Dr. Manhattan" ripoff is entirely accurate. But the art by Freddie Williams II and colors by Jose Villarrubia are very striking, especially the way that Captain Atom is drawn in a smooth, sleek manner while everyone else has heavy, scratchy, one could say ugly, lines. It's a bit too wordy, to the point that I found myself skimming past the pseudoscience babble in the middle of the book, but I can actually see some potential in this character and what can be done with him.

25. Catwoman -- Boobs. And Superhero Sex. Say what you will about the progressiveness or lack thereof of the comic, Guillielm March's European influenced artwork is a sight to behold (and likely a terrific insight into the regions of a woman’s body he most appreciates). I guess the main problem I had was that excluding the goofy Batman/Catwoman bit of fan-fic at the end, I'm not sure if anything at all of consequence really happens in this issue, making it kind of boring. Which leads me to the cynical thought that Winnick likely built the whole thing around that last scene, which then leads me to be kind of annoyed by the pandering of the whole situation. If that's the case, it doesn't bode well for the book going forward.

26. Resurrection Man -- This isn't too terrible, sort of a Final Destination in superhero form. I actually enjoyed it for that and think that the concept has some legs to it.

27. Deathstroke -- I liked the idea of old, curmudgeon Slade Wilson mentoring a bunch of hipster mercenary wannabes, though I really should have seen the twist at the end coming a bit sooner than I did, especially considering just how disposable all of these new characters were (I mean, if this were a Punisher comic I'd have seen that coming from 1000 miles away). That one scene describes the character of Deathstroke better than all the other scenes combined, plus it gave me a chuckle. If this is going to fill that spot in the 52 lineup, I'm willing to see where Kyle Higgins is heading to see if this one can grow.

28. Grifter -- I was a fan of the Wildcats series (when Joe Casey was writing them) so I had a glimmer of hope that something fun could be done with this character. But this is kind of a mess -- a tad too confusing as an introduction to the character.

29. Static Shock -- Well, as "teenage superheroes learning to use their powers" comics go, this is at least better than Blue Beetle. It's still not as good as what it seems to be striving for (Invincible, Spider-Man), but it's firmly average and it is nice to see some racial diversity in mainstream comics. Question: Has the DCU always had a NYC or is this new?

30. Mister Terrific -- I can't really call this a bad comic, it's one of the few books thus far that actually works as a true first issue, laying out an origin, showing the hero in action, and setting up the opening arc of the series, but at the same time it doesn't hook me in to wanting to come back for more. The writing fluctuates between some fun captions that show Mister Terrific’s personality, to a good amount of dialogue that is especially heavy handed and unnatural sounding.

31. Superman -- Okay -- perhaps I’m a bit harsher on this than I need to be, but it all just feels so, so vanilla. I know everyone has said plenty about it at this point, but Superman's new outfit is so extremely stupid (see the picture at the top of the post) that it still amazes me that they thought this actually looked good. As to the actual contents of this issue, Jesus Merino is a fitting person to be penciling over George Perez's layouts, providing some nicely detailed, if a bit static, artwork.

But the story of Superman vs. Rupert Murdoch, Print Media vs. New Media, and Superman vs. generic foe is simply uninteresting and boring. Also, it appears that Clark is less a reporter and more the star columnist who writes personal interest puff pieces (ala Mitch Albom, or “Bart’s People") full of maudlin cliché and cheap sentiment like: "Which as if by some alien form of magic, began to return to normal, with barely a singe, barely a char. Considering Superman is in just about every comic in the reboot, I can skip this one.

32. Batwing -- I initially saw this as one of those filler titles -- you can't have 52 titles without a few random low-level heroes getting books. I'm also not sure if Judd Winnick is the person I go to for deftly handled stories about genocide in Africa. All that said, this isn't bad. If nothing else, it's set in a place where the Batman concept certainly seems novel. I'm not sure I care enough to follow along, but this a decent by the numbers first issue.

33. Batgirl -- I found the narration in this comic really, really clunky -- kind of like Gail Simone was channeling the classic Batman narration panels and forcing them out in a female voice. It felt very by-the-numbers. Or maybe it's that Barbara Gordon was unique and interesting before as Oracle, and now she just another person in a bat costume who punches people.

34. Birds of Prey -- Nothing great, but nothing truly awful either. A so-so story with perfectly competent artwork and a decent introduction to two of the main characters. There's simply nothing here that makes me want to come back.

DC’s New 52 - The Good
DC’s New 52 - The OK
DC’s New 52 - The Bad

DC’s New 52 - The Good

2011-10-06T17:38:00.000-07:00

(This is the first of three posts. Go to the following links to read about the “OK” and the “Bad” comics of DC’s new 52)

As for the reviews, three things to keep in mind:

I read and reviewed the comics in alphabetical order, so the stuff at the beginning of the alphabet has a bit more thought put into it and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was unnecessarily harsher as I went along (I was really beginning to get fatigued and ready to be done with this around the time I got to the "S" books).
I feel adequate enough at figuring out what works and doesn't work with comic book writing, but I struggle to find the words to critique artwork, so don't be surprised if my comments on the art are a bit pedestrian
I've done a bit of editing on the reviews, but with 52 of them, I figure there will be a lot of repeated phrases and adjectives.

Good

1. The Flash -- Francis Manapul's art is the surprise highlight of these 52 comics for me (seriously, he equals JH Williams III art on Batwoman -- no small feat), as is the placement of this comic at the top of this list. From the Carmine Infantino inspired double-page splash that you can see at the top of the page, to other various creative layouts throughout, the artwork gives the entire proceedings a feeling of constant movement, electricity, and energy that goes hand-in-hand with The Flash.

Credit also has to go to colorist Brian Buccellato, as he avoids the garish and haphazard application of colors that seem to inundate too many modern comics (computerized coloring is fine and all, but it just makes it so easy to splash color around without any restraint), making the images pop by using a graceful, refined, hand-painted palette and contrasting it with the bold reds and electric yellows of The Flash.

As for the writing -- I read Flashpoint (well, skimmed it in 20 minutes -- it was so terrible I couldn't be bothered to put much effort into it) and that was a Barry Allen I couldn't stand reading for an entire series, full of angst and lacking any sense of excitement or humility. Manapul and Buccellato stay far, far away from that, and making his interpersonal interactions with his girlfriend and Iris stray far from romantic comedy level annoyances, keeping everyone likable and making for a much more fun read.

2. Wonder Woman -- I could easily put this at #1 and am glad that it was the last book I read, as it reminded me that despite all the dross, there’s still some fun stuff ahead. Cliff Chiang's art is the main attraction here -- it's absolutely stunning in its elegance, with a beautiful color palette, and shows off an incredible sense of grace in the movements of its characters.

It's also encouraging that Brian Azzarello seems to have a good grasp on making Wonder Woman interesting, tying her mythological origins, with its warped family structure and bloody murders, into a modern day setting. This feels like a true and lasting reboot of the character, after what feels like so many failed attempts over the past several years (DC has screwed up a lot of characters in that timeframe, but post-Infinite Crisis, has there been a character as mishandled as Wonder Woman?). It’s definitely a comic I see myself sticking around for.

3. Demon Knights -- This one seemed to come out of nowhere, especially considering I'm not much for the fantasy milieu in comics, but I absolutely loved the comic pacing and timing writer Paul Cornell brings to this. He seems to have a good grasp on DC's magical characters such as Madame Xanadu, The Shining Knight, and Etrigan the Demon (sidenote: when did he stop speaking in rhyme? I'm guessing that's a great help to anyone who has to write him). But really, this just has an aura fun to it that hasn't been seen in most of the other DC New 52. I've not heard of the art team before, but they provide a very appropriate fantasy style of artwork (I really can't put my finger on it beyond that, but it just seem to "fit").

4. Batwoman -- Honestly, I could just look at JH Williams III's layouts, ignore the story, and call this a good comic.

There's always a feeling of cleverness and energy in how he arranges his panels and in the motifs he uses within his double-page spreads. So it's irrelevant what else goes on in this comic, I'd call it good just to look at the pretty pictures. This is my introduction to Batwoman (I haven't read the Detective Comics run where Williams reintroduced the character) and I like how she is represented here, along with the relationships she has with Bette, her father, and Det. Sawyer. I also like Williams bringing back his Agent Chase (a great series that is thankfully being rediscovered thanks to Williams popularity), the fun panel gag of Q-Ball and the Pool Hall Gang (an idea straight out of the Batman TV show). So even as I thought that the pacing of the issue was just a bit off, the concepts are all there for this to be a great series.

5. Action Comics -- I went in expecting more in the All-Star Superman vein, and even as this is kind of the tonal opposite of that series, it’s still ultra-Morrison-y. It seems to be harkening back to Superman’s roots with smaller-level threats, a Superman who is working to fight “the man,“ here stopping some evil slumlords, and in the process being targeted by the police and beloved by the people. It’s a good jumping on point that gets across the crux of what Superman stands for. For the most part, I like Rags Morales art, but I couldn't track the action in the pivotal train scene at the end.

6. Swamp Thing -- A very good introductory issue, with outstanding artwork by Yanick Paquette. Like Animal Man and Justice League Dark, it does a good job of keeping the Vertigo vibe, especially in the horrific series of scenes showcasing a resurrected mastodon and three men being attacked by skin-burrowing flies that causes their necks to turn around (and I swear this appeared elsewhere in the original Swamp Thing series, but perhaps I’m just thinking of something else…).

It appears that Swamp Thing and Alec Holland are two separate entities, with Holland remembering himself as Swamp Thing, though apparently never being him -- is this what came out of Brightest Day, because it’s awfully confusing and even after reading it over twice I wasn’t fully understanding it? I was pretty much bound to like this, but it met my expectations and has me excited to see this character seemingly have a purpose again.

7. Animal Man -- I like the idea of Buddy Baker, washed up Superhero on the comeback, ala The Wrestler, that is introduced in the beginning of the comic. Lemire seems to have a handle on mixing the slice-of-life superhero stuff involving Buddy and his family with the horror aspects, evoking that same odd mix of the two that the Vertigo Animal Man stuff had. I really like Travel Foreman's art here, but there’s a feeling of inconsistency in quality from page-to-page, and sometimes even within the same panel (I notice that there is a second inker on this, so perhaps this is a case of two different inkers at work). But whatever, the differences in style really seem to work when the “real life” art is compared to the artwork in the dream sequence:

8. Justice League Dark -- It's strange to see all these Vertigo characters back in the DCU. Peter Milligan and Mikel Janin do their best to make this look and feel just like a Vertigo comic would -- it's actually extremely reminiscent of Milligan's Shade and Hellblazer work. In fact, was there a Vertigo book of the late 80’s/early 90’s that DIDN’T include the following type of "here are a bunch of oddly off-putting and weird things happening to random people across the world, now how will our heroes fix this" series of panels in each introductory arc:

I do like how Milligan makes it clear that the JLA can't handle all the threats of the world, specifically, they don’t do magic (which I guess would be the top thing to handle in explaining why a team of Vertigo characters is necessary in a superhero universe). It's strange to see the JLA drawn in somewhat of the Vertigo house style by Janin (and isn’t Wonder Woman off-model here?), as his drawing style is more suited to a cerebral kind of action versus a physical style. It’s still some beautiful artwork, though. Milligan should have a great handle on Shade, John Constantine, and Zatanna, so I'm fairly confident this is something that is back in his wheelhouse (the last few things I've read from him post X-Statix have been disappointing or at least uninspired). It's a concept that I can get behind and I'm excited to see where things go.

9. Green Lantern -- This one seems to depend on recent continuity, which was something that was noticeable in a good number of these titles -- many are not full-on “hard” reboots, but instead are using a selective aspects of the characters’ past continuity to gently reset their status quo. Still, the fact that there are Yellow Lanterns, and Sinestro as a Green Lantern, and comments about Hal’s past as a Lantern, doesn’t really make this entirely accessible for a new reader. That said, I really enjoy Johns' take on Hal Jordan as a self-centered jerk who is now down on his luck and really liked this little bit of misdirection (there’s a page flip between the 2nd and 3rd panels there, so the punchline works really well on the printed page):

I not steeped in GL history, but I seem to remember an internet meme about the Silver Age Hal being a bit of a dick, and this felt like it took that idea and ran with it. Of course, the last page reveal makes it clear that he's going to be getting his ring back soon, so maybe we shouldn't be getting TOO used to this take on the character. I've not read a GL book in forever and this one actually had me interested.

10. Superboy -- I count five "teenage superheroes learning the ropes" books two of them actually turn out to be quite good. This actually feels like a good reboot for a character that's always had a great idea at it's core (half Superman/half Lex Luthor), but removing the angst that has dragged the character down for some time. The tone here is good, with enough comedy to keep it light and fun, complimented by some very good art by RB Silva (it's cartoony without being exaggerated). I especially liked the staging of this scene, showing Superboy’s complete lack of empathy:

11. Supergirl -- The other very good teen books is this. It’s mostly just one long fight scene, but it has a decent hook, solidifying her confusion and alien-ness in the process, and giving a good setup to reveal more next issue. Like Superboy, this feels like a good reboot for the character -- another chance for a fresh start after all the convolutedness of the past iteration of the character (thanks Jeph Loeb!). Credit to Mahmud Asrar for some well-done dynamic artwork during the fight scene and for actually drawing Kara to look like a real teenager and not the hypersexualized thing she was shown as before.

12. All-Star Western -- First off, I love Moritat's cel like art.

The story is team-up between Jonah Hex and Dr. Arkham grafted on to the "Gotham by Gaslight" setting that is always appealing to see. It's a Jonah Hex story and from reading this it doesn't appear that they've changed a ton since the 70's. If that's your thing than you’ll probably like this. Otherwise, get it and marvel at the art.

13. Batman and Robin -- I like Tomasi's take that Batman is honoring his parent's life instead of their death -- that feels fresh and works well if this is the comic that shows the mentoring/parenting side of Batman. Damian Wayne is a great character and Tomasi seems to have a good read on him as well, using him to contrast the Morrison-style Batman with the Miller-style Batman (I'd not be shocked if those lines Damian spouts are directly from Miller's Batman comics). Plus, just the dynamic of Batman as a dad is fantastic to me -- a whole new aspect of the character that is still open for exploration. Patrick Gleason and Mick Gray's artwork is great, mixing clean lines with fussy detail, and there's some nice uses of blues and grays in the color palette, mixed with the irradiated reds and greens to give it a stunning look. I also loved this effect of Robin's pounding on one of the villain's helmets.

14. Batman -- Has Greg Capullo improved as an artist after all these years? I really love the way his Batman looks, very Frank Miller styled. Scott Snyder seems to be taking the characterization of Bruce Wayne mostly intact from Morrison's run and grafting it onto this series. I like where things end too, though I highly doubt that even in the rebooted continuity they'd make Dick a murderous villain (even moreso after reading Nightwing this is obviously a setup of some sort).

15. Green Lantern Corps -- This ties in well with the core Green Lantern book (it even has a “*” caption telling you to read Green Lantern #1 for more info on Hal's status -- I saw a few of those scattered throughout these books. Is DC allowing footnotes again?). Peter Tomasi seems to have a good handle on both Guy Gardner and John Stewart, quickly getting their major character traits out in a few short scenes. I also liked the expressive artwork. Again, I'm surprised I'm as interested in the Lantern mythos as I was here, so credit to Tomasi and Johns on that.

16. Frankenstein, Agent of S.H.A.D.E. -- I like the story, sort of a Hellboy/BPRD knockoff, and it does a good job of introducing a bunch of characters, hinting at backstory mystery, and giving a decent fight, even if it is against a faceless enemy. The art is a bit too scratchy for my tastes, but generally holds together okay.

17. Aquaman -- You see, Aquaman is always treated as a joke, and in the past DC has tried to prove he's not a joke by killing off his family, having him lose limbs, and basically making Aquaman a grim and gritty character. Did I mention that Aquaman has always been treated as a joke. Even if that point is hammered home a bit much, I still like the tone Geoff Johns takes here. Plus, this is a true origin/jumping on point (which is purportedly the purpose of all these new titles). It gets in, gets the job done, and sets up the next chapter. I like it.

18. OMAC -- As Kirby pastiches go, this one at least fun and gives that sense one probably got reading Kirby's original OMAC stuff, full of crazy ideas, odd characters, scientists in beekeeper outfits, and big, loud fights.

Anyways, not much happens here -- it's just OMAC destroying a bunch of stuff -- so it's hard to say where this is going. I'm curious as to how long they can pull off this style of comic before it gets old...four, five issues at most?

DC’s New 52 - The Good
DC’s New 52 - The OK
DC’s New 52 - The Bad

The Record Club #4: Drive-By Truckers - The Dirty South

2011-08-29T08:15:00.000-07:00

I first heard the Drive-By Truckers circa 2008, with their album Brighter Than Creations Dark, an engaging double-disc of equal parts hard-rocking and country balladry which served as a great introduction to the styles of band frontmen Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley. It also led me to delve into their back catalog, whereby it because clear that Brighter Than Creations Dark was in fact part of a third "phase" for the band, each with a distinctly different focus and changing lineup. That third phase continues on through today, with the addition of a female voice, Shonna Tucker, and a slightly more mainstream bent to the music and lyrics. Their first phase consisted of albums with kitschy names (Gangstabilly, Pizza Deliverance, and Alabama Add Whuppn’) and song titles ("Too Much Sex ( Too Little Jesus ),"The Presidents Penis Is Missing," "Buttholeville"). The novelty of these songs was a fun mix with the rowdy and raucous pacing and uneven style creating an act that was part dive bar, part Hal Needham film.

The Truckers peak, though, would be their second "phase" of three albums consisting of Southern Rock Opera (a bombastic, sprawling epic about the rise and fall of Lynard Skynard as seen through the eyes of a teenager who eventually follows the same path they did), Decoration Day (containing a much more downbeat and personal tenor, peppered with songs about divorce, murder, and even incest), and the subject of today's post, The Dirty South. More consistent than Southern Rock Opera and more enthralling than Decoration Day, The Dirty South offers up not only the easiest entry point to the Trucker's music, but also provides their most cohesive album concept and consistent set of tracks.

The focus on all three of these albums is putting into words/music what the Trucker's call "The Southern Thing," -- a term used to describe the duality of the South and the contradictions and hypocrisies that are to be found in the mythology, history, icons, and politics that define the region. They explore this with neither the intent to demonize nor glorify the South and its way of life, but rather to offer realistic depictions of its inhabitants, fleshing out stereotypes of the region's people in the process . In Southern Rock Opera they explored all of this through the lens of Southern Rock, and with Decoration Day it’s done via the examination of interpersonal struggles and relationships. Here on The Dirty South they take aim with what amounts to a series of short stories, 14 character studies into the lives of individuals in the "Mythological South," as Hood describes it, their stories microcosms of the area they live in.

Three writers/vocalists/guitarists contribute these literate stories to the album. The aforementioned Hood and Cooley, each a founding member of the band, and the much younger Jason Isbell, who was only with the Truckers during The Dirty South and the two albums that bookended it. All three men grew up in the South and that lived-in knowledge come through in the words, creating a Springsteen-like realistic, localized feel to the stories that are told. They successfully create the impression that they’ve either known the people they sing about or that the details of the story have been passed down to them from generations past.

It’s an impressive feat, then, that even with these three separate and distinctive voices, the album is still able to have such a cohesive aesthetic. The tracks are ordered such that none of the three singers/songwriters ever have consecutive tracks. Even on a suite of three songs which encompasses the singular idea of showing the “others side of the story” in the history of Buford Pusser/Walking Tall, Hood and Cooley alternate song duties.

Before delving into each of Hood, Cooley, and Isbell singing/songwriting moments (and it is typically the thought-provoking nature of the songwriting and the distinctiveness of the three voices that deservedly gets a lion’s share of the credit on The Dirty South) it should be noted that the album wouldn’t be as engaging if it weren’t also for the instrumental skills each man possesses. In this case, that instrument is the guitar, as the Truckers employ a Lynard Skynard inspired three-guitar attack. Hood, Cooley, and Isbell creating their most memorable hooks when they are raw and intense on "Where the Devil Don't Stay" and "Lookout Mountain" (the guitar dominant sound of Southern Rock bands like Skynard, .38 Special, and Molly Hatchet are obvious on songs like these), while managing to be haunting on "Tornadoes", somber on "Goddamn Lonely Love," and wistful on "Sands of Iwo Jima." The three guitar sound is always noticable, a trademark of this era of the band that certainly stands out, but it is to their credit that it doesn't overpower the singing nor the narrative.

As for each person’s contributions, Hood, is the defacto frontman of the group -- his is the name you’ll always see in any press on the band -- and he provides six of the 14 tracks (with Cooley and Isbell providing four each). His voice is distinctive and an effective change-up from the more tuneful voices of Cooley and Isbell -- gravelly and raspy, with a forceful Southern twang, he seems to borrow a bit from Neil Young when he strains to attempt a slightly too-high register throughout his songs (though surely Young is much more harmonious than Hood). Hood excels at the story-song and has a definite flair for creating portraits of common-man protagonists in his songs. “Tornadoes” hits upon a local communities’ reaction to a natural disaster with the ominous refrain that the tornadoes “sounded like a train.” “Puttin’ People On The Moon” looks at a local man’s life and how it’s been affected negatively by politicians and their misguided priorities (in this case, particularly Reagan), leading his life to a downward spiral whereby his wife dies of cancer and he’s stuck dealing drugs and working at Wal-Mart. Similarly dark, “Lookout Mountain” recaps a tale of a man contemplating suicide, questioning his value in life with lines like “If I throw myself off Lookout Mountain, who will ever hear my songs?”

Though far from my favorites on the album, the series of three songs about Buford Pusser of Walking Tall fame (the real one with Joe Don Baker, not The Rock) works as a bridge from discussing Hood, who wrote two of them, to examining Cooley, who wrote the other. Here's a man that many people who don't live in the South think they know the story of, but instead of telling it from Pusser's perspective, they tell it from the perspective of the moonshiners and drug dealers that murdered Pusser's family. However, it not as much a sympathetic view of the State Line Mob as it is empathetic -- "Cottonseed," sung by Cooley, specifically has one of these men proudly boast that he's "put more lawmen in the ground than Alabama got cottonseed." Sure what happened to Pusser was wrong, but was he really any different from these criminals to begin with? Again, the songs don't point to one side being more right than the other, just that there's more story to be told that what 90% of us already know.

Cooley provides my choice for the song that gets the most listens from me on the album, the hard-hitting opener “Where the Devil Don’t Stay,” eliciting a rebellious snarl as he belts out lines about a Depression era moonshiner. That same rebellious streak comes out in a more menacing way on the aforementioned “Cottonseed.” His other two contributions are two of the few songs on the album you could consider upbeat, “Carl Perkins’ Cadillac,” a tale about Sam Philips and the history behind Sun Records, and “Daddy’s Cup,” a homespun tale about a dad, his son, and their love of racin’. Both songs evoke a more easy-going AM radio Country ballad sound ala 1970’s Glenn Campbell (a style that Cooley will begin to evolve even more in future albums) and mix it with nostalgic reminiscing about the “good old days.”

Like Cooley, Isbell’s songs also can be split by their tempo, but his two slower-paced songs have a bittersweet tone to them. They also happen to be the two songs on the album that could most be seen to have an autobiographical context to them. “Danko/Manuel” could easily be the best song on the album, a beautiful and heartfelt tribute to the two tragic members of The Band in the song title. Isbell could easily be referring to himself when he sings “They say Danko would have sounded just like me/Is that the man you want to be?” As for “Goddamn Lonely Love,” Isbell supposedly wrote it for his then wife (and bandmate) Shonna Tucker, so perhaps it isn’t much of a surprise that the two eventually divorced when the lyrics seem to describe the loneliness and numbness associated with a failing relationship. Isbell seems to be at his best in this dark place, as the anthemic “Never Gonna Change” and the fast-paced “The Day John Henry Died” don’t’ have quite the impact his other songs do.

I think that’s about enough of my thoughts on the album -- I assume there is enough glowing praise in the preceding paragraphs that you can all see my love for this album. So, what are everyone else’s thoughts here? Did anyone else enjoy the album? Does it make you at all interested in seeking out other Drive-By Truckers albums? Am I out of my mind for touting it so highly? I’d also love to get into some discussions on the themes of the album, seeing as I don’t think we actually have any representation from the South amongst the typical commenters I’m curious what you think of the Truckers representation and exploration of the area’s inhabitants via their songs.

The Record Club #4: Drive-By Truckers - The Dirty South (Introduction)

2011-07-29T08:13:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to announce that I'll be hosting what will be the fourth pick in the Inexhaustible Documents Record Club (created and ran by Ed Howard). The idea here is to have everyone who wants to be involved listen to an album, as picked by the host, and then all join up on the host's blog to discuss said album. It began with Ed's selection, The Congos' Heart of the Congos, continued on with Kevin Olson's choice Brand New's The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me, and recently Carson Lund hosted his pick, Sam Amidon's All Is Well.

It's a wide ranging set of choices thus far (70's reggae, modern guitar driven rock, and traditional folk) and I've enjoyed being introduced to each album and taking part in the conversations. It's an endeavor that's allowed me to hear music I wouldn't have normally sought out, learn a ton about the history of genres I'm not as knowledgeable in, and has added to how I think and write about music, an area I enjoy but have always struggled to put into words.

The best part is that you can all join in (Hooray)! Just ask me or Ed or anyone involved and we'll make sure you have the, ahem, materials needed to take part. We're all friendly and there aren't any blood oaths or initiations into the club, so don't be frightened.

My choice is a personal favorite, The Dirty South by Drive-By Truckers. It's an album that offers up lyrical tales about the people, mythologies, and perceptions of the South combined with a forceful country rock sound and distinctive vocals. I'll save the rest of my thoughts on it until the conversation begins, so give it a few listens and join me back here on August 29th to discuss it.

(To help promote the discussion and The Record Club, feel free to post the following banner on your site)

Robert Bresson: Journal d'un Curé de Campagne / Diary of a Country Priest (1951)

2011-07-15T12:48:00.000-07:00

(Part 4 of my Robert Bresson retrospective. See the sidebar for prior posts.)

I found Bresson’s first two full-length works, Les Anges du Péché and Les dames du Bois de Boulogne to both be borderline great films. However, when compared to his next film, Journal d'un curé de campagne aka Diary of a Country Priest those two films can’t help but come across as minor. The fingerprints of the prior films can still be seen on the proceedings here -- Bresson’s eye for capturing only the most essential elements in his shots has been apparent since the beginning and the dialing in on a redemptive theme is central to all three films. The tableau of faith and the Church, along with the similarity of the pivotal scene pitting a devout idealist fighting for a lost soul, also make this and Les Anges stand out as similar. Yet, with Diary of a Country Priest Bresson makes bold steps in terms of aesthetic and thematic acuity, stripping away all semblance of melodrama, toning down the use of music, implementing his preferred “models” in place of (most) actors, and going even further with his economical use of time construction, all working toward achieving the austere tenor that is synonymous with his name.

The film’s central conceit revolves around Bresson’s choice in delivering the film’s narrative, using a clever and affecting triangulation of spoken word (narration), written word (words written into a diary^*), and image (on-screen action) to give a full accounting of the action. This melding of styles creates an affectation whereby, as Andre Bazin stated, “the most moving moments of the film are those in which the text and image are saying the same thing, each however in its own way.” In the hands of a lesser director this use of voiceover narration along with the simultaneous filming of the a hand putting pen to paper could easily be used as a superfluous shortcut or an expository crutch. Bresson is able to avoid such an issue, using the expressive nature of the words to add depth, while still keeping the images sparse and the action efficient (core tenants of Bresson’s method). It’s an elegant overall effect that allows the film to get directly to the heart of its themes and to acutely focus our connection with the lead character.

Based on a novel by Georges Bernanos (and adapted by Bresson himself), the story revolves around an unnamed young priest (Claude Laydu) starting his first parish in the French town of Ambricourt. Laydu, in his first ever role, deserves equal credit with Bresson in making the film’s methods work. As Bresson’s first “actor-model,” (a Bressonian construct describing someone who doesn’t perform, per se, but instead “displays their soul” to the camera) his performance is perfectly in tune with the tenor of the film, showcasing the proper naiveté and emotion (or lack thereof) via his face and line readings. Together, Bresson and Laydu are able to match the introspective thoughts and words of the diary with a face and voice that attests to the priest’s inner struggles and constant searching for God in the world. Laydu’s bulging eyes, furrowed brow, and gaunt demeanor are obvious inspirations to Bresson’s vision here, with him focusing on Laydu’s expressiveness throughout in a very similar vein to how Maria Falconetti’s iconic look shapes Carl Theodor Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc.

The priest quickly finds out that this town of Ambricourt is a spiritual wasteland and his hopes of affecting the people of the town are summarily crushed, dismissal coming from all angles. Via his diary and voiceover, the priest makes clear his feelings of isolation and despair: an inability to pray, a feeling that God has left him and, perhaps, that he has even lost his faith. His mere presence elicits a look of scorn from the Count (Jean Riveyre) and his mistress, Louise (Nicole Maurey). He is openly mocked by the children in his catechism class. Only one person shows up to daily mass. The Count’s daughter, Chantal (Nicole Ladmiral), is angry at her father’s affair and dismissive of her mother, the Countess (Rachel Berendt), taking out her anger on the priest. The Countess herself is resentful of God for the death of her young son, belittling the priest when they first meet.

In addition, due to horrible stomach pains, he is forced to consume only wine soaked bread, making him all the weaker. Soon, his subsistence on these sacraments will cause the town to believe him a “drunkard.” A local doctor checks on his condition, with his diagnosis being that the priest’s poor health is a result of his parents’ alcohol intake while he was in utero, or as the doctor so wonderfully puts it, “pickled from birth.” Shortly thereafter, the doctor commits suicide, rattling the priest further. And when he asks for help in all these matters from the priest (Adrien Borel) in the neighboring town of Torcy, he merely implores him to not be so idealistic in his dealings with the people of the town.

The priest musters up some meager reaffirmation of having "not lost my faith", believing he hears a voice -- perhaps human, likely divine-- calling to him outside his window. Only when he rushes to look out the window and see who the voice belongs to, he is met with silence. It’s a repeated motif that Bresson uses to drive home the priest’s alienation, one of several scenes beginning or ending with the priest alone, looking out of his window into the distance, or otherwise peering through a parishioner's window or standing outside a closed gate. It’s apparent from the opening shot, where the Count shoots a disapproving glare towards the priest (edited in a way that makes it look like the Count simply senses the priest’s presence, as they don’t actually seem to be in the same place) followed by the imagery of the priest trapped behind the bars of a gate, that this is a man who is not welcome in the town.

Despite his ineffectualness and the moments of doubt that creep in on the priest, it’s in his second meeting with the Countess, itself the crux of the film’s narrative, where he makes his first breakthrough. After the priest handles a threat of suicide from Chantal, he is implored to talk to the Countess again in response to her attitude towards her daughter. However, it quickly turns into something altogether different, a battle for her soul, as the Countess explains her torment over the loss of her son. At the key moment of this back and forth, with the Countess implicitly admitting that she hates God, there’s a composition that nicely encompasses Bresson for me. The camera focuses on the priest’s face, pausing for a second, then pushing in a bit, as we can see him processing the emotional response of the Countess, a note of hope showing in his eyes as if he’s been given some kind of transcendent message directly from God. He then utters the words, “You don’t hate him now. Now at last you are face-to-face,” which finally break down the wall the Countess had built. Admitting her willingness to be separated from God, to accept “Thy will be done”, the priest is able to help her once again accept God’s grace.

It’s not only an important scene in terms of the story, it being the one significant change the priest will make in his time at Ambricourt, but it also showcases one of the stylistic choices that Bresson uses so well. The scene begins with the sound of raking leaves, before diving into the spiritual battle between the priest and the Countess. We are pulled in to the otherworldly spiritual aspect of their back-and-forth conversation, when suddenly, at the Countess has resigned her anger, the raking sound appears off-screen again, snapping us back into the “real” world. This happens at several other intervals in the film as well (a gunshot, footsteps) where off-screen sounds break up the inner monologue of the priest, transporting us out of the insular world and back into the natural world.

A few days after this meeting, the priest receives a letter from the Countess in which she reiterates her gratefulness for the Priest drawing her out of her "terrifying solitude" and ending with the words "I'm not resigned. I'm happy. I desire nothing. I had to tell you these things this very evening. We shall never speak of them ever again, shall we? Never. It is good, that word 'never.' I feel it expresses, beyond words, the peace you have given me."

This letter is just one of many written documents during the film that are shown to have great importance, each making clear the power of the written word. The diary goes without saying, as it’s a focal point of the entire film, crystalizing the priest’s internal feelings throughout. The film also ends with a type-written correspondence that wraps up the story, telling of the priest’s own “resignation” (and discovery of grace). Early on there is a letter from Louise imploring the priest to leave the town and later, the priest will burn the spiteful words that are in Chantal’s suicide note, which he all but augurs from her hand in the first place (eliciting the proper response “You must be the devil!”). Finally, here the letter from the Countess not only has a strong, albeit shortly lived, sway over the spiritual state of the priest, but later we find out it also has the power to absolve the priest of the rumors that surround him.

The letter is a glimmer of hope for the priest, but Bresson does not allow the viewer or the priest to dwell on this moment of peace, as we quickly find out that the Countess has died. This death causes the priest’s unrest to come creeping back ("I had said to her, ‘Peace be with you,’ What wonder, that one can give what one doesn't possess!”). Here again Bresson’s framing of this scene exemplifies his stripped down and effective blending of words, sound, and image. From the fade out of the letter being read in the previous scene, we fade in on a clock ticking before panning to the words being written in the diary: "The countess died last night." With the camera staying on those words, we hear the off-screen sound of a candle being blown out and the rush of footsteps as the priest takes off for the Countess's home^**.

Later on, while making a journey through the night woods, the priest falls ill. This provides as good an entry point as any to focus on Leonce-Henri Burel’s cinematography, as he uses some fantastic contrasting black and white imagery in this scene. Bresson asked Burel to keep the images non-exciting and sparse. Although there certainly isn’t anything flashy here, there were more than enough striking compositions available to give me plenty to choose from while capturing screencaps. Also interesting, is that on closer look you notice that there is a certain gauzy sheen that permeates the camerawork throughout. It creeps in on the edges, without the overpowering visuals. At first I thought this was nothing more than the remnants of watching a 60-year old film, but it quickly became obvious that something else was going on. It turns out that on accident, Burel used an improper diffuser on his lens and that when Bresson saw the results, he loved how it looked and asked him to continue doing so, purposefully creating this effect. It’s noticeable, but entirely non-obtrusive, perhaps even subconsciously drawing the viewer more in to the events on-screen, as they a forced to peer slightly closer to the image.

With the priest ill, and now vomiting blood, he decides to head to Lille to see a doctor. He receives a motorcycle ride to the train station from Chantal's cousin, Oliver and it's not until this moment that we see the priest smile for the only time in the film, a moment of joy, of youthful exuberance and simple pleasure, and a chance for a brief bit of introspection during the short ride ("Youth is blessed. It's a risk you take, and even that risk is blessed. By some premonition I can't explain, I understood that God didn't want me to die without knowing something of this risk. Just enough for my sacrifice to be complete when it's time came."). Like his moment of victory with the Countess before, it’s a fleeting joy that comes crashing down very soon after.

After a short discussion with Oliver at the train station (where the priesthood is compared to being a Legionnaire, both soldiers in different armies), we cut to a shot outside the door of the doctor in Lille. Instead of being privy to the conversation that goes on inside the office doors, the next scene begins in the post-visit world of an obviously demoralized priest. It’s at this point that he reveals the diagnosis: “Cancer. Stomach cancer.” Bresson loves to cut out large swaths of time in-between shots, narrowing his focus to distinct moments. With surgical precision, he will remove a long conversation and replacing it with its after-effects, filling in the blanks with something as simple as the priest’s utterance of those three words. He is pushing the viewer to focus less on the reveal and more on the outcome, as that’s where the depth truly lies.

The priest's final days are spent with an old friend from seminary, an ex-priest named Dufrety who is now a druggist in Lille. Dufrety has run into his own series of issues: dissolute, in poor health, and having spent time in a sanatorium. As his last deed (and his last diary entry), the priest helps to convince Dufrety that it’s not too late to see the priest of Torcy and return to the priesthood. The priest looks out the window one last time, sitting silently, and the scene fades out. Darkness fills the screen for a few seconds more than your typical cut between scenes. When the screen fades back in, we are focused on a type-written letter from Dufrety to the priest of Torcy which explains the priest’s final moments. It’s fitting that Bresson skips an onscreen portrayal of the priest’s death, preferring instead to have it depicted with this letter being read aloud in voiceover, with a backdrop of a cross filling the screen. We find out that near the end the priest asked Dufrety for absolution, which "though neither humanity nor friendship would permit me to refuse, while discharging my duties, I explained to my unfortunate comrade my hesitation at granting his request. He didn't seem to hear me. But a few moments later, he laid his hands on mine while his eyes entreated me to draw closer to him. He then said, very distinctly, if extremely slowly, these exact words: ‘What does it matter? All is grace.’” And with that, the scene fades to black, again lingering on the blackness for a few extra moments.

The priest’s final words have been grounds for some critics to view the ending in a cynical fashion -- that the priest's suffering is for naught as he could not affect the change in had sought and he died, defeated and resigned, receiving his last rites from a lapsed colleague^***. This only seems to work if you entirely reject Bresson’s worldview (which one could be justified in doing) or else ignore the auteurist leanings of Bresson, for surely he was much too interested in the mysteries of the divine to take such a cynical view of the priest’s last moments. More likely, the ending is tragically optimistic, the priest realizing that his trials and suffering, doubts and struggles, the good and the evil he’s seen, they are all irrelevant in this moment. It's only by the grace that surrounds him that he finds comfort and redemption in these final moments, the events of this world matter not. He has found his salvation.

It only took me 3000 words to get to my final thoughts (perhaps I need to take some of Bresson’s rigorous editing style to heart). I think I’ve made it clear that I love the Bresson aesthetic, so I won’t dwell specifically on those aspects. His style of formalism and the obvious progression that has been made over the course of his career to this point has been fascinating. Yet this is the third time in three films that his films have simultaneously stirred me and left me cold (and I now fully expect that going forward with all of his films). To expand on this, even though Diary of a Country Priest doesn’t allow the viewer any emotional catharsis on the surface, the quiet moments throughout and the style in which they are presented make you look inward, piquing the need for introspection, for wanting to look at things deeper. It’s this moment of self-examination that then ends up queuing the feelings that weren’t there initially. Emotion by way of intellect and form. There’s nothing profound in my saying this, but I am fascinated at how Bresson is able to accomplish this so thoroughly.

Fortunately there are real film critics out there that are able to provide much more engaging words on the matter. In this case, Philip Lopate, who gets to the heart of how the film effects the thought process of the viewer in such a perfect way, that I’m excerpting parts of it here to end this piece:

There was a solitary chapel scene, ending in one of those strange short dolly shots that Bresson was so fond of, a movement of almost clumsy longing toward the priest at the altar, as though the camera itself were taking communion. Suddenly I had the impression that the film had stopped, or, rather, that time had stopped. All forward motion was arrested, and I was staring into “eternity.” Now, I am not the kind of person readily given to mystical experiences, but at that moment I had a sensation of delicious temporal freedom. What I “saw” was not a presence, exactly, but a prolongation, a dilation, as though I might step into the image and walk around it at my leisure...
A film like Diary of a Country Priest was not constantly dinning reaction cues into me. With the surrounding darkness acting as a relaxant, its stream of composed images induced a harmony that cleansed and calmed my brain; the plot may have been intimate tragic, but it brought me into a quieter space of serene resignation through the measured unfurling of a story of human suffering...
What Diary of a Country Priest taught me was that certain kinds of movies-those with austere aesthetic means; an unhurried, deliberate pace; tonal consistency; a penchant for long shots as opposed to close-ups; an attention to backgrounds and milieu; a mature acceptance of suffering as fate-allowed me more room for meditation.

_{* Allow me this one digression in an overall serious piece: The hands we see when the journal entries are being written are those of Bresson. Of course, this led me to immediately think of Dario Argento and how he also felt the need to have the hands of his black-gloved killers be his own during POV shots in his films. To keep with this tenuous giallo connection, during several shots in the film a bottle of wine is shown in the foreground with the priest, hinting at his issues with alcohol, leading my mind to the ubiquitous J&B bottles that find their way into every giallo film. [back]}

_{** In connection with the observation about the closed gates/doors before, this is the only moment in the film where all of the doors are open to the priest as he runs to see the Countess, Bresson even focusing on each gate and doorway he runs through on his way to see her. [back]}

_{*** The original script, before Bresson took it over, had the movie end with the line "When you're dead, you're dead" a line that leans much more heavily to the cynical side of things, and one Bernanos wasn't willing to sign off on. [back]}

What Troy’s Been Up To

2011-06-30T13:57:00.001-07:00

I promise this isn’t one of those blog posts where I complain about my lack of time and all of the things in life that have kept me from blogging, while also making unattainable promises about what I’ll be writing about in the coming weeks and months. No, I’ve done that before and have since learned that 1) my ambition is always going to be much greater than my ability to see things through to completion and 2) frankly, anyone who really cares about why I’m not blogging already knows the reasons -- everyone else could likely care less :)

Instead, consider this a post where I simply try to shake off the rust from having not written anything for the last month by talking about what I’ve been up to in that timeframe.

One time sink has stemmed from our decision to ditch our satellite dish and go with all free/streaming TV. To accomplish this I installed a antenna, sold my PS3, and bought a Home Theater PC that runs XBMC. While I thought this would be a simple and seamless project, it’s turned into one where I’m incessantly tweaking every setting trying to squeeze every ounce of usefulness out of the system, while at the same time making it simple enough that my wife can learn to use it without getting frustrated at me for further complicating things.

Regardless, XBMC is a fun interface to use and it lets me stream things over our house’s network so much better than the PS3 did (though by selling the PS3, I’ve currently lost the ability to play Blu-Ray). It also has a PVR feature, so I can still record shows that are over-the-air, which my daughter appreciates for the one cartoon she loves that is on PBS. Having all of the movies, TV shows, music, home videos, and online content so easily accessible is worth the steep learning curve in getting the thing setup. The only issue so far is the Netflix interface, which isn’t currently working, but I’m not signed up at the moment, so it’s not a pressing need for me.
As for what I’ve been watching, before I dumped the satellite I was sure to finish up the second season of the FX series Justified. The show impressed me even more the second season than it did in the first, expanding the world of Harlan County, Kentucky a bit (but not so much as to use up all future storylines), having better control over the pacing of the season long story arc (season 1 seemed to stall out a lot more in the middle), again utilizing some amazing character actors in supporting roles, and most noticeably having Timothy Olyphant and Walter Goggins craft two of the stand-out characters currently on TV in Marshall Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder. Olyphant has already surpassed what he did on Deadwood in this role (for as great as the show was, and it’s one of the best ever, Olyphant as Seth Bullock wasn’t given the meatiest bits, too often resigned to clenching his teeth and scowling and not allowed to show the charisma he exerts on Justified) and while Goggins may never be as great as he was on the last season of The Shield, he’s once again behind a morally ambiguous character who you can at once hate and sympathize with. It speaks volumes about Goggins’ ability that his character was supposed to die in the first episode, but has instead become the second focal point of the show.
On the movie front, I’m not at all excited by anything released in the past few months (short of Tree of Life), so I haven’t been able to join in on any conversations about current film. I have however made the time for a few classics, as you can see on the sidebar (well, ignoring Knight and Day and The Enforcer, which my wife and I mindlessly watched together for no real reason other than they were there).

Bunny Lake Is Missing is a nice piece of psychological horror, making great use of its London locale and Philip Glass score while also sustaining its mystery by never fully showing its hand as to whether Bunny exists or not, especially if you were to precede it with a viewing of, say, Repulsion. It loses some of its steam after the mystery is solved with an overlong finale, but is still a great thriller.

Also watched for the first time was Sunset Blvd., quite simply one of the greatest movies of all-time. I don’t have much to add to the conversation on this one (speaking of which, if you’ve seen this and All About Eve, but haven’t read Jason Bellamy and Ed Howard’s Conversation piece on it, what are you waiting for, it’s one of their best), but love Wilder’s satirical ability at taking the piss out of Hollywood (and at the same time, himself). I’m honestly surprised at the amount of barbs they were able to get into the film in 1950. Gloria Swanson delivers one of the iconic roles in all of cinema as Norma Desmond and William Holden’s performance is actually able to stand toe-to-toe with her as her personal screenwriter/kept man.

Finally, I rewatched The Third Man (this time watching with my wife) for no other reason than I needed to test out a DVD in the home theater PC. It still remains one of my favorites, with note perfect performances by Joseph Cotten as the type of Ugly American that wouldn’t be allowed in an American film of the era and Orson Welles as the charmingly evil Harry Lime. The natural connection for me here is with Citizen Kane, also starring the two aforementioned men and also containing what I consider to be some of the best camera work and onscreen compositions ever. A credit here to both Carol Reed and cinematographer Robert Krasker for their hand in creating the visuals, whether it be the introduction of Lime, the wonderfully chiaroscuro finale in the sewers of Vienna (scored with only the sound of footsteps and the echo of voices), or the drawn out “will she/won’t she” final shot (made all the better because she doesn’t). Just a brilliant film.
I completely forgot to post about Kevin’s submission for The Record Club, which is for the album The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me by the band Brand New, the discussion of which I was happy to be able to participate in. So if you haven’t already made your way to his blog to read his thoughts and the fine comments that follow, you should do so now. I’ve actually thrown my name in the hat to submit my own piece in August -- I have the band narrowed down, but don’t yet have the album chosen. Very much looking forward to that.

Also on the music front, I’ve added a last.fm widget to the side of the blog so you can see what fine music I’ve been listening to for the last week. With the listening being public knowledge I guess I’ll now have to keep the Air Supply to a minimum ;)
Okay -- just one thing about forthcoming blogposts…Yes, the Bresson and Powell and Pressburger retrospectives are going to continue. As I said when I began them, these may take 10 years to write, but I will complete them. I have notes written on the next two Bresson films and have honestly not even begun to watch the P&P yet, though I do have The Spy in Black on my PSP -- step one in watching a movie is having it available :)

New Project -- Inexhaustible Documents: The Record Club

2011-04-26T16:51:00.000-07:00

Ed Howard, the man behind the superb movie blog Only the Cinema, has shown his knowledge of music in the past, most notably in his series of posts on the best albums of the 2000’s. Now he’s starting up a new and exciting blogging endeavor, Inexhaustible Documents, a music “club” modeled on The Oldest Established Really Important Film Club, whereby one blogger selects an album for everyone to listen to, posts about it on their blog, and everyone discusses it in the comments. As Ed himself describes it, “The vibe should be relaxed and conversational, an online version of friends casually trading recommendations and commenting on them.”

I was asked to participate in the concept, along with some other much more prominent bloggers, and jumped at the idea, if for no other reason than to get a chance to listen to some new things and also to work at articulating in words what I enjoy about music, something I find terribly difficult to do in any kind of method beyond “ooh, this sounds really cool.” As for when it comes to picking an album, I’m not sure if I have anything in my music collection as esoteric as Ed or my brother will choose, but I have plenty of music I’d love to talk about with other people, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Now, this is by no means any kind of exclusive thing. If you are just now hearing about it, then contact Ed or anyone else involved and ask to “join in” (aka get access to the music) -- the more different viewpoints and people in the conversation, the better. Whether you decide to join in or not, spread the word and place the banner at the top of this post on your own blog.

The first selection is Ed’s pick and it’s reggae, The Congo’s Heart of the Congos. I don’t think I’ve given reggae a real shot since high school, and even then it was pretty much just some Bob Marley and maybe some Jimmy Cliff or Peter Tosh. So, this should be a fun, ear-opening experience.

The conversation begins on Ed’s blog on May 23rd.

Blazers/Mavs, Game 2 Liveblog

2011-04-19T18:02:00.000-07:00

Some more of this in Game 2 would be nice

Keep refreshing this page for latest updates!

Well my liveblogging is off to an auspicious start as I’m reminded that I have a Skype conversation scheduled at 6:30, the same time as when the game starts. Fortunately for me, that late game on TNT never starts on time and they will ALWAYS stick with the East coast game, even if it’s a blowout.
On that note, I do have the choice of watching the game on TNT or on our local affiliate and I’m going to choose TNT. I like the local announcers enough, as their homer tendencies just make me laugh, but after that first game and the way the whole refereeing thing is shaking out (Dallas media is already pinning an eventual loss tonight on Joey Crawford being the ref) I don’t think I can handle two hours of complaining about the officiating and how the Blazers are getting jobbed.
Of course, if the refs are out to get the Blazers, I’ll be sure to complain ;)

1st Quarter

Shawn Marion easily has the worst looking shot of any guy who has made a living out of being able to shoot (if that makes any sense).
Hmm, they seem to be calling this a bit closer to start the game -- not letting as much go. Not sure if that necessarily favors either team.
I’m surprised that more big men don’t use the Marcus Camby “tap out” rebound method. He gets 2 or 3 of those a game and I don’t seem to see other similarly sized guys do it very often.
Nice move down the lane by Aldridge with the pump fake. Don’t see him drive to the rim like that very often.
Dirk is way off on his shot to start the night. Of course, last game proved that he typically still finds ways to hurt you on offense. Still, he seems to be a bit bothered by the Portland defenders, so that’s a plus.
Wallace hits a three -- I’d still rather he not shoot those. But that’s a good sign if he’s going to hit that as it should get him some more room to drive.
And just as I write that he gets another call on a drive to the lane. Nice.
Um, Wesley Matthews looks like he’s dead after that head butt. That’s not good.
Hmm, Rudy comes in for Matthews…interesting.
Aldridge will kill the Mavs if he continues to hit that jumper (as long as he doesn’t fall in love with it).
Ugly, ugly, ugly three attempt by Batum.
McHale thinks that Batum is the worst possible person to be guarding Dirk? With brilliant analysis like that it isn’t any shock that he ran the Timberwolves into the ground.
Stop with the threes already Blazers…and Dallas hits on on the other end. 2 point game.
BATUM-SHAKA-LAKA. He needs to hit that shot WHEN HE’S OPEN (and make it).
Ugh…another wide open 3 by Dallas.
And so ends the quarter -- good back and forth by both teams. Should be fun the rest of the way.

2nd Quarter

I just realized it’s hard to get worked up when playing the Mavs. They just don’t have a lot of those players you really hate.
Rudy…what was that!? Batum goes down the next shot and drains a nice jumper. And then two plays later the steal and the dunk
That was a better idea by Roy on the drive…it’s still sad to see his inability to get around guys, though. *sigh* And then he misses both free throws.
Peja is certainly shooting good thus far tonight.
With some of the fouls being called for the Blazers, then perhaps that $35,000 fine McMillan paid was worth it. Lots of touch stuff going their way.
It’s amazing how good Andre Miller is at moving the ball up the court. It’s amazing how many easy buckets the Blazers get when you consider they are the slowest paced team in the league.
BATUM!
Just as I wrote why don’t more guys do the Camby style rebound, Chandler does one.
McHale seems surprised that Dallas is shooting a lot of 3’s. Um, they were 5th in the league during the regular season Kevin.
Jason Terry is one of those guys that I’m always surprised can dunk the ball. He looks smaller than he really is.
McHale on Jason Terry: “You know why they call him the Jet, because he puts the flaps out”. Is that a comment on his ears?
You have to be kidding me on that Kidd ~~4-point~~ 3-point play. That was some kind of shot.
Ah, the alley oop. Dallas has been guarding surprisingly well on those tonight, so it’s nice to finally see one.
Oh man, Matthews is starting to heat up. If him and Batum are on, I like the Blazers chances to win this (as I stated in the preview).
Another alley oop to Aldridge! He is so, so good at getting into position for those.
Hehe, they aren’t going to call your flop Tyson…and here comes a technical. The booing scene in Dallas is something I have seen time and again at Blazer home games and I roll my eyes at it 98% of the time then, too. Most of the time when it happens you can look up at the scoreboard and free throw attempts are just about even.
Not sure if “ref, you suck” chants have a positive effect on the refs.
Not sure how 20-second timeouts work…I hit the 30-second skip the moment it was called and it’s still going on for another 30-seconds after I skipped.
Eh, that was a blocking foul. Don’t move those feet Batum!! Oh well, Haywood misses both of the foul shots.
That’s a pretty great half for the Blazers as they are doing just about all the things they need to do to win and never really had a lull throughout the first half.

Half Time

That’s one big screen Kenny is standing in front of.
Charles says one punch can’t knock him out…hehe.
And did Kenny just say that Charles has been in a lot of jails?

3rd Quarter

Hmm, probably shouldn’t let Jason Kidd just walk down the lane like that.
Ugh, Blazers getting killed by the old man and some bad switching defense.
Wallace needs to do a lot more of those post ups this half. The Blazers have a tendency to start drifting about this time.
And Wallace with a missed three…see previous bullet point. Yuck.
Another bad switch…leads to a Dirk 3-point play. It’s been a failure of the defense all year, getting killed on switches likes that. In fact, it’s the single reason they lost to Phoenix in the first round last year.
Blazers really need a bucket here with 7:00 to go in the quarter…and it looked like they had an easy one with Aldridge only for Dirk to get a piece of it.
At least Dirk is missing wide open 18-footers.
FINALLY, Aldridge with an 18-footer of his own.
I like Peja’s defense on Wallace there…just grab him as he’s running, don’t even attempt to play defense.
Time for the Blazers to make their run? Two post ups in a row by the Blazer guards lead to a 3 point lead.
Hmm, probably shouldn’t let Peja be wide open for 3. He’s good at that shot.
MILLER HIT A THREE. IT’S A MIRACLE!!!!! (No, Kevin, he doesn’t make those enough to keep you honest). I said Shawn Marion has an ugly shot, but at least his feet leave the ground when he shoots. I’m amazed that little set shot by Miller even makes it to the rim from that far out.
And a nice runout lay-in by Gerald Wallace to make it a one-point game.
I don’t think the announcers are aware they are back on the air here.
Mills in before Roy? Looks like they are going with the speedy lineup here.
Brian Cardinal looks like my 5th grade gym coach.
Patty Mills *shakes head*.
Down one going into the final quarter, doesn’t look like either team will run away with this. Every time it looks like the Blazers are going to fall into one of their moments of idiocy, they snap out of it.

4th Quarter

I like Rick Carlisle’s strategy for the 4th -- “stops and scores”. A worthy answer to an asinine question.
Dirk misses a free-throw! I’m sure he’s going to get plenty of chances in the quarter though.
Ugh, JJ Barea. Rudy simply can’t guard a guy that quick.
Just look at how the offense stalls when Miller isn’t in there. Everyone just starts standing around like they expect Brandon to become the Brandon of old. Frustrating to watch.
Marcus Camby for three! McHale insinuates that McMillan drew that up in the huddle…I don’t know about that.
Eep…Peja for three. Bad rotations by the Blazers there.
JJ Barea killing it right now. Ouch.
Good job by Aldridge to take the ball inside aggressively as they are more than willing to give him the superstar whistles right now.
Okay, so if a 6’6” inch guy takes that shot from Matthews it’s NOT an offensive foul? Does that make any sense?
4:30 to go and down by 8. Bad fourth quarter for the Blazers again.
Yep, falling apart in the fourth quarter. And they can’t blame the officials this time.
Down 8. Pretty much need a perfect 2 1/2 minutes to pull this one off…let’s see if they can do it (it’s not like Dallas hasn’t choked one away before).
Okay…so everything Dirk does is a foul on the other team. I promised I wouldn’t complain, but…
*sigh*
Next two games are in Portland. Hopefully better things happen for the Blazers there as that was an atrocious 4th quarter.

Blazers/Mavs, Game 2, Preview to Liveblogging

2011-04-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

It was brought to my attention (thanks, Jamie) that I haven’t talked any NBA around here for a while. I wasn’t able to watch Game 1 of the Blazers/Mavs playoff series, but I will be able to watch Game 2 and thought I’d try liveblogging the game tonight.

It seems pretty simple as to what the Blazers need to do to win tonight. First, they need to either make a few outside shots or simply stop shooting them. It’s been a season long issue that this team lives and dies by the 3-pointer and it seems that when they die by it, like they did in Game 1, it’s in the most grisly of manners (2-of-16). Second, they need either Gerald Wallace or Wesley Matthews to bounce back. Wallace has been a model of consistency since joining the Blazers, so it was strange to see him play so poorly in Game 1. Matthews inconsistency has been a hallmark of his play this season, but he typically can be counted on to follow up a poor showing with a game or two of great play.

I don’t have any worries about LaMarcus Aldridge (and it should show how far he has come this year that I can say that), who the Mavs don’t have an answer for defensively, or Andre Miller, who continues to amaze me with his “old-man” basketball skills. Similarly, Marcus Camby should provide consistent rebounding and defense (why he wasn’t in there in the 4th quarter of Game 1 is hard to fathom, though since I wasn’t watching the game flow, I’ll withhold comment) and Nic Batum will give good defense, even if his shooting stroke is off.

At this point anything you get from Rudy Fernandez and Brandon Roy is a bonus. Rudy had a stretch of the season where it seemed like he was figuring things out and finally finding a role on the team. Then his 3-point shooting cratered late in the season and it hasn’t yet recovered. But Rudy is just a complimentary player, while Brandon’s descent into mediocrity is sad. I keep reading things from writers and bloggers in other cities and they all seem to make mention of Roy still being a threat, even in his current condition. How I’d love for that to be true, but apart from a couple of flourishes here and there, I just don’t see it. He isn’t much more reliable than Rudy at this point, seemingly losing all of the ultra-confident swagger he used to have. I know McMillan thought that playing him in the 4th quarter might bring back a bit of the old Brandon, but it was a failed experiment and even IF Matthews plays like he did in Game 1, I’d like to think his explosiveness and defense provide more of a threat than Brandon does during a close game.

I’ll create a new post when I start the liveblog and you can refresh it all night to follow along. Game time is 6:30 Pacific, so parenting duties might make it so I have to watch parts of the game time-shifted on the DVR, but I’d guess I’ll be all caught up by the beginning of the second half.

Kevin and I Get Interviewed

2011-04-18T09:48:00.001-07:00

Head on over to the always fantastic Wonders In The Dark, where Sam Juliano has deemed Kevin and myself worthy of a lengthy interview about our movie watching, blogging, and personal lives.

While you’re there, look around (for those few of you who already haven’t) as they are in the midst of a stellar film noir countdown, have a weekly “what have you watched” post that is always fun to participate and follow along with, and have tons of other great countdowns and features in the archives.

Robert Bresson: Les dames du Bois de Boulogne (1945)

2011-04-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

(Part 3 of my Robert Bresson retrospective. See the sidebar for prior posts.)

After working in the tableau of the sacred in Les Anges du Peche, Bresson would next move to the secular world in his final studio production, Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne. Like the previous film, . Loosely adapted from an anecdote in Diderot's Jacques le Fataliste (for a more well-known stylistic comparison, think in the vein of Les liaisons dangereuses) and updated to a modern setting, Bresson again writes the scenario for the film with dialogue coming from elsewhere, in this case fellow famed director, Jean Cocteau. If that seems like an interesting mix -- a modern melodrama retelling a 18th century short story with direction from the meticulous Bresson and words from the ostentatious Cocteau -- it's because it is. The film doesn’t appear to be a bold statement delineating the talents of Bresson, but it does have much to recommend.

Set in 1940's France, upper-class Hélène (María Casares) and Jean (Paul Bernard) have been lovers for two years. When she mentions their growing apart and bluffs that they should see other people, he unexpectedly jumps at this opportunity. Hélène, having still been in love with Jean does not take this rebuff well. In a memorable sequence, we see Helene’s face as Jean leaves the room, the light from the hallway beaming onto her as he opens the door to walk out, only for her to be overcome in darkness once the door closes. The next shot shows Helene on her bed, an icy glare over her face, as the camera slowly closes in and she simply proclaims “I’ll be revenged.”

Helene’s revenge revolves around befriending Agnès (Elina Labourdette), a down-on-her-luck cabaret dancer turned reluctant prostitute, and her mother (Lucienne Bogaert). Under the guise of a good Samaritan, she offers to pay off their debts and move them to an apartment such that Agnes could start her life anew. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Helene's plan is to introduce Agnes to the naive Jean, pushing him into falling for her, whereby they would ultimately wed, invoking a scandal and publicly humiliating Jean. Convoluted as that may seem, it’s exactly what happens, as the two are married and Agnes’ past is never broached (Jean nonchalantly ignores any attempt to explore it whenever it is brought up and Agnes is duped into thinking that Helene explained the situation to Jean). It is during the wedding reception that Helene clues the two of them in to her sinister plot, causing Agnes to faint (due to her weak heart) and Jean to run off in confusion. Jean returns later that evening to see Agnes, as she tells him she is more than willing to simply "let go" in order to release Jean from the situation. Instead, as the music stirs and the camera hovers over the heads of the couple, Jean confesses his love for her, giving her the strength to go on living and allowing both a moment of redemption.

One might think that Cocteau's poetic, densely worded, dialogue would be at odds with the rigid minimalism that Bresson prefers, but both men acquit themselves quite well in meshing their different styles as the lyrical element from Cocteau ends up providing an elegant edge to Bresson's deterministic eye. Cocteau has the characters talk in succinct, pithy sayings that and avoids overt exposition, something Bresson surely appreciated. At the same time, Bresson is masterful at pinpointing the precise moment to use Cocteau's words, a great example being the aforementioned scene where Helene vows her revenge. A moment earlier and her declaration doesn’t have quite the same power. As it stands, the film is something of a crossroads for the two men. In just five years both would be far removed from the romantic melodrama provided here, with Bresson moving forward with his unique form of notably sparse filmmaking, and Cocteau moving in the opposite direction, creating worlds of fantasy and surrealism in films like Beauty and the Beast and Orpheus.

Still, for as much praise as I can heap on the craft in the film, this is still a romantic melodrama at heart and it ultimately lacks the depth and resonance that Bresson had on display in Les Anges du Peche. Even other similarly styled French melodramas, such as The Earrings of Madame de…(I don’t have a wealth of French melodrama to pull from), have more to offer in terms of pulling you in to the emotional atmosphere of the film. A major factor that contributes to this is the apparent tug of war between the need to adhere to genre constraints and the feeling that Bresson is trying to push outside of the box in crafting his own brand of cinema. This is most evident in the ending of the film. Dispelling genre conventions, after Helene tells Jean about her master plan, she is never seen again, thus we are never get to see the expected scene where she gets her comeuppance. Furthermore, the genre concedes that we have proof of Jean’s change of heart once he finds out about Agnes' past indiscretions. Yet, instead of showing us Jean going through the proverbial fire to get to this point, Bresson chooses to have it happen entirely in-between scenes. To add to that, Bresson seems to ignore how Jean is portrayed throughout his “undying love” for Agnes coming across as not much more than an obsession, further undercutting his sudden change in spirit.

This all points to a slight lack of plausibility, which is distracting at first glance. Yet, upon closer inspection many of these nitpicks can be lined up fairly well with the aesthetic that Bresson prefers to work in, distilling the film to its basic tenants without exposition or wasted energy. It's not hard to see that Bresson was experimenting in structure here, changing the way emotions and plot points are disseminated to the viewer. It's certainly an original way of filming a melodrama, a genre not well-suited to diverse stylistic changes.

It’s also not unreasonable to think that Bresson disliked having little to deal with in terms of thematic constructs. The themes the film does touch on are done too quickly. The concept of redemption through love was handled better in Les Anges where it formed the crux of the film. The other themes that one can see, such as love triumphing over deceit and deception or love surpassing the social laws of popular society feel mundane when you consider the theological leanings of Bresson.

Exposition and character development may be simply delineated, inline with Bresson's minimalist attitude, but that simplicity isn't reflected in Bresson's camera. While typically keeping the camera tight on his subjects, creating a closed-in sense of confinement, he also loosens up that feeling with a surprisingly large number of tracking shots and camera pans. Even if this seems contrary to Bresson’s reputation, it’s obvious he would have still excelled if he continued working in this more conventional manner as he creates some worthy compositions, such as the camera following Helene down a stairwell while simultaneously tracking with Jean in an elevator or when Agnes places an envelope on the rear window of a car, only for it to be caught in the wind and blow back to her.

My personal favorite of these well crafted scenes is near the end of the film, after Jean and Agnes have learned how Helene has tricked them. After Agnes swoons, a perplexed Jean rushes to leave in his car, frustrated at the cryptic remarks and strange manner in which everyone is acting. However, he is blocked from driving away by Helene's car, while Helene is standing outside his driver side window. As Helene clues him in finally (“It’s quit simple. You’ve married a tramp.”) his rage increases and he furiously attempts to inch his way out, backing up and moving forward. During his attempt to flee, we see Helene standing in the same spot outside of his driver side window, her face respondent with the smug look of satisfaction as she continues to lay out her plan to him. When he is forced to put his car in reverse, the camera stays fixed to Jean, forcing Helene to leave the right side of the frame. Then, with each subsequent move forward, Helene's cold, devilish image comes back in the frame, taunting Jean, his increasing inability to escape becoming palpable, until finally Jean is able to get free and drives off. (Interestingly enough, this happens to be the last we see of Helene in the film).

Cinematographer Philippe Agostini, as he did in Les Anges du Peche, employs a striking black and white palette, most noticeable in Casares' contrasting black attire and white skin. Similar to their previous collaboration, Agostini and Bresson play with chiaroscuro lighting to create moods, showcasing this technique on the faces of the actors. In more stark contrast to Les Anges, Bresson’s camera lingers on the sensuality of the women, capturing their allure, as well as their moments of heartache. Also in contrast is the elegant set design (courtesy Max Douy) and sweeping music (courtesy Jean-Jacques Grünenwald), pushing the end product toward something that is much more dynamic, adventurous, and opulent than the more muted Les Anges (and, if his reputation holds up, even more so compared to what his future endeavors hold).

Bresson’s eye seems to relish Casares as Helene, which is funny when you consider that she called him “a sweet tyrant” and he reportedly asked her to take sedatives in order to tone down her overacting. Despite how odd it must have been for actors of this era to work in the detached manner Bresson preferred (it’s no wonder he moved to untrained actors who knew no better), Casares does a incredible job as the icy, snake-like Helene, Dressed in black throughout, she is the epitome of the vengeful woman scorned, an elemental force of nature, yet with a hint of fiendish charm. It speaks to the power of Casares’ performance that the truly indelible ending moment is not when we last see Jean and Agnes together, but the fade out on Helene’s smirking face prior to that scene.

Labourdette does a fine job as Agnes. She stands as a contrast to the overpowering Helene, portraying a candor that is balanced with the freshness of youth and the weariness of what she has had to endure. She’s believable as a woman who knows all of the ploys men will use, making her guarded with Jean’s advances. Speaking of Jean, it's hard to overlook how poor the casting of Bernard is for this role. Even as it’s intended for his character to be the clueless dupe who is hopelessly in love, he lacks any spark when next to either Casares or Labourdette. The problem is furthered by the fact that the two women throw off so much natural charisma that he can't help but pale in comparison.

Bresson’s first two films are known as the outliers in his career, yet despite not being “pure” Bresson, his style and themes still shine through. Yet, it is apparent that by continuing to work in the world of large studio productions he’d never have the opportunity to fully delve into the style he longed to work in. Thus, he struck out on his own and his next film, released five years later, would be the film that many claim defines his unique style, Diary of A Country Priest.

I Saw The Devil

2011-02-25T09:18:00.000-08:00

I’ve enjoyed what I’ve seen of modern day Asian horror cinema (even as Japanese and South Korean horror have some distinct differences, I lump them in the same bucket to create a larger sample size here), as it is often more visually adventurous and visceral than much of the similarly styled American content that is released. And I surely love that kind of horror - the kind that is a visual feast, that can excite and thrill and create tension. But of the recent spate of Asian horror films, there hasn't been one that has found a way to mix that excitement with the resonance that the best of art-minded horror is capable of achieving. After 144 minutes of Kim Ji-woon’s intense and exhausting I Saw The Devil, I think I've found a film that meets those requirements.

For a a subgenre that doesn’t have too many cards to play, Kim adds a twist to the standard revenge conceit. Special agent Soo-hyeon's (Lee Byung-hoon) wife and unborn child are murdered by a vicious serial killer, Gyeong-chul (Choi Min-sik). It reasons that Soo-hyeon will go out and attempt to exact his revenge on Gyeong-chul. Soo-hyeon quickly finds Gyeong-chul and instead of exacting bloody and final vengeance on him at that time, he enacts a plan to force Gyeong-chul to feel the pain that he feels, continuously tormenting him, releasing him, and then tracking him down again to repeat the cycle for much of the film. Of course, such a plan has its repercussions. Innocent lives are placed in the way, as is the moral conscience of Soo-hyeon, who looks to be enjoying his hunt of Gyeong-chul a bit more than we would expect from the character the audience is supposed to sympathize with. To paraphrase one of the the characters in the film, he ends up becoming a monster in the act of trying to destroy a monster.

Thinking through the history of revenge films, an overwhelming majority of them are reactionary nature -- we are supposed to cheer the “hero” as he kills and maims his tormenters and avenges the death/rape of his beloved. Most of the others work in a way where they try to have their cake and eat it too, showing us how terrible it is that this person is going down this path, yet still giving enough outs to make him in the right. By having Soo-hyeon operate in this gray area, the film balances these two extremes to create a much more interesting character. While most would probably lean towards Soo-hyeon being more in the right (after all, he is doing his killing and torture for a noble cause), his final attempt to destroy Gyeong-chul actually manages to put him a step further on the downward spiral than a purported hero would typically find himself. It's all part of an amazing performance by Soo-hyeon, showing the simmering emotions underneath the steely cool exterior. The ending shot, showing that to beat a monster at his own game you often have to go to his level, actually resonates when you turn the film off, unlike many other horror films with similar aims, which can’t quite harmonize their violent imagery and high-minded philosophizing.

Perhaps even more impressive than the film's handling of Soo-hyeon is how it manages to keep Gyeong-chul from becoming the more interesting and sympathetic of the two, never allowing him to be an anti-hero in the mold of Heath Ledger’s Joker or Hannibal Lector. Again, it’s a pratfall that many films of this ilk fall into, fine enough if you just want to make an entertaining film with a stand-out character, but kind of useless when trying to make any serious points. Here, it’s even tougher to do as Choi brings with him an overwhelming amount of bad-ass charm and a host of preconceived character traits, much of it thanks to his role in Oldboy. Let's face it, the actor himself IS incredibly cool. But Kim and Choi do a great job of making it clear that beyond his serial killer charisma, he’s a disgusting, unhinged, psychopath with little redeeming qualities.

The overall look of things is grimy and gray, which happens to make the bright red sprays of blood all the more vivid, but Kim makes great use of the talented facials of both the clean-shaven and icily calm Lee and the manic mannerisms and battered countenance of Choi, often keeping the camera focused on the expressive faces of the two. During the action, though, he lets his camera float, keying in on the action without being needlessly showy and leading to some exhilarating action sequences. Most impressive is a scene with Gyeong-chul in a car, the camera spinning around the interior as he knifes the other two passengers, blood spraying, all while the car careens out of control.

This dichotomy between the two leads is carried through in Kim’s mise-en-scene. For as vile as Gyeong-chul obviously is, here it's Soo-hyeon who carries many of the traits of the silent, unstoppable, brooding monster that feels no pain and Gyeong-chul who is the put upon hero who never gives up. This comes across particularly well in how Kim portrays Soo-hyeon with his camera. Soo-hyeon is shown in just as many standard foreboding and menacing "bad guy" poses, postures, facials, and framings, all lending to his actions never truly come off as redemptive, ala an Eastwood or a Bronson in a similar film.

The film is not for the squeamish and does take a bit of endurance, but Kim paces things well, allowing sufficient time for useful character moments (and a chance for the viewer to breathe) in between each heart-racing and blood-spraying action sequence. There’s a mixing of moods at work here -- the film is dark without being ultra-serious. Thrown in here and there are subtle bits of blackly humorous exaggeration, with the violence at times hewing it closely to a live-action Wile E. Coyote cartoon. Kim shows a knowledge of how to make his scenes of brutality even more effective by allowing these small bits of humor, and even some restraint at times, instead of feeling the need to constantly showcase wall-to-wall degradation. In the end, he successfully guides the film from satire to dark humor to action to tension to emotional resonance.

Together, this all points to what Kim has pulled off here -- he achieves the level of profundity and weightiness that he’s striving for, especially in a film that could so easily be an exploitive (and entertaining) wade into the murky waters of violence and depravity. He manages to balance the blood spray and outrageous violence with a thoughtful undercurrent about revenge begetting revenge and the ungratifying nature of vengeance, utilizing two stalwart acting performances in the process. In the end it's hard not to compare Kim to name directors who have succeeded with similar styled films. Tarantino, Cronenberg, Park, Imamura, Fincher, and Lynch (Kim outright homages Blue Velvet in an early scene) all come to mind (the influences of John Woo and the new wave of French horror films can be seen here too).

Kim deserves to be talked about amongst those stalwarts due to his effort here, the best movie released worldwide in 2010, the best Asian horror movie of the last decade, and a film that easily stands with the best revenge themed films ever.

****1/2

Robert Bresson: Les Anges du Péché / Angels of the Street (1943)

2011-01-12T21:23:00.001-08:00

(Part 2 of my Robert Bresson retrospective. See the sidebar for prior posts.)

Going into this retrospective, I had hoped to review each film as if I was watching it on the day it was released, without any knowledge of what the future held for Bresson. I've since realized that's no longer possible, as I've recently read too much about his career and style to not be a bit influenced by spoilers of what lies ahead, so to speak. I mention this because many pieces on Bresson are sure to mention how his first two films were studio pictures and how the constrictions of working within the studio system would eventually lead to Bresson striking out on his own, ostensibly to craft his own brand of authentic formalism that the studios simply weren't interested in..

Perhaps that points toward just how stripped down the future Bresson films will become, because his first full-length project, Les Anges du Péché (English Translation: Angels of the Street or Angels of Sin) seems to capture much of what I've been led to expect from a Bresson film. Yes, the studio aspects of the film are there -- there's some too-knowing over-exposition, moments where the score is a bit heavy-handed, and, obviously, the use of professional actors -- but Les Anges du Péché still manages to contain a semblance of the austere and subdued, hitting on themes of grace and redemption, to the point that had I not known Bresson's feelings on the matter, I'd assume that he had made exactly the film he wanted.

The story (as conceived by Bresson, playwright Jean Giraudoux, and Dominican priest Raymond Bruckberger) concerns the French convent of the Sisters of Béthany, an order of nuns that helps to released female prisoners. Into this world steps Anne-Marie (Renée Faure), an over-eager, bourgeois woman who feels called to be a nun. Anne-Marie meets Thérèse (Jany Holt), a "most miserable" prisoner who is serving time for a theft her ex-lover committed. Thérèse is released from prison and ignores Anne-Marie's pleas to immediately come to the convent, instead buying a gun and killing the man who framed her. After the murder, Thérèse does join the convent in order to hide from the police, while Anne-Marie believes she is there for more noble reasons. Anne-Marie is vainly insistent on showing Thérèse off as her "pet project," which Thérèse quickly tires of and works to create strife between Anne-Marie and her fellow sisters, while also manipulating Anne-Marie to her eventual expulsion from the convent. This leads to Anne-Marie hiding out in a barn near the convent, eventually succumbing to the elements, at which time the rest of the sisters find her.

As the police trace Thérèse to the convent and with Anne-Marie now on her death bed, Anne-Marie admits to Thérèse that she was foolish and haughty in how she treated her, only now realizing that she should have simply been there as a silent friend, that Thérèse's loneliness is why her pain is so great. Thérèse is initially cold to this, but is eventually overtaken by the realization that Anne-Marie's death came about from her striving for Thérèse's salvation. As Anne-Marie attempts to make her vows while dying, the entire convent gathers to witness and the police arrive at the convent. Thérèse speaks the final words of the vows when Anne-Marie's voice gives out and then stands up. With a newfound resolve, she calmly walks through the kneeling nuns and willingly turns herself over to the police, a pair of handcuffs clasping onto her outstretched hands as the film ends.

As far as themes go, the film is intriguing in that it uses the standard redemption template with a non-standard ending. Anne-Marie's death bed confession to Thérèse succeeds in leading the way toward the redemption of both characters, but Bresson certainly doesn't seem to be concerned with creating a traditional happy ending -- Anne-Marie dies after confessing her sins of vanity and arrogance and Thérèse is off to jail after her confession of murder. Bresson makes no judgment on either character, asserting that one can find grace and redemption regardless of the path they've chosen, yet there are still consequences for the actions you've chosen and owning up to them is part of the process. It may not be an upbeat ending, but it's one that is resonant with Bresson's pet themes.

He also seems distinctly interested in how two characters that are such a contrast to each other can still be so intertwined. Anne-Marie is arrogant, selfish, and attention-seeking, spending the duration of the film attempting to force grace upon Thérèse. Thérèse is guilt-ridden, spiteful, and quiet, spending the duration of the film rejecting the unwanted grace that Anne-Marie offers. By film's end their connection with each other leads to these traits being flipped -- Anne-Marie becomes humble, selfless, and quiet, while Thérèse finds resolve, love, and speaks up for Anne-Marie as she is dying. It's not until that moment that Anne-Marie realizes how to truly offer grace to Thérèse, the same point at which she finally accepts it. Bresson makes it deterministically clear that it's the connectivity of their relationship that allows them to affect such transformations in each other.

This connectivity and determinism is most seen in a sequence of shots near the middle of the film. Anne-Marie is given her motto for the year, the words of St. Catherine of Siena "If you hear God's word joining you to another, listen to no other words: They are merely its echo." Taking this as her sign she does as the motto says -- focusing exclusively on Thérèse. After Thérèse is released from prison and refuses to go to the convent, Anne-Marie prays for her in the chapel. Her last words ("Deliver us from evil…") dovetails into a shot of a Thérèse walking up a dimly lit stairwell (the light of which seems to be shining on Anne-Marie during the fade-in/out of the two shots). Then, Thérèse knocks on a door, the camera staying fixed on her. The man who answers says hello, to which Thérèse responds in kind and then shoots him. The whole sequence takes place in just three shots -- a close-up and a long shot of Anne-Marie and a tracking shot of Thérèse. It's a brilliant display of efficiency of camera movement and perfectly shows the interconnectivity of the two characters.

Throughout the film, Bresson displays this sparse storytelling technique. Camera movement is limited and efficient. Bresson is exceedingly deliberate, making his point and moving to the next scene, never letting it stay around too long. It keeps the pace moving briskly in a film that offers up little more than talking. Once Anne-Marie is bedridden, his mise-en-scene seems to become a bit more mundane, but he makes up for that with the concluding scene of Thérèse wordlessly walking to her final justice. It's a bold visual statement that adheres to the "show, don't tell" method of filmmaking and creates a memorable and lasting impression on the viewer as the words "FIN" fill the screen.

The film is suitably armed with some fantastic black and white cinematography from Philippe Agostini. There's a good use of shadows in both the hallway shooting and in an earlier scene where the nuns rush a woman from the prison amidst the threat of danger (a scene reminiscent of the French Resistance movement at the time of the film's production, 1943 -- I felt like I was watching Army of Shadows for a second there). Of course, the black and white colors of the nuns' outfits also helps to create some fantastic contrasting and stark images.

Finally, despite his disdain for professional actors, Faure and Holt stand out here with good performances. Holt in particular, as Thérèse, is capable of being nefarious and filled with deep-seeded rage, without ever coming close to being over-the-top. It provides a nuance to her portrayal in an era where affected acting, the type that Bresson seemed to despise so much, was more the norm. The rest of the cast also has a fairly authentic feel to it (despite being professional actors) leading me to believe that Bresson was fully capable of getting the authenticity he craved out of pros, even if for him it was still likely too much artifice.

It's quite a substantial debut. If this is lesser Bresson, then I'm even more excited for what lies ahead.

Black Swan

2010-12-31T08:09:00.001-08:00

Throughout Darren Aronofsky's Black Swan ballerina Nina is told to "find her passion" and to "go all the way". Similarly I wanted to say the same thing to Aronofsky, for despite my attempts to be drawn in by the story, I kept finding myself pushed out, never able to take the majority of the film seriously. Aronofsky abruptly shifts tone from highly stylized melodrama, to arty body horror, to sexy thriller, but never sufficiently goes all the way with any of them. Similarly, even though Aronofsky smartly adopts horror influences from films like Repulsion, Carrie, and The Fly, he fails to fully capture what makes each of them such good examples of their style and ultimately Black Swan comes across as not much more than a visually pleasing, technically proficient, more "respectable," and less knowing version of Showgirls than any kind of truly thought-provoking art-horror.

Okay, let me explain the Showgirls quip a bit more. During a tense and/or exhilarating moment in a film, evoking laughter can provide a form of cathartic release. Black Swan provides several of these moments throughout, typically during the various body horror scenarios that Aronofsky introduces (what is it about fingernails/toenails/cuticles that makes me so squeamish). Yet, the majority of my laughter throughout the film wasn't due to that. Though not close to the levels of comedic excess exerted by directors such as Mel Gibson (unknowingly) or Paul Verhoeven (knowingly), there were still too many occasions where I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, whether it be the hallucinations Nina has and their aftermath (be it the "talking" paintings or when she turns over to see her mother in her room while she is attempting to pleasure herself), the dialogue spouted by the predatory director Thomas (my favorite being, "Your homework tonight is to touch yourself."), or the overbearing "I could have been a dancer" campiness of Nina's mother (Barbara Hershey channeling her inner-Piper Laurie). Aronofsky has never been one for subtlety, but here his over-the-top nature detracts from any chance to feel like the gradual breaking of Nina's fragile psyche is much more than a series of indulgent stylistic flourishes and overblown clichés.

My previously mention of Repulsion, Carrie, and The Fly also leads me to another thought on the character of Nina. The emotional power of those horror films lies in the fact that despite the fantastical nature of the stories, their doomed protagonists are grounded in some semblance of reality. Contrast that to Nina, whose story has little resonance beyond that of a fairy tale. And while fairy tale may be what Aronofsky is going for (it is a film based on Swan Lake, after all), I think it blunts the power of what Nina's character and Portman's performance offer. Even the simple and obvious comparison of Nina to Randy the Ram from Aronofsky's prior film, The Wrestler, showcases where things go a bit awry. Both characters are used to provide insight into a person willing to sacrifice their body for their profession. They are both given a new opportunity, but are unable to let go of their repressions/addictions to take advantage of it, which leads to their downfall. Even the ambiguous final denouements are similar, as both Randy and Nina are performing, taking in the adoration of the crowd, consummating their passions, and yet are likely killing themselves in the process of achieving this. With Randy, Aronofsky uses the entire film to gradually allows us to get inside his head, even as the character is closing us off to it, so much so that by the end we finally understand what makes him work and see him as a fully realized character. Yet with Nina, even as we are allowed to literally get in her psyche, seeing her hallucinations and watching her slowly unravel, in the end she is still not much more than an unrealized series of characters tics (sexually repressed, perfectionist, ice queen with mommy issues).

So what does work? Visually, Aronofsky will always provide something interesting to look at. Working with Matthew Libatique they shoot things in a similar cinéma vérité style that was used in The Wrestler and creates a great feast for the eyes, wonderfully balancing foreground and background images in the compositions. Clint Mansell's score is similarly beautiful. Portman seems to have been bred for this role, her naturally austere demeanor and swan like facial features make her entirely believable as Nina. I can't really comment on the quality of her ballet, but something tells me Portman isn't much of a dancer, as we get few shots of both her face and feet in the same frame during the dance scenes. The performances by Kunis and Cassel deserve more than this throwaway line, as both have a natural charisma that plays well off of Portman's natural iciness (and that's even considering the fact that Cassel isn't given much to do but be lecherous and repeat how Nina needs to find her "other side" approximately 50 times).

It's telling that my favorite moment with Nina is when she sneaks into a bathroom stall to call her mom to let her know she got the lead part, breaking down in the process. That felt like what Aronofsky was truly capable of, not lines like "Let me know if that's juicy enough for you" or an old man making lewd gestures on the subway. It's to the film's detriment that the tone isn't struck more, because passages of the film are fascinating (the ending dance for one -- though even there the sound effects and CGI during Nina transmorphing were quite laughable) and Aronofsky's visual flair will always make his films worth watching. Aronofsky's aesthetic would work well in the horror genre and I could see him making a good horror film down the road (if anyone could make a successful giallo in 2011, I think Aronofsky would be the guy), but Black Swan isn't the story that is going to fully take advantage of that.

***

Robert Bresson: Les Affaires Publiques / Public Affairs (1934)

2010-12-23T13:44:00.001-08:00

(Part 1 of my Robert Bresson retrospective. See the sidebar for more posts.)

Unfortunately, there's not much detail about the beginning of Robert Bresson's life*. He was born in rural France, though no one can quite nail down when (some say 1901, some 1907, others, 1909), and later went to school in Paris where he studied painting and photography. This led to him aspiring to work in the film industry, which he achieved when he directed his first film, Les Affaires Publiques (English Title: Public Affairs).

Shot in 1934 and discovered in 1987, Les Affaires Publiques is surely the outlier in Robert Bresson's filmography. Even taking into account the poor quality of the master print (and I was watching it on a VHS rip which didn't do it any extra favors) and it's meager 22-minute runtime, the film doesn't overtly contain the distinctive visual or thematic signifiers that would point towards Bresson becoming a vastly respected auteur later in his life. Of course, that all depends on my assumption that future Bresson films don't contain much in the way of slapstick comedy.

The film is comprised of three vignettes involving the chancellor of the fictional land of Crogandie (immediately making the Marx Brothers come to mind) and his involvement in three public events -- the unveiling of a statue, the lighting of a house on fire (surely every public leaders ideal event), and the christening of a boat. In each one, various sight gags occur. For instance, when the statue is revealed it is shown to be yawning, which then induces everyone, from the gathering crowd at the event to those in other scenes in the film, to suddenly fall asleep. Through a series of incidents, the house isn't set on fire, but the chancellor's pants are. Then, incapable of smashing the champagne bottle on the boat, the chancellor launches it via a cannon, putting a hole in the vessel that causes it to sink. Throw in a little song and dance and a romantic subplot involving a plane flying princess and you have the complete film.

For what it sets out to do and the limited time it has to do it in, it's a successful enough film. The gag with the yawning and a later moment where a tuba player's blast sends a house moving down the street are both nicely done bits of surreal comedy. Even more obvious moments like the pants being caught on fire and the ship sinking are worthy of a smile. And though I'm reaching a bit in saying this, one could say that there is even an inkling of Bresson's education in the fields of painting and photography creeping onto the screen here. Visually (and surely it's not as definitive as it will become in his later, non-comedic output) there's a distinct and precise quality Bresson lends to the shot compositions (as displayed in the screenshots below). Even with low expectations, Bresson shows that he knows what he's aiming to do with Les Affaires Publiques and he simply and ably accomplishes it.

Five years after the release of Les Affaires Publiques , Bresson joined the French army to fight in WW2., during which he spent a year in a German POW camp. After the war was over, he went back to film, releasing his first full-length movie, Les Anges du Péché (Angels of the Streets) in 1943. I'll tackle that next time.

_{* Perhaps one of the biographical books on Bresson has more info on his formative years, but none of it has filtered out to various bios of him I found online. Do enlighten me in the comments.}

Robert Bresson - A Brief Introduction

2010-12-19T13:29:00.001-08:00

Before beginning the retrospective, I wanted to do a quick bit about my personal knowledge of Bresson and my previous experiences with his films. I intend to begin viewing his films this week and will likely watch/write/watch/write, as opposed to watching all 14 films at once and then writing about each of them afterwards.

My previous experience with Bresson is limited to just one film, A Man Escaped. My previous comments on it were:

My first experience with another director I've newly introduced myself to, Robert Bresson. A Man Escaped is the best prison/escape film I've ever seen, not merely due to its pacing and plot, but because of its ability to be so focused on one thing (escaping from a prison) and to do that with such conviction and command. If I'm correct in what I understand about Bresson, his style is to strip-down his films to their bare essence. In accordance with this, A Man Escaped is extremely formalistic and utterly straightforward (although I suppose there is room to interpret the religious metaphor of salvation in the film).

The story concerns the true story of French Lieutenant Fontaine as he meticulously plots his escape from a German prison camp. Via the use of sound and a limited frame of reference (we see and know everything only from the perspective of Fontaine) Bresson builds his tension. I can see why some purportedly struggle with Bresson, if all of his movies are this mechanical that may be reason for not appreciating them, but in this type of film, the matter-of-fact nature of Fontaine's character and story lends itself perfectly to escape genre -- all Fontaine cares about is escaping from prison, thus it's all we should be caring about.

A great film in all respects. *****

I'm quite excited to revisit this film, just so I can expand on those thoughts I so hastily put together at that time. Of course, one obvious change would be the line "I suppose there is room to interpret the religious metaphor of salvation in the film" to "Bresson is obviously using the religious metaphor of salvation in the film." For in just the small bit of research I've done on Bresson for this retrospective it's obvious that one of his main motifs is the use of Catholic themes through his films (salvation/redemption/grace/free will vs. pre-determinism).

The review above actually hits on a couple of the other apparent keys to his work, the use of non-professional actors, the removal of all aspects of "performance" from the actor's portrayals (he likened his actors to the "models" that a painter would use), and the use of an austere, rigidly efficient, stripped-down aesthetic.

I'm curious to see the aforementioned themes in his work as it progresses -- does he get all of these on the screen right from the get go or do they slowly evolve over time. Does he become more and more obsessed with his minimalism and pet themes or does he loosen his grip and play things differently as he gets older. There's tons that can be learned from going film by film chronologically through a director's oeuvre and I hope to gain that knowledge here.

We'll begin next time with some background on the man's early life (what little there is out there) and a look at his first work, the short film, Public Affairs. It should be interesting, as it is the only film he made before the WW2 and before many of the experiences that will surely shape his work to come (war will certainly change any man, but Bresson was also a POW, surely molding his viewpoints even more drastically).

And The Winner Is…

2010-12-08T17:51:00.000-08:00

…Robert Bresson! With 9 whole votes~!

However, since Powell and Pressburger had such a good showing in second place I've decided I'll be doing DUAL retrospectives and watch/write about their films as well as Bresson's.

I'm in the process of tracking all the films down (neither director's films should be too difficult to find, I hope) and should start watching by the end of the month and writing by next month. I'll post my progress as I go.