26: The Idiots (a.k.a. Dogme #2, a.k.a. Idioterne—Original Danish title)

            Of all the filmmakers I’ve encountered on the 1001 quest, I think Lars von Trier may be the one that is always the most difficult to watch.  He makes films about taboo subjects and he never pulls his punches.  This trait has served him well in many cases, but I think he goes too far with his Dogme 95 debut The Idiots (1998).  The film concerns a group of youthful, healthy, middle class Danes who enjoy acting mentally retarded in public.  Good taste alone dictates that this film should not have been made, but von Trier has no interest in good taste.  Much like his characters here, he wants his observers to feel uncomfortable. 

            I’ve never been a fan of directors who want me not to enjoy their films, and yet I can’t say that I’ve disliked everything I’ve seen from von Trier.  I can think of only a few films that I felt less comfortable watching than his Antichrist (2009), but I really enjoyed his The Kingdom (1994; # 107), and his Breaking the Waves (1996) is a masterpiece.  Like any other director, it’s expected that he’ll be hit-and-miss over a career, but von Trier’s misses are often epics of grossness and humiliation. 

            Here, he introduces us to Karen (Bodil Jørgensen), a lonely woman who happens upon a group of people in a restaurant who appear to be mentally handicapped.  One of them drags her out of the dining room and into a cab after the maitre d' asks them to leave, and reluctantly she goes along.  The tension breaks when it becomes evident that this embarrassing incident has all been an act to avoid paying the check, and that the man, Stoffer (Jens Albinus), who grabbed her is playing a gag.  Karen is eventually asked to join in with Stoffer and the other friends who stay at his house who also enjoy “spassing,” as they call it. 

            Consisting of a series of such events, and the conversations between these spassing sessions, The Idiots is ostensibly a documentary that also includes occasional “interviews” with the members of the group.  However, this pretense, and the interview segments that support it, feels to me as though it were an afterthought from von Trier, who realized how often his handheld camera revealed boom mics and crew shadows.  There are those who claim that these elements are acceptable because of the film’s status as a Dogme 95 production, but those rules have always, to me, read as an excuse for shoddy filmmaking, and not as the purported “manifesto” that was eventually abandoned, even by its own creators.  

            There is another weakness to The Idiots as well; one that I made similar mention of in my review of Fat City (1975; #27).  There I said that no film could be great if you spent much of its runtime wondering what another actor would do with one of its roles.  Great films don’t allow you such thoughts because you’re too wrapped up in them to have them.  Similarly, with The Idiots I spent much of the film thinking about another movie.  Fight Club (1999) was, for some, the controversial film of the late 90s.  Overly violent and easily imitable, that movie became the problem with millennial Hollywood.  But I like Fight Club.  The connection between the two films that I felt was glaring was another piece of media that reveled in bad taste, MTV’s “Jackass.”  Essentially, both The Idiots and Fight Club take a 3 minute “Jackass” gag and extend it into a two hour movie.  Johnny Knoxville, Bam, and Steve-O were always hurting each other and acting retarded in public, and for some reason my generation ate it up like ice cream in July. 

            In both Fight Club and The Idiots a group of people unable to deal with the realities of contemporary life escape into a subculture where they feel better when they pretend that something is wrong with them.  They come to form a superficial family through their dysfunctions and their actions, and in both films characters begin to argue about one another’s commitment to the idea that brought them together.  The difference between the two pictures comes in the fact that Fight Club attempts to explain these characters’ reasons for dissatisfaction and motivations for alternative lifestyles, where, for the most part, The Idiots leaves these questions unexplored.  Its characters throw around the word “bourgeoisie” and talk about the failures of their society, but they never reach the point that the characters in Fight Club come to, in which they realize that what they truly hate is themselves.

In The Idiots only Karen’s motivations for joining the group are ever revealed, and by the time they were I’d stop caring.  I’d already dismissed the characters; the same way I dismissed the guys on “Jackass.”  They were immature and selfish, and while there’s nothing wrong with such characters in movies, they do need to be one of three things: a villain, a child, or a person with the potential for change.  I didn’t see any potential for change in The Idiots, and thus it did nothing for me.

Language: Danish

Runtime: 117 Minutes

Available @Youtube.com  

Grade: 1.5 Hats Off

27: Fat City

           From the IMDb* I learned what might have been, in the case of John Huston’s Fat City (1972).  Huston was interested in Marlon Brando for the role of the down-on-his-luck boxer Tully, but Brando was indefinite about signing on for the film.  This was perhaps due to the fact that he was holding out for the role of Vito Corleone in The Godfather, a part that Paramount didn’t want him for.  The role seemed like a perfect fit for the actor who’d fallen from Hollywood’s good graces, but when Huston could wait no longer for Brando, the part went to the relatively unknown Stacy Keach.  Huston also thought he had a lock for the film’s second lead— an up-and-coming fighter— but Beau Bridges thought he was too old for the role, and ultimately suggested his younger brother Jeff, whose resume consisted primarily of TV work before breaking out in The Last Picture Show in 1971.  Had Brando, or a slightly more accomplished actor than Keach— let’s say Jack Nicholson—taken the lead, and the older Bridges brother been less insistent, 1972 might have been a very different year for movies.

            I mention Nicholson for two reasons.  First, in 1972 he starred in the underappreciated The King of Marvin Gardens for BBS productions, a film remarkably similar in theme to Fat City.  Second, and more notably, I found it impossible to watch Keach’s performance in this film and not think that he was doing his best Nicholson.  In most cases when critics make this claim about an actor they mean it as knock on their performance, but here I intend it as the highest form of compliment to both parties.  Nicholson’s dark and edgy style was worthy at the time of being imitated, and Keach, looking very much like Nicholson, nails the restrained frustration and controlled rage that I think is Jack at his best (I can take or leave him when he goes really over the top). 

            As Tully, Keach uses his energy economically, and in this way handles the material more effectively than perhaps Nicholson could have.  The film opens as he searches for a match.  He’s got his cigarette—the last one in the pack—but he needs a light.  By the time he puts on pants and exits his shabby hotel room to go to the corner he doesn’t want the smoke any more.  He heads to the YMCA to workout, trying to make his way back into the fight game.  There he meets Duane (Bridges) and asks him to spar.  Tully can only dance for a few moments before the abuse he’s put his body through catches up with him, but from what he’s seen he thinks Duane may have a shot as a fighter.  He directs the reluctant kid to his old trainer, Ruben (Nicholas Colasanto).

            The remainder of the film charts the divergent, but often linked paths these two fighters will follow.  Both men meet women that hurt their chances of success, but the narrative moves back and forth between the two in showing how much they seem to care about this fact.  Tully falls in with Oma (Susan Tyrell), an alcoholic who’s opinion of her man is only cushioned from rock bottom by her opinion of herself.  She and Tully seem to need each other in the way some truck drivers say that they need to pick up hitchhikers to keep them awake.  It’s dangerous and irrational, but it’s better than falling asleep at the wheel alone.

            Duane makes the mistake that many young men make in cars with girls, and he feels more or less obligated to do the right thing.  He loves Faye (Candy Clark), but didn’t see himself supporting a family at nineteen.  After about a year he and Tully run into each other as they both work as day laborers, and somehow the two convince themselves that they should both take one more shot in the ring.  However, it may not be so easy for the aging Tully, especially when old wounds between he and Ruben don’t seem to have scarred over.  

            Because Fat City is a relatively short film at just under 100 minutes, particularly when compared to The Godfather, it’s entirely possible that the filming of that epic had completed by the time Brando was offered the role in this picture.  However, I can think of another reason he might have been reluctant to sign on to Huston’s film.  He may not have wanted to deliver another “I could have been a contender” speech, which is effectively what much of Tully’s late dialogue is, and be accused of becoming a parody of his former self.  After all, eighteen years after On the Waterfront (1954) is a long time to have been a washed-up boxer.  But there is still another coincidence that makes this actual vs. desired casting bout so interesting.  In this role Keach beat out Brando in initial voting for the New York Film Critics Circle choice for Best Actor of 1972.  However, neither performer garnered a majority of the vote, which was required by the rules of the time.  A necessary rules change was implemented that called for a revote, and both men ended up losing to Laurence Olivier for his performance in Sleuth.

                Though I was unaware of all of this while watching the film, I was nonetheless, as I noted, distracted by the thought of Nicholson in the lead.  I think Keach’s performance here is particularly good, and he leaves more room for the other actors (particularly Colasanto and Tyrell) to give their own fine performances than Jack would have left.  It is a fine film, and one that deserves a wider home video release**, but there is a truth that no reviewer can ever avoid.  If during a movie you’re unable to keep from thinking of what it would be like if a certain detail was tweaked, then it isn’t a great movie.  But Fat City comes awfully close.

Language: English

Runtime: 99 Minutes 

Grade: 3.5 Hats Off

*The IMDb blurb on this film mentions that the two primary characters are brothers.  There was nothing in the film that even implied this in my recollection.  The two men seem to meet for the first time just after the opening title sequence.

**It should not have been difficult to find to the point that I’m seeing it with only 26 films remaining on the 1001 list.

28: Golden River (a.k.a. The Golden Thread; a.k.a. Subarnarekha – Original Bengali title)

             Not many Indian films have had the impact on me that Ritwik Ghatak’s Golden River (1965) had.  Watching the film earlier today was dreamlike.  Indian films often have that effect on me, but never in this particular combination of emotion and degree.  Indian cinema has a taste that combines so many flavors, but is unique unto itself.  Often it resembles one of two genres, both of which were heavily influential on the early Indian film movement.  Some enjoyable and even remarkable films from the subcontinent take much of their look and feel from the Hollywood musical of the 1950s, and it is well-known that these pictures are adored by domestic fans and have a growing international following.  While I like some of these pictures, I prefer, however, the Indian films that barrow a great deal from Italian neorealist works.  Golden River is a film of this variety, and I must say that it measures up to, and even surpasses, the Italian masters in many regards. 

            Like so many of those Italian films, the central element of this story is a family desperate to stay intact in whatever way they can.  However, the added cultural distinctions caused by India’s Caste system lay the foundation here for a deeper -rooted tragedy than that of the neorealist films that dealt with postwar poverty.  Indeed, characters in this film often confront the fact that they are regarded as less than human by their surrounding society.  This element is brought to the forefront early in the picture, as it begins with the news of Gandhi’s death reaching a refugee camp outside Calcutta.  With human rights leaders now the target of assassins, the Bengali expatriates hold out little hope for triumph over their greedy landlords.  Though conditions have the prospect of improving, and a school has been established, Ishwar (Abhi Bhattacharya) decides to leave with his younger sister, Shita, and take a job in a provincial factory.  

            Dismissed by his older sister and brother-in-law as a deserter of the refugee cause, Ishwar sets out with Shita and the orphan boy Ibhiram.  The small band makes it to the province only to discover that conditions there are not much better.  Still, Ishwar is determined to make the most of the job he is offered and hope that there will be room for advancement.  He seeks a better life for his adopted brother as well, sending Ibhiram away to be educated despite his low-caste status. 

            Years later, when Ibhiram has completed his schooling, he returns to the province.  While there he reveals his love for Shita, and the two decide to be married.  Ishwar will have nothing of it however, and he quickly decides to send Ibhiram to engineering school in Germany.  Shortly thereafter, a chance encounter with the adopted boy’s mother reveals to the factory community that Ibhiram is an imposter.  Rather than suffer humiliation and despair, the young man and his adopted sister elope on the eve of her wedding to a man who could secure the family’s status. 

            As years pass, the couple, now with a child, do all they can to live independently of their older brother, but financial troubles cause them to discuss contacting him.  In despair, Shita swears that she would rather commit suicide than rely on Ishwar.  Though conditions eventually improve, trouble never seems to be far away from any of the family members, and the story, from its beginning, seems destined to end in tragedy.

            Ghatak’s gift as a director here is that he understands his story needs no embellished flourishes.  What he’s written stands on its own merit, and he needs only for his actors to deliver on the words he’s committed to the page.  He draws fine work from all of his leads, even the younger children in earlier scenes, and uses close ups to great effect.  The iconic American director John Ford said that there wasn’t any secret to great directing, that all you had to do was “photograph the people’s eyes.”  Ghatak takes this philosophy to heart, and indeed at times his characters’ words seem to spring forth not from their mouths but from their pupils. 

            The dream feeling created by other Indian films comes from the colors and the movement of the performers and the camera.  In this movie, the dreamlike effect comes from the eyes.  In each of his characters, they are expressive and vivid.  They convey rage, disappointment, longing, love, and most of all sorrow.  This is a sad film, but sad in a way too beautiful to describe.  It has music, but is not a musical, and passion, but is not a love story.  Many viewers looking to try out Indian cinema start with Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy.  That’s where I began, but I wish I’d started here.  What a pity that this film is largely overlooked, and that I had to go to youtube to find it.  Surely anyone who sees it there, with its poor transfer and somewhat illegible subtitles, will agree that it’s due for the remastering treatment.

Language: Bengali

Runtime: 121 Minutes

Available @Youtube.com

Grade: 3 Hats Off       

29: The Spider’s Stratagem (Strategia del Ragno – Original Italian title)

            Having searched deep into the catacombs of the internet to find a complete stream of Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Spider’s Stratagem (1970) I must say that I’m disappointed with what I found.  Like all Bertolucci pictures, this film (made the year after his The Conformist (1969)) has a structure that flies in the face of any notion of traditional cinematic plot, opting instead for a somewhat beguiling narrative composition that attempts to disregard time altogether.  While this technique is effective in some of the director’s pictures, here it feels more like a mere exercise in defiance rather than an approach that enhances the somewhat simplistic story.

            Giulio Brogi takes on a double role here as Athos Magnani, a man searching for the truth about the death of his father, and also as that father, a political radical, who is seen in flashback.  Magnani Jr. arrives in the town of Tara by train, somewhat uncertain about why he’s been called there.  He’s been summoned by an older woman, Draifa (Alida Valli), who says she was his father’s mistress.  When they meet, she immediately (and predictably) notes that he looks just like her former lover, and it’s no surprise in a Bertolucci film that romantic tension will build between them throughout.  She’s always suspected that the father Magnani was murdered by a local and not by the government to prevent him from assassinating Mussolini as was concluded, and now she wants the son to help her investigate the killing.

            The senior Magnani has become a local legend in death, and his status as a freedom fighter is noted on a statue that stands at the center of town.  Through sweeping camera movements, Bertolucci floats through various parts of the village, transitioning between the present and the past.  These shots and sequences unveil elements of Magnani’s rise in the fascist-resistance movement, and the development of his relationship with Draifa.  This approach is not wholly ineffective in advancing the story of the present and giving it depth in the flashbacks, but because the same technique has been used to much greater effect by subsequent filmmakers, here it ultimately feels stale to a viewer born in the age of home video. 

            Still, I feel that The Spider’s Stratagem suffers from a much greater narrative weakness.  Even if Bertolucci isn’t primarily concerned with story, this film is ostensibly a mystery.  To engage audiences it therefore should at least attempt to keep them guessing as to whom the killer might be.  What this film doesn’t have is any red hearings.  We’re only introduced to a small number of characters, and because it must be one of them, there aren’t many possibilities.  In fact, it’s almost painfully obvious who actually killed the father.  Great directors can get away with this circumstance in noirs (sometimes) because that genre is always about style over substance, but here I didn’t quite care enough about how Bertolucci was leading me on this journey to completely disregard the inevitable destination.  Some reviews I’ve read contend that there is a twist within the “twist,” but it may have been lost in translation.

            That said, what we are left with is a film that avoids its own obvious conclusion, simply feeling like it is staving it off only to meet some runtime requirement.  The interplay between Draifa and the jr. Magnani isn’t magnetic enough to keep the scenes in the present compelling, and the flashbacks become formulaic at best.  Perhaps seeing a better print of the film might change my feelings, as several write-ups that I read noted the beautiful cinematography which I likely lost to pixelization, but I can’t foresee wanting to view this movie again for some time.  After all, some sacrifices, even bad quality, have to be made if I have any hope of ever completing the 1001 list.

This morning, my wife asked me what this film was about.  When I gave her a plot synopsis she said simply, “that sounds generic.”  She nailed it.  Even the title, which sounds intriguing, is ultimately lackluster.  Apparently, it’s going unexplained in the film drove some viewers crazy.  But with every online mention of the film noting the “web of lies” at its center, it seems rather…well, yep, generic is the word.  Here’s hoping the next film is better.

Language: Italian

Runtime: 98 Minutes

Available @veoh.com

Grade: 1 Hat Off

30: The Unbelievable Truth

            Indie-darling Hal Hartley shot The Unbelievable Truth (1989), his debut feature, in only 11 days, primarily using locations in his hometown on Long Island.  These details, which I learned after viewing the film, shed light on the director’s ability to create, but not overstate, his setting.  It feels like a real place because it is, and Hartley isn’t overly concerned with shoving its quirks down his audiences’ throats.  They are there simply as background for his characters, whose own idiosyncrasies speak for themselves. 

            We are introduced to Josh (Robert Burke), a man dressed all in black, who is hitchhiking into town.  He carries with him a black tote, and is often asked if he is a priest.  “No, I’m a mechanic,” he always replies.  He’s good with engines, but he doesn’t drive: “I don’t have a driver’s license.”

Josh openly admits to those who pick him up that he’s just been released from prison, and when he says so he speaks with the calm sincerity of someone who expects for his word to be taken at face value.  He’s honest, subdued, and polite.  He’s dropped off in a vacant lot that borders the overpass leading to New York City, and we get the sense that everyone in town wishes they were taking a road to anywhere else.  A waitress walks by, dressed for work.  “Hi Pearl,” he says.  The woman recognizes him and faints.  

Elsewhere in town we meet Audry (Adrienne Shelly), a teen too preoccupied with the nuclear threat to think about school.  It isn’t that she’s not bright; she’s gotten an acceptance letter from Harvard.  Her father (Christopher Cooke) means well, but he’s always saying the wrong thing.  “Do you know what this is going to cost me?” he says when he sees the letter, before even thinking to congratulate her.  Audry spends most of her time reading and listening for the plains that she’s certain will drop the bomb at any moment.  She too dresses in all black, and it feels inevitable that she and Josh will meet and be attracted to one another.  In other films this would be an almost unbearable predictability, but Hartley is wise enough to let the various other characters in his story have their time before anything can happen between his two main characters.  He allows for the reasons that Josh and Audry shouldn’t be together to surface, before insisting upon the reasons that they should.

Rumors about Josh seem to intrigue everyone in town.  It’s seems he killed Pearl’s sister, or her father, or both, but everyone seems to be confused about the order of events.  In any case, the phrase “mass murderer” is intentionally overused to comic effect by nearly every character.  

This is a claustrophobic film in many respects.  It feels like the same ten or eleven people keep bumping into one another, which is unlikely even in small towns.  Josh comes to work at Audry’s father’s auto shop despite all of the speculations, and a photographer who becomes interested in shooting Audry seems to turn up everywhere, as does her ex-boyfriend.  This gives the movie the hint of being forced, but I don’t suspect that Hartley much cared.  I think he means to insinuate that it often feels like we can’t escape the same small groups of people, and that’s what makes most of the film’s funniest scenes memorable.  Characters act the way they do to save face, because it seems unlikely that they will ever take the highway out of town.  They accept that they can’t escape the people who they will be surrounded by for the rest of their lives.  Only Audry seems to be immune to this complacency. 

Hartley, working with mostly novice actors, manages to create a sense of place and of people that are both unique and common.  They work well for this film, and at some moments I got the feeling that this was the director’s love letter to his home.  But at the same time, this could be any small town, anywhere, roamed by people afraid to admit that there is anything beyond its borders.  The film captures these characters in this place with love and with humor, managing to make both their flaws and their eccentricities real.

Language: English

Runtime: 90 Minutes

Available @veoh.com

Grade: 3.5 Hats Off