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R. J.

Yelverton

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Battle Royale

Gory, excessively sentimental. Interesting. Not very good.

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Seven Samurai

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Auteur-driven
Inspired collaboration
Serene & subtle
Deliriously surreal
Canonical classics

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Review of "Antoine and Colette": (Spoilers) This follow-up to "The 400 Blows" continues Doinel's story and necessarily modifies the closing moments of Truffaut's debut. When we last saw Doinel he was alone and trapped by his situation. He stares blankly at the screen and we are given the impression that this boy is lost, maybe eternally. Turns out he's actually okay if not very happy. The very act of continuing the story undermines the full stop and despair of "Blows." Depending on your reaction to the conclusion of "Blows," this might be a blessing and a relief. It's best, as when approaching most sequels, to let the first part stand on its own and try to approach additional installments as individual films. "Antoine and Colette" is approximately thirty minutes long and was initially released as part of the anthology film "Love at 20." (Criterion has packaged "The 400 Blows" and "Antoine and Colette" together as part of their Adventures of Antoine of Doniel boxed set.) The film finds Doinel at 17 years old living in a tiny apartment and working in an assembly line at the Philips record company. The film includes a clumsily inserted flashback from the first installment and demonstrates that Doinel has continued his friendship with his more privileged classmate Rene. While attending a concert with Rene, Antoine becomes fixated on Colette and begins a labored attempt at wooing her. She is kind to Doinel, but, as a narrator informs us, considers Antoine a friend. Antoine, however, is blinded by persistent romantic longing that the series will continue to reference. He fuels his romantic outlook with a steady diet of literature and music. While he obsesses over his nascent romance, Colette goes about dating young men with no intention of ever entangling herself with Doinel. As one prone to similar romantic obtuseness as a young man, I found this chapter of the Doinel story both humorous and a little uncomfortable. This film also introduces a trend that will recur in "Stolen Kisses." The orphaned Antoine, even into adulthood, becomes the surrogate child of his love interest's parents. The parents, seeing Antoine's need, feed the young man, offer him company, meals and kindness. It's touching, but awkward, as the parents show him more affection than do the young women Antoine is pursuing. This sequel to "The 400 Blows" is worth viewing more for the work of Jean Pierre-Leaud than for Truffaut's direction. (There is, however, a crackling sequence in "Antoine and Colette" when Antoine keeps trying to slyly ogle Colette and her legs while she pretends not to notice.) Leaud's work in "Blows" is raw and and austere, but in this installment and "Stolen Kisses," Leaud shifts towards a more endearing and hapless comic figure. He is a skilled, unassuming comic, believable and deliciously awkward. He provides enough reason to keep viewers returning to subsequent chapters. With "Antoine and Colette" and "Stolen Kisses," the tone shifts from realism toward farce grounded in humanity.

R. J. Yelverton

15Jan09

Amarcord, which means "I remember," is a severely nostalgic film from Federico Fellini. It is also a movie composed entirely of vignettes that do not seem to be forming into any sort of cohesive whole until late in the film. An apparent lack of narrative force can make the film a difficult one to dip into, but I found that it improves greatly on repeat viewings as we get to know its large cast of characters and its sad, sinister undertones become more apparent. Amarcord follows a year in the life of the people of the Italian village of Rimini. It is the 1930s. Fascism has taken hold and Il Duce is in power. In watching the film I was immediately struck by its similarity to two nostalgic American movies. It is like A Christmas Story in its structure and its cast of broad, sometimes grotesque, comic characters many of whom are family. Watch any of the dinner scene from Amarcord and then view similar moments in Christmas and you will see that director Jean Shepherd was clearly influenced by Fellini. Amarcord also calls to mind Radio Days, the vignette-filled Woody Allen film about growing up in 1940s Brooklyn. The two are so alike that it is clear Allen was unabashedly emulating Amarcord with his nostalgic look at family and lost youth. Those two films, however, used an offscreen narrator to tie one disparate moment to the next while Amarcord does not. Fellini's transitions are more jarring and the sequence of events in the film does not necessarily follow any immediately apparent pattern. This will likely be disconcerting to the first time viewer more attuned to the tidy storytelling of most film and television. More than tell a story, Fellini wants to reminisce. He jumps from one vivid memory to the next without the urgency of arriving at a fixed endpoint. About a third of the way into the film it becomes clear who its main characters will be. All are plagued by great longing. Titta Biondi, a teenage boy on the cusp of manhood, obsessed with the female bodies of Rimini. His father Aurelio the town's lone communist, political stalwart, and a frequently ineffectual patriarch. And Gradisca an aging beauty and the obsession of all the boys and men of Rimini. She expresses a continual aching desire for transcendent romance and seeks it out in films, ceremony, and the pomp and trappings of Fascism. This desire for transcendence cannot be satiated and it continually proves allusive even to the end of the film. The humor of Amarcord is cruel, usually the pain or humiliation. This recalls the humor of another classic Don Quixote which mines much of its humor from the torture of the addled Alfonso. Nabokov found the book, in a famous series of lectures given at Harvard, to be crude and cruel and wonders what he would make of Fellini's film. In the film, we see townspeople having fun at the expense of the crazed Volpina and the town's blind musician. Much of the cruelty of Amarcord, however, can be seen as a result of fascism as group think takes over and brings man's worse tendencies to the fore. We see much of the film through the eyes of the teenage Titta who is fascinated by the female posterior and to a lesser extent cleavage. The men of Rimini never grow out of this objectifying behavior, however, and long after the female form even as they overlook the women themselves. The oversexed Volpina is teased and handled by the men of the town. Gradisca is hounded by catcalls wherever she goes and the town's boys direct their sexual longing toward a statue of a mythic naked figure. The film's priest seems to only care if his young male confessors are engaged in onanism. Sex is the constant obsession of the men of Rimini, but it is forever adolescent and an aggressive, one-sided affair. The film's most memorable scenes follow a day of pageantry for visiting dignitaries. All of Rimini gathers together to praise Il Duce and to put on a show of being good Fascists. They move as a group and work themselves into a fury of loyalty. They act in unison and behave as a hive mind. Even the priesthood and school teachers--who more indoctrinate than educate--collude with the Fascists. The lone dissenter is humiliated after an attempt to show solidarity with a different political cause. Amarcord from moment to moment feels disjointed and even aloof. As the film closes, though, its elliptical structure reveals itself and seemingly unconnected moments come together. We begin to see Fellini's blueprint and the entire approach seems less scattershot. The film also has a large cast and when viewing the movie a second time each character becomes more distinctive. With Amarcord repeat viewing is a necessity.

R. J. Yelverton

26Dec08

Alfred Hitchcock is fond of telling the story of one man fighting against staggering odds. The man is often falsely accused as in The Wrong Man or The 39 Steps. Or accidentally enters into a world of horrors that they can't escape as in The Birds or Psycho. And sometimes the lead accidentally becomes part of a large conspiracy in which they are forced to participate as in North by Northwest and The Man Who Knew Too Much. Hithchcock is fond of the reluctant hero or heroine, people who fall into impossibly difficult situations that they did not choose for themselves. In this way his movies, even those that would not be labeled horror films, are like nightmares. The protagonist wants to scream out "this can't be happening," but barely has time to think as the rogue crop duster bears down on him trying to slice him in half. We tend to identify with the Hitchcock hero who is often ordinary--though still very much movie stars--whether they be Cary Grant living at home with his mother or hardworking family man Henry Fonda. The Lady Vanishes is the other type of Hitchcock film--the type where two would-be lovers throw themselves into intrigue partly out of boredom and partly as a means to romance one another. As in Rear Window where a crippled photographer played by James Stewart and a pining Grace Kelly become voyeurs and then detectives, Lady features bride-in-waiting Iris Henderson (Margaret Lockwood) on a journey to meet her fiancee where she begins to tussle and then solve a mystery with arrogant joker and folk musician Gilbert (Michael Redgrave). While on a train journey through the fictional European country of Mandrika, Iris notices that Miss Froy, the kindly old lady who was sharing a compartment with her, doesn't seem to be on the train anymore. Partly out of a need to forestall the doldrums of an unwanted marriage and partly because of the needs of the script, Iris throws herself wholeheartedly into finding the missing Miss Froy. Gilbert, seeing an opening, joins her in a quest. The plot thickens when other passengers claim to have never seen the little old English woman. We are then asked to contemplate whether Iris--who did suffer a blow to the head earlier in the film--might be imagining Miss Froy or whether some sinister conspiracy is actually at work. (A similar question is at the heart of the ludicrous, not very funny, but highly watchable Jodie Foster thriller Flightplan). Vanishes while ostensibly a mystery is just as much a comedy. Like Nick and Nora in The Thin Man series, Iris and Gilbert trade bon mots and blows with bad guys while trying to figure out the mystery. The mystery is a device upon which to hang a comedy of manners. Joining Iris and Gilbert in their comic quest are two stoic British gentlemen who are more concerned with returning to England in time to catch a cricket match than with the increasingly bizarre plot going on around them. Their continued stoical perturbation in the face of mystery and violence is a running joke throughout the film. This joke reaches a glorious comic crescendo when the bullets begin to fly in the film's climax. And what a climax it is as the train's British passengers are faced with a showdown at high tea. The nation of Mandrika confronts the English on the train and they, though repeatedly denying Iris's claims and need to take action, find their backs against the wall. Among them is a pacifist who as the action heightens becomes cowardice embodied. It is in this climax that the film becomes unexpectedly political. The Lady Vanishes released in 1938 between the two world wars, is a comment on the coming conflict and the necessity of war. British who are not willing to enter the fray are naive or foolish. As they are in other Hithcock films, the women of Vanishes are smart, brave, and resourceful. They frequently lead the charge in the film while the men try to keep up. Hitchcock reportedly had testy relationships with his female co-stars, but he frequently provided them with meaty roles. Most movies, even contemporary ones, are likely to relegate female stars to weak supporting roles where they anxiously stand by while male costars do the fighting. But The Lady Vanishes turns on the actions of several strong female characters. Vanishes is above all a comedy and this intentionally or not takes the edge off the suspense. We are pretty sure all will work out in the end because the barb trading leads need to end up together. It could be argued that the film goes off the rails in the final third when the absurd plot drives the film toward a violent, tone shifting climax, but I found it in keeping with the delightful absurdity on display throughout the film. In fact each of the film's three acts have there own unique tone. In the first, the cast is stranded by snow in a small rail-side hotel and each is introduced in short, comic vignettes. In the second, the mystery is afoot. By the third act, the mystery is largely solved, but a violent conflict erupts. The film under the steady hand of Hitchcock successfully fits these disparate pieces together. While not Hitchcock's best, it still is a fun, unique film that will keep you entertained.

R. J. Yelverton

16Dec08

Grand Illusion: The first thing you need to know is that this WWI POW film has much in common with The Breakfast Club. But we'll get to that later. You'll also be surprised to know that this Criterion DVD release is amazingly accessible. Later installments include the lengthy, meditative Solaris and the jarring, odd Alphaville, but Grand Illusion is as watchable as many modern dramas. You don't have to have a PhD in Film Studies to appreciate the movie. The film tells the story of Lieutenant Marechal (Jean Gabin) and Captain de Boldieu, two French officers fighting the first world war. Marechal is a pilot and blue collar guy while de Boldieu is an aristocrat. They are shot down by Captain von Rauffenstein, a German aristocrat, while flying a reconnaissance mission. Von Rauffenstein, even in the midst of warfare, gives the officers a distinguished welcome and toasts their arrival, sharing wine with them at his table. Bullets might not care about your station in life, but von Rauffenstein is determined to preserve social order in spite of the chaos. These opening moments tell us what will be at stake throughout the film. War and captivity to some degree strips combatants of their social standing. But von Rauffenstein will seek to preserve them. He will lay out rules for the men to follow as if they are playing a game. He knows the men will try to escape captivity--it is their role as officers--but he expects de Boldieu to behave in a manner befitting his bloodline. The old order will be preserved. In a conversation late in the film between de Boldieu and von Rauffenstein, they share a recognition that the old order is dying. The German captain is knowingly fighting a losing battle. In fact, throughout much of the film, the soldiers all treat each other will surprising kindness. The German soldiers are workmanlike and never particularly cruel to their captives. The captives are surrounded by barbed wire and the guards all carry guns, but the mood among the men is generally upbeat. They put on stage productions and the American officers all carry tennis rackets. If I had not first listened to the spirited introduction by director Jean Renoir included on the DVD, I would have been tempted to view these niceties as ironic, an absurd vision constructed to examine class conflict. But Renoir fought in the war himself and declares that World War I was a conflict fought between gentlemen before Hitler destroyed the "spirit of humanity." As a conflicted pacifist, I don't know whether to be disturbed by this vision of a more tidy war or to realize that Renoir is showing that social niceties could and were preserved in the more subdued prison camps. And here is where we arrive at The Breakfast Club similarities. You have to think John Hughes watched Grand Illusion a few dozen times while penning his tale of teen angst and clique disintegration. (Incidentally, I always thought the ending of The Breakfast Club was far too rosy. I would have preferred if the movie featured a crushing epilogue in which Bryan (Anthony Michael Hall) shows up at school only to be punched by Emilio Estevez with Molly Ringwald on his arm while Judd Nelson ignores him and Ally Sheedy in the distance crumbles dead leaves with intensity. And is anyone else po'd that Sheedy's conformity is treated as triumphant. But back to Renoir...) Just as five teens discover common bonds while confined to Saturday detention, the prison camp forces the working class, the aristocrat, and people of different races and ethnicity into cooperation with one another. Renoir's vision isn't as pleasantly trite as that of Hughes, but they do share a similar theme. Renoir seems to conclude that this cross class cooperation is an illusion and unsustainable. Not long after Marechal and the moneyed, Jewish captive Rosenthal leave the camp, they begin shouting at one another and name calling. When Marechal must cut short a war time romance with a German woman and vows to return to her, Rosenthal tells him that the idea is ridiculous and unrealistic. Captivity and conflict have ironically has brought out the better natures in some men. But the disappearance of inter-class struggle and resentment is chimerical. The director regularly employs long takes and deep focus--objects in the foreground appear as clearly as those in background--in the film. We are given a great deal to observe at any given moment. Because of this, the film rewards multiple viewings. We can observe several actors reacting at once which often forces us to choose where to place our focus. From a technical standpoint, the use of long takes combined with a moving camera are a marvel as they require precision from the actors who must deliver lines without error and always be acting and for the production crew who must remain invisible. Where a director like DePalma will use the long take and appearance of a long take to wow you with his technical mastery, Renoir uses his in service to story. Renoir becomes unobtrusive and the actors, story, and setting solidify in our minds. Grand Illusion is justifiably labeled a classic and made for a fine start to my noble quest. Onward and upward.