It's Nice To Fall With A Pretty Woman: The Mirror (1975)

This will not be the first time that Andrei Tarkovsky has received high praise on my blog, and considering he has made quite a few well-received films, many of which found their way on the short list of the most recent Sight and Sound Best films list.  While I have certainly advocated for Abbas Kiarostami being the best reflection of what the title of my blog represents, it is certainly not out of order to suggest that, as a filmmaker, Tarkovsky creates simulacrums of reality, in the case of this film particularly an incredibly personal piece of cinema that its, as always non-linear, non-spatial and flat out transcendental of cinematic tradition.  As a film, The Mirror moves between past, present and possibly future events all with the intent of helping one unseen individual reflect on their life, however, as is becoming the case with every Tarkovsky film I encounter the single human existence appears to be inextricably tied to a much larger conceptualization of human suffering.  Whether it be simple concerns of correcting paper typos or larger realization of coming of age woes, The Mirror shows the ever existing fragility of humanity, particularly in its fleeting and flickering movements.  The Mirror, as Tarkovsky's films prove to be, is incredibly complex, however, it is a thoroughly captivating work, one that traps viewers into his aural, oral and visual poetics that evolve and reemerge repeatedly throughout the film, especially in regards to one female who clearly affects the narrator on multiple levels.  To call The Mirror experimental is to miss the purpose of the film, because while it does contest viewers assumptions about cinematic space, this is not to further our rhetoric of editing, camerawork or mise-en-scene.  Nothing about The Mirror suggests a jarring film, although it is beautiful and visually arresting.  One could find themselves simply putting this on silent and playing it in the background, realizing that it is a continual flow of minor artworks, coalescing in to what may well be the late Russian directors masterpiece.

The Mirror loosely centers on the experiences of an unseen individual named Alyosha (Ignet Daniltsev). These experiences range from simple child hood moments of playing with his sister, to an uncomfortable relationship with a youth spent in the Army.  In many instances his memories are projected through the experiences of others as is quite apparent during the recounting of a woman's terrible experiences dealing with a awful mistake at a newspaper press.  In other instances his memories are even transcendent of space as the visual world imagines the untranslated memories of a Spanish man recounting a famous bull fight.  Sprinkled in between these memories are moments in which Alyosha appears to be talking directly to the individuals in the present, specifically when talking to his lover, who may or may not also be his mother Maria (Margarita Terekhova).  In these moments it works in a point of view manner, although it could be argued that it is always Alyosha's vision configuring the space.  In many moments, the passage of time happens within a single shot, as is the case with the burning house, as a camera captures two children staring out a window, only to pan a bit to the left and depict one of the children slightly older.  The film is also split up by poems, ones that seem to indirectly relate to the narrative.  Eventually viewers are returned to an intense argument between Alyosha and Maria, one that is quickly followed by images of a post-war Soviet Union.   In this moment Maria is depicted at various ages, completely dismissing the already fragmented organization of time and space offered up to this point.

I mention this is perhaps Tarkovsky's best film and while I will stick to my guns on this statement, I should mention that my personal favorite is Ivan's Childhood, the directors debut.  However, what makes The Mirror so significant is that it clearly merges all of the human condition issues evoked in his previous works.  I mean to say that The Mirror takes the issues of coming of age indicative in Ivan's Childhood and meshes it with the existential crisis of worth noted in Andrei Rublev, while also considering the notion of deja vu and memory that emerges within Solaris.  Scenes in The Mirror often do all three, most clearly in the gun training sequence of the film.  However, the magic of this film is not solely in regards to his merging of previous films, but has much to do with how he considers the notion of representation on film.  It is clear that Tarkovsky strives desperately to recreate his world to the best of his ability via film.  However, some elements of humanity simply cannot be procured with a simple shoot and view method and needs poetic grandeur, or a complete lack of color.  The moments of Maria showering, or houses crumbling assure this notion.  Of course, Tarkovsky is not ignorant to the inherent troubles in attempting to make a simulacrum of the fleeting and ever-changing element of human existence.  To accept this challenge, Tarkovsky incorporates several scenes of the characters staring into mirrors reminding those watching that this film while representative of human existence, nonetheless, fails to capture individuality and it is perhaps well overdue that each individual take a good long look at themselves in the literal and metaphorical mirror, after all this is precisely what Tarkovsky is doing to himself in this crowning cinematic achievement.

Key Scene:  Some of the first black and white shots in the film depict a house falling apart into puddles of water, it is poetic subtlety in its most realized form.

This is an excellent film and well worth owning.  The Kino DVD stands as the best option until a bluray comes out in the future, if such a dream even proves reasonable.

It Probably Came From A Smelly Planet Far Far Away: Godzilla Vs The Smog Monster (1971)

While the Godzilla franchise, beginning with the poetically tragic original, has never cowered away from an on the nose metaphor, particularly concerning a nuclear weapons armistice, perhaps it has never become so blatant as in the seventies offering Godzilla vs Hedorah aka The Smog Monster.  This particular film within the movie film franchise is quite psychedelic and indicative of so many of the films being released in Japan during the decade, including some of my personal favorites, House and Jigoku.  As has been the case with so many of my hard to find Japanese films, dubbing proves inavoidable, and it is rarely decently executed.  With this particular dubbing it is hard to tell if the kid is being dubbed by an actual child or a woman doing her best young boy voice, not to mention the greatest trait about dubbing Godzilla movies in particular, the fact that the speakers will use their normal    voices for every word except Godzilla, in which they try their best to sound Asian, a task that always fails.  Of course, this is a post-production issue that should not lead me to judge the film harshly and I certainly will not, especially since it is easily my favorite film in the franchise next to the original, which will always be untouchable in my book.  The mixture of ant-beatnik malaise, experimental psychedelic costuming and setting and the somewhat unsuspecting incorporation of animation allow for a film that is both extremely watchable and equally unusual.  Godzilla vs The Smog Monster has a considerable amount of educational documentary style moments throughout, which pair interestingly with the chaos of the fight scenes between Godzilla and Hedora, so much so that if it were not for the incredibly adult scenes of promiscuity in the night clubs it would be easy to claim this as a children's film.  I know that Godzilla has become a thing of obscurity to many American filmgoers, particularly considering the less than stellar American version from 1998, however, it is the brilliance of these occasional masterpieces such as Godzilla vs The Smog Monster that remind me of the possibilities for the franchise in the future, hell look at what Daniel Craig did for James Bond...we can only hope similar things happen with The King of All Monsters.

This particular incarnation of a Gojira offering, situates itself in Japan in the early seventies, one that is noticeably industrialized and crowded.  A young boy is shown, living on the coastline of Tokyo, along with his marine biologist dad, of course, their relationship noticeably strained as the young boy is seeks solace in his action figures of Godzilla and other monsters.  It is not until the marine life around their ocean house begins to deteriorate that they come in contact with some mysterious sludge overtaking the ocean.  It is revealed that the sludge consumes Earth's pollution as a means to grow, quickly expanding to insurmountable proportions, slithering and consuming everything in its path, including the drug-fueled hippy kids dancing in clubs. Of course the great and now well-loved Godzilla appears to aid the people of Tokyo, however, even his strength and poise proves lacking at the seemingly unstoppable Hedorah, causing him to flee from their initial bout.  Initially befuddled as to how to challenge this nearly unbeatable monster, the doctor considers the effects trying out the monster would have, particularly considering that it appears to thrive off of being somewhat sludgelike, and while the technology initially fails due to the eruptive nature of Godzilla and Hedorah's battle, Godzilla eventually uses his ray gun powers to engergize the beam thus drying out Hedorah and making it easier to defeat.  After succesfully destroying The Smog Monster, Godzilla uses some sort of bowel induce rocket fire to fly off into the distance, of course we are left to wonder if humanity has learned from yet another of their erroneous mistakes...considering the sequels it appears as though they have yet to learn.

One of the major components and personal loves I have for the Godzilla franchise is the director's and writer's willingness to make a social/environmental commentary that is obnoxiously on the nose.  When it is embrace I have no problem with this, especially in relation to such an consistent franchise.  However, when this fails it is nearly unbearable, refer to Birdemic if you do not believe.  However, what is more brilliant about the Godzilla franchise is the concern for human suffering and unification.  Often taking a backseat to the battles and explosions of these action heavy films, rarely are the tragedies of human life ignored.  The narratives filling the gaps between building crumbling are always excellent microcosms of the human existence, made literal by their relative diminutiveness compared to the monsters of the title.  This is certainly true within Godzilla vs The Smog Monster as we are given an incredibly earnest and heartfelt study of a man attempting to salvage a relationship with his son, one who is able to see the tragedy of human destruction and demands the initial acknowledgement of Hedorah, despite the dismissive voices of his father, and other parental figures.  The closing scenes of the son and father uniting in celebration of the defeat of Hedorah provide a sweet climax to what seems like a nearly impossible rekindling of past tragedies.  No longer do we expect the child to take refuge in his toys and slides, but that given the grander scale of human destruction witnessed the two will cherish their time together.  Also, the film seems really anti-hippy/youth culture, but that is an entirely different critique altogether.

Key Scene:  The moment when Godzilla ray blasts himself into the sky is too bad ass not to take revelry in, it is an awesome moment within a philosophically and emotionally heavy movie.

I would say buy this movie immediately, but its ticket price is a bit hefty, hopefully, a impending Godzilla movie will help many of these long overlooked classics to reemerge.  Until then find a copy in any way you may...even if it means watching it online.

It's Too Hot After All That Rain: Monsoon Wedding (2001)

Monsoon Wedding, directed by Third World Cinema icon has for some time been one of the films I have longed to watch, but sat in limbo when it was released by Criterion, prolonging my wait to get the best version out there, not to mention in bluray.  I had the disc on my shelf constantly being looked at but being sat aside for other choices, however, while reading a great book on African and Asian women filmmakers, Mira Nair's name came up and I knew that ignoring the viewing of this film any longer was just foolish.  Of course, this movie was amazing, I expected that much, what blew me away though was the sheer scope of commentaries and cinematic elements Nair offers in a movie that is just a bit under two hours.  From the onset we are introduced to a world of India that is affected by colonization, capitalist desires and a problematic entrenchment to traditional ideals, especially as they relate to gender.  Yet where a film could have totally went the route of degrading imagery, something Nair has done successfully in the past, Monsoon Wedding manages to embrace sentimentality and simple moments of transcendence without becoming preachy or pretentious.  Furthermore, perhaps better than any other director working within the Third World Cinema framework, Nair manages to find beautiful hybrids between the cinematic output of her country, particularly evident in the cinematic references to Satyajit Ray (the moment in front of the tree), while also existing within a degree of Hollywood and Western traditionalism.  Intersectionality plays out beautifully in Nair's work and is never over-glorified or undermined within the narrative, a beautiful set of colors manages to create a feeling of incandescence which works nicely into the various tensions simmering and eventually boiling over within the space of the film.  Simply put, Nair's Monsoon Wedding is top tier cinema and global positioning and identity are not factors to deter a person from producing great films, particularly when said person possesses stories well worth telling.

Monsoon Wedding centers on the Verma's, a well to do Indian family preparing for their daughter Aditi (Vasundhara Das) to partake in an arranged marriage, despite being shown that she is still dealing with her own intimate relationship with an ex-boyfriend.  Aditi's father Lalit (Naseeruddin Shah), is in a constant panicked state as it is apparent that the wedding is taxing on his bank account, made only worse by the constant bickering with wedding cooridnator P.K. (Vijay Raaz), who while organizing the event takes a liking to one of the Verma's servants, named Alice (Tillotama Shome).  Despite this, all involved attempt to create a wedding event for the ages, which of course, in Indian culture means multiple days of celebration.  It is during these days leading up to the big wedding that heads but and notions of tradition are challenged, whether it be Aditi constantly visiting with her husband to be prior to the wedding, as well as a problematic last visit with her former lover, or Lalit's constant attempts to exert his failing male authority, as is apparent while he plays a game of golf, leading to begging a friend for money or as he unsuccessfully accosts his youngest son for desiring a non-traditional future.  Smaller stories also exist, as is the case with P.K. and Alice's burgeoning romance or the desires of a bartender to win over one of Lalit's other more "sultry" daughters.  However, a problematic narrative point centering around one of Lalit's daughters former abuse at the hands of the father-in-law to be leads to Lalit finally reconsidering his place of dominance in a society that would allow such terrible things to occur.  He demands that the individual remove himself from the celebrations, despite his considerable financial wealth, something that gains him the admiration of his daughters as well as a clear boost in self-respect.  Finally, after Aditi admits to her past faults, to her husband-to-be he, after initial disdain, agrees to overlook her past and celebrate the possibilities of their future, because as he reminds Aditi, every marriage begins with a certain degree of risk.

The book I have just finished, titled Women Filmmakers of the African & Asian Diaspora: Decolonizing the Gaze, Locating Subjectivity, as I noted earlier discusses Mira Nair in great length particularly her earlier documentary work.  It talks mostly about her controversial status as a woman who depicts some of the more seedy elements of Indian life, particulary as they relate to the exchange of sex and the selling of virgins to high paying clientele, yet more of the text considers the manner with which Nair uses one surface storyline in order to comment on a considerable amount of underlying problems.  This is certainly true for Monsoon Wedding as the impending wedding serves as the overarching theme of the narrative, yet so much is existing within this space that it is clear that this celebration is only important for the title's sake.  Firstly, gender is wildly transgressed within this film, whether it be Aditi's choice to wear pants, or Lalit's wife asserting authority, it is clear that tradition is long out the window and this of course proves true for the male figures in the film as well, as noted with Lalit and his son earlier although a similar argument could be made in favor of P.K. and the bartender reconsidering their masculinities as well.  Secondly, class is contested frequently within the film, particularly in regards to the capitalist assumption that wealth equals happiness, this is clearly not the case for Lalit and it is not until he comes to terms with this idea that he is able to consider actions that benefit his entire family beyond the assurance of financial safety.  Even P.K. comes to accept that he can be quite happy as he and Alice share in their own, arguably, more beautiful wedding ceremony. Finally, language is transgressed immediately and continually throughout the film as English and Hindi are used throughout the film, sometimes simultaneously in sentences, speaking volumes to Spivak's notions of the subaltern, as well as how a colonized body reappropriates its identity in relationship to a Western colonizer.

Key Scene: It involves a beautifully lit tree...trust me you will know the moment I am talking about.

This is a glorious bluray purchase and a reminder that while Criterion is known for releasing the classics they are also huge advocates for providing cinephiles with films that are socially important and revolutionary and Monsoon Wedding is certainly one example.  Buy a copy immediately, it is that great.

It's A Headless Blunder Operating Under The Illusion Of A Master Plan: Cube (1997)

I am really starting to like this blind buying of DVD lots from websites, partially because I can almost always be assured that at least on film in the set of random DVD's will prove to be out of print or obscure enough to mean I can sell it back and break even or in many cases gain a profit.  However, I am also beginning to find that it is allowing me to obtain copies of films that I would under no other circumstance even consider watching, let alone purchasing, only to discover that they are quite enjoyable and hidden gems of sorts.  This has certainly proven to be the case with the semi-obscure Canadian science fiction thriller made on a shoestring budget, which is filled the brim with philosophical musings and mathematical conundrums.  The film is narratively dense and while the acting certainly lacks, it is a nice reminder of how a great vision can translate into a deeply complex film with a bit of creativity and a minimal amount of support.  I am hoping that with the emergence of online crowd funding sites like Kickstarter that we will see a ressurgance of such films, but time will tell, until then we can embrace works like this and Primer as reminders of cinemas power even when detached from grandiosity.  Cube certainly receives a lot of flack for its open-endedness and lack of explanation, but I personally resent such attacks, because an in medias res approach is quite popular and is rarely ever contested when used by somebody like Tarantino or Fincher.  I think a majority of the greatest films ever offered do similar things, hell I took an entire course on Stanley Kubrick and probably no with less certainty as to what the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey represents.  What makes a film like Cube good, and I am not suggesting it is anywhere close to Kubrick's masterpiece, is that it allows for such an open-ended viewing experience and multiplicity of interpretations that it begs to be watched repeatedly and with others, if only to find oneself continually perplexed.  Apparently there is a sequel and prequel, neither of which I have seen, nor really plan to since they explain the existence of the cube and "justify" its existence.  Although I did watch the short film "Elevated" which was director Vinenzo Natali's example of what Cube could be, and while it is certainly completely different in, nonetheless, is quite excellent.

Cube begins with a man moving through various cube shaped rooms of different colors.  We known little information about this man, aside from the clear fact that he is confused and cautious as he navigates through the rooms, yet his paranoia is confronted when a huge wired wall slices through him, instantly turning him into some sort of cubed meat pile.  We are then given a title and introduced to a new set of characters, the overly aggressive Quentin (Maurice Dean Wint) who seems content on use brute force to traverse the cubes, the conspiracy oriented psychiatrist Holloway (Nicky Gaudagni), a sheepish math whiz named Leaven (Nicole de Boer) whose brains eventually prove necessary for breaking the codes of each room and the lackadaisical and dismissive Worth (David Hewlett) who it is eventually revealed helped to design the outer layer of the cube.  Another individual named Rennes (Wayne Robson) is with the group, a profession escape artist, he is the first to die as his zealousness to escape and the groups desire to follow him lead to his incineration via an unexpected trap.  The group then begins to consider various methods to navigate the rooms, eventually discovering the mentally handicapped Kazan (Andrew Miller) who Holloway immediately begins protecting, despite the contesting of Quentin who sees his childlike mentality as threatening, particularly when they encounter a trapped room that is sound activated.  Eventually the puzzle becomes more intricate and it is only through collective shared knowledge that the group is able to find a point of exit, this, of course, is not without the loss of a few individuals and even once they have figured out the puzzle, something quite similar to a rubick's cube, they are fully aware that much of their escape is predicated on contingency and chance, a fact that leads to violent frustrations and explosive paranoia.  Only one of the group eventually survives and what happens to them after this escape is left unknown, which is decidedly for the best.

I mentioned that interpretations run wild when considering what this film truly represents.  There is the lazy argument that it is simply an box of death with no justification, however, that reading is terrible considering the clear and open desire Natali possessed in creating this film, such a passion does not equate to a simple cool film, but something far grander.  Another far more valid interpretation is that the cube represents purgatory and a set of lost souls attempt to navigate this space in order to obtain salvation, and while a white light ending and varied levels of sin emerge within the film, many characters are punished for what appears to be nothing, dismissing such a reading as perfect, because forgiveness and salvation hardly factor into the end result.  I would contest, instead, that Cube represents a metaphor for considering the explanation of human existence.  We have varied philosophical outlooks occupying the space of the cube, whether it be Quentin's Randian objectivism or Worth's near Sartrean existentialism, all made the worse when he admits that his small cog cannot allow for enough information to understand the larger mechanics of the cube, or in this case human existence. Even Leaven manages to fail in her trial and error methods, ones clearly influence by Descartes, whom is directly referenced in his Cartesian plain theory.  In this reading then, Holloway represents an activist oriented social justice advocate, yet her overt concern with being right about justice, manages to cause her to be pretentious and demeaning even when she assumes that her powers of making good are always right.  This makes Kazan interesting in that his childlike state and detachment from paranoia and confusion are almost Buddhist in their execution, he is scared by physical harm as it assures his death, yet he has no concern for planning to avoid it and simply wanders the rooms as he sees fit, it is no surprise that he has survived up until being discovered, because he finds safety in simplicity and does not lose his mind, because it simply does not operate on a hyperrational level.  It is interesting then to consider the order with which the group dies, as well as who ultimately survives, as it may or may not provide answer to how we, as viewers, should engage with the world.

Key Scene:  The opening sequence to Cube is so jarring that I found myself initially distracted by Facebook only to immediately shut my computer and zone into this film, it sets the pace for an unusual and unique sci-fi offering that has been tragically overlooked.

This movie is a low-budget masterpiece and subpar acting moments aside, it is well worth owning, although you may have to hope on finding it in the wild, because it is not the cheapest DVD available on Amazon.

You Don't Score, Until You Score: American Pie (1999)

A rather lengthy and inspired discussion of the year of 1999 in film, put on by the guys over at Battleship Pretension resulted in me jotting down a huge list of movies I intend to revisit as well as quite a few more I decided that I had unjustifiably dismissed on the grounds that I assumed them to be flat out  terrible.  One such case emerges with American Pie, a film I had scene, not in its entirety and considerably watered down on cable the years after its initial release.  I had dismissed this as a less than stellar teenage sex comedy with little to offer and thought it to be similar to another Jason Biggs vehicle such as Saving Silverman, which I argue has not aged well.  However, I had for whatever reason failed to realize that American Pie is the beginning point for the late 90's early 2000's teen sex comedy and is considerably good in comparison to its countless failed spinoffs.  It has a reputation that certainly precedes it, particularly one scene involving a baked good, this scene of course looses some of its humor given that it is such a staple of comedic awareness to my generation, yet nothing manages to compare to its fixation on sexual release as it relates to male youth and curiosity.  Similarly, for one reason or another, American Pie has become a fixture of the nudity movie within the memory and rhetoric of teen sex comedies, and while it does have one prolonged scene of a topless girl, it is a relatively lackluster film on the naked scale.  What is provided for a viewer in American Pie is a solidly executed comedy about friends facing the woes of growing up and realizing that the shenanigans and free floating that got them through high school will not suffice in their years at college.  Of course the film is aged a bit and could only work in an context like 1999, however, that is not to say the film is dated by any means, because some of the themes and concepts promulgated within American Pie are certainly transcendent of an era.  What is certain about this film is its memorability its inspiration for an onslaught of spinoffs which proved underwhelming and for considerably changing how anyone born before say 1990 looks at a freshly baked pie.

As a coming of age tale, American Pie is distinctly centered on the experiences of a group, in this case a  few guys making a pact to get laid by the end of their senior year.  The first is the suave Kevin (Thomas Ian Nichols) who cannot muster up the courage to tell his long-time girlfriend Vicky (Tara Reid) that he loves her, the jock turned hopeless romantic Oz (Chris Klein), the ever-constapated and awkwardly adult Finch (Eddie Kaye) and the films somewhat clear protagonist Jim (Jason Biggs).  In fact, they desire greatly to walk in the footsteps of assumed sex fiend Stifler (Sean Williams Scott) who is known for constantly throwing well attended parties that always turn into shag fests.  Of course their plans to get laid are riddled with obstacles, whether it be the constant interference of Jim's well meaning dad, played almost too perfectly by Eugene Levy, or Oz's failed attempts to win over a glee club girl.  Even Finch who has a fool proof plan of creating rumors about his sexual prowess and well endowment.  Along the way the group realizes that getting laid, while considerably important to their self-identity is second to their assurance of friendship, self-respect and obtaining of true love.  Both Kevin and Oz even manage to gain closer romantic bonds with the women in their lives, while Finch manages to hook up with Stifler's mom, an act that plays out as an awesome homage to The Graduate.  Jim hooks up with band geek Michelle (Alyson Hannigan) although it is revealed that he is being used by her, although Jim does not seem to protest in the slightest, especially after a rather embarrassing moment of his sexual inadequacies is played for all to see online.  In the end the group is left in a similar situation as the film began, they are matured in a considerable manner, something that has clearly occurred without the influence of their sexual encounters.

For a film that has been and continues to be referred to as a sexual comedy, American Pie is expressly not about sex or the act of getting laid.  Sure this serves as the main point of narrative push, but I was surprised to find so much more beyond this surface reading of the film.  A considerable amount of this film focuses on the notion of evolving friendships and separation anxiety.  One could argue that the group seeks physical solace outside of their group not because they need to get laid per se, but because they realize that their attendance at differing universities assures that they will no longer be able to enjoy hot dogs or sandwiches at the local restaurant after school.  Furthermore, the film is not ill-willed in its portrayal of sex, while it does mock failure to perform and over glorifies heterosexuality, it does not predicate itself on demeaning individuals as a means of comedic advancement.  The comedy of American Pie is not about sex or the acts surrounding it, but instead about the woes of youthful ignorance, particularly when the group resides in a similar boat of not knowing, but due to societal expectations fail to admit to their lack of awareness.  Jim would never been placed in the situation of humiliating himself with a pie, were it not for the lie propagated by Oz as a means to seem cool, similarly Finch would not have made disparaging remarks about Stifler, were he to realize that they shared in the same latent desires.  Also in regards to the characters of Kevin and Oz the film makes exceptional note of the necessity of love in sexual encounters, placing both of those in prominence and even going so far as to suggest that the desire for emotional comfort trumps even that of physical conquest.  Also there seems to be a considerable amount of promotion for safe sexual encounters which is always welcome in my book, especially in a film that suggests pursuing multiple partners for intercourse.

Key Scene:  While it is the iconic scene from the film, it is a trademark and I have no right to undermine   its power.  As such the key portion of this film centers around youthful ignorance and its dire effects on a still warm pie.

This is a textbook rental film, but one worth watching and revisiting if you have not seen it is some time.

I Am The Perfect Servant, I Have No Life: Gosford Park (2001)

After watching the recent PBS broadcasting of Downton Abbey Revisited and discovering that Julian Fellowes was responsible for not only this spectacular Masterpiece Theater show, but Gosford Park as well I knew I had no excuse not to watch the film.  Upon discovering that the film was directed by Robert Altman I could not restrain my desires to see the work.  Chocked full of considerably notable British actors, Gosford Park is a brilliant whodunit with the cinematic poise and narrative complexities one comes to expect from the late director.  Furthermore, this work, while not perfect, serves as a great vision as to what would become something like Downton Abbey and exceptionally serious piece of cultural output masking itself under the guise of dark comedy.  Abound with social commentaries and political discourse one finds very little trouble finding the way in which satire subtly evolves to make a grander statement something that, by this point, was well perfected in Altman's oeuvre, although he had been doing it since at least the times of Nashville.  Of course, Altman is not entirely to be credited for this film, because it certainly has much to do with the writing and acting as well, Fellowes and co-writer Bob Balaban create a dialogue that is both quick, believable and quite memorable.  It has the feel of a Aaron Sorkin film without the dialogue that seems far to perfected to reflect that of normal engagements.  Again Gosford Park is not the most brilliant piece of cinema ever released and manages to fall short of being perfected, but it is an exceptional work and has moments of sheer brilliance, often using the visual as a means to advance the narrative or undermine the events occurring.  Altman often fills the space of a shot with multiple events, many of which the characters are unaware of occurring and just when you think you have pieced together the next moment in the plot a not so subtle cinematic clue will remind you that perhaps not all is as one expects and indeed anybody is capable of an act of aggression when they have been doubly wronged.

Much like many of the period pieces presented on Masterpiece Theater, Gosford Park focuses on the life of people living on an estate and in early forties Britain that meant the existence of a life above and below stairs.  Above stairs a party is being planned for the arrival of a group led by Sir William (Michael Gambon) a surly elderly gentleman who clearly thinks himself superior to not only his guests and staff but the rest of his family as well.  Other occupants film the house, most memorably the demeaning and flippant Countess of Trentham (Maggie Smith), as well as American director Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban), his star actor Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam) and Weissman's servant Henry Denton (Ryan Phillipe).  Of course there is also a world below preparing the meals, including the mysterious Mr. Parks (Clive Owen) who has been hired on specifically to help with a guest, the sexually active and always promiscuous Bertha (Teresa Churcher), the sly yet surprisingly honest George (Richard E. Grant) and even the poised under pressure Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren).  Things slowly begin to unravel as a hunting party proves a bust when Sir William is grazed by a misguided bullet and it is revealed that Henry is not a servant, but actually one of Mr. Weissman's up and coming actors who felt it a challenge to pass as a servant, much to the chagrin of the staff.  Yet things explode into chaos when Sir William is murder, especially considering that he has been stabbed, only to discover that he was dead before the attack, a result of poisoning.  Even with the emergence of the self-proclaimed expert detective Inspector Thomson (Stephen Fry) little is made way in discovering who the killer is and viewers are left to make the discovery upon the admission of various individuals throughout the film.  The reveal is understated and of course somewhat inconsequential to the larger commentary within the film.

The obvious commentary resides in the social divisions that were indicative in Britain in the early 20th century, something that certainly still exists (Think House of Lords/House of Commons) but certainly does not have the clear spatial divide that would have existed in Pre-WW2 days.  The question though in the film is more of where a line should be drawn as to the expectations of those in servility towards their masters, particularly when the questions and demands are of a particularly problematic nature.  We see this in a simple sense with The Countess of Trentham who often requires her maid to clean clothing and make food only to decide upon its delivery or completion that she no longer desires it, yet she has little, if no, awareness for the work and effort placed upon getting these tasks done and seems content to assume that they occur magically.  Similarly individuals like Lord William and Lady Sylvia (Kristin Scott Thomas) find that it is completely within their means to demand sexual favors of their staff, or within their limits to touch and harass their servants in whatever way they please, a clearly problematic statement on oppression and power dynamics.  Yet, the staff under the stairs has managed to create their own forms of rebellion, whether it be prolong smoke breaks, the consumption of the wine post dinners or a refusal to curtail meals to dietary demands.  The emergence of Inspector Thomson completely undermines the notions of division though, because as a person of the law he is able to move between both spaces to inquire and cannot be turned away, even by the Countess who sees his intrusion as uncivil, despite its inherent civic nature.  Yet even as he attempts to cross class barriers, whilst trying to help himself to libations in the library his assistant reminds him that they have not dusted those bottles, although it more importantly suggests that he cannot have access to certain privileges, regardless of the law.

Key Scene:  The moment when bloody mary's are made for the outdoor lunch serves as the turning point for the entire films shift into a crime drama and one dropped glass serves as a great metaphor that is delivered masterfully by Altman.

Netflix Watch Instantly...it is the quickest and most appropriate way to enjoy this neo-classic by one of America's best and most missed auteurs.

Your Shadow Is Over The LIne: J.S.A.: Joint Security Area (2000)

Sitting nicely between at the beginning of The New Korean Cinema wave, as well as clearly show influence from the Hollywood infiltration in Suth Korea the few decades prior, Chan-wook Park's much heralded and well received J.S.A., or Joint Security Area is an action thriller done right.  Often credited as Park's introduction to popular moviegoers, J.S.A. has subtle hints to the methods and commentaries the director would later incorporate in his Vengeance Trilogy, of which Oldboy is perhaps his most well-known work.  It contains a handful of well-known Korean actors, ones whose faces I can now identify, although learning names is still taking some practice, and comments upon perhaps the most strenuous of subjects to the Korean person, the hyper-intense relationship to their bordered communist neighbors North Korea.  Like Shiri, a work that was for quite some time the highest grossing film in South Korea, J.S.A. considers the validity and necessity of a division between Korea and goes so far as to cross the seemingly impenetrable, all be it non-physical, border.   As a thriller, J.S.A. is exceptional, playing into the all to familiar practice of a non-linear narrative within South Korean films, yet managing to use this detachment from temporal space to create contradictions between the recounting of hotly debated events resulting in the murder of a North Korean soldier.  As a film deeply entrenched within the political concerns of a divided Korea moving into the 21st century, Park is careful to consider the validity and verifiability of accusations of rule breaking, particularly when the tensions are predicated on political ideologies, ones enforced by colonized forces and non-present entities.  A border crossing film in the most literal sense, J.S.A. questions the notions of ideological divides and posits a possibility of something transcendent of such detachments, especially when loneliness and a longing for fraternal bonds come into play.

Joint Security Area situates itself quite knowingly within the history of a divided Korea, going so far as to incorporate images and writings reminding viewers, mostly Koreans already aware of the hostilities, of the lynchpin created by the DMZ in the 1950's.  With little explanation beyond this the film depicts the results of this pin being pulled when a shot fires and a North Korean soldier is killed, resulting in a shoot-out between two divided nations.  What follows is the joint investigation by a fictitious global initiative noticeably similar to the United Nations, which intends to investigate how the incident began. The investigation is led by Major Sophie Jean (Yeong-ae Lee) a child of a Korean War refugee and Swiss woman.  If her gender were not already a point of contention, her problematic mixed identity certainly adds a problematic layer. Yet as her investigation begins it becomes clear that the stories provided by the South Korean soldiers engaged in the act, as well as their North Korean counterparts do not match up, heavily predicated on a lack of explanation to a missing firearm slug.  For the South Korean army Sergeant Lee (Byung-hun Lee) represents the point of inexplicability, yet it becomes apparent that he has crossed over to the North Korean side, purely by accident, but, nonetheless, stepping on a mine in the process.  Lee is discovered by Sergeant Oh (Kang-ho Song) who is wary at first of his pleas for help, but after explaining that he can diffuse the bomb with his help Oh reluctantly agrees.  The two share a few moments of discussion and eventually end up sending mail to one another via a flying brick.  Upon the joking suggestion of another soldier in the North Korean Army Lee finally crosses the border and after initial fears the group begins hanging out, eventually bringing another soldier from each side into the picture.  The group keeps their meetings secret, but during one night of revelry, they are discovered leading to a panicked firefight that kills two North Korean soldiers.  The remainder of the narrative centers on Sophie's discovery of this, as well as her own problematic past as it relates to the Korean divide.  Tragically very few survive the entire altercation and the two countries remain problematically severed.

I mentioned in the introduction that this is a film entirely concerned with border crossing, this of course expands way beyond the simple idea of moving from the South to the North and exists on metaphorical levels as well.  Firstly, Sophie represents a variety of crossed borders, firstly in her mixed race identity that crosses national borders, as well as social and political ones.  Similarly, her place as a female within the masculine oriented world of the military represents a border as well.  Even the methods by which the film narratives itself transcend borders, Park's non-linear narrative and use of time both as a grounding signifier and a means to undermine moments crosses temporal borders quite frequently.  Of course the film, while bookended by Sophie's experiences is inevitably about the soldiers experiences as they do cross that literal border.  In crossing the "Bridge of No Return" Lee and Oh have invariably crossed their countires ethical and political borders as well, ones that have very dire consequences resulting in the very least with incarceration and at the very most death. However, the group also transcends notions of fraternal relations, almost to the degree of intimacy as they share food, fond memories of their girls back home and a latently sexual exchange of spit.  However, what proves to be the greatest border crossing has to be Park's choice to depict North Korea not as a place of propaganda driven blind followers, but a country being destroyed by lack of food and a grounded economic future that, nonetheless, finds hope in their leaders and the ideas of communism.  Park's film advocates a unison between two opposing ideas that does not mean synthesizing, nor does it mean absolute exclusion.  It, like Shiri, envisions a a border that exists to mark nothing more than delineations, but can always be moved across with little threat to one's life.

Key Scene:  The moment when the soldiers decide to take a picture of their friendship, Park choose to up the graininess of the scene, subsequently causing it to have a nostalgic feel in line with sentimentality and it comes off beautifully.

This movie is a bit pricey and I had to rent it from the USC library to watch.  With that being said it is quite excellent and purchasing a copy is on my to do list, as it should be on yours.