l.i.v.e.

weekly film recommendation

HAROLD AND MAUDE (1971)

Director: Hal Ashby
With: Bud Cort & Ruth Gordon
Written by: Colin Higgins

This film found me at the right time, I guess about eight years ago, and has stuck with me ever since as a favorite. In a way, I used to even use it as a litmus test for friends. The biggest accomplishment of this profoundly moving film is that it presents all these wonderful life-lessons without doing so in a schmaltzy, oppressive or idiotic way. I’d love to share some of the best lines, the ones that Maude shares with Harold, but out of context, and not coming from Ruth Gordon, they wouldn’t have the same impact. So, I’ll just encourage you to go see the film, listen to the Cat Stevens music, and go pick up a banjo or harmonica or piano or whatever suits you and play.

The DVD should be readily available at most on-line retailers.

antonioni, eclipsed

 

 

After noting that I began this blog with two obituaries (the video store’s and Bergman’s), I was all set to write about something light and fluffy to liven things up a bit. An easy-to-digest film, for instance. Something inoffensive. A response to a film by, say, oh, I don’t know, Pixar. But then I hear that Antonioni, a director who I have come to regard highly, up and died the same day as Bergman. Both leading directors of their time, Bergman may have enjoyed more universal fame, but each of them helped define their generation. What’s more, Antonioni’s work is still as fresh today as when it was made. Concern began to rise amongst friends for other aging directors like Rohmer, Renais, Eastwood, Godard, Oliveira (he’s 99, and still making movies – damn impressive). Though if the silly, supposed curse of ‘they die in threes’ held any water, my money was on some hotshot enfant terrible pulling a Ted Demme and overdosing or some such. Anyhow, enough about all that, as for Antonioni…

Michaelangelo Antonioni, 1912-2007

Antonioni’s work speaks to youth in an intelligent way, a way rarely afforded the subject. His Blowup (1966) defined what it was to be mod in swinging London. While that particular film may be very much of its time, I argue that his explorations of identity, discontent and death are just as relevant in today’s world. See Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Climates (2006) and Jia Zhang-ke’s Still Life (2006) for recent examples of Antonioni’s stylistic and thematic influence on ’00s filmmaking. Rather than go through a dissection of his body of work, of which there are many great films, including Il Grido (1957), L’Avventura (1960), La Notte (1961), and The Passenger (1975), I would rather just simply point to the final moments from L’Eclisse (1962). In those shots, in those frames, in presenting the (not-so-)randomness and the what-are-you-looking-at-exactly subjectivity of film, of art in general that way, he got it. Antonioni was at his best in the ending to L’Eclisse. And film, itself, was nearly at its best in his hands at that moment.

Michaelangelo Antonioni

 

an enigmatic persona

Ingmar Bergman, 1918-2007

Perhaps in a decade, when the centenary of his birth occurs, a new generation of filmmakers and filmlovers alike will (re-)discover the work of this master, just as many have finally caught on to Ozu in the past few years since his own 100th birthday. Bergman instructed the world just how deep into the soul the cinema could plumb. His films found favor with international audiences when they first hit the scene, a rare feat for a body of work that took its subjects so seriously, that mostly lacked the fun and whimsy of Fellini’s, say, or the high-spirited sense of excitement of Kurosawa’s, and that hailed from a country not established on the film festival circuit. Indeed, it can be said that Bergman put Sweden on the map. And then with Woody Allen’s much-publicized adoration for his work, his audience continued to grow on into the ’80s. He famously ‘retired’ from film, to commit himself to theatre, a move which may have distanced himself from audiences as the years went by. In the ’00s world of globalized alienation and regret, the unironic and un-hip work of the elusive Swede has yet to be given its due. With a few exceptions, including his fellow countryman Lukas Moodyson, Hirokazu Kore-Eda, and, I would even argue to a certain degree, Ang Lee, Bergman’s prescence has not been felt by much of the world’s cinema these days. However, the power of his work is transcendent and, I believe, will make a much-needed reappearance on the world’s stage. With his understanding of how powerfully destructive as well as rejuvenative human relationships can be, he will no doubt find a renewed sense of relevance with future audiences looking for solace, seeking answers. In fact, I’d wager that just as he and those of the 20th century looked to religious tomes and works of literature from centuries past for guidance, insight, and understanding, 21st century audiences would do well to look to the cinema of Ingmar Bergman as they (we) attempt to navigate the rough waters of our increasingly interconnected planet.

Ingmar Bergman

For 20th century guidance for life in the 21st century…

Monika (1953) – young love is dumb, but a necessary part of growth

The Seventh Seal (1957) – don’t play games with death

Wild Strawberries (1957) – you are in charge of your own sense of fulfillment

Through a Glass Darkly (1961) – god is an hysterical hallucination

Winter Light (1962) – god ain’t there

The Silence (1963) - sibling rivalry can be destructive

Cries & Whispers (1972) – nip familial problems in the bud, or they fester

Scenes from a Marriage (1973) – no matter how hard you try, some relationships just won’t last

Autumn Sonata (1978) – parents, treat your children well

Fanny & Alexander (1982) – growing up is hard to do

cafe society

weekly film recommendation

CAFE LUMIERE (2003)
Director: Hou Hsiao-Hsien
With: Yo Hitoto & Tadanobu Asano
Written by: Hou Hsiao-Hsien & T’ien-wen Chu

Conceived of as a dedication to Yasujiro Ozu, Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s first film to be shot in Ozu’s native Japan, Cafe Lumiere provides not only the banner image for this site, but a sense of quietude and graceful human understanding, rarely achieved by any director, other than Ozu, of course. For anyone interested in taking a breather from their hectic daily life, Cafe Lumiere offers the audience the chance to take a look at generational differences in Japanese society with subtlety and without an overbearing point-of-view. Like the soothing sound of train whistles as they pass each other in the distance (the locomotive equivalent of a nod of the head and a ‘What’s up?’), the characters in the film brush past each other with simple gestures acknowledging each other’s humanity. It makes me relax about the stresses and annoyances of my own life. Nice, very nice film.

Hou on set.

DVD reviews/comparisons and links to buy it here -
http://www.dvdbeaver.com/film/DVDReviews14/cafe_lumiere.htm

the post-video store world

As a child growing up in Texas, I found the video store to be, if I may, the chimney that shot you up onto the rooftops of London, the wardrobe that lead to Narnia, the DeLorean that whizzed off to centuries past and future. (There weren’t yet hidden passageways behind mirrors that lead to Hogwarts.) Even then, back in the 1980’s, it already had the sense that it wouldn’t last, however. The possiblity of some future technology replacing VHS seemed inevitable. And now, DVDs face similar obsolescence.

37 Carmine St.

As a cinephile in his early 20’s in New York City, I found the video store to be more than merely a supplier of escape through celluloid dreams. It became a home. A community. A place where everyone knew your name. No, I am not referring to the large corporate chains. As I have not darkened the door of one of those this century, nor joined any internet-based video rental service, I cannot speak to the sense of community that they provide. I am referring to the Mom & Pops. The small, independently owned and operated rental houses. Starting in 1986 and ending July 3, 2007, Evergreen Video provided New York City, mostly the West Village, with a place not only to rent foreign, classic and independent video, but to find camaraderie, cinema-inspired discourse, and in some cases, even love. In the years that I worked there, first part-time as a film student, then as a manager while pursuing his film career, I played witness to the neighborhood’s childrens’ growth, the couples that fell in and out of relationships, and the deaths of figures of legendary renown. We in the Evergreen universe knew the end was coming for some time. It was easy think of the job of the video-store clerk being remembered someday as the milk-man is now, a post once common and now extinct. A fellow employee expressed sadness that his soon to be born daughter would never know a world with video stores.

Evergreen Video circa 2004 The final days – July 2007

As I look to continue my love and search for good film elsewhere, I must first raise a glass to the passing of the video store. Cinema will no doubt continue as a potent medium for some time, though it will no longer be aided by the rental house. To those of you in communities which still have quaint, little video shops, I encourage you to give them your support as long as they are there. I will now be committing my thoughts on film, in the form of this post, for as long as there is film about which to think.