CORALINE (Henry Selick, 2009)

date watched: May 30, 2009
location: Apgujung Cinecity, Seoul, Korea


So this was the second time watching this movie. On Trial One, I had missed the beginning--the rather important beginning, may I add--and felt compelled to watch it another time.

I must also add that Neil Gaiman's book is rather eerie (Yes, more than the movie, even!), and I wish I had read it BEFORE I watched the movie the first time around. A couple of crying children left the theater, I kid you not. They probably thought it was a rather cheery kind of adventure film. Oh, those poor children. One kid kept saying "I'm scared" to his mother, but remained, probably out of curiosity. He will no doubt have nightmares tonight, poor chap.

Gaiman said that the eccentric name was a result of a typo: he intended to call the character "Caroline" but had typed "Coraline," but kept the latter because he felt even accidents were a necessary part of the writing process. The dedication to the book is rather endearing, since he had originally started to write this for his first daughter, but had finished it by the time his second daughter was born.



In any case, I must say that although I had great fun watching this Western version of Spirited Away (Hayao Miyazaki, 2001), Selick's earlier success, The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) is far more sensational. My mother, who watched it with me this time around, thought that computer graphics may make the appearance of this film look rather realistic, but it also deadens the "spirit" of the film. Although I wouldn't be able to explain her comment, I knew what she was talking about.

I recommend the soundtrack to anyone, whether or not he/she has watched the film. Bruno Coulais really knows how to carry the spooky effects, without overpowering the scenes. I was surprised that the album even included the short, albeit super charming "other father" song as well.

Oh, and whoever thought of Teri Hatcher as the voice of the mother/other mother is genius. Her scratchy yet high-pitched tone is perfect for both a workaholic mother and a metal-clawed, button-eyed witch.

On that note, I thought it was clever to use buttons as the central image. We are used to thinking about buttons as decoration, or we could even think of the phrase, "cute as a button." In the world of Coraline, however, buttons are neither embellishments nor cute. They are the first stepping stones to an abysmal world of domination, and of a love that kills, literally.

I could even sense hints of The Matrix (Wachowski brothers, 1999) when Coraline and the cat walk away from the Pink Palace, only to return to it again. The "other world" behind the door is almost like Neo's virtual world. It is also strikingly similar to one of my favorite stories of all time, Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.

MOTHER (Bong Joon-ho, 2009)

date watched: May 30, 2009
location: Apgujung CGV, Seoul, South Korea

Most people know Bong through The Host (2006) and his recent participation in the triptych Tokyo! ("Shaking Tokyo," 2008), but he had originally worked as a column writer. His first feature, Barking Dogs Never Bite (2000) was not a big success (in fact, it's hard to find this movie in Korea, even online), but it was possible to see that Bong was a good writer.

The same can be said of Mother: it's more a tribute to his skills as a writer, than as a visual artist. Of the New Korean filmmakers, I would say that he is the best writer, and Park Chan-wook is the best visual artist.

The story is of a single mother who lives with her son, who is not particularly bright. One day, Dojun (played by Won Bin) gets drunk, and he tails a high school girl. She hurls at him the one insult Dojun despises hearing--idiot--and in a fit of rage, he hurls something back at her--a rock. Throughout the majority of the film, we are led to believe that Dojun is not the killer. Technically, he is not the type to kill, and everyone knows this. His mother then tries everything in her power to absolve him of this charge, and in the process, it is she who learns more than she bargains for. Her struggles are at times chilling and utterly suspenseful. But the whole thing is in fact a cover for the mother's relentless attempt at absolving her own guilt. In the end, it is not the mother who saves her son. It is he who frees her from her past wrongdoing.



The mother's "tour bus dance" is her way of showing us that she will forget, at least for the time being.

Although I said earlier that Bong isn't the best artist, there were several scenes that proved his bigger steps as a more visual director. For instance, the conversations between the mother and her son in jail are usually accompanied by the infinite regression of mirrors--there really is no end to this battle. One can also glimpse a moment of voyeurism, a favorite fallback theme for filmmakers, not unlike Jeff's peek-a-boo in David Lynch's Blue Velvet.

Bong is seemingly most fascinated with murder, and especially of the theme of "the wrong man." He seems to point out that nobody is innocent, and even if the true culprit is found, there is no victory gained. What begins as a search for the murderer ensues as a tail-chasing game, and you only end up with your hands dirtier.

In this film, the characters use their real names. It must have been rather effective for the actors to get themselves involved. It reminded me of Marco Ferreri's controversial film, La Grande Bouffe (1973), in which Michel Piccoli, Marcello Mastroianni, Ugo Tognazzi, and Philippe Noiret used their actual names.

I recently saw him walking in the neighborhood with his wife. He looks like a big teddybear, and seems incapable of writing such mysteries! It goes to show that one cannot tell just by looks alone.

EAST OF EDEN (Elia Kazan, 1955)

date watched: May 26, 2009
location: at home. private copy.

Personally, I like Kazan's cooperation with James Dean a lot more than I did Kazan and Brando. This may have something to do with Dean's looks. It's really too bad he died so early. I don't know how greatly admired he'd be if he were still alive, however. That sounds cold and cruel, but there's a saying in Korean that roughly translates to "leave when they're clapping." I am a firm believer of this statement. It really is the hardest to do, though. Most of us just want to make more and more, do more and more when the going is good.


In any case, then and even now, we still love the Cain and Abel story. The drama that ensues from brotherly conflict never gets old. This film also has a lot to do with hereditary resemblances, too. It is clear that Cal (short for "Caleb," played by James Dean) is not like his father or his older brother ("Aron," played by Richard Davalos). The only member left to resemble is the mother, but she is not present, so the similarities remain unconfirmed. There is also Abra (played by Julie Harris), who understands Cal better than his family members, because she went through a rough patch herself.

It becomes difficult for us to determine whether the Aron and Mr. Trask are really "pure"; it is this idealism that drives Cal to his jealous rage and inexplicable tantrums. It is so important for Adam Trask to upkeep the purity, that he forgets how to love himself, and as a result, he also forgets how to love others. The tables turn, however, and it is Aron who is portrayed as weak, and turns to the war (the very war he condemned) as a means of escape. This momentary lapse of sanity on Aron's part will then restore family balance, as Cal can make up for lost time, and patch the family together, with Abra's help. Abra is a strange name, and to me, it seems like a tie to the magical phrase, "Abra Cadabra." She is thus the magic touch that slaps Cal back into shape, and the nursing hands to Mr. Trask.

BAKJWI/THIRST (Park Chan-wook, 2009)

date watched: May 25, 2009
location: Apgujung Cinecity, Seoul, Korea

I found out that this received the Jury prize at Cannes this year--go Korean cinema!

It really is a tough one, though. To watch, I mean. Park's violence probably reached its peak in his previous films, such as in Lady Vengeance (2005) and Oldboy (2003). So, no surprise there. But he definitely calmed down in the editing department and the film has less cuts than former works, and it's not as hectic. I don't know if this is such a good thing, but just something I noticed.


It is definitely one of the better vampire movies I've seen this year, along with the Swedish vampire flick, Let the Right One In (Tomas Alfredson, 2008). You have the give Park some credit for giving a priest vampiric qualities, yes?

Park is known to be a closeted Catholic, hence, the theme of original sin is evident in all his films. In this one, it is made even more blatant with the presence of a priest-turned-vampire, and his self-mutilating tendencies in the face of temptation. I think whoever came up with the English title did a good job, since this really is about insatiable desires and unending greed.

One of my favorite elements is the visual significance of the shoes. The relationship between the priest (played by Park's veteran actor, Song Kang-ho) and Taejoo (played by newcomer Kim Ok-bin) begins with the shoes, and it ends with them. It began with the unselfish need to protect Taejoo, and even after a strain of their repulsive behavior, they die holding each other.


The interesting thing though, is that Taejoo didn't need the shoes to begin with. She ran barefoot in the dark for many nights before she met the priest, and the only thing it did was add callous skin on her feet. She could've continued to live her life as a "dog," and have remained perpetually bored. Likewise, the priest could have shut himself away in the hospital, and lived off a comatose patient's blood. He changed her once, and then again when she joined his one-man vampire league. They could have lived together forever, but they chose to burn to death. This is where Guilt comes in. Taejoo continued to wheel her mother-in-law around, even though the only movement she was capable of was blinking and rolling her eyes, and tapping her fingers. The once drowned "oppa" (played by Shin Ha-kyun) continues to torment the new couple in their sleep, dripping water everywhere. I have a strong conviction, by the way, that Park must be terrified of drowning; I spotted it from his first "vengeance" film, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002), and it continues to haunt his films today. Alas, it is this guilt that eventually consumes the couple. Perhaps we don't deserve such tremendous power in the first place.

STAR TREK (J. J. Abrams, 2009)

date watched: May 24, 2009
location: Central City Cinus, Seoul, Korea

I start with a disclaimer: I know nothing about the previous Star Trek series. I will thus have no comparisons to share.

I guess I'm not nerdy enough or a lover of Sci-Fi enough to get into this stuff. Time-traveling is cool, I guess.

One thing that seems certain is that we'll still have wars in the future. And these wars aren't going to be about countries, but PLANETS and GALAXIES, etc. This terrifies me.

I really can't get myself to say anything more.
The sound was really good, though.

DARE MO SHIRANAI/NOBODY KNOWS (Kore-eda Hirokazu, 2004)

date watched: May 24, 2009
location: At home. Private copy.


I first watched this when I was a high school student, and although it left a deep impression on me even then, it seems even more powerful the second time around.

Upon doing a simple Wikipedia search, I found that the true story that the film is based on took place in the 1980s. None of the children's names were ever released, and it is said that the mother was in jail for four years for child abandonment.

Yagira Yûya was awarded the best actor at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival, and is the youngest and first Japanese to receive such an honor. According to his mini biography on imdb.com, this was his first film role, and the first film he auditioned for. Although the film is a fictionalized version of the 1980s incident, I'm sure the role must have been a trying one for the young actor. The filming spanned over a year, and I cannot imagine how much personal strength and will power Yagira needed to play the part. A few years back, he was all over the news in Japan, for his alleged suicide attempt. He admitted to taking pills, but denied the suicide claim. It really is heartbreaking to see child actors growing up as broken adolescents and adults.



Anecdotes aside, Kore-eda obviously knows his Ozu. The "empty shots" left from the lingering camera and the close-ups of body parts and objects really echo the Japanese master, and I don't think it's done in a cheap way.



Although the audience members are clearly not all Akira's age, we mature and suffer with him, and we are almost like his shut-in younger siblings, relying on him for the vicarious escapades, even though they are only short trips to the convenience stores.

Surprisingly, the outwardly evil acts come from other children, and not the adults. For example, the part-time workers at the convenience store are willing to help Akira out, even if it just means giving away some snacks and writing New Year's cards. It is clear that the true nemesis is the childlike mother, who is seen running away from the children until she is no longer a part of their lives. The most haunting scene is when Akira phones his mother, only to hear her bright voice chiming "This is the Yamamotos!" (their actual family name is Fukushima) Whatever thin cord we thought the mother attached to the children is severed at that point, and we become aware that Akira is utterly alone.

No matter how much we want to escape the responsibilities and burdens that Akira has taken on, it is impossible to dissociate ourselves from him, since we identify with him from the very beginning. I really hope no child has to endure Akira's plight.

BOAT (Kim Young Nam, 2009)

date watched: May 23, 2009
location: Apgujung CGV, Seoul, South Korea

Honestly, purchasing the tickets for this movie wasn't so much for the movie as it was for the actors' introduction.
I don't really know the Japanese actor, but I'm a huge fan of Ha Jungwoo, who did a marvelous job as a psychopath serial killer in CHUGYEOGJA/THE CHASER (Na Hong-jin, 2008).


There really isn't a whole lot to say about the film, since it didn't leave a particularly strong impression on me; needless to say, it was not a first-rate movie.

But I do want to say one thing about co-productions involving two or more countries. It's one thing when the whole script is written in one language and then directed by a foreign filmmaker. And it is another thing when the script seems neither here nor there, and it is clear that too many cooks ruined the stew, so to speak.
So far, I think the best co-productions were those that gave the director "free reign," but was backed by foreign currency. For example, all, or almost all, of Jim Jarmusch's films were made with the help of Japanese investors.
There are, of course, exceptions. I would say that Jean-Luc Godard did a fine job in Contempt (1963) mixing English, French, Italian, and sometimes German (via Fritz Lang). It's true that Godard was more often than not satirizing the concept of co-productions, but it was artfully done, nonetheless.

JAL ALJIDO MOTHAMYEONSEO [roughly translated: "You Don't Even Know (Me)"] (Hong Sang-soo, 2009)

date watched: May 20, 2009

location: Apgujung CGV, Seoul, Korea

Director Hong is truly a lover of chance and a master of spontaneity.

The way he works is (in)famous both here and abroad: he arrives on set around 2-3 hours before shooting begins; he writes the script within that time, i.e., the amount to be shot that day; they begin shooting right away.

The script is also not very telling. Many times he will just announce to the actors that a certain something must happen, but no more than the most minimal instructions. He believes this calls for more natural acting, and often the situation can become unexpectedly diverting.

Director Hong is also a lover of alcohol.

This is evident in many of the scenes of his films, and the characters will say the most absurd and refreshing things when they are drunk.

When he visited Columbia a couple months ago, it was clear that he had a little bit much to drink the night before. It was rather amusing, to say the least.

The answers to all the questions posed by the audience were reflective of his film style--ambiguous. For example, one audience member asked whether a certain object was symbolic of something else, to which he replied: "You interpret it in your own way." How can you argue with that?

In this particular film, I'd say that Hong is more conscious of his position as a director. Many times, his protagonist is a painter, writer, actor, or teacher. This time, Kim Tae Woo plays a director, who seems to know it all, but actually knows very little. Many of his answers parrot his colleagues' philosophies, what we all know as PLAGIARISM. Rather than criticize this tendency, I think Hong is rather neutral towards this human tendency. We all do it, and sometimes we do it without knowing.

The title owes itself to the last scene between Kim and Go on the beach. Go does not regret her sexual infidelity, but she also just wants to keep it as it is, no strings attached. When he complains about her past and her reluctance to keep the relationship going, she replies by saying, "Why would you say these things? You don't even know me that well." Too often we do the same thing, criticizing others when we aren't even aware of our own shortcomings.

ANTOINE ET COLLETTE/ANTOINE AND COLLETTE (François Truffaut, 1962)

date watched: May 19, 2009

location watched: At home. Private copy of The Adventures of Antoine Doinel DVD Box Set

I had watched 400 Blows (1959) a long time ago, but through this "grown-up" version of Antoine, I was able to re-live the marvels of a little French rebel again.

Doinel and Jean-Pierre Léaud are often interchangeable, since it is Doinel that gave Léaud life, so to speak; Truffaut may have already seen Léaud in his dreams, and it was a miracle that he came to the auditions for 400 Blows. Many French people have told Truffaut that he and Léaud resembled each other, and still other people thought they were father and son! Although Truffaut never explicitly said that Doinel's character was based on his own life, the so-called resemblance may have given it away.

This box set is invaluable because of all the extra commentaries, footage, and booklet that comes with the DVDs. It's interesting to see the pre-screenplay writings, because they are so different from the treatments one sees today. Various screenwriting programs and conventions have changed scripts into uniform productions, but back then, they had a more free-reign quality to them. It really brought to light the writer and not the technician.

Antoine falls in love with Collette, only to find, disappointingly, that Collette's parents are more in love with him than Collette is. Truffaut claimed that he wanted to make a point about the two generations' interaction: just because our parents loved doing something, or just because they had plans for us, doesn't mean that we'll follow through; similarly, just because Collette's parents love Antoine doesn't mean she'll love him back. The only complaint Antoine can angrily spit out to his childhood friend, René (with whom Antoine exchanges "love stories"), is, "She talks like a guy!" I almost think that if Antoine hadn't moved across the street from Collette, their love story would have been realized. After all, we often do things just to spite or go in opposition to our parents' wishes, right?

NEVER LET ME GO (Delmer Daves, 1953)

date watched: May 18, 2009

location watched: At home in Seoul, Korea. Private VHS copy.

Even though it's been a while since the Hays Code days, I can see why this isn't released on DVD yet. It's a pity, since Gene Tierney makes a good Russian ballerina, and Clark Gable makes a good American journalist/seaman.

The title is rather misleading, however. One would think that this is a love story that revolves around Tierney and Gable--playing Marya Lamarkina and Philip Sutherland, respectively--but the bulk of the narrative focuses on Gable's journey by sea, with two fellow shipmates. It's a lot like Lubitsch's 1939 masterpiece, Ninotchka, in some senses. I say this because it really de-romanticizes Soviet communism. I wouldn't go so far to say that it casts American democracy as the hero.

One of the most intriguing parts is when the three shipmates are anchored in a sheltered Finland cove, and they are found out by Russian seamen. They decide to place bets on which countrymen can take more alcohol. The Americans are confident that they can take them on with whiskey, until the Russian throws it overboard, and opts for vodka instead. Joe Brooks (Bernard Miles) then mimics his first vodka experience (during which he met his wife, Valentina Alexandrovna) by citing all the famous Russian inventors with each emptied shot. It is only when the Russians are unconscious that he claims it was Sir Francis Drake who discovered the potato, and not a Russian man.

During this time, Gene Tierney was still on the brink of depression, since it was not long after she gave birth to her severely retarded child, Daria. She was said to have trained for six long weeks to familiarize herself with ballet, and despite her unhappiness, still plowed through. In her biography by Michelle Vogel, she gives a lot of credit to Gable, who was gentleman enough to notice her ill mental health, but still cared for her as a co-star and friend. Agatha Christie actually wrote a book called The Mirror Crack'd, which is supposedly based on Tierney's life, and specifically dealing with her mental problems.

I half-expected Philip and Marya to run into more unfortunate circumstances. I even though one of them would die. But if there's one thing storytellers know about pleasing spectators, it is the obligatory gratification granted after all the twists, turns, and inconveniences the characters are subjected to. I felt very much the same way when I was watching Slumdog Millionaire (Danny Boyle, 2008): I thought Jamal would get run over a train before he reunited with Latika.

MY FAVORITE WIFE (Garson Kanin, 1940)

date watched: May 13, 2009
location: At home, courtesy of Netflix.

And yet another "comedy of remarriage." Always a delight :)
I must say that this has to be one of my favorites! I think the greatness should be attributed mostly to the writing, and the humorous music, more than the directing itself. No offense, Kanin.

Pearl Harbor (Michael Bay, 2001) also posed us with the question: do you move on after your beloved spouse is assumed dead? Of course, My Favorite Wife is oodles better because of the comedic element, and nobody actually has to die.


Some of the scenes are designed so perfectly. For example, after Nick (Cary Grant) has seen his wife's "Adam," he cannot get him out of his mind. He tries to carry on a conversation on the phone, but keeps seeing images of Burkett (Randolph Scott) swinging and flaunting his well-toned body all the while.



The scenes in the courtroom mirror cinema spectatorship: there is an audience seated behind the four men and women, and they laugh, as if cued from an unseen director. This audience within the screen and the audience outside coordinate their laughter, and the judge can only look on disapprovingly, unable to control them.

Even after Ellen (Irene Dunne) mentally tortures Nick, he still can't get himself to confess his unchanged love for her. But how can you refuse lovable Grant in a Santa Claus costume? I know I would have taken him back IMMEDIATELY. It's this Grant that we all know and love--clumsy and muttering things under his breath. He's not as intriguing when he's poised and winsome, like in some of Hitchcock's films. I think I will need to check out more from the Dunne-Grant duo! Note to self: watch The Awful Truth, and Penny Serenade.

LA VENTANA/THE WINDOW (Carlos Sorin, Argentina, 2008)

date watched: May 12, 2009
location: Film Forum, NYC

Many people wonder whether life examination in old age is beneficial, and whether it helps in acceptance of death. Our dear abuelo in La Ventana is more fixated on a dream he has, than the overall meaning of his life. If Umberto D. (Vittoria de Sica, 1952) and Wild Strawberries (Ingmar Bergman, 1957) are like dissertations on growing old, then Le Ventana is more like a thesis. It only shows us a slice of this man's life, and the duration is not even a full day.

Hollywood blockbusters give us rapid cuts, explosions, and close-cut action sequences; but there's been a recent interest in the slow-paced, Ozu-like, meditative films. I daresay that we are even dealing with the posterity of the cult classic, Jeanne Dielman (Chantal Akerman, 1975). The scenes are "empty," and the camera is more interested in lingering on frames. It echoes Don Antonio's baby steps through the country fields, as his octogenarian limbs no longer swing the way they used to. I particularly like the poignant scene in which he sits on the grass, waving and yelling to the young boy who has just caught a hare and walks home with his two hounds. It is as if everyone is moving but him.

By the way, the film was shot on location in the Patagonian countryside, and the visuals are are pretty as paintings. Great work, Julián Apezteguia! (the cinematographer)

There is also a Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966) element to the film, seen in the beginning and ending, when Don Antonio's memory is likened to a faded celluloid reel. This film-within-a-film is one of the more poetic aspects of the film, and it definitely works well as an intro and conclusion to this "thesis."

The piano tuner's presence is also an ingenious choice on Sorin's part: like the old piano that must be cranked and tweaked to regain its voice, Don Antonio wracks his brain trying to fine-tune his images of his childhood babysitter. It's ironic that in his (supposed) last moments, the only one in the room is his son's girlfriend, who seems to be more interested in her phone's reception than the ill man in front of her.

Like the film, San Juan (the estate in which the narrative enfolds) and its varying inhabitants must be dealt with patiently. The only means of contact is through a radio (Alberto sounds like he's at a military base, ending every word with "over." VERY serious.) and all food is cooked over the fire, not in the microwave. In a world so overwhelmed with choices, we need to all take a moment to be Don Antonios and Isak Borgs, and sift our memories--manually, not automatically--before they become an indistinct pulp.

ONLY ANGELS HAVE WINGS (Howard Hawks, 1939)

date watched: May 12, 2009
location: At home. My private copy of the "Cary Grant Box Set."

1939 was certainly a good year for Hollywood. Among the achievements are Gone With the Wind (Victor Fleming), Ninotchka (Ernst Lubitsch), and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (Frank Capra). By this point, Hawks was already an established director, with works like Scarface (1932) and Bringing Up Baby (1938) to his credit. According to Todd McCarthy's book on Howard Hawks, Only Angels Have Wings was one of twelve titles to represent the United States at the first-ever Cannes Film Festival, set to upon on September, 1939. Who knew Hawks was an international player from early on!

Unlike the original story, which spans a few weeks, Hawks's film takes place over a little over twenty-four hours. Hawks is able to edit judiciously, and to my eye, there's nothing that could have been left out or added in.

The interesting thing about this film is that the love story between Geoff Carter (Cary Grant) and Bonnie Lee (Jean Arthur), and to add, his past with Judy MacPherson (Rita Hayworth), are only secondary to his real "love story" with "the kid" (Thomas Mitchell). Even though Geoff never carries his own matches (possibly a defensive act), he still gets burnt twice, something Bonnie has the guts to point out. First, he lets the love of his life, Judy, take off with another flyer (MacPherson, played by Richard Barthelmess). Next, he makes the mistake of letting his devoted friend and "brother," Kid, take the reigns of the plane on a unauspicious night. These same sacrificial acts will be echoed three years later, in Curtiz's hit, Casablanca. As a Cary Grant fan, I'm sorry that Bogart got to be so heroic, as Rick Blaine--after all, Grant is number two on American Film Institute's "Greatest Male Star of All Time," AFTER Bogart. Tant pis.



Hawks, knowingly or unknowingly, had taken a jab at the "male weepie," which, in my opinion, reaches its dramatic height in John Woo's A Better Tomorrow (1986). If ever you want to see the second greatest male star of all time cry (or at least BEGIN to cry), just watch Only Angels Have Wings. It's actually quite unsettling, to tell you the truth.

THE PHILADELPHIA STORY (George Cukor, 1940)

date watched: May 10, 2009
location: At home. My own copy of "TCM's Greatest Classics: Romantic Comedies" version.

Man. I just had a whole post ready to go, and then the server crashed on me.
Let's try this once more.
It'll be in the theme of the "comedy of remarriage," anyway.

Stanley Cavell is accredited with the phrase, used to categorize films like It Happened One Night (Frank Capra, 1934), Bringing Up Baby (Howard Hawks, 1938), and The Lady Eve (Preston Sturges, 1941). It may seem silly to us now, but the genre allowed for extra-marital affairs to exist under censorship. Of course, it's technically legal, since all the affairs take place once the divorce has been settled.

But really, what better way to relax after finals with a nice romantic comedy starring my favorite stars of Hollywood? (i.e., Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn)



Katharine Hepburn was considered "box office poison," believe it or not, and nobody wanted to take their chances with her. Thank goodness Cukor did, because I don't know who else could've played a better Tracy Lord. I don't know how she gets those tears to well up, without having it run over. Amazing. Tracy is a woman who is torn between her image as goddess, and her soft-shelled interior. With the appearance of ex-husband C. K. Dexter Haven (Cary Grant) and writer/journalist Macaulay Connor (James Stewart) to put the spotlight on her mushier insides. They do it in the nick of time, too, before she makes the mistake of getting hitched to "the man of the people," George Kittredege (John Howard).



I was rooting for Dexter all along, but it was still thrilling to watch her consider the bumbling yet endearing Connor (he truly deserved the Best Actor Oscar--what a cute drunk he was!). With the right amount of distraction, and so long as you don't wander too far, you'll come back right to where you belong.

I thought that the girl cast as Dinah Lord (Virginia Weidler) was exceptional. I was sad to learn that she died of a heart attack at the early age of 47, befor she got a chance to bloom, professionally speaking. I think the author of "The Class Act" (http://www.classicmoviemusicals.com/weidler2.htm) was right in his conjecture that studios focused too much on Shirley Temple and Judy Garland to notice Weidler. Better luck in the next life, Weidler. But you did get to act with some of Hollywood's best. And for that, I envy you.

FORBIDDEN CATALAN CINEMA UNDER FRANCO, PROGRAM II: Countryside and the City: The Struggle to Make a Living

date watched: May 10, 2009
location: Film Society of Lincoln Center, NYC

(1) Largo Viaje Hacia La Ira/Long Journey to the Rage (dir. Llorenç Soler, Spain, 1969)
I don't know what I was expecting, but I was surprised by the meticulous planning that was evident in these documentaries. It was really a testimony of how art can flourish even in the most despairing and limiting of times.
Although the film was black and white, it was possible to see the elegance of the matador's costumes. To those young boys, it really was worth aspiring to, not just for the glitter and glory, but what it would mean for their future and their family's future.


(2) 52 Domingos/52 Sundays (dir. Llorenç Soler, Spain, 1966)
I often forget how influential Italian Neorealism was in film history. Though this is an oversimplification, its impressive progeny includes the French Nouvelle Vague, the Brazilian Cinema Novo, the Czech New Wave, and many others. The neorealist signatures are also apparent in Soler's works, along with Cinéma Vérité, since he intended these works to be documentaries. I loved how he began and ended this segment with the names of Catalonian workers. These bookends really puts the documentary into perspective: these workers wake up, go to work, and go back home, only to repeat this grueling process the next morning. Soler's heroes, it appears, is not the political rebels, but these everyday workers, who can only hope for a brighter future--their own future, their children's future, and the country's future--without directly partaking in the action.

Szegénylegények/THE ROUND-UP (Miklós Jancsó, 1966)

date watched: May 7, 2009
location: Film Society of Lincoln Center, NYC
Shown as part of "Jancsó Classics"

"For my own sake." These words perhaps best encapsulates the theme of the film; that is, the inborn greed and selfishness of mankind.


When some of the Hungarian inmates are faced with a dilemma--treason or survival--they pick the latter, out of sheer desperation. What the Hungarians do not have the power to discern, however, is that once they are involved in the "multiple choice" process, there is no end to the test. The "picker" becomes "the picked" as soon as he turns around, and there's no guarantee that your own comrades will save you, even if it is your family member. The scene involving the father and son--Kabai senior and Kabai junior, respectively--is especially haunting: will the father sacrifice his neck for his son, or will they both be hanged anyway? In a strange way, it reminded me of the scene in Disney's Lion King, when Scar is reprimanded for playing with his food, when it will end up in his belly anyway. Prolonging torture for an individual to the enjoyment of another--this is truly evil in its highest level.

When the father and son are separated to think about their choices, it was as if they were illustrating the game theory (Economics) in physical practice; instead of "the prisoner's dilemma," this was a matter of life and death.

The "chosen three" are given a chance to redeem themselves as military members, and even give an impressive performance on hand-picked cavalry horses. Their attempts are futile, however, when they are grouped with other prisoners to take responsibility of being former rebels, when their rebel leader is ironically released, leaving them to their doom.

I remember when my mom told me about the vicious cycle in prisons: once you are in, you will commit more crimes, all in order to survive the other rapacious acts within prison walls. The more crimes you commit, the more years you spend in prison, and so the pattern goes.

If Antonioni were a Hungarian, I imagine he would be Jancsó. Their long takes and perturbing landscapes are unforgettable, especially in today's era, when MTV-style flash-cutting is the norm.

Csillagosok, katonák/THE RED AND THE WHITE (Miklós Jancsó, 1967)

date watched: May 6, 2009
location: Film Society of Lincoln Center, NYC
Shown as part of the "Jancsó Classics" series at the Walter Reade Theater.

Miklós Jancsó is often referred to as a master choreographer, and it really takes flight in this film. I can't imagine how much planning and attention must have gone into all the details to get the marches and battle scenes the way Jancsó wanted them.

As much as I wanted to sympathize with the Hungarians and censure the Red Russians, and play the good guy/bad guy game, it was difficult when the so-called Hungarian heroes were courageous, but had horrible timing. In one scene, when a surprise attack on the Reds is carried out successfully, an old man in the audience started clapping enthusiastically, as though he were paid to do it. But I partially understood his fervor, because by that point, it had become frustrating how unlucky the Hungarians were.

Intended by Jancsó or not, the film pays tribute to the beauty of the male body, also. When the Hungarians are captured, they are forced to take their shirts off, to further magnify their collective shame. When the Hungarians are on their own, they are sometimes shirtless, and in this case, it represents their honest yet vulnerable passion for their country. On the other hand, women's bodies become a target for objectification, whether you're on the "right" side or not.

I think I'll check out another Miklós Jancsó film tomorrow.

SHALL WE DANCE (Mark Sandrich, 1937)

date watched: May 5, 2009
location: at home, thanks to Netflix Instant!

This is a confession: Shall We Dance is the first Astaire-Rogers musical I've seen. (To add to my embarrassing film knowledge deficiencies--don't laugh--there are Hitchcock's Vertigo (1958), Renoir's La Grande Illusion (1937), Rocky (1976), Silence of the Lambs (1991)... Oh, and so much more.)
And boy, was I wrong, to condemn the musical movie all this time.
It's true that there isn't much room for modern musicals on the DVD shelves nowadays, but there's a reason why we keep going back to Singing' in the Rain (Stanley Donen & Gene Kelly, 1952) on a gloomy day (like NYC today, for instance).

Now that I've said all that, it's hard not to compare Astaire and Kelly. If Astaire were still dancing in movies today, he would be called "metrosexual" for sure. His hair is always sleek and combed, his face is wrinkle-free and smooth, and he always looks so sharp in his tailcoats. On the other hand, Kelly is the paragon of male machismo, musical version. There are always two or three too many buttons left unopened, and his muscular movements and cheek scar spells M-A-N. Thank goodness he has that endearing beam, else he'd sound/look like a gangster.

Truly the best sequence in Shall We Dance is the skate-tap dancing number in the park. YouTube has it, conveniently:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdH2ODFYV5s
We're so used to buildings being blown up and other forms of mass destruction in mindless blockbusters that we forget the spectacle of the pure human form. And of course, dance is the pinnacle of that form. And Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are the Titans in the Land of Dance. As I showed my sister this, she remarked, "I didn't know you could tap dance with skates!" Well, if you're Astaire and Rogers, you can. I shouldn't even bother wasting words describing the miraculous phenomenon. Just click and watch.



I imagine Rogers didn't have time to gain weight, even if she wanted to, what with all the practices and the multiple takes while shooting these musicals. Her sheer energy demonstrated in all these numbers is hidden underneath her smile, and Astaire's ease. But that was Rogers in the 30s. Come 50s, and Rogers is obviously too old to tap dance on heels and skates, much less flats alone. I almost didn't recognize her in Monkey Business (Howard Hawks, 1952), if it weren't for her voice! I guess that's what happens when you retire from a job that requires so much locomotion. Let's all take this as a warning to our future selves and stay in tip-top shape!

TSIRK/CIRCUS (Grigori Aleksandrov, 1936)

date watched: May 2, 2009
location: Film Society of Lincoln Center
part of the "Red Diva" series featuring films of Soviet actress, Lyubov Orlova

The film obviously owes more to its silent film predecessors: the use of slapstick comedy, musical numbers, and circus performances, for example.

Back then, and even now, filmmakers always had this fascination with the circus. I can think of Wings of Desire (1987), many of Fellini's films, and Lola Montès (1955), all of which featured the circus setting. I guess it's the one place we can all relate to, having been there as children, and the sense of awe and fantasy related to it. It's the one place that freaks and beauties co-exist, and has a surrealistic quality, which always makes for a good movie.

The funniest thing about this film is its obvious propagandistic slant, which comes unexpectantly at the end. The film follows Marion Dixon (played by Lyubov Orlova), who escapes the United States and finds herself in Moscow. She is under the tyranny of a cruel circus manager, who uses her only weakness to control her and use her as his main featurette. She falls in love with another circus participant, and in order to prevent further development in their relationship, the evil circus manager brings to the crowd her black child, which was the reason for her escape from America. The audience does not react in the way the circus manager wanted them to--with ease. They all exclaim, "what's the tragedy?" and passes the child from member to member, singing lullabies to him and cradling them in their arms. The circus owner remarks, "Here, we don't care whether the child is white, black, or red, striped like a zebra, or with polka-dots. We accept everyone." Clearly, this is the "U.S.S.R good, America bad" campagin that was required in order for the film to be released. Then the entire cast goes out into the streets, carrying pictures of Stalin and singing about how great their country is. It was really quite funny, as you can imagine.

Aside from the unintentional comedic aspect, I imagine a lot of money and time went into the sets and costumes, which were very fancy for its time. I even witnessed a moment in which the rain on the outdoor glass lamps melted into rain hitting the window--experimentation without being too over-the-top, I'd say. All in all, it is one of those films that will remain in your memory, despite its blatant propaganda. I especially liked the way it ended with letters hanging from hot-air balloons. I have a penchant for dirigibles and hot-air balloons.

DAS LEBEN DER ANDEREN/THE LIVES OF OTHERS (Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, 2007)

date watched: April 30, 2009
location: At the comfort of my own home, thanks to Netflix :)

One word: WOW.

Now, for the pseudo-film critic talk...

It's hard to believe that this is von Donnersmarck's debut feature. It is loaded with profound symbolism and its meditative style is breathtaking. Generally speaking, this film is about surveillance, but I honestly believe it's about cinema: its voyeurism, (perverse) pleasure, and the dangers of personal investment in spectatorship.

I haven't watched the other Oscar nominees of the 2007 Best Foreign Language Award (After the Wedding, Water, Pan's Labyrinth, and Indigènes), but I don't doubt the judgment of the jury one bit, now that I've watched The Lives of Others.



I can't even begin to analyze all the deep-rooted cinematic allusions in this film.

When Wiesler (played wonderfully by actor Ulrich Mühe) types out the reports, they are like scripts. But in this world, the actors are playing out the scenes as you are typing the words. There are countless instances when we catch ourselves cursing the screens' villains or when we root for the hero. The film pervades our very being for the moment, and although they are moving images projected on to a screen, we forget the ersatz nature. Likewise, Wiesler begins to break the walls little by little, until they are no longer "the other." At one point, he tells Crista-Maria (played by Martina Gedeck), "I'm your audience." She takes this to mean he is a fan of her acting. But we know the real meaning behind those words, and it is almost too chilling to register.

I don't want to go on and on, so I will conclude this post with one of my favorite lines from the film:
"What is a director if he can't direct? He's a projectionist wthout film, a miller without corn. He's nothing. Nothing at all."

Hopefully, it'll be no sophomore slumps for von Donnersmarck, and forward march into more blazing features.

VALS IM BASHIR/WALTZ WITH BASHIR (Ari Folman, 2008)

date watched: April 30, 2009
location: In class (course title: "International Cinema After 1960")

Yes, it has long been taken down from theaters, but it deserves a few words.
Upon second viewing, I really got to appreciate the film beyond its mere images.
It was also neat to have it shown in 35 mm in class, since the DVD isn't due until June.

I don't want to say too much about this film. For one, I know very little about the Lebanon War, and don't want to taint the work with my ignorant remarks.


I do want to say something about the genre, however. According to the professor, director Ari Folman got 38 rejections out of the 40 he submissions he sent out. The main reason for the rejections was documentary companies rejected the film because it was an animation, and animation companies rejected the film because it was a documentary. What they weren't aware of was that the two can exist on the same plane.

The modern eye is overloaded with quick cuts, flashing images, and dizzying stunts. Waltz With Bashir really slows down human action, partly due to its animation technique of using traces and cut-outs, a kind of combination of stop-motion plus 3-D animation. It's a nice change.



With the plethora of information available today, it's hard not to see pictures of this and that catastrophe, and though it is a cliché to say it, we really are desensitized to such images as a result. In a way, although animation is not "flesh and blood" on screen, there's no right or wrong way to use animation, which includes its uses for documentary effect. I felt myself relating more to these images than I would to news images, as sad as it sounds.

The soundtrack by Max Richter really is amazing, too. It's available on iTunes, by the way.