While I had seen a few David Cronenberg films well before I had decided to "get into him" as a filmmaker, it was around June of last year that I finally encountered him as a director proper and slowly notched his oeuvre off of my needs to be seen list. Considering that yesterday was his birthday and that I had A Dangerous Method delivered the other day via Netflix, it seemed far to serendipitous an opportunity not to take. I am aware that there has been a sort of tapering off of the love for Cronenberg by his fandom as his films have move far away from their more gore inspired roots to something that at first glance seems to be cerebral and less physically affective. I can see the confusion for certain, but I am also wholly aware that body gore and affect do not need a visual component to work wonders. Indeed, it is with almost perfect precision that Cronenberg is able to take the deeply psychological and disturbing elements of the interior and make them work on the body without really showing the gore he has become synonymous with the director. Sure there are some deeply graphic scenes and the film is disconcerting, but this is Cronenberg moving in a new direction, after all as of yesterday the man is seventy one years old! To make The Fly or Scanners is simply not his world anymore, like most directors (Tarantino excluded) maturity brings forth a new look at the world and a far more introspective execution in his films. Hell, even Michael Bay seems to be moving in this direction and it should be no surprise that it occurs with the master of gore. If one is looking for film to affect them on a deep level, then Cronenberg is continuing to succeed in a way few are and were he not being overcome by the likes of Paul Thomas Anderson and David Fincher, I would be prepared to argue that he is one of the most important directors working today, but at seventy one to be mentioned in the same breath as the former filmmakers is a success all its own.
A Dangerous Method focuses on the work and life of Carl Jung (Michael Fassbender) as he continues to establish himself in the field of psychoanalysis, despite having to do so under the rather intense and broad shadow of Sigmund Freud (Viggo Mortensen). Although, Jung knows that this is a near impossibility when he is provided with the patient and prospective psychoanalyst Sabrina Spielrein (Keira Knightley) things change drastically. A frantic and disheveled woman, Spielrein, nonetheless, proves a counterpoint to so many of Freud theories, completely throwing the theorists understanding of abject desire and erotic fixation out the window. Jung begins pouring his entire studies into working with Spielrein, while also guiding her along in her endeavors. This act comes at the frustration and anxiety of Jung's wife Emma (Sarah Gordon) who is busy attempting to provide the doctor with a son, the only way in which to assure that his name will continue to possess legitimacy and avoid the existential fear of losing one's name. Yet, this seems to be of the most minor concern to Jung, who finds the navigation between patient learning and desire for Spielrein to become less and less clear, particularly when she begins making advances towards him, seeing his role as authority figure and teacher, overlapping with her own problematic relationship with her father. It is not until Jung is given another psychoanalyst turned mentally ill patient in Otto Gross (Vincent Cassell) that things change. Gross argues that Jung must engage in relationships with his patients in order to assure that he will become happy and better achieve a relationship. Blinded by his already repressed desire, Jung takes Gross's ill-offered advice to heart and begins a relationship with Spielrein, one that puts his familial relations at odds and eventually leads to his contentious and troubling confrontations with Freud. Finally, believing he has become friends with Freud, Jung offers up his dreams for interpretation, hoping to receive the same in return. When this does not happen, Jung questions the entire structure of authority, although this happens far too late to solve things with either Spielrein or his family, instead, Jung pours everything into work and solitary studies.
If one were to extract the psychosexual element at play in this film, it would read as pretty much another period piece of desire, lust and repression in a time of hyper-conservative conformity. There have been other films about the era of psychoanalysis, but the limitations of censorship often cause them to be confused and lost in safe narrative construction. Cronenberg, as most know, has always pushed the boundaries and buttons of censors, using giant bugs and non-linear narrative to make one of the greatest examinations of repressed sexual identities in modern cinema. Here, he is dealing with the perverse and in no small way he does so with it expressly meaning to shock. Under the guise of the cold medical rhetoric, Cronenberg is able to talk about the most uncomfortable of human functions in banal terms. When the psychoanalysts talk of the various fixations, many of which involve relieving oneself, the overlay of Jung consuming things makes a clear connection that human bodies are subject to exchanges that are in a constant ebb and flow. It is not so much an act of pleasure in the context of this film as it is replacing voids that are physically lost. Cronenberg takes the guise of excretion and argues that it is in these basic human desires that psychoanalysis seems to be replicating a mental understanding of something physical. It is heady academic theory and at this point has become more a point of literary consideration than anything certifiable, indeed, most psychologist just teach it as a point of historical curiosity. Where Cronenberg seems to relish most in regards to narrative is within a consideration of authority, it is in this space that he seems to find the body at a loss, a surprising moment for Cronenberg, who had prior tied the body to the world of television and video games. In the space of this narrative the body is a thing that can only be punished by authority, because rewards are seemingly less physical and far more cerebral. The basest of human desires often coming in as, again, fillers for hopes of approval. In the vague and dreary endings that have come to signify the filmmakers works, desolation and ennui fill characters who are blindly hoping for something far grander, but still linger on the failure and limitations of the body.
Key Scene: I was initially hesitant to embrace Knightley's performance as it seemed to be very Oscar-baity, however, one scene involving her recollecting a dream to Jung where she is in the foreground and he in the background. It is deeply intense and cinematically engaging.
I rented this, but intend to buy it soon. However, it is a different kind of Cronenberg than most expect, so I would suggest doing the same before pulling the trigger on a purchase.
Showing posts with label Freud in film. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Freud in film. Show all posts
25.10.12
But She Isn't Going To Say Anything, Is She?: Dial M For Murder (1954)
I am beginning to think, after watching so many Alfred Hitchcock films that the man had to have murdered a few people in his illustrious life. As is the case with Dial M For Murder, as well as so many of the autuer's other works, the execution of the perfect crime seems to be a topic of great concern for Hitchcock, and while this work in particular is based on a play, it, nonetheless, finds itself filled with various influences from the master of suspense. Furthermore, I am fully aware that this particular Hitchcock film is not exactly the most entrenched within the horror genre, but I feel quite strongly that this landmark in cinema still packs in enough suspense to deserve mention this month on the blog, not to mention it is one of the Hitchcock films that I had not seen prior and I am always ready to move through more of his oeuvre. A film that is based on a play is nothing new, but in Hitchcock's hands, the performance and setting aspects of the film become heightened considerably, he, as a director, is keen to pay homage to the play by setting the opening shots in a frozen manner, suggesting the opening of a scene right after the curtain has raised. Furthermore, in a manner that has become Hitchcockian in its execution, the film manages to take actions and items within the plot and drastically change their meaning and representation to the audience once the plot thickens a bit, and as many a film scholar know, one cannot watch a Hitchcock film with out considering the deluge of various Freudian implications latent to any of his works. Essentially when viewing a work by Alfred Hitchcock you can be assured that plot, acting and miss-en-scene will come together in a masterful way and provide a film that magnetically pulls you towards whatever screen you are watching the work and Dial M For Murder is certainly no exception to this idea.
Dial M for Murder's central figure is Tony Wendice (Ray Milland) a former tennis player who has retired from the game and is living rather comfortably of the wealth of his wife Margot (Grace Kelly) and appears content to do so, if it were not for his knowledge of an intimate affair Margot is engaged in with a former American beau named Mark Halliday (Robert Cummings). Playing oblivious to the involvement between the two lovers, Tony plans an elaborate ploy to get both himself and Mark away from Margot, ultimately, intending to murder his wife. However, realizing that his motives would be rather clear Tony calls upon a former college mate named Charles Swann (Anthony Dawson), in trouble with authorities for identity fraud and various forms of theft, all aimed at paying up his serious gambling debts. Tony explains in great detail how he has planned the perfect crime for Charles to commit and that if he is willing to undertake the task he will be handsomely rewarded. At first hesitant to do so, Charles attempts to counter Tony by threatening to turn him into the police, yet as Tony points out through various actions Charles has undertaken just by walking in the door, it would be in his better interest just to go through with the murder, because he as already set him up for trouble if he refuses. Begrudgingly agreeing to the task, Charles goes through with the murder, however, in a moment of hesitance Margot reacts to the attack by Charles causing him to fall fatally on a pair of scissors, resulting in his death, as opposed to Margot's. Frantic, Tony returns home to attempt to cover up his involvement in the entire course of events, suffice to say no matter how much practical planning Tony can go through certain things cannot be foreseen, such as the logical capabilities of those involved with the case, as well as occurrences within nature that lend to the emergence of one or another form of evidence. In the end a perfect crime is impossible within the narrative of Dial M for Murder, because at some point a fact will not match up with the lie that is ultimately being told.
I mentioned the Freudian implications latent within Dial M for Murder and as I have attested multiple times on this blog I am by no means versed in my psychoanalytic theory, however, watching Dial M for Murder has made me want to uncover some of the film theory surrounding Hitchcock specifically, meaning of course that I will attempt to crack into some heavy Zizek in the upcoming months. However, at the moment I can make a few observations of Freudian influence within the film, firstly, the notion of impotence manifests itself quite blatantly in this film, at the onset Tony is a man who is scorned by his lover, causing him to feel a strong degree of impotence, Hitchcock brilliantly provides the character with a cane as a visual metaphor for his lack of sexual drive. However, notice the disappearance of this cane upon Tony's believe that he has succeeded in killing his wife, all be it a bit backhandedly. The impotence, at least metaphorically disappears and he is able to exert his masculine zeal again. One could also read Tony has being a character with a degree of homosexual desire, whether it be his unusual attachment to Charles or the way in which he robotically deals with Margot by way of affection. Even Charles, who is relatively minimal to the plot has his moment of phallic pride when he is shown in a picture with Tony, smoking the "biggest cigar in the room," a clear reference to penis size and envy surrounding such rhetoric. In this picture, Hitchcock never one to shy away from metaphor, the cigar referenced is truly something to be seen. Finally, much could be said about a certain affixation with one's facial hair in the films closing scenes, but that is an entirely new critical approach all its own.
Key Scene: Margot's trial scene is rather surreal and minimalist, but probably the most intense moment of the film.
Dial M for Murder is a classic, I would suggest purchasing the film, but if you are anything like me you probably want to get the huge bluray boxset that has just been released, so waiting is certainly justified.
Dial M for Murder's central figure is Tony Wendice (Ray Milland) a former tennis player who has retired from the game and is living rather comfortably of the wealth of his wife Margot (Grace Kelly) and appears content to do so, if it were not for his knowledge of an intimate affair Margot is engaged in with a former American beau named Mark Halliday (Robert Cummings). Playing oblivious to the involvement between the two lovers, Tony plans an elaborate ploy to get both himself and Mark away from Margot, ultimately, intending to murder his wife. However, realizing that his motives would be rather clear Tony calls upon a former college mate named Charles Swann (Anthony Dawson), in trouble with authorities for identity fraud and various forms of theft, all aimed at paying up his serious gambling debts. Tony explains in great detail how he has planned the perfect crime for Charles to commit and that if he is willing to undertake the task he will be handsomely rewarded. At first hesitant to do so, Charles attempts to counter Tony by threatening to turn him into the police, yet as Tony points out through various actions Charles has undertaken just by walking in the door, it would be in his better interest just to go through with the murder, because he as already set him up for trouble if he refuses. Begrudgingly agreeing to the task, Charles goes through with the murder, however, in a moment of hesitance Margot reacts to the attack by Charles causing him to fall fatally on a pair of scissors, resulting in his death, as opposed to Margot's. Frantic, Tony returns home to attempt to cover up his involvement in the entire course of events, suffice to say no matter how much practical planning Tony can go through certain things cannot be foreseen, such as the logical capabilities of those involved with the case, as well as occurrences within nature that lend to the emergence of one or another form of evidence. In the end a perfect crime is impossible within the narrative of Dial M for Murder, because at some point a fact will not match up with the lie that is ultimately being told.
I mentioned the Freudian implications latent within Dial M for Murder and as I have attested multiple times on this blog I am by no means versed in my psychoanalytic theory, however, watching Dial M for Murder has made me want to uncover some of the film theory surrounding Hitchcock specifically, meaning of course that I will attempt to crack into some heavy Zizek in the upcoming months. However, at the moment I can make a few observations of Freudian influence within the film, firstly, the notion of impotence manifests itself quite blatantly in this film, at the onset Tony is a man who is scorned by his lover, causing him to feel a strong degree of impotence, Hitchcock brilliantly provides the character with a cane as a visual metaphor for his lack of sexual drive. However, notice the disappearance of this cane upon Tony's believe that he has succeeded in killing his wife, all be it a bit backhandedly. The impotence, at least metaphorically disappears and he is able to exert his masculine zeal again. One could also read Tony has being a character with a degree of homosexual desire, whether it be his unusual attachment to Charles or the way in which he robotically deals with Margot by way of affection. Even Charles, who is relatively minimal to the plot has his moment of phallic pride when he is shown in a picture with Tony, smoking the "biggest cigar in the room," a clear reference to penis size and envy surrounding such rhetoric. In this picture, Hitchcock never one to shy away from metaphor, the cigar referenced is truly something to be seen. Finally, much could be said about a certain affixation with one's facial hair in the films closing scenes, but that is an entirely new critical approach all its own.Key Scene: Margot's trial scene is rather surreal and minimalist, but probably the most intense moment of the film.
Dial M for Murder is a classic, I would suggest purchasing the film, but if you are anything like me you probably want to get the huge bluray boxset that has just been released, so waiting is certainly justified.
Labels:
1950's,
alcohol in films,
Alfred Hitchcock,
autuer,
cinematic,
critically acclaimed,
cult classic,
Freud in film,
Grace Kelly,
literary adaptation,
psychoanalysis,
suspense,
technicolor
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