You Cannot Escape Destiny By Running Away: Nosferatu (1922)

I had originally slated an adaptation of F.W. Murnau's magnificent silent horror film in that I had intended to look at Werner Herzog's work, but when a local up and coming independent film screening group in my town decided to do a Halloween film double feature I knew where my loyalties lay.  Beginning with Carnival of Souls, one of my top five favorite horror films, and following the screening up with Nosferatu, accompanied by a live scoring made me look back and realize that while I had certainly seen the film before, it had never graced the pages of my blog, although Murnau had certainly received love.  I would have lovingly written an entirely new blog post about Carnival of Souls, but, unfortunately, school kept me from attending the full screening and I am trying to commit to a rule of never repeating posts here, after all, there is a ton of cinema I still need to encounter and hopefully, blog about, regardless of whether or not it receives a ton of hits.  All this introspection and reflection on my previous posts aside, seeing this decidedly cleaned up and stunning looking copy of Nosferatu was a wonderful experience and a great reminder of the ways in which Murnau's film, released in 1922 was, and in many ways still is, ahead of its time.  Between some clever use of film cutting and stop motion and negative prints, Nosferatu takes on a considerable degree of otherworldliness which is at times quite haunting.  Of course, it fails to possess the same sense of cinematic dread and fear induced by The Phantom of the Oprea, but where it is lesser in this aspect, Nosferatu manages to make up in one of the more narratively engaging of the era's films, even composing itself in such away to contain moments that are quite humorous and clever.  Max Schreck's disturbing turn as Nosferatu, combined with Murnau's mastery of the cinematic technique make for one of the most significant of horror figures, despite Nosferatu remaining one of the most criminally under seen films of the German expression movement.

Nosferatu, very much falls in the same narrative vein as Dracula, for which the opening credits note its story originating.  In this version, however, Hutter (Gustav von Wagenheim) an up and coming expert in the field of estates is expected by his employer Knock (Alexander Granach) to travel to Transylvania to meet with one Count Orlok (Max Schreck).  Doing so despite the concerns of his wife Ellen (Greta Schröder), Hutter travels to Transylvania and quickly discover that the space of Count Orlok's mansion does not necessarily follow the rules of logic, whether it be the bizarrely fast speed by which Orlok is able to transport himself about the roads on his land, or the intensely vivid dreams which haunt his nights.  Writing back to Helen, Hutter even notes the odd symmetrical nature of two mosquito bites on his neck.  Overarching these events, is the rhetoric of the emergence of a plague in the area leading to the locking of Hutter's hometown down from incoming ship traffic.  This realization leads to Hutter realizing that he must spend considerably more time at Orlok's castle, a fact that becomes highly troubling when Hutter catches Orlok in the evening transformed into the scary creature known as Nosferatu, a vampire intent on devouring individuals' livelihood through a sucking of their blood. When Nosferatu becomes aware of Ellen, he notes her particularly tantalizing qualities and takes it about himself to mount a ship ride to Hutter's town to find Ellen.  Using a series of crates, masked as vessels of dirt used in scientific studies, the elusive Nosferatu is able to live off of the crew members destroying them one by one sustaining himself through the travels, all the while the distraught Hutter attempting to stay a few steps ahead of the vampire whose feverish pace leaves little time for side stepping or hestiation.  When Nosferatu arrives in the town his presence comes simultaneously, if not purposefully, with a new layer of the plague, almost taking the lives of Ellen and others, yet when a maddened Knock reveals the secrets of Nosferatu's life power, Hutter and others are able to exploit his desires as a means to tempt him into the sunlight and destroy himself in the process.

I can only imagine the various literature that has been written on Nosferatu both from a historical production and film theorist viewpoint, which is appropriate considering that the film is not solely a technical marvel, but also one that exudes points of well-reasoned critique, whether it be on the nature of power and desire or more intricate philosophical endeavors if not the semiotics and signifiers associated with a notion of good and evil and how such descriptions can change with new information or situation relationships.  These are all things to be applied to the film, as well as constant reconsiderations of the ways in which the production of the film is key to its understanding.  What is perhaps the most interesting to me, however, is the possibility to read this film as a queer text, even if doing so requires one to do an anachronistic, against the grain, consideration of the film.  There is a rather clear element of this occurring in the initial longing desire for Hutter on the part of Nosferatu while he is still passing as Count Orlok, wherein his very act of passing can double as his attempting to negate any associations with his queerness through appropriating a socially normative identity in the count, leading to the somewhat socially oblivious Hutter seeing him as a non-threatening figure despite the signs evident in haunting dreams and the generally emaciated look of Nosferatu.  Indeed, his desire is something that is to be repressed and when Nosferatu does act it out upon Hutter through the neck biting, Hutter's perceptions of him change considerably, or to be more specific his associations with queerness emerge and he is now a literal monster to be feared for such attributes.  This leads to Nosferatu becoming a vengeful figure, one who feels it necessary to violently enact his frustrations upon the figures around him, either by purposeful attacks, particularly regarding the men on the boat, or his constant carrying of a large coffin, despite its undoubtedly heavy nature. This means that Nosferatu's ill-fated attempt to consume Ellen takes on another layer of the problematic, since it is the heterosexual figures who use Ellen as a ruse for the queer Nosferatu, one that leads to his ultimate death through repressed homosexual shame.  A too in-depth reading of the film, perhaps, but not one that is entirely impossible .

Key Scene:  The carriage ride sets up a tonal shift in the film that might be one of the most marked in all of early cinema history.

Often times patience can be a huge pay off, it is certainly the case with the bluray impending release for this film.  As it is from Kino it should prove excellent.

I'd Throw You Into The Ocean...Shock Therapy: Run Lola Run (1998)

Fueled almost entirely by the MTV generation of a deluge of imagery and noise, it is impossible to pinpoint exactly everything that occurs within the vast narrative framework of the taut and intense Run Lola Run, a German film by the stellar director Tom Tykwer, whose recent involvement in Cloud Atlas has made me come to appreciate his presence in cinema.  In its seemingly ecstasy filled narrative, Run Lola Run manages to expertly consider gender expectations within Germany as it moved into the twentieth century, providing both positive and negative images of such, while, simultaneously, completely disregarding any sort of semblance of cinematic linearity or formality.  To call Run Lola Run a structuralists nightmare is an apt description, yet in its decidedly deconstructionist nature, it, nonetheless, speaks volumes to the manner with which a generation of technologically enhanced youth engage with the world, both virally and virulently.  It is always a surprise to me to consider that this film was made in 1998, because, aside from its clearly dated fashion choices, the considerations of youth, money and the ability to navigate at capitalist oriented social landscape blow the lid off any of its contemporaries.  In fact, I would even say that this film stands miles above Fight Club in its satirical consideration of a thrill seeking, adrenaline fueled culture, and, as seems to be the case with many films of similar themes to David Fincher's now well-established classic, predates it.  I am also aware that the film exists within the constraints of the era, with its techno/house music inspired soundtrack and mixing of filmic forms, but damn if it does not do so with such a seamless fusion and direction that it is essentially visual LSD.  As noted earlier Run Lola Run clearly finds its influence in a Y2K fearing group of youth that sought out visual overload as a distraction from the real woes of growing up, in the matter of a succinct eighty minutes, Tykwer's film focuses on all the social issues present in such a state of fear, both with a detached sense of satire and a noticeable degree of earnest concern.

Run Lola Run, is a non-linear film, but not in the manner one might initially assume.  In fact, the plot is somewhat straightforward.  First, there is Lola (Franka Potente) a young, red haired woman who begins her day by answering a phone call from her distraught boyfriend Manni (Moritz Bleibtreu) whose ties to criminal activity has led to his losing a large sum of money, which he was to deliver to his boss, known for his hot temper and willingness to snap over the most minor problems.  Manni had the money prepared to deliver, but in a panic left it on a subway train to avoid suspicious police officers, leading to its being grabbed by a homeless man with an affinity for bags.  Frantic to correct this wrong, Manni begins to consider robbing a nearby grocery store, news that leads to Lola running, as fast as she can, in order, to both obtain the money and, hopefully, stop Manni from making a huge mistake.  This is where the films linearity breaks down, into various versions of the events, each separated by a discussion between Manni and Lola in bed, the topic concerning love and death.  The first scenario finds Lola running to meet with her father Vater (Herbert Knaup) only to be told that she was adopted and not deserved of his money, which leads to her failing to meet Manni prior to the robbery and she in turn becomes an accomplice and is shot during the police suppression.  The second scenario finds Lola choosing to rob her fathers bank, as opposed to asking for the money, which, in turn, leads to Manni being hit by a work van, when the two are having a conversation.  Finally, it is during the third scenario that things finally begin to work in the favor of Lola, and she, instead; chooses to gamble a small bit of money with the hopes of winning enough to save Manni.  However, in this scenario, Manni finds the homeless man and gets his money back and the two reunite without the woes of a financial fear, or Manni's death for that matter.  While this scenario is certainly idyllic, it is not void of death, which is made only minor note of, since viewers are assumed to be siding with the success of Lola and Manni anyways.

I was a little hesitant to embrace this as a film worth including in the month of women in film, which is winding down nicely, with a flow of solid film, particularly since it does have a focus on a couples issues.  However, the title does not deceive, for it is truly about Lola's relation to the events.  Even when we are shown Manni dying, it is within a framework of actions undertaken by Lola, whose movement through the world seems to magically and metaphysically affect every person she talks with or touches, sometimes for the better, at other times for the worse.  Perhaps, the most powerful statement in the film comes from the suggestion that Lola's own frustration with how a situation ends can be verifiably changed should she will it to be so, particularly when it relates to the death of herself or her lover.  The physicality, athleticism and brains Lola possesses within the film also suggest a rejection of gender norms that reject women in any sort of authoritative role, in fact, it is in the first scenario where Lola dies that she is the least authoritative, and, as a result, is killed for not possessing a grounded voice and identity.  In a bit of genius, however, the second scenario rejects her use of violence as a challenge to her oppressor, particularly since it leads to the deaths of people she cares for, and for whom she was protecting.  The third scenario, ironically, is the one in which she embraces capitalism, while simultaneously exploiting it, and it is this scenario that she is able to assure her desired outcome, doubly so, one could argue, and if there were any question as to whether or not Lola's father was a problematic figure, with his philandering and desire to create more offsprings was problematic, his demise in the final scenario certainly provides a clear and deliberate answer.   Run Lola Run depicts the possibilities of a woman with a purpose and demands that viewers accept this emerging reality, something that would drastically change in cinema as it moved into a new millennia, wherein many women possessed similar roles and the assured place of patriarchy and traditionalism in cinema disintegrated.

Key Scene:  For a film whose shots last an average of 2.7 seconds it is hard to pick a scene, but I am partial to the casino section, because it exist both within and outside of the narrative framework created up until that point in the film.

I rented this initially, but ordered a copy of the bluray immediately after the credits moved up the screen.  I strongly suggest you do the same.

I Am Somebody Who Is Profoundly Attached To Images: Beyond The Clouds (1995)

This Korean bootleg DVD was a blind buy from a local Goodwill, mostly with the intent of reselling, after I did a quick Amazon scan and realized it was worth a few bucks, however, when I further examined the case it came to my attention that the film appeared to be directed simultaneously by Michealangelo Antonioni and Wim Wenders.  At that point I could not resist grabbing the work only to later discover that the film was something initially created by Antonioni, only to be finished by Wenders after the late Italian director suffered another crippling stroke.  This knowledge makes an already cinematic and sweetly saddening film that much more sentimental and profound.  While I know I have professed an up and down relationship with Antonioni, it is works like this that have helped me come around to the director as a whole, particularly in that there is perhaps no better director to map philosophical evolution with than Antonioni, to me he is a director who continually greatened in the works he produced, coming up with some particularly key social work, most notably Zabriskie Point.  In fact, the addition of Wim Wenders to this film is the proverbial icing on the cake, not to mention the ambient soundtrack help of U2, as well as a personal favorite of mine, Brian Eno.  This film begins with its head in the clouds and, as the title suggests, goes some were far above them, questioning lust, friendship and sexual awakening all along the way.  Furthermore, you can easily see the very personal touches in the film despite being an adaptation of short stories, particularly considering that to one degree or another Beyond the Clouds is, ultimately, about imagining and creating movies.  There are a handful of moments that come throughout the movie that had me at a loss for words and catching my breath at the simplistically grand nature of the scenes composition, often the camera lingers in this film capturing lengthy reactions the events unfolding, but do not let the stagnant nature of the cinematography fool you, because this is a film about imagination and desire, two things constantly moving.

While the film is a set of different events, to call it a series of short films or even vignettes would be to miss the entire point of the work altogether, instead, I would argue that it is a series of interconnected moments, neatly and cleverly tied together around the reflections and memories of the main character simply known as The Director (John Malkovich) as he drifts through what we assume to be Italy.  The stories all involve some degree of romantic connection, whether it be the initial encounter between two hesitant lovers, only to reconnect a few years later, with an intimate fire, or two older individuals who meet up after one's wife leaves him as he is meeting a wife who has recently left her husband.  Occasionally, The Director will interject his thoughts on a specific situation, often in hyperbole or roundabout poeticism.  The moments of intimacy are rarely subdued and often become quite intimately intense, as is the case with two lovers who engage after seemingly having nothing in common, the guy an atheist free floating individual and the girl a deeply religious individual who is to commit the convent life the very next day, yet something transcendent of spiritual leanings allows them to connect physically in a new definition of a religious experience.  Even the moments in between seem to consider the possibilities of love, as occurs when one man reflects on the nature of art, recreation and admiration.  Even The Director engages in his own moments of intimate reflection, one that causes him to exit from it with a smug sense of happiness as he looks upon his decision through a window of the very recent past.

Beyond the Clouds is an incredibly poetic film, often taking long moments to consume the landscape, or gauge an emotion, something that does not seem to occur, nor does it ever seem to bode well when directors take this approach, popularly speaking at least, as has been the case with more experimental narratives released by say Soderbergh or Van Sant.  It begs to be asked what can be gained from this approach, and what, if anything, is lost.  Certainly a poetic and surreal approach in a film like Beyond the Clouds allows for multiple narratives that do not require a logical connection, often transcending time, as well as space in order to occur, which is seen from the onset in this film, as new stories often overlap the very places in which The Director resides, perhaps suggesting a multiplicity of times occurring at once, or more likely the physical yearning that so often comes with bittersweet memories.  The notion of memory with in a surreal sense often adds new layers to seemingly simple acts as well, heightening the metaphor of something like riding in a plane or staring longingly at the ocean from a swing seat, events that happen quite beautifully in the films many dreamlike sequences.  This is all fine and well and something I favor as a film viewer and critic, but I am fully aware that such approaches can become a cause for disconnect and discontent in viewers, when such filmic constructions do not have an ultimate unifying force.  Fortunately, Beyond the Cloud unites quite brilliantly and makes viewers long for a continuation even after the screen fades to blue, it reminds those watching that life does end and no matter how greatly one desires to return to its moments of beauty, they are and always will be tragically fleeting, so embracing the moment is quite important.

Key Scene:  It is a dead tie between The Director at the park and the couple falling in love at church.

This movie is a bit hard to come by and the copy I found was purely by luck, unfortunately, the Korean copy I have also censors all full frontal nudity which gets old really quick.  I would say check this movie out if you find a decently priced copy, but for now we will have to patiently wait and hope it gets save from obscurity.