Nineflick

1967, France
Director: Luis Buñuel
Screenplay: Buñuel, Jean-Claude Carrière
Story: Joseph Kessel (novel)
Notes: The title translates as “daylilly,” and is a play on “belle de nuit,” or prostitute.

Belle de Jour is a bizarre and beautiful movie. It follows a young housewife named Séverine Serizy as she comes to grips with her sexual identity. She is compelled beyond the forces of reason into becoming a high-class prostitute during the day, before returning to an unknowing husband at night. Yet plot is almost secondary to the film’s skillful conjuring of mood, emotion, and presence. It is a study on sexuality, its mystery and power, that is simultaneously highly creative and thoroughly engaging.

Integral to Belle de Jour’s tone is its ability to weave fantasy with reality. There are several dream sequences interspersed through the film, and on at least one occasion I found it difficult to determine what was real and what was imagined. Buñuel uses non-diegetic sound to heighten this effect, lapping the strange associations of the main character against the shore of reality. The meow of a cat, the tinkle of a bell – they signify something to her, and therefore to the audience, but she is as helpless to decipher them as we are. They are ultimately mere components of her hyperactive imagination, and as unassailable as they are fascinating.

The blurring of fantasy and reality is furthered by a parade of characters, all with peculiar desires of their own. In the movie’s best-known scene, a large Asian businessman visits Séverine’s brothel, propositioning one of the other girls with a mysterious lacquered box. There is a strange sort of buzzing sound in the background as he opens it. The girl peers inside, and draws away with a look of repulsion. Séverine, too, has her doubts when the businessman proffers it to her; but a later cut suggests that she had no qualms with the businessman, and perhaps the box and its contents. What could possibly be in the box? There is no logical interpretation, but it’s a creative bit of symbolism that piques the imagination.

Séverine herself is one of the most interesting characters I’ve seen on film. She has very little personality, and acts almost entirely under the influence of her passions. At times she seems possessed by them. In a sense, we understand the logic of this; Buñuel didn’t need to flesh out her character, because she is a vehicle for the film’s encounters and ideas. But there is enough there to make us wonder about her, what makes her tick. In the movie’s final act, note not just her actions, but her emotional state – I feel like this tells more about her than anything else we see.

Style: 9
Here is a movie with style in spades, from excellent directing (watch how carefully the camera tracks from face to face, or follows a nervous Séverine’s hand) to the effective use of sound and symbolism. Catherine Deneuve is perfect in the lead role, striking a unique blend of distance and passion. Note that the film manages its tone with no explicit shots – by itself, a remarkable feat.

Substance: 9
Belle de Jour is a rare movie that demands not only repeat viewings, but interpretation and analysis. It is a study on human emotion and desire, on morality and psychology, on fantasy and reality. On top of that, it’s emotionally engrossing. Its existentialist tone reminds me of Kubrick’s 2001, or Hitchcock’s Vertigo. These are films that suck the reality out of you, and leave you wondering “what exactly did I just see?”  It never fails to amaze me, when a movie can have that sort of effect on you.

Overall: 9
It seems natural that in perusing a great movies list I eventually come upon a truly great movie. Belle de Jour is my favorite find from Ebert’s list to date (excepting Days of Heaven – review pending). I would heartily recommend it to all walks of film fans.

2008, United States
Director: Oliver Stone
Writer: Stanley Weiser

A few analogies sprang to mind while watching W., but my favorite is one offered by history. I’m thinking of Marcus Aurelius, the last of Rome’s philosopher kings, by all accounts a learned and just ruler. Aurelius is remembered for breaking a century-old tradition and selecting his son as his successor, rather than the most capable person he knew. Emperor Commodus proved to be unstable and incapable; he alienated the Senate, failed to annex the all-but-conquered lands that would someday be responsible for Rome’s fall, and his reign marks the beginning of the Empire’s end. Looking back through history, should we forgive Aurelius for blindly placing his family before his country? Could he have possibly known his moment of fatherly weakness would be so debilitating?

Watching W, I am brought to the same question. In the film, George Bush Sr. is portrayed in a mostly positive light, except in one important aspect: he falls well short of the discipline needed to rein in his, er, free spirited son. Given countless reprieves and opportunities by his preoccupied father, “Dubya” is finally able to demonstrate his ineptitude to all upon election to the most important office in the world. This is the central thesis of the film, and while there is doubtless much supposition that went into forming the Bush Sr. character, in particular, the story is convincingly constructed – and quite compelling.

The casting is nothing short of superb, headlined with Josh Brolin’s Oscar-worthy performance. It is a little weird at first to see all these current public figures in a movie, as if you’re violating their privacy somehow; when John McCain flashed momentarily on the screen people around me laughed, as if it was funny because they “knew” him. But the “behind closed doors” element is a big part of what makes the film so fascinating. W’s life is the door that is thrown open the widest, and the film flows around his personal history. There are many funny parts, but mostly it takes on a frank and even sympathetic tone with regards to the main character. W. the story of a guy that mostly means well, but is damned from birth with a lethal combination of high expectations and insufficient grey matter. In the end, the “villains” of this film are Cheney, Karl Rove, and to some extent George Bush Sr., who precipitate Bush’s failings.

I love some of the stylistic decisions Stone makes in this film. For one, there is no hard and fast continuity, except for the vaguely emerging narrative of a failed presidency. The chronology is also tied together by recurring images, most notably Bush’s love of baseball. Food also plays an amusing and recurring role – Bush is often talking with his mouth full, and look for a priceless moment with Donald Rumsfield and a slice of pie.

Style: 8
A very stylishly executed biography with a cast that is spot on. Despite jumping back and forth through time the film hangs together splendidly, in part thanks to effective images and themes. A diverse set of locations, from Bush’s Texas ranch to various rooms around the White House, add to the already fine sense of realism.

Substance: 8
I think most people expect this film to be a scathing anti-Bush piece, but W. is surprisingly deep and reflective. Some pro-Bush people (aren’t they extinct yet?) might complain that it’s unfair, but I think W. does a good job of celebrating the man’s virtues to the extent possible. The narrative of his life turns out to be a pretty good one, and most of the individual scenes are compelling all on their own; in particular, the meeting in which he and his cabinet decide to invade Iraq is superb entertainment.

Overall: 8
W. is not quite the comedy I expected. Though it is funny, it is mostly a fair and serious look at the man we currently have heading up our government. Remarkably, parts of it are even touching (witness the scene where Bush Sr. loses his reelection bid). When a film runs the gamut of emotion like that, in a smart and compelling way, I almost want Dubya back in office so we can get sequels. That, of course, supposes Hollywood would still exist after the country’s been reduced to barbarism.

Just a couple housekeeping reviews before my review of “W” later this weekend!

1953, England
Director: John Huston
Screenplay: Huston, Truman Capote
Story: James Helvick (novel)

Beat The Devil is a John Huston-Humphrey Bogart collaboration that defies all genres. Its tone is somewhat humorous, as established by the first exchange of dialogue (in which a woman voices her distrust of passing men because they didn’t bother to check out her legs). Though there are a couple good laughs, they are buried by a meandering, extremely weak plot that takes us places and shows us events without accomplishing anything interesting. There’s sort of a nihilistic flavor here, with the end in particular making light of the characters’ dalliances.

Ultimately, it’s a film that fails to find itself. For one, too much screen time is given to the childish Gwendolen Chelm (Jennifer Jones), who is a microcosm of the film’s nonsensical bent. She asks the sort of pointed questions you might expect from a six-year-old, and tries to cheat on her husband without the slightest hint of weighing the consequences. Her irreverence is quickly tiring, and I started to wonder why Bogart’s typically cynical character would put up with her. Bogart, for his part, never seems to quite belong. For a guy who admits he’s obsessed with money, he does not go to great lengths to secure it, and his motivations are indecipherable. It’s consistent with Bogart’s actual approach to the film, which was complete apathy (he later said of the movie that “only phonies like it.”)

The problem, indeed, is that no one really seems to care about much of anything. There’s uranium in Africa, somewhere, but except perhaps for Robert Morley’s character, no one is particularly determined to claim it. There’s a hundred different digressions in the course of the story…a car falls off a cliff, a fight takes place in a bar, a ship runs aground. That might sound funny, but really it’s just plodding and random (though the car is good). The best saving grace to Beat The Devil is the rare gem or two of dialogue, including a famous piece on the nature of time.

Style: 4
Beat The Devil had poor production values, and indeed feels rather rushed; Bogart, for example, might have needed a few more takes in some scenes. Though the imagery and presentation is largely unremarkable I did enjoy the diverse phenotypes of the four antagonists.

Substance: 5
What do you do with a movie that has a few very clever lines and funny moments but buries them in a mess of unmotivated characters and pointless plot developments? If you’re me, you argue they all roughly cancel out and slap an average score on it.

Overall: 5
Beat The Devil has something of a polarizing effect on film fans, so I’m going to split the difference here. I love some of the lines, but not enough to justify such a listless plot (the scenes in the boat are particularly overlong). If you’re a diehard Bogart or Huston fan it might be worth a look…though seeing as it’s public domain, don’t pay a whole lot.

1978, United States
Director: Richard Donner
Screenplay: Robert Benton, David Newman, Leslie Newman, Mario Puzo
Story: Puzo (Really? Puzo? I had no idea.)

As far as big Hollywood movies go, Superman does a number of things right. The opening scenes are effective at portraying a mystical world, with Marlon Brando’s Jor-El injecting the right amount of gravity. The special effects, both on Krypton and throughout the movie, are obviously far less impressive now…but they deserve credit for being outstanding in their day, as well as having an enduring sense of style about them. (If we aren’t all wearing hyper-reflective suits in pitch black rooms at some point in my lifetime, I’ll have to consider humanity a fine idea that sadly came up short when it really mattered.)

The movie is also elevated due to Christopher Reeve’s performance. He looks the part more than any comic book movie star, with the possible exceptions of Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine and Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne, both coming 20 years later. Like Brando, Reeve’s presence is perfect in his role – he’s easygoing, confident, somehow warm and slightly aloof at the same time. If Superman’s tagline is to be believed, Reeve deserves most of the credit. The script, too, does a good job with the character, poking fun at the comic book clichés and having fun with his powers.

What is more questionable to my modern tastes is the portrayal of Lex Luthor. I can’t say what Luthor was like in the comic books back in the 70s, but today the character is pretty well established as a bald, extremely intelligent multi-billionaire. In this film, Luthor instead carries on the tradition of the 1950s Batman villains – he’s a self-absorbed, slightly zany madman that surrounds himself with incompetents. In this more cynical age, it’s hard to buy into such a cartoony antagonist. We also lack the naïvité to believe that a nuclear warhead could be hijacked by simply blocking the road it was being transported on. I know, I know, it was never meant to be taken seriously, but what might have been amusing in 1978 is just lame in 2008. Finally, maybe I’m being unduly influenced by Gene Hackman’s French Connection role, but I just don’t understand the decision to cast him as Lex Luthor. Isn’t he a little too blue-collar to be a supervillain?

Style: 9
Then-cutting-edge special effects, a couple fine performances, and the magnificent Superman theme all add up to a classic comic book experience. Christopher Reeve really was Superman, even more than Sean Connery was James Bond.

Substance: 6
I love the opening scenes, and how Superman is handled in this movie…the writers clearly had a lot of fun with the character. Unfortunately there are extended sequences that have aged pretty poorly: most of the scenes with Clark Kent, Superman and Lois Lane flying through space (seriously, that’s just bizarre, right?) and all the bumbling done by Luthor and his cronies.

Overall: 7
If I was born 20 years earlier, I would probably be swearing to this day that Superman is the greatest movie ever made. I could just kinda see that happening. But while I’ll tip my cap to that unrealized possibility, I have to discount all the fun of Superman for its many campy moments.

Italy, 1966
Director: Gillo Pontecorvo
Writers: Pontecorvo and Franco Solinas

The Battle of Algiers portrays urban guerrilla warfare so effectively it was screened at the Pentagon in 2003, just months after First Moron President Bush declared the Iraq War to be over. It turned out to be a prescient screening, though sadly not prescient enough to prevent the war from taking place. You can keep hoping history won’t repeat itself, but 9 times out of 10 you’re going to be crushed by the weight of a thousand yesterdays.

Algiers featured fantastic production for its time, shooting everything on location and with local actors. Sometimes you need to strain to see that sort of praise while watching an older film, viewing it through the lens of the present day. Not so with Algiers; the back-and-forth chases in the narrow streets of the city, the visual contrasts between the rebels and paratroopers, the desperate closeups and sweeping city shots all add up to a convincing visual experience, even today.  This is a movie that looks and feels just right.

The film is, notationally at least, about guerrilla fighter Ali La Pointe, who has perhaps the perfect guerrilla fighter name. In practice the film meanders quite a bit, going extended sequences without any La Pointe screen time. This is a curious decision, especially in light of several opening scenes that set up his character. The second half sees La Pointe largely supplanted in focus by Colonel Mathieu, played by the only trained actor in the film (Jean Martin).  Mathieu is the best-developed character in the film…he’s quotable and likable and is the only one to impose logical reasoning on the unfolding events.

The common thread between the two adversaries, and the real meat of the film, is a non-stop kaleidoscope of violence.   Pontecorvo portrays it with an even keel; with the exception of a couple harrowing mob beatings, there is a methodical quality to each killing.  I thought the characters, and consequently motivations, got a little too buried by the events.  This makes it harder to give the story high marks, but for a documenting, actually-there sort of feel, Algiers strikes gold.

Style: 9
To give Algiers anything lower would be doing a disservice to its place in history. Very authentic from start to finish, making for an engaging and believable viewing experience.

Substance: 6
There is something to be said for being objective, but Algiers is sometimes a little too objective. In journalism you are taught that the most important question is not “who” or “when” but “why,” and that’s the question Algiers takes great pains to ignore. Moreover, the lack of a real story structure is highlighted by a somewhat lame postscript, into which much of the “moral” is crammed. On the plus side, Colonel Mathieu stands out as a developed and interesting character.

Overall: 8
I could go with either a 7 or 8 here, depending on how much I downplay the lack of a real narrative. Ultimately I think Algiers does an exceptional job of bringing the viewer into a time and place, and the narrative is almost secondary to the experience. It is very much left to the viewer to draw any conclusions from the relentless violence, but in this day and age, doesn’t it sort of speak for itself?