The Cremator

THE CREMATOR   ***1/2

Juraj Herz

1969

IDEA:  Czechoslovakia, 1930s. A cremator, Karel Kopfrkingl, conceives of his work as divine liberation for suffering human souls. With the Nazis closing in on the country, his skewed philosophies grow even more deranged...

BLURB:  In the cinema of Madness, Rudolf Hrusínský’s cherubic, becalmed cremator counts as one of the most unhinged and terrifying of all psychopaths. Juraj Herz’s film itself, meanwhile, is perhaps the most masterful visual channeling of psychological degeneration ever put to screen. It moves relentlessly: shots pile onto and branch out of each other in furious Soviet Montage; scenes transition in mid-thought, imperceptibly, utterly mincing space and time; and wide-angle, fisheye lenses bend, bulge, and warp the plane in increasingly queasy ways. It almost doesn’t matter that the story, a forceful allegory for poisonous ideological sway, registers as comparatively slim. This is a virtuoso technical feat through and through – a textbook example of expressive editing, cinematography, and sound design, all in the service of an art form at its most breathlessly adventurous.

Little Fugitive

LITTLE FUGITIVE   ***1/2

Ray Ashley, Morris Engel, and Ruth Orkin

1953

IDEA:  Tricked into thinking he's killed his brother, 7-year-old Joey runs away to Coney Island, where a life of hotdogs, cotton candy, carousels, and pony rides awaits him.

BLURB:  Without any doubt, Little Fugitive is one of the purest, most authentic evocations of a child’s-eye view ever put to screen, as well as one of the most distinctive American films of the 1950s. Independently financed and produced with a cast made up of a few children and a couple of nameless adults, this is essentially Italian neorealism transplanted to the other side of the Atlantic. Richie Andrusco, as the pint-sized lad who we follow for most of the picture, is a genuine source of wonder: watching him react to the myriad curiosities of the world, and then watching him make his own impressions on that world, is by turns hilarious, poignant, and thrilling. Engel’s camera, often concealed, picks up the boy’s actions with a documentary-like spontaneity. His frames are pure poetry, gritty street photography made rapturous. And what better place to study the head-rush of juvenile delight, awe, and vulnerability than at the buzzing carnival of Coney Island? The long, wordless sections in which we observe the boy devour a supersized slice of watermelon or hurl himself around a batting cage feel immortal even as they’re still occurring. Although the resolution to what little story there is isn’t quite satisfactory, the images and feelings of this innocent childhood sojourn are indelible – captures of a time, place, and way of being long gone, forever etched into cinematic eternity.

The Spectacular Now

THE SPECTACULAR NOW   ***

James Ponsoldt

2013

IDEA:  Sutter Keely, a popular, self-possessed high school senior with a drinking problem, falls in love with Aimee Finecky, a good-girl bookworm. Through each other, they will deal with difficult pasts and the precarious present.

BLURB:  The Spectacular Now features two warm, naturalistic performances from leads Miles Teller and Shailene Woodley, who share a remarkably easygoing chemistry that carries the bulk of an understated – if somewhat dry – film. Their characters make up a relationship that always feels rooted in real teenage provinces: discomfort with school and family, reluctance towards accepting love, and most pointedly, an apprehension for the future. Ponsoldt rather refreshingly favors quiet moments of conversation over pop music montages, minor emotional beats over soaring epiphanies. Best of all, he nails the feeling of what it’s like to be a young person with a dubious grasp on time, realizing that the mantra of “living in the now” is merely a temporary respite from the knowledge that each “now” is another step into a future being constantly redefined.

My Favorite Films

Behold a list of my all-time favorite films, featuring movies that have been formative to my intellectual and aesthetic tastes (and film education) as well as those that have provided me the most bountiful and voluptuous filmgoing pleasures. I am passionate about all of the following works in one way or another and hold them dear to my heart - they exemplify what cinema means to me.

Note: order is always provisional! I still have so much to see. Although my top ten has remained nearly unchanged for close to a decade, so I feel pretty comfortable about that group.

 

80. The Apu Trilogy, Ray, 1955-1959

79. Close-Up, Kiarostami, 1990

78. Brazil, Gilliam, 1985

77. Amarcord, Fellini, 1973

76. The Seventh Seal, Bergman, 1957

75. Vive L'Amour, Tsai, 1994

74. Diamonds of the Night, Němec, 1964

73. Black Girl, Sembène, 1966
72. Pelle the Conqueror, August, 1988 

71. The Servant, Losey, 1963

 
70. Taste of Cherry, Kiarostami, 1997
69. Empire of the Sun, Spielberg, 1987
68. Mon Oncle, Tati, 1958
67. Swing Time, Stevens, 1936
66. The Blue Angel, Sternberg, 1930
65. The General, Keaton/Bruckman, 1927
64. Little Fugitive, Ashley/Engel/Orkin, 1953
63. Night of the Living Dead, Romero, 1968
62. Cléo from 5 to 7, Varda, 1962

61. Viridiana, Buñuel, 1961

 

60. Mamma Roma, Pasolini, 1962

59. A Serious Man, Coens, 2009

58. To Be or Not to Be, Lubitsch, 1942

57. Tabu: A Story of the South Seas, Murnau, 1931
56. Hour of the Wolf, Bergman, 1968

55. La Jetée, Marker, 1962

54. The Tree of Life, Malick, 2011

53. Howards End, Ivory, 1992

52. Forbidden Games, Clément, 1952   

51. The Right Stuff, Kaufman, 1983

 

50. Lost in Translation, Coppola, 2003

49. The Black Stallion, Ballard, 1979

48. Lawrence of Arabia, Lean, 1962

47. The Draughtsman's Contract, Greenaway, 1982

46. The Long Day Closes, Davies, 1992

45. News from Home, Akerman, 1977

44. The Last Picture Show, Bogdanovich, 1971

43. Vertigo, Hitchcock, 1958

42. Crimes and Misdemeanors, Allen, 1989
41. Woman in the Dunes, Teshigahara, 1964

 

40. Double Indemnity, Wilder, 1944

39. It Happened One Night, Capra, 1934

38. Medium Cool, Wexler, 1969

37. Network, Lumet, 1976

36. Taxi Driver, Scorsese, 1976

35. Il Posto, Olmi, 1961

34. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, Dominik, 2007

33. Pitfall, Teshigahara, 1962

32. Ran, Kurosawa, 1985

31. Metropolis, Lang, 1927

30. Ugetsu, Mizoguchi, 1953

29. Le Samouraï, Melville, 1967

28. Hud, Ritt, 1963

27. On the Waterfront, Kazan, 1954

26. The Conversation, Coppola, 1974

25. Once Upon a Time in the West, Leone, 1968

24. E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, Spielberg, 1982

23. Amadeus, Forman, 1984

22. The Silence, Bergman, 1963

21. Late Spring, Ozu, 1949

20. Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, Akerman, 1975

19. The Graduate, Nichols, 1967

18. City Lights, Chaplin, 1931

17. Chinatown, Polanski, 1974

16. Sunset Boulevard, Wilder, 1950

15. Au Revoir les Enfants, Malle, 1987

14. Cries and Whispers, Bergman, 1973

13. Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans, Murnau, 1927

12. 8 1/2, Fellini, 1963

11. The Godfather: Parts I and II, Coppola, 1972/1974

10. 2001: A Space Odyssey, Kubrick, 1968

09. The Passion of Joan of Arc, Dreyer, 1928

08. M, Lang, 1931

07. Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters, Schrader, 1985

06. Apocalypse Now, Coppola, 1979
05. Bicycle Thieves, De Sica, 1948

04. The 400 Blows, Truffaut, 1959

03. Nights of Cabiria, Fellini, 1957

02. Persona, Bergman, 1966

01. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Jackson, 2001-2003

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner

THE LONELINESS OF THE LONG DISTANCE RUNNER   ***1/2

Tony Richardson

1962

IDEA:  Colin Smith, arrested for a petty theft, is sent to a reform school. Once there, the institution's governor recognizes his talent for running and wishes to use it to prove the school can successfully rehabilitate its charges. But will Colin, chronically resistant to authority, comply?

BLURB:  The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner pulses with the energy of the French New Wave and beats with the aching heart of neorealism, finding the perfect midpoint between its restless, whirling camera movements and the inescapable grit of its backdrops to reflect on an immortal human condition. Tom Courtenay’s young, agitated working class Brit is our anchor – his is a rebel both inspirational and doomed, operating with a perpetual arrogance that would seem foul if it weren't also a necessary tool in maintaining his identity. But although his resentment towards an unjust social order is earned, it is not fruitful. His unwillingness to compromise is admirable, but it only alienates him more. Through Courtenay’s astonishing performance, the characterization of a man running into his own estrangement becomes a sobering indictment: not just of the inequities of society, but of the limits of the individual who ultimately cannot prosper outside the system that shames him.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

JEANNE DIELMAN, 23 QUAI DU COMMERCE, 1080 BRUXELLES   ****

Chantal Akerman

1975

IDEA:  A woman goes about her everyday schedule: making the bed, washing dishes, preparing dinner for her son, brushing her hair, and occasionally turning a trick.

BLURB:  For its hypnotic, sedative cadences; for its fastidious depiction of spatial dynamics; for its temporal experimentation, harnessing shape, light, color, sound and composition to convey reservoirs of subdued pain; for its rigorous documentation of time, visibly passing; for its social critique of bourgeois complacency, female repression, and stifled sexuality; but most of all, for the ways in which it communicates, agonizingly, the comforts and indignities of routine, Jeanne Dielman is a masterpiece. Stretching out across 200 minutes but focusing intently on only one woman and a couple of rooms, it manages to turn simple domesticity into an occasion for existential dread. Long, structured takes let us read the frames from top to bottom and left to right, soaking up their patterns with the same studiousness by which Jeanne runs her life. This film “reality” is so familiar and so mundane it moves past notions of real or cinematic and merely becomes transcendent. But then it slips into disorder. After having paid careful attention to each detail, we immediately realize when the symmetry has been thrown out of whack. Cracks begin to show. Each missed beat puts us on edge. Anxiety in the viewer grows in tandem with the character. Akerman unflinchingly shows us what few, if any, even dare: not just the crisis of women locked into programmed roles, but the subtle malevolence of the ordinary.

Close-Up

CLOSE-UP   ***1/2

Abbas Kiarostami

1990

IDEA:  Hossain Sabzian enters an upper-class Iranian household proclaiming to be famed filmmaker Mohsen Makhmalbaf. After a few days, he is arrested for fraud. Director Abbas Kiarostami steps in to film his trial.

BLURB:  A serendipitous confluence of fiction and reality, art and documentation, Close-Up is both the creation of a consummate filmmaker and the fortuitous unraveling of a particularly bizarre series of real-life events. That the two can hardly be separated, let alone told apart, is just a piece of what makes this intricate, slippery film so remarkable. Kiarostami is known for his preoccupation with the paradox of “cinematic realism.” Here, he miraculously stumbles upon his greatest coup: a real story of a man who created the illusion that he was a real, renowned director, only to be revealed as an imposter before his real story was turned into a movie that’s comprised of both reality and… fiction. Confusing? Well, a little. Picking at the knots of this hall-of-mirrors narrative only uncovers more layers of possible realities and deceptions. But when you stand back from this Close-Up, the picture pulls into fuller focus, and the depiction of a man literally haunted by the capabilities of the moving image turns into a broader portrait of the ways in which art and life, representation and actuality, reinforce one another indefinitely. Cinema may be a distortion, but it is also a reflection, and in the end it arrives at something resembling truth.

Il Posto

IL POSTO   ****

Ermanno Olmi

1961

IDEA:  A young man encounters the quirks and perils of working life when he applies for a job at a large corporation.

BLURB:  Applying neorealist themes to a radically modern milieu, Il Posto depicts an Italy situated queasily between old and new, conservative and progressive, leaving its characters to wander in a kind of Kafkaesque limbo. Its rendering of a young man caught within the stifling concrete corridors of this world is astonishing in its canniness and breathtaking in its visual strategies. Olmi’s shot compositions are the stuff of dreams: playing immaculately with scale, depth, and geometry, his boxy, compartmentalized frames - often extreme wide shots - are stunning illustrations of an uneasy interplay between bodies and starkly enclosed spaces. These areas become all the more alienating when they’re underscored by the long gulps of deadening silence that overwhelm the soundtrack. Sandro Panseri, meanwhile, marvelously embodies the awkwardness and bewilderment of his fish-out-of-water experiences. With bug eyes, diminutive smile and pasty complexion, he is an endearing entry point to a world so mundane yet perplexing we realize, yes – it’s ours.