My Revenge Will Seek You Out: Black Sunday (1960)

Also known as The Mask of Satan, Black Sunday is essentially how the world became aware of Mario Bava, horror provocateur and cult cinema mad man.  Now I am fully aware that he made movies well before this work, as well as even more output following, but with its recent bluray release and the access it has to horror fans via Netflix Watch Instantly, it has gain a new level of adoration.  Admittedly, I was far from completely enamored with this film, but it does have me curious about undertaking more work by the Italian director, primarily as a means to see how much German Expressionism might seep into this other work.  Also, I am deeply intrigued by some of the special effects that unfold during this film, proving equally baffling to Alfonso Cuaron's Gravity which I also saw yesterday, although the spectacle is certainly favored in the latter, the execution is no less dynamite.  I guess my hesitation in fully embracing a work like Black Sunday resides in having a considerable trouble getting behind works of gothic vampire horror, because in my mind their dreary setting, ambient soundtracks and general appeal is often squandered in some half realized narrative of sex and lust, which is overemphasized and always undermines anything worth a damn in the film.  While Black Sunday certainly has moments where this threatens to be the demise of the film, for the most part, the narrative manages to side step any egregious errors and remain watchable and poignant.  I am also completely aware of the film having a now fifty year history behind it, making its pristine look that much more captivating considering the life and rediscovery of horror films to be a less than prevalent act since it is a genre that seems content to begin its history within the late seventies.  While Black Sunday will never be on the level of something like Carnival of Souls it does manages to contain several moments of pure cerebral and surreal intensity, and at this point the dubbing in such a film is more endearing than grating, say nothing of the absolutely ethereal performance delivered by Barbara Steele who may or may not have had the aid of a prosthetic mask.

Black Sunday begins with a historical event focusing on a series of executions in a non-descript Moldovan town, where villagers and clergy men use various tools and religious iconography to destroy a series of demons in their village, one an older man and the other a younger woman, suggesting their ties to satan.  Using masks that are lined with spikes, the villagers slay the creatures dubbed vampires and bury them within coffins in an underground labyrinth.  The narrative then flashes forward two hundred years to focus on Dr. Thomas Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi) and Dr. Andre Gorobec (John Richardson) who are traveling through Moldova in hopes of making up time in route to a medical conference.  A minor vehicle accidents leads to their having to hole up in a local castle, where they immediately discover the tomb of Asa (Barabara Steele) the woman murdered for being a vampire some two centuries earlier.  This bizarre discovery is only made doubly so when they return to their carriage to find Katia (Barbara Steele) who takes on an uncanny resemblance to Asa.  An accident earlier, involving Kruvajan, results in his blood reawakening the vampire of Asa, who begins wreaking havoc on the two doctors as well as Katia, eventually even bringing back to life Javuto (Arturo Dominici) her partner and half of a Hall and Oates vampire cover band.  Between the two of them, they attempt to offer the doctors a chance at eternal life in exchange for their blood, while the fascination implemented by both Asa and Javuto is strong the two doctors are able to deny the advances, instead turning to Katia for suggestions on how to slay the assumedly immortal beasts.  After a series of scenes with Asa attempting to pass as Katia, only to fail to turn her when she finds a crucifix around Katia's neck, the return of Gorobec affords him the ability to slay the real vampire in Asa, turning her in the moment to an shriveled up corpse, while Kruvajan knocks Javuto into a fire, burning his body permanently. Katia now free from the spell of the vampires, awakens as young and jovial as ever.

I have not seen nearly enough gothic horror films and only marginally more vampire flicks, so I would be hard pressed to claim myself an authority on either.  Furthermore, I am hesitant to appropriate things such as tropes to such a specific genre of films.  Nonetheless,  I have the space and certainly cannot help but consider the particular way in which the "intellectual" figure emerges within the space of these films.  Of course, since they are classic works in gothic horror the figure of the intellectual is always male, driven by his unbridled desire for truth and scientific fact, he often finds himself in curious situations only to become involved out of a quest to explain that which is inexplicable.  In many of these films, particularly the Dracula films "proper," this intellectual is represented through the figure of Van Helsing, but even in these instances there is an acceptance of the paranormal as a fact in the world, one that is confronted with goodness to overcome the evil.  In Black Sunday one can certainly pull many elements of the traditional good versus evil narrative, but it is clear, particularly in their dual presence, that the intellectual is intended to be seen as the ultimate savior in a world of violence one exacted by and upon all involved, whether it be the blood thirsty vampires or the villagers who kill these creatures without even the slightest attempt to understand their actions.  Indeed, that is not to say that the intellectual within the space of a gothic horror film is void of character flaws.  The major cause for concern with such figures, despite their deep understanding of science, human nature or archaic folklore still seems to revolve around some degree of sexual repression, whether by choice or social situation.  The relationship between Gorobec becomes particularly fascinating as one watches him fall for Katia, and assumedly Asa in the process, it is precisely this infatuation that nearly leads to his point of intellectual privilege becoming undermined and leading to his own turning into a vampire, void of any sense of rational thought when, in such a scenario, his need to devour would overcome his desire to learn and understand.  Interestingly, this film also reconsiders the intellectual to a degree by affording Katia a considerable opinion in how to slay the creatures, one that proves both well-reasoned and useful.

Key Scene:  The simultaneous aging and return to youth of Asa and Katia is cinematic magic even by contemporary standards.

This is on Netflix, take a chance to watch it as it is an undisputed classic and certainly a higher end work in vampire film.

This Stupid Machine Needs A Kick In The Balls: Rats (1984)

Some viewing experiences are made quite better by the inclusion of other people sharing in the insanity or intensity of the cinematic moment.  Other moviegoing is made better by an alteration of perception induced by a few drinks, or for the particularly dangerous mind altering drugs. Then there are some experiences that are made better by both of these elements inclusion, but still manage to exist in a world entirely detached from all logical reason.  Rats, subtitled Night of Terror, is one such bit of madness that was viewed for this marathon at a retro screening taking place at my local indie theater.  Part of the glorious, and seemingly never ending sequence of Italian knock off films from the eighties, Rats is less clear than say, Starcrash, in what it is ripping off, in that it is one part zombie film, one part Mad Max parody and an even more wicked dose of nonsensical exploitation flick that seems almost inconceivable when layered with the classic Italian method of dubbing films, wherein synchronicity is deemed useless.  Even going into this film quite aware of how terrible the product would be, in wildly endearing ways, I was taken aback by how much I found myself consuming its implausibility, both in terms of how indifferent the filmmaker, the infamous Bruno Mattei, seemed in concerns of creating a remotely feasible plot, in so much as it begins with a narration about nuclear fallout that factors so very minimally into most of the film that it almost seems like the intro was an afterthought.  Yet, underneath all the insanity that is Rats lies a film with some moments of genuine excitement, surprisingly not all of which are undercut by some sweet Italian synth music, making for a movie with an incredible amount of laughs, but also a noted last sequence that I cannot shake out of my brain, one that is haunting and absurd simultaneously, as well yet another inspiration for a possible future costume.  Also, a lot of people scream for lengthy amounts of time in this film.

Rats, as noted, exists in a post-apocalyptic landscape, that is allegedly supposed to be Manhattan, where only two things still roam the earth, rats and biker gangs.  One such biker gang, consisting of absurdly named individuals such as Video (Gianno Franco) and black woman Chocolate (Geretta Geretta) find themselves stopping off in the ruins of Manhattan, in an apparent search for food.  Their decision to stop proves quite fruitful when a bar they enter is stockpiled with food, including the highly nutritious items of sugar and flour. Realizing that there was a previous group of people inhabiting the space, the biker gang thinks little of occupying the space for their own, enjoying the provisions made freely theirs, both in terms of sleeping quarters and a botanical garden full of fascinating, but assumedly useless plants.  Indeed, two members of the biker gang feel so very much at home that they begin having sex in a sleeping bag, in the line of sight of the entirety of the rest of their gang.  Yet, despite all their decadent delight, it becomes clear that they are not at all alone, but indeed sharing this space with an inordinate amount of rats, ones that happen to have a penchant for consuming human flesh, or, at the very least, flinging themselves in large droves at human bodies, until the individuals they attack become so scratched and disgusted as to be driven to madness.  Needless to say, the group takes it upon themselves to exact revenge upon the rodents, using everything from antiquated maces to malfunctioning flamethrowers to lay waste to both the rats and all the members of their group suffering from the scratches of the vile creatures.  Yet the rats in their incessant attacks and quickly mounting numbers, begin knocking off members of the biker gang, until only a few of the members remain.  In a narrative jump, a group of hazmat suit wearing humans begin spraying gas into the town, assumedly trying to kill the rats, but when the remaining members of the gang emerge from buildings to confront these exterminators, it becomes clear in a rather intense reveal that perhaps they were also on the docket to be suffocated like rodents.

There are a lot of simplistic film titles in the world, ones that only speak to a layer of the film and in other times there are film titles like Sharknado that give viewers everything they could possibly need to know about the film.  Somehow, completely unbeknownst to me, the title of Rats seems to masterfully cover the film I viewed last night, while also being a terribly misguided suggestion about what the film manages to undertake.  I do not mean to suggest that Rats is a good movie, for it is not, nothing about the film works from a structuralist standpoint, whether it be a complete lack of regard for continuity or a concern for explaining how and where the rats, of their multiple varieties, emerge.  Instead it is simply a post-apocalyptic tale concerning a group of travelers who are quite terrible at understanding, or perhaps accepting, that certain spaces are inhospitable.  Not to lean to heavily on the classic horror film critique of "they should have just left" as it defeats the nature of horror films and their fantastical elements, however, I feel it quite worth noting in the context of this film, because honestly there is no real context as to why the bikers stop, or as to why there was a bunker filled with weird video games, as one member suggests.  Rats almost manages to be a set of film ideas cut together, never really managing to be a single solid work, but again, not to detract from my earnest joy while watching this film, because damn if it was not enjoyable in its lack of continuity.  Even as I sit here and critique these elements of the film, I am also aware of some of its truly captivating moments, whether it is those which occur when a mise-en-scene is formed that manages to incorporate rats into the windows of the background, or the synth actually hits its cue in a great way.  Rats, I guess, is an enigma more than anything else, which has helped it to gain its notoriety, particularly since its begin is in such stark contrast to its captivating ending.  Of course, there is also a real possibility that it is just a bad movie that should only be loved as such, Rats is yet another work from the golden age of Italian blockbuster knock-offs that proves to be a bit more than its intention and for that it should continually be sought out and viewed.

Key Scene: Rat humans.

There are murmurings of a Bluray release emerging soon.  I cannot suggest this release enough, in which case waiting to view it is permissible.

There Was A Man Down There!: Zombie (1979)

Certain blog posts about films beg questions as to the larger meaning of life, or the nature of good versus evil as shown in societies most basic engagements.  At times films flail to answer these questions and in other situations they deliver such an assertive voice on an issue as to become a significant moment in cinema, as well as a work of art that proves important well beyond its inception, as is the case with something like 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Zombie, the gore-fest horror film by Italian director Lucio Fulci, ask questions as well, or more appropriately causes those who view it in all its shlock-filled glory to inquire about the various oddities and curiosities which unfold throughout the film.  For example, who in their right mind only goes swimming in a thong, but feels it absolutely necessary to wear a gaudy swim cap in the process.  Or, how one could find themselves in such a situation as to allow a slow zombie the chance to catch up with them, push only their hand through the room and then drag their eye into an exposed piece of wood.  Hell, it even posits a possible world where people feel so incapable of stifling their sexual desires that they consider having sex in the middle of a zombie infested forest, only to be genuinely surprised by their being attacked.  In all these ways, perhaps Zombie really does transcend its restraints of traditional gore cinema and become a focused look at human nature on par with the great works of the auteurs, who knows, because between the terrible, and I have seen enough to know this is particularly bad, voice dubbing and video transferred blurriness. Yet, Zombie, as a work that does, for all intents and purposes, exist in its own cinematic space manages to move through cult cinema circuits, word-of-mouth and devoted cinephiles with the same adoration given to the works of Kubrick or Welles.

Zombie, is of course about zombies, but that does not mean that Fulci does not approach the narrative without earnestness.  Indeed, the film begins pseudo-in media res, with a beginning shot of a shadowy figure shooting a body moving about that is bound and blanketed in a white sheet, before nothing it is now feasible to leave the island.  The film then opens with an abandoned yacht floating into the harbor of New York, wherein two unsuspecting cops are attacked by a zombie creature, only to shoot it into the depths of the city's harbor.  The cops confused by the events question Anna Bowles (Tisa Farrow) who is the owner of the yacht, only to discover that she was engaged in an elicit affair, leading to the secrecy behind the yacht's appearance.  Anna explains that the attacks are likely attached to the work her father does on a tropical island, leading to her and reporter Peter West (Ian McCulloch) being sent to ascertain exactly what is occurring and what exactly is happening to the diseased attacking bodies.  Given their trouble traveling the duo gain the help of boating experts and semi-professional nudists Bryan Curt (Al Cliver) and Susan Barrett (Aurretta Gay).  Upon arrival at an uncharted island known as Matool, the group meets up with Dr. David Menard (Richard Johnson) who explains that the island is particularly subject to a disease that causes all those who die in its spaces to rise from the dead with an uncontrollable desire for human flesh and despite the dangers clear with such a disease, he insists on staying to continue research.  This continual occupation in the space of the island leads to the various members of the group being attacked, whether it be Dr. Menard's wife being attacked post-shower by a decidedly voyeuristic zombie, or the previously mentioned attacks on the couple having sex.  Eventually, the only survivors of the vicious onslaught are Peter and Anne, who bring along the zombie corpse of Bryan as evidence, yet when they get close to New York they discover via radio transmission that the city, and presumably much of The United States is under the spell of the disease.

Zombie is not made to be taken too seriously, although it is clear that Fulci has some semblance of a social critique at play, one no less on the nose than any other zombie film of the time, particularly the work of George A. Romero, from which, this film heavily and unapologetically borrows.  Indeed, its proper Italian title is Zombi 2, as Zombi represents the Italian name for Romero's wildly successful Dawn of the Dead, a personal favorite of mine in the genre.   I say all this to suggest that the metaphors in this film, much like their predecessor are intended to be on the nose, precisely because a zombie film affords an othering, wherein all characters are aware of the evilness they are versing, thus making any sense of previous social divide moot.  Take for example the race and gender elements of Romero's original film Night of the Living Dead and how they are briefly acknowledged and immediately transcended in favor of focusing on the push for survival and the irrelevance of all previously constructed notions of society.  Indeed, Fulci is aware of this commentary and by setting his film on a remote island only furthers the detachment of the film's narrative from such institutionalized structures, therefore affording a degree of subversion to bodily depictions in the film.  However, Fulci also seems to be bending the genre, albeit, unintentionally by heavily relying on elements of the exploitative for his film, the wild use of gore, at time really jarring and at other moments so artificial as to be humorous manages to work on an almost, dare I say, Brechtian level, both drawing the viewers into the films intensity while also chastising and alienating them for taking any joy, even if purely visceral, in such excess and faux social critique.  Zombie wants its viewers to be unsettled by not only the infestations and body horror of the film, but by the fact that it is indeed being paralleled to a society that is equally disconcerting when placed under a microscope, showing that the same worms that spills out of the eyes of the various zombies, manifest themselves metaphorically through capitalist and scientific endeavors in the Western world.  Furthermore, should you think this all implausible, Fulci's closing scenes drive this home with great zeal.

Key Scene:  Shark versus Zombe.

This DVD is surprisingly cheap for its cult like status, but I am aware it might not work for everyone, therefore, renting might be an ideal course of action.

This Isn't Sorcery, This Is Torture: Kill Baby, Kill (1966)

There may be nothing worse in regards to film viewing then committing to a movie that is almost good, but in the end falls short and proves to be absolutely average.  While it may be a reactionary element on my part to the particular stylings of filmmakers like Dario Argento, Jean Rollin and in the case of Kill Baby, Kill director Mario Bava I feel as though the film in question is almost on tap to something excellent but manages to be to preoccupied with narrative closure and normalcy to commit to its zany direction.  I am also aware that I am watching this film with dubbing, which can prove grating in the case of a film that is not necessarily aided by absurdly terrible translations and delivery.  Kill Baby, Kill is a solid film and it has many shining moments, particularly a handful of experimental shots that would suggest a brilliant idea under the surface of vain concerns for attractive people with paranormal problems.  I will admit openly that I am quite unaware of Bava's process as a filmmaker, but the film seriously wreaks of being tampered with, in so much as it has some rather jarring and enjoyable breaks form linear narrative, only to continually resituate itself within the traditional filmic structure, most times with no explanation as to why.  It is one thing for me to engage with a film that purposefully avoids providing characters with names, but it is entirely another matter when I am rather certain that I am being told characters names repeatedly, but have little memory of what they might be scenes later.  Hell, I recently went on a tequila fueled night of Spanish films and undertook watching a Santo film only to be disappointed to discover that it had no subtitles, nor did it possess dubbing.  That being said, I continued to watch the film and managed to glean a plot to some degree, although to be fair it could have just been some elaborate fever dream brought on by the aforementioned tequila.  I offer this aside only to say this about Kill Baby, Kill, I thoroughly enjoyed it as a film and understand that many of its faults are indicative of its era and technological restraints, but there is absolutely nothing more frustrating than seeing moments of genius sandwiched in the middle of a subpar filmmaking.  I would equate it to placing delicious savory brie in the middle of dollar store slices of bread, if that is your course of action it is better just to eat the cheese on its own, much like this would have been a far better film it were just a set of experimental flairs detached from an attempt at cohesive narrative.


I will attempt to hash out some degree of plot from a film that is surprisingly assured that it has a direct plot.  Viewers are introduced to some dark decaying Victorian world in which a woman appears to be nonsensically running about a mansion, only to catch sight of an incredibly sharp spike on a gate.  Upon seeing this she jumps to her death, impaling herself.  This action leads to the county coroner arriving, one Dr. Eswai (Giacomo Rossi-Stuart), only to discover that the town is incredibly unreceptive to his presence, existing instead in an outdated frame of mind that values sorcery and witchcraft over any degree of scientific truth.  This situation makes it insanely difficult for Eswai to get information or make a case for what he assumes to be murders.  As his movement through the area increases he becomes aware of many inexplicable deaths, mostly women, who lose large amounts of blood in the process.  The supernatural activities of the town, Eswai discovers are enacted to counter the demonic spells of Baroness Graps (Giovanna Galletti).  At this point, Eswai becomes incredibly confused as to what the truth of the matter is as it relates to the village, finding no aid when navigating between talismans and scientific truth, yet as more of his friends and trusted colleagues die, Eswai realizes that time is very much lacking and confronts Graps, only to discover that she has enacted such spells as a form of retribution against the town whose drunken oversights resulted in the death of her daughter, who was trampled by horses and slowly bled to death.  Graps believes that her daughters painful death is now the onus of the entire village, create a cycle of death as a means to assure revenge. Yet, Graps is also baffled when she realizes that her daughters spirit also navigates the spaces of the town exacting her own revenge, masked in eerie playfulness.  Fortunately, Eswai realizes the complexities of the situation at the last possible moment and saves his love interest while also assuring the destruction of Graps, although at the hands of another woman whose story is also seemingly important.

Cyclicality in film is not a terrible thing, in fact, it is a necessity in time travel films, and work quite nicely in the recent Men in Black III, however, it can be a bit frustrating when a film wants to offer this great non-linear focus on a cycle of issues, only to go about it in a terribly straightforward manner.  This, again, is my problem with Kill Baby, Kill, it is a narrative of a straight line, whose moments of experimentation seem like hiccups on a seismology reading.  The reminder that a good being is navigating the filmic space results in a narrative where sparks of zeal and camerawork that move through the environment as though they were their own character are ultimately lost, because they, aside from looking stellar, seem to have little affect on the narrative.  Earlier today, I listened to some of a podcasts from the excellent show Filmspotting, and they were making a less harsh criticism of Rami's initial Evil Dead film, suggesting that his use of bizarre camera work occasionally draws in viewers about their relationship with a horror occurring, particularly question within what sort of temporal and spatial world a paranormal narrative can exist.  Again think of the ways the Paranormal Activity franchise managed to challenge how viewers understand a linear horror film narrative, I know I am amongst a minor group of defenders for the films, but they really did revitalize how horror exists, and have for the worst created a set of offsprings that seem to betray the original, much in the ways that Kill Baby, Kill does with non-linear narrative.  Bava's work seems so intent on being surrealistic that when it does have the moments of such a degree of insanity they seem to be secondary to a lackluster plot.  I know that this film predates the original The Wicker Man by quite a few years, but it is clear that the sort of paranormal space created within that latter, is realized from the opening moments of the film, as opposed to be something that comes and goes at the whim of narrative normalcy.

Key Scene:  P.O.V swingset shot.

This is not a terrible film, but it is really damn frustrating.  I want it to be something it is not and I realize much of this is my own problem. With that in mind watch it instantly on Netflix and feel free to tell me that I am completely misreading the film, it is quite possibly the truth.

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.

Are You Sure You Know When I'm Happy?: Voyage To Italy (1954)

Regardless of what translation you prefer, whether it be Journey to Italy or Voyage in Italy, it is quite clear that Roberto Rossellini's some what unknown film is centered on commenting upon a failing marriage.  Now this is certainly not a topic that has been ignored by cinema and has manifested itself quite nicely in films of multiple genres, as well as countries of origin.  What many of these films fail to do though is truly capture the earnestly of a fracturing marriage, as well as the trouble in trying to fix those often insurmountable problems.  Where many films will attempt to use metaphor or heavy-handed symbolism to drive a point across, Rossellini instead focuses on his neo-realist roots and simply lays out a story so believable and plausible that when he does incorporate very clear moments of symbolist leanings, they seem so relevant and realized that it makes for that much greater a film.  Not to mention the acting, all be it dubbed, is quite astonishing and certainly worth praise.  I have not been shy by any means about my misgivings regarding Italian cinema, citing a very minimal amount of films that I enjoyed, well it just grew by one with the addition of this film, a long sought after film that I desired greatly to consume.

Voyage To Italy centers on a trip undertook by a married couple the opinionated and decidedly misogynist Alexander (George Sanders) and his wife, the intellectually inclined, yet troublesomely sheepish Katherine (Ingrid Bergman).  The two are engaging in this trip to the Italian country with clear hopes of fixing their flailing marriage, one that they both know is headed for divorce, but neither wants to acknowledge.  Once to their place of  stay near Naples the two have decidedly different plans on how to spend their time in the town. Alexander wants to go bar hopping and meet people, most of which are women, while Katherine simply wants to take in the museums and historical landmarks of the area, taking a particularly keen interest in the aftermath of Vesuvius.  As the two go through their separate vacations their feelings further disintegrate, Alexander meets a local woman and falls for her only to discover that she is on the cusp of a marriage, while Katherine seeks solitude in a museum only to realize that humans had struggled with similar situations thousands of years earlier.  The two reunite on the closing day of their trip and while Katherine seems committed to fixing their problems, all Alexander can consider is the act of divorce.  Yet when the two are separated forcefully at a church procession the two realize that they in fact love one another and realize the loss imminent in such a separation.  The two affirm their love in the closing scenes and reconnect in a sweetly simple moment of passion.

I mentioned that this film does have its share of symbolism, but that it does not manifest itself in obnoxious ways as so many contemporary films seem to do, perhaps this could be accredited to something Francois Truffaut said about the work.  Defending Voyage to Italy from a slew of harsh criticism, Truffaut praised the film as being the first truly modern film.  Perhaps Truffaut was right in such an assertion and as such it makes the symbolism seem fresh, in that the film is clearly old, yet incorporates metaphor and symbolism in a manner one has come to expect with somebody like Paul Thomas Anderson or David Fincher.  The most pertinent and permeating image of the couples marriage throughout the film is the constant image of Mount Vesuvius in the background, which while obviously dormant implies the possibility of eruption, in this case the marriage of Katherine and Alex.  Furthermore, Katherine's trip through a museum leads her to become wary of her relationship to the past, particularly when the statues painted eyes seem to gaze upon her, and the viewer, in eerie condemnation.  Finally, the moment in which Katherine and Alexander view the excavation of two bodies from the ash of Vesuvius serves as the most on the nose metaphor of the entire film, particularly considering that the dead bodies are interlocked, suggesting a partnership.  Meant as a reminder of love to the struggling couple it manages to seem perfect within the film and far from preachy.  Perhaps it is the notion that Rossellini was one of the first to incorporate such imagery or that the images are location based, but one cannot help but adore their incorporation into this brilliant bit of cinema.

Key Scene: The museum scene is a bit of existential beauty.

Criterion has a HuluPlus page for some of you that may not know, I had yet to watch anything but the free version of Grey Gardens, yet when I read that they had released this film I jumped on the chance to view it and so should you because it is criminally under-appreciated.

For Your Awareness: Starcrash (1978)

In 1977, the world of sci-fi would forever change with the introduction of the masterpiece Star Wars.  It would be a harbinger of great and well-known space exploration movies, such as Alien and Serenity.  These movies in their own right would receive critical acclaim and advance what viewers came to expect from special effects in space movies.  This blog is not in any way about such a film, instead; it is about a little known Star Wars rip-off called Starcrash, a film that was directed and produce by Italians, but involved a slew of American and British actors.  However, to call it a rip-off is a bit problematic, because to be fair, the producers of Starcrash realized the imminent success of the Star Wars franchise and rushed a film into production.  Using a large amount of character arcs and plot twists from the now famous franchise, Starcrash exists as one of those so terrible it is endearing films that makes its rounds at midnight movie showings and on best cult classics lists.  It appears to border between taking itself completely seriously and not trying to push itself beyond its clearly restrained budget.  Furthermore, you can imagine that any movie involving David Hasselhoff, but the best part of this film comes from an inspired performance of recent Academy Award winner Christopher Plummer.  Essentially, Starcrash is glorious in its seemingly unending amount of "what the..." moments.

I will not bother with a plot explanation here, because it clearly parallels Star Wars in many ways and part of the enjoyability is making these connections during the viewing experience.  Not to mention it has a John Barry soundtrack that is both zany and grandiose.  I will instead tell you to keep an eye out for a few things throughout viewing Starcrash.  First off, continuity is thrown out the window in the film, something that makes a sci-fi film function.  Pay close attention to the amount of ships mentioned in any fight, this will help prove my point.  Secondly, the character of Elle (L) is magnificent, voiced by British folk musician Hamilton Camp, who dons a terrible American Southern accent, and is undoubtedly one of the funniest and most likeable parts of the film.  Thirdly, the women in the films are all ex-models, including one former Bond girl, Caroline Munro, and boy do they go through wardrobe changes, in many instances for no apparent reason.  However, as I noted before, the best part of this film is without a doubt Christopher Plummer.  He delivers monologues with such gravitas that you wonder whether or not he realized that everyone else round him could not act to save their lives.  From turn of the neck line deliveries to yelling out to "stop the flow of time," Plummer's performance culminates in one of the most ridiculous closing monologues ever put on film.  I hope one day to find it on the internet, because I will probably attach it to everything I post. 

Please do yourself a favor and buy this film on Bluray, it is worth getting and sharing with your friends.  Plummer, painted models, scantily clad women and Hasselhoff all combine for the makings of a filmic drinking game.  Also, I hear the commentary is something of unprecedented nerdom.  Shortly after watching you will become a "Crashhead," I know I am myself.

You Must Get Beyond Passion, Like A Great Work Of Art: La Dolce Vita (1960)

The auteur Frederico Fellini always manages to touch upon something inherent to human nature in his epic films whether it is the delusions of a man sinking slowly into insanity 8 1/2 or the tragic nostalgia of existing as portrayed in Amarcord.  The Italian director's 1960 masterpiece La Dolce Vita, or The Sweet Life, is certainly not an exception.  Using famed Italian actor Marcello Mastroianni, Fellini creates a visually stirring study of an aging man as he realizes that his desires both physically and spiritually are unattainable and that his life is slowly flickering into nothingness, despite his best efforts to find meaning.  As, I noted in an earlier review of Michelangelo Antonionni's Zabriskie Point, this concern with the existential self is a key element of Italian filmmaking.  However, nobody seems capable of capturing the true despair of this philosophical rut, quite like Fellini, and La Dolce Vita is certainly his best existentialist work.  From the sparsely constructed mise-en-scene's to the large cast of characters, La Dolce Vita is concerned only with the quest of one man as he realizes that his life is far more bitter than it will ever be sweet.  La Dolce Vita is often described as a comedy, and while it certainly has hilarious moments, the laughs gained from this movie are only a result of peoples own realizations that their lives are tragically linked to Marcello's desperation.  This link results in laughter, because to acknowledge it would be far too depressing.

The main character mentioned above is Marcello (Marcello Mastroianni) an aging journalist who has come to loathe his job and the identity that is attached with such work.  Despite his disdain for his own work, Marcello has little luck shaking off the paparazzi and journalists who constantly follow him.  As a result, Marcello attempts to detach himself from his lackluster employment, by finding a romantic connection.  His first encounter is with a Maddalena (Anouk Aimee) a woman he meets at a nightclub only to sleep with hours later.  However, his rendezvous leads his current lover Emma (Yvonne Furneauz) to attempt suicide.  After this encounter, Marcello meets the famous American actress Sylvia (Anita Ekberg) who is the object of seemingly every males affections.  Marcello at first appears immune to Sylvia, until he is witness to her climbing up stairs at a local cathedral, it is during this time that he compares her to the Madonna and falls madly in love with her, claiming that she is equitable to the first woman ever created.  However, his advances are quickly thwarted when after spending and evening playing in a local fountain he is beaten up by Sylvia's American lover Robert (Lex Barker).  This failure to achieve love with his idea woman leads Marcello to find his answers through religion, which prove illogical first by his meeting with an old friend name Steiner (Alain Cuny) who sees church as nothing more than a place to play organ.  Marcello's second encounter with the false support of religion arises when he helps cover a story of a purported sighting of a Madonna by children at a tree in the outskirts of Rome.  This coverage quickly goes awry when rain begins to pour and the film technology begins to break.  This confusion paired with impatient attendees attempting to gain their own "healing" from the tree leads Marcello to leave the scene in with a greater amount of disillusionment.  These attempts at finding answers to his life's meaning continue as Marcello seeks solace in intellect, family, money and his past only to discover that each quest is as useless as the first at which point we are shown Marcello at what appears to be a party a few years following the previous events, given his now graying hair.  At this party, Marcello attempts to instigate an unwanted orgy amongst the attendees only to be stopped by the owner of the house, at which point Marcello rips open a down pillow and showers the party guests in feathers as he introduces them as performers in a play.  The film then shows the partygoers on the beach as they admire a large stingray with awe.  Marcello then notices the call of a girl from across the beach and quickly recognizes her as a young waitress from a restaurant he had attended years earlier.  She attempts to yell out words to him, but neither he, or the viewer, can comprehend her words.  Instead, he simply smiles and walks back to his party, leaving the young girl to be excited about life, while he wallows in his continued existentialism.  This closing, while uncertain, might imply that the only way to assure a life with meaning, is to remain ignorant to the fact that their is no meaning, however, Fellini offers such an ending in irony, for to do so would be to state definitively that there is no meaning.

So all this talk of existentialism, can cause the film to seem irrelevant, or as an existentialist would put it...inherently meaningless.  While some existentialist would say that this is the case, most would argue that even though the ultimate end is nothing, one should not stop from being amazed by single moments as they occur, whether it be something like falling in lover, or witnessing the natural awe of the world.  It is quite apparent that a film like La Dolce Vita, while bittersweet, certainly adheres to the latter.  Fellini's film is a celebration of moments that are beautiful, whether it be Marcello's infatuation with Sylvia, which leads to a poetic dance in water, or, a group of aging intellectuals admiring the ambient sounds of the natural world.  Fellini is not suggesting that a person should find despair in the fleeting world around them, instead he suggest that we should take solace in the moments while they last, because they will provide a person with some semblance of happiness.  Fellini certainly drives this point home with his comparison of Steiner and Marcello as characters.  Steiner states during a party that he is not as tall and powerful as people believe him to be and is actually quite self-loathing.  His own despair is never dealt with which leads him to commit suicide and kill his children in the process.  This, at first, comes as a surprise to viewers given his claims to find beauty in his children.  However, it is quite apparent that his beauty is rooted in jealousy for Steiner and his violent act serves as revenge.  Similarly, Marcello has his own run in with the beauty of youth through the young waitress, with whom he openly discusses the beauty of ignorance.  However, instead of exacting revenge on the young woman for her sweet innocence, Marcello decides to step away and ignore his jealousy.  The films closing scene of him turning his back on youth may seem dark, but what it really implies is Marcello's own transcendence of his existential longing for something different.  Ultimately, Marcello realizes his meaningless life is still his own and while it ends in nothingness, at least it is his own nothingness to possess.

This is a giant of an Italian film both literally and figuratively, and is one of the few Italian films I can fully support as being a masterpiece.  I cannot recommend viewing it enough and would suggest getting a copy for your collection.  However, it has yet to be released on Bluray so waiting awhile might not be a terrible idea.

Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli: The Godfather (1972)

Some movies are made even more epic by pairing them with a thematic dinner and beverage.  I had the pleasure of enjoying The Godfather with friends over spaghetti and wine, which made the experience all the better.  This was not my first time viewing The Godfather by a long shot, however, it was the first time in quite a few years and my pallet for film is certainly more distinguished.  With that being said, I love this movie!  It is flawless from the opening scene to the intense, yet operatic, baptism scene and provides several awe-inspiring moments in between.  It is rare to see a movie and not feel as though it could have done without a certain scene, or chosen a better way to approach a portion of the narrative.  I at no point felt this with The Godfather, which is surprising given that it clocks in at just under three hours.  It may have been the Blu-Ray transfer or the glasses of wine in me, but I felt transcendent watching this film, as though I had entered into the most intimate realms of World War II era mafia life.

I can now come to appreciate why the film is often listed in Top Ten of All Time lists so often.  As one of my friends, who is lesser versed in film, noted, he could tell it was a better film than most Hollywood garbage, yet was incapable of placing a specific reason as to why.  I posited that it might be the harmonious working of all the right elements to make a masterpiece, whether it be Brando's impeccable acting or Coppola's chiaroscuro lighting.  Plain and simple, the film is perfection and all that can be said has, and I won't attempt to offer anything profoundly new.


I do want to note, as I am sure others have, the overbearing sense of patriarchy in the film.  It is made apparent through verbal cues and the structural nature of the mise-en-scene that Coppola's world, as is the case for many of his other films, is one for men.  I do not feel as though this deters from the enjoyability of the film, particularly because it is a period piece, however, I would be remiss not to mention it.  With that being said, I encourage a revisiting of this movie and I promise you that if you choose not to eat Italian food while doing so a craving for some will surely follow.