The All-Time List Discussion Thread (Decade Project Vol. 3)

[A man stayed-put]

I've been following along with this project, trying to fit in as many eligible films (Anatomy of a Murder is one I'm hoping to get to before the deadline) as possible. I've seen a lot of good films but only two that have ended up on my provisional 50 (so far)-
A Brighter Summer Day, which is as great as I've heard it described (and many thanks to zedz for his posts in one of the other threads, which added to my appreciation no end) and Stage Door which was a wonderful surprise in its tightrope act of very funny comedy and gut punch melodrama. I'd strongly recommend both to anyone who has not seen them.

Late in the day though it may be, I'd also like to make a case for what will be my number one- A Canterbury Tale (Powell and Pressburger). It's a complex, deeply strange and profoundly moving film, and I think it captures some of the best and worst aspects of the English mind-set (remarkably, as its thematic thrust apparently comes more from Pressburger than Powell). This feels even more relevant post-Brexit- the somewhat contradictory love for the country and its heritage/history side by side with a pride in inclusivity and acceptance that we’re more alike than different (granted, used in the film as a wartime nod to the US).
The complexity of the Colpepper character is still something I’m wrestling with after countless viewings.

I really feel P&P are, along with Renoir and Ray the most humane and understanding of filmmakers.

It’s also one of the richest considerations of the magic of the countryside , looks beautiful, and for pure emotional heft is hard to beat.

[zedz]

I struggled to get my list down to 50, but A Canterbury Tale is the Powell / Pressburger that made it. All of their films are rich, but the emotional complexity you note in this film always seems like a fresh miracle, particularly as, on a superficial level, it's a propaganda film (and it also works brilliantly as such). The same could be said of Cavalcanti's Went the Day Well? - a particularly painful comparison as that's the film that ended up as my number 51.

[colinr0380]

I suppose it all comes down to whether you want to shun the film which either involves someone pouring glue in your hair, or having Thora Hird come around to machine gun you!

[swo17]

As a reminder, on Sunday it'll be two weeks until the deadline.

[Rayon Vert]

Persona. Bergman goes even more abstract than The Silence, in a more ”avant-garde” film that, while still dealing with the quintessentially Bergman themes – how people wear masks, hurt and betray each other whether intentionally or not, God’s silence, the near-impossibility of communication, loneliness, the search for meaning to existence –, affords much less opportunity for finding a “fixed” meaning. It seems Bibi Andersson, in an incredible performance, and Liv Ullmann are really one, but even that can’t be decided given that so much that we see is not clearly stated as reality or hallucination, not to mention that experimental opening sequence and the intrusion into the film of other jarring audio and visual extra-narrative elements. One could understand, given these qualities, how such material could be interpreted as pseudo-profound, but such a judgment would be facile and there is a remarkable fierceness to this film that feels much truer than The Silence. In pure visual terms, this is unarguably Bergman’s purest, most “transcendental” film up to this point in time, presenting the most “clean” of images, while going even farther than ever in showcasing the human face. It’s immensely striking and leaves an indelible impression.

In the last months I’ve already rewatched some of my previously most highly-related Bergmans – The Seventh Seal, Shame, Through a Glass Darkly, Smiles of a Summer Night – and this will be the last one until I join up with the Bergman list project in two weeks!

In a Lonely Place. Watched the Criterion blu for the first time. I’d only seen this one time before, didn’t remember it well, and I was quite disappointed this time around. Just on very surface level of story appreciation, I had problems with the Bogart (Dixon Steele) character – the whole point seems to be, as voiced by his agent Mel, that you have to take him for what he is (words to that effect), Intermittent Explosive Disorder wart and all. But it’s hard to sympathize with a guy who was ready to bash another guy in the head with a rock for no good reason (in fact a car accident that Steele was responsible for), just because of his violent temper. It meant that I just wished that I didn’t in the end care whether his innocence for the murder was proved, and only wished for Laurel to leave him no matter what. Enjoyable enough film with the setting and the Hollywood-about-Hollywood aspects, but for me definitely not the existential noir classic it’s made out to be.

I really feel P&P are, along with Renoir and Ray the most humane and understanding of filmmakers.

Nice and interesting observation in relation to my reaction to the following:

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. I always underestimate this film and I almost didn’t watch it again for this project, thinking it would likely not make the cut. Well I was reminded once more that I always enjoy it more than I think I will, and this time, in fact, I fell completely in love with it. This was one of the most rewarding rewatches for this project. This is stellar filmmaking, especially considering the historical conditions in which it was made, and I loved the whole mood of the thing from epic beginning to end. The look of the film throughout (sets, costumes, lighting) is exquisite (Alfred Junge did the production design, so not really a surprise) and I can’t think of a Technicolor blu-ray of this time period that looks better. And there’s something very moving about this film’s meditation on time going by – perhaps the effect is even greater because there is no sentimentality and just the right light touch of comedy throughout. P&P turned this satirical comic strip character into a centerpiece for something extremely human and stirring.

And that fantastic opening scene where we jump full-throttle behind speeding Home Guard soldiers on motorcycles made me wonder if David Lean was inspired for his start of Lawrence of Arabia. This will be extremely high on my list.

Touch of Evil. Great film on all fronts, but I’m ranking it just under the cut-off mark.

A Man Escaped. A great Bresson that’s the mirror-image twin of Pickpocket. In both we have a lonely man on an obsessive quest where all he has and uses are his hands, in an ultimately spiritual journey. In both movies, the use of music (Mozart, Fischer) is strongly responsible for creating that sacred aura.

Don’t Look Now. One of the great movies about psi (presentiment, mediumship, precognition, if I’m counting right). I enjoy this one a little bit more every time out. Roeg’s visual & editing style elevates the content to another level.

Early Summer. There’s something grand and yet delightful in the simplest way in the way Ozu creates this family’s world, filled with interesting characters and the relationships between them. My favorite of his, though unfortunately there’s 50 other films on this list I still prefer.

Red Desert. In the slimmest of narratives, we have a woman who is suffering a mental breakdown which seems to have some sort of relationship with the environment, this poisonous world of chemical factories and near science fiction landscapes that nevertheless exerts a modernist beauty like a piece of art work. This is perhaps Antonioni’s most visually pleasing film, which is saying a lot. I haven’t involved myself in reading about this film and the different possible interpretations, which is something I'd like to one day – it feels like a film that could be infinitely rewarding on that front. The color red predominates in many of the sequences, and there is an ever greater abundance of angular, horizontal and vertical object lines and forms in the compositions. Also, in the abstract music that starts the film, the human voice sounds at some point like a flute or an electronic sound, and then we’re told Giuliana has been in an accident, hit by a truck, and her husband says her “gears” still aren’t quite right. It’s as if she’s a metaphor for the disquieting melding of the human/natural and the non-human (human-made) worlds. And what's with all the ships? In the end, some sequences drew me in more than others (that dream sequence is exquisite), and I’m ranking it just below L’Avventura on the films on this list, which means 4th and out of the running, but still very high (top 55/60).

[Rayon Vert]

Lady Killer
At first this comes across as Gremillon's weakest film at least among those I've seen. It is certainly handsome beyond belief and successfully captures a light romantic air, but it also comes across as just another Jean Gabin film. Tried and true and nothing more with a hilariously straight faced title sincere in its old fashioned romantic notions. Then Gabin becomes a civilian and the movie becomes truly amazing and relevant in the powerful way that only the author of Little Lise could have accomplished. The title becomes at this point an irony. Not the comedic irony, though, of romantic feminism one would expect even as there are screwball elements of that present. Rather it is the sad, cruel irony of a society which builds up idols from warriors with an almost fascist glee only to ignore them and leave them to die as bums forgotten and seemingly useless once they become mortal again. The plot sticks pretty closely to the wooing beats everyone should expect from the events of the first half hour, but they are largely left uncomfortable due to the callous way the role reversal plays out. The nastiness of Balin's toying is severely compounded by how weak Gremillon allows Gabin to become particularly in the internal conflict of reality and delusion. While it would be a stretch to say that Gabin is not glamorous here, this is nonetheless a noticeable departure from how cool his other roles in the era are.

The characterization is often a rather radical departure from the more famous Renoir attitudes to such events. As a contrast this particularly brings to mind The Lower Depths which has such an aloof attitude to the loss of respect through class that it makes Gremillon seem almost a realist in melodramatic clothing. Even if Gabin wants to take on a masculine cool like the scene with the mother he's left helpless and cute fulfilling expectations in a way that gets him laughed out of embarrassment. The film shows what a nothing society can leave its heroes as. This of course isn't to say that Gabin is a likable guy. He's an obnoxious, self entered, loud mouthed, jackass, but that is just as true when he was in uniform as out. The fawning playfulness of the opening is utterly absurd since a soldier is still a man, but that doesn't make the humiliation of the rest of the picture some truly deserved thing either. That Gremillon accomplishes all of this dour stuff without for a second losing his playful tone is perhaps the film's greatest success. It never really feels hopeless or lecturing even as the tact suggests some negativity should be in the air. The film even manages to produce a number of great jokes including at least one visual gag that plays on voyeurism like a screwball Hitchcock. The only shot in the film that seems to give into the hopelessness is in the third act at the bar from the first after everyone has left the camera sits far away from a defeated Gabin with his head down and body small way off in the distance. It's a rare moment of desolation felt with maximum strength because the film hadn't dared to go there before. Gremillon might not aesthetically be the best of the French directors from this era (though the shot of Gabin looking at Balin behind the curtain at the end is as good as they come), but of the ones I've gotten to know he has easily the best mastery of theme and tone with a brilliant ear for emotions.

aka Gueule d'amour. Just finished the rewatch (on the great-looking, new 4K-resolution TF1 L'Héritage blu-ray - unfortunately it doesn't have English subs). This confirmed my earlier appreciation of the film. What struck me is how the first 25 minutes or thereabout feels like a light comedy, and progressively the tone changes until it is completely savage, and the film only gets better as it goes on. This is pure melodrama but brilliantly done. Knives, I'd disagree with you about how you portray Gabin as such a self-centered and unlikable guy. He definitely comes across as a flawed human, but he came across to me as just that, a regular human - and he is true in his friendship to René, and friendship seems to be a theme here, though the tragedy brought on by obsessional love - and by that poetic realism Fate that dooms the hero - is what of course wins out. Viewed from today's perspective, there is something slightly misogynistic in the way Madeleine is portrayed, a femme fatale if there ever was one. The motivations for her behavior at the end aren't explained - but we've glimpsed tenderness in her nevertheless, so that she isn't uni-dimensional either.

I share your admiration for the film's gorgeousness. There are plenty of exterior scenes and they're extremely pleasing - and the film gains a lot from its setting (for the most part) in Orange in southeastern France.

[A man stayed-put]

The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp. I always underestimate this film and I almost didn’t watch it again for this project, thinking it would likely not make the cut. Well I was reminded once more that I always enjoy it more than I think I will, and this time, in fact, I fell completely in love with it. This was one of the most rewarding rewatches for this project. This is stellar filmmaking, especially considering the historical conditions in which it was made, and I loved the whole mood of the thing from epic beginning to end. The look of the film throughout (sets, costumes, lighting) is exquisite (Alfred Junge did the production design, so not really a surprise) and I can’t think of a Technicolor blu-ray of this time period that looks better. And there’s something very moving about this film’s meditation on time going by – perhaps the effect is even greater because there is no sentimentality and just the right light touch of comedy throughout. P&P turned this satirical comic strip character into a centerpiece for something extremely human and stirring.

And that fantastic opening scene where we jump full-throttle behind speeding Home Guard soldiers on motorcycles made me wonder if David Lean was inspired for his start of Lawrence of Arabia. This will be extremely high on my list.

Blimp is top 20 on my list, as is The Red Shoes. I agree that it’s an easy film to underestimate as it starts in the mode of light comedy and slowly shifts through the registers almost imperceptibly, it’s only when you hit Walbrook’s (rightly celebrated) monologue that you realise what a different film it has become.
Livesey and Walbrook are, of course, superb but it’s always Kerr that comes to mind first and foremost- the scene where Walbrook first catches sight of her third incarnation in the car is one of those moments (they seem to be more frequent as I get older) that I have trouble even talking about without misting up.

I think it was John Milius who said about The Searchers that he felt like having not seen the film for many years, after watching it as a child, he started to believe he’d dreamt it, Blimp has a similar effect on me and I’ve seen it three or four times now but it never plays quite as I remember……..and now I’m thinking it should be higher on my list.

[Rayon Vert]

Yeah, Kerr is a big part of this film's immense charm. I don't remember her being better - or looking more lovely.

[domino harvey]

There's a reason MGM snatched her contract up after this film! I am less enamored with P+P overall than most here but Blimp is handily their best and makes my list for its novelistic density and scope

[John Shade]

I agree with much of what's been said about Colonel Blimp, especially the impressive novelistic complexity from a simple cartoon, subtle humor, and rumination on memory. It's also one of the most beautiful movies about friendship, and the duel scene is one of my favorites in cinema. (Interesting to compare to the duel from Barry Lyndon, another favorite of mine, with very different results.) Maybe the first time you see it there's some frustration that we don't get the full duel, but then later you realize it's only shown as the circumstance for a beautiful friendship. Just thinking about this now means it's time for a rewatch.

I have to say this film will likely be in my top 20, but I'd like to gauge the board's reaction to A Matter of Life and Death. I feel very strongly about this film while also able to recognize it's weaknesses. Some of the afterlife scenes could be considered silly; maybe the entire situation doesn't appeal. The overtly patriotic section/British-American Revolutionary is a bit long. But there are moments of this that I love so much: the opening ten minutes, Goring's interactions with Niven, and the rumination on love and time. Humane ruminations beautifully rendered. I definitely see your link between Renoir and P&P as they touch on similar themes in a nuanced way (plus Black Narcissus is like a nightmarish version of the River).

[knives]

The Good Fairy
If nothing else this is the funniest film I've seen for the purposes of this project. Frank Morgan is such an oafish delight even by his standards that it almost comes as a shock. Marshall alternatively hasn't made an impression on me before, but here is utterly hilarious with a superb cluelessness from his anal persona.

For the whole there's not much going on besides the sheer brilliance of technique. In individual scenes though there's a lot of quiet thought going on that gives the film some breath. Early on, for example, there's this great scene in a theater where this awful film has a small Vivre sa vie effect on Sullavan who is wise enough to play the moment with utmost sincerity. There's a lot of humour from how badly it goes, and goes, and goes but Sullavan also lets it become a moment to mediate on the important of even awful art. Though fortunately Wyler doesn't allow for this to become anything less than great art.

In the seventh place it is nice to see Eric Blore stretch the occupation of the characters he plays.

The Ring Finger
I suppose this is a weird take away for a fable like variation of The Collector (guess I have Wyler on the brain) though weirder, but my appreciation for it is almost entirely centered around the sheer quietude of Bertrand's design. Even the soundtrack is this small thing pared down to the most essential parts displayed in a whisper. The soundtrack is not the creeping and overbearing work I expected, but rather a patiently mature voice of conscious sighing at the world it inhibits. The whole makes for this relaxing, when it really shouldn't, experience that you almost have to float through passively even as it poses a number of elements that suggest a more active response. Perhaps this is a trite platitude to say the whole experience is like a dream, but I feel it has rarely even been more true. Even Lynch's films have a far more clear call for audience activity than this. Many elements are like films I don't like for needless obscurity and filler, yet somehow this flows with such a peaceful absorption that it doesn't seem to matter. I'm not sure I can call it one of the greatest films of all time, but certainly it is one of the most pleasant despite the perversity of that statement I can think of.

Out of curiosity can anyone recommend the original novel or compare it to the film?

[swo17]

Glad you liked The Good Fairy! Since you don't mention it, I'll let it drop that of course Preston Sturges was responsible for the screenplay.

[knives]

Ten
In so many ways this is so classical in terms of what gets thrown around as Kiarostami that anything I'll say will wind up a poor copy of someone else. So instead, for fun, comparing this to Panahi's similar, and enjoyable, Taxi seems like a good way to suss out what is so unique about this. The most radical difference is in how the fusion of planned and spontaneous plays out. Admittedly Kiarostami has the advantage of early DV which gives his world a real lived in feeling, man are the windows of her cab dirty. Aside from that though Panahi's playing between the two seems facile with a clear made up reality that never honestly steps on the one without the camera. It's a very pure fiction. Ten, on the other hand, allows for a real confusion as to how much of this is actively Kiarostami's doing. The opening sequence, in comparison to Panahi's closing, is the real highlight of this. Amin seems to be playing for the camera, all too aware of its power, while Panahi's niece doesn't really acknowledge it instead giving her lines with some level of professionalism which places her final monologue on censorship in Panahi's mouth. Likewise Amin seems to here be speaking for Kiarostami a few times, but the ambling way these mature words of philosophy come out give pause that they may be Amin's own thoughts in actuality which confuses matters in a very pleasant way.

It's also very interesting to realize that inside this tightly structured, the occurrence of sets of three is pretty interesting, film which deals with social, political, and religious problems (with the later seemingly affecting the structure of the film) is a rather normal drama which hits a number of regular narratives points allowing for a deep characterization and some strong conflict flowing out of the plot. This, I think, is Kiarostami's real secret to his success. Even as he got more experimental and outside cinematic norms he was first and foremost a master of tradition who saw ways to explore well outside of it starting from there not unlike Arnold Schoenberg.

[Rayon Vert]

One week to go.

The Lady from Shanghai. Just as brilliant as Kane, and to me definitely more enjoyable. In a more conventional genre piece, Welles still pulls out all the stops, and stylistically and atmospherically, as well as narratively, he creates an intoxicating and wonderfully baroque piece of cinema.

Jurassic Park. Easily Spielberg’s best film in the decade-long span after E.T. It’s still a flawed film in various ways. For one thing, it’s a bit too cartoonish at times, though with the material at hand that’s hard to avoid. For another, this might seem like a minor detail but it perpetually bothers me: like all of Spielberg’s post-Close Encounters work, at least up to this point, the film suffers from some bad lighting, i.e. lighting that is excessive or excessively bright and unnatural, except for some outdoors shots, so that two or three decades later all these films suffer from a “studio” look that negatively affects the realism they seek to achieve (at least to some degree). And then there’s the kids and the recurrent cloying father theme. But surprisingly all of that isn’t too annoying and the children are involved in suspenseful action sequences. The strength of the film is of course those dinosaurs, not only visually, but aurally with those wonderful, earth-shattering sound effects (not unlike those booming flying saucers in Close Encounters). It’s a ride but an enjoyable one, with the action sequences deftly designed and executed, creating frequent suspense. It seems to benefit Spielberg to have material that has a bit of an edge and menace to it, allowing him to showcase his skill at creating thrills and suspense while mitigating his sentimentality. It’s his first dabbling with such “horror” material since Jaws. (And there are a couple of Jaws allusions if you can catch them). And there are also successful humorous moments throughout. Not a complete success but definitely more of a winner that indicated at this point that Spielberg still had life in him just as we were (I was anyway) getting ready to bury him.

Au hasard Balthazar. An incredibly beautiful film, as bleak and harrowing as it can get. Bresson’s films may be open to all sorts of interpretations but he is definitely drawn to the problem of evil, and we’re reminded here of the miserable spiritual wretches populating the countryside of Diary of a Country Priest (and Mouchette after this – two of those works being adaptations of Bernanos novels though). As in other Bresson works, it struck me how money is focused on as a tool or a symbol of human beings’ selfishness, pride and willingness to hurt each other. The camera work here is simply exquisite. In the 1966 television program accompanying the Criterion DVD, Bresson states that for him a dark humanity is just as lovable as one that's less so, which seems to encapsulate the feeling of the film very well. That is fairly at odds with my own temperament, which explains in the past why I was partly repelled by the film as much as I was awed by it, but I’ve grown to appreciate it more and more and it will rank high on my list.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I guess I’m not alone in ranking this 21st century film very highly. It’s not a perfect film and it won’t make my list, but it makes the most out of a devilishly clever screenplay by Kaufman and it’s sometimes even moving.

After Hours. I remember seeing this in the cinema when it first came out – at that age I probably didn’t know who Scorsese was. I had just had a first trip to New York City around the same time, and Paul’s ride in the taxi cab seemed only a slight exaggeration of the real thing! I must have seen the film about twenty times in the three decades since. Scorsese has a lot of fun with this light (but dark!) material, skillfully creating a constantly destabilizing, paranoid atmosphere, filled with obviously Hitchcockian suspense, mise-en-scène and camera movements. (I’ve wondered whether those four wacky, not to say freakish, blonde women Paul comes across through the film might refer to the Hitchcock blondes.) Dunne is very memorable in this role where his every gesture or comment with another person is always met with a reaction that violates his, and our, expectations, creating a sense of destabilization and awkwardness that does tie in with reactions intentionally invoked in his previous films (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, The King of Comedy). I may have seen the film too many times, though, as this time I was more sensitive to a few bum notes here and there, and though it’s enjoyable it’s not anywhere near being a contender.

La Dolce Vita. I’m not the biggest Fellini fan, and for all its invention 8 ½ holds a limited appeal for me. But this one is another matter. Fellini already had a well established and impressive oeuvre by this time, but this work is quite a leap in terms of artistic ambition and success. Though it investigates a culture that’s becoming frivolous and depthless, there is a mysteriousness at play, brought out in part in the scenes that refer to religious or supernatural phenomena. In the end it’s a spiritual work through the representation of the negative, the cynicism born out of a decadent world. At the same time, ironically, Fellini manages to create extremely compelling images, in several bravura long sequences. There’s a care with the image that is beyond anything previous in Fellini’s oeuvre, and the music, the actors, everything creates a tremendous totality, with an ending as subtle and powerful as any in Fellini’s previous films.

L’Argent. The ending is brutal beyond anything in Balthazar, hard to withstand really, especially with the dog’s cries (yet more animals provoking great sympathy). And yet again there is sympathy and lack of judgment of Yvon, and an unexplainable, mysterious sense of grace (?) in the terrifically violent acts – even though this is also just a complete indictment of modern civilization. Great formal beauty and belongs among the best of the director’s works.

[knives]

The Convent
So much of the film feels like Molkovich et al where brought on just to gain the financing for de Oliveira to shoot some truly fascinating geography and architecture. Particularly at the beginning the goal as put forth by Malkovich's research seems so silly that it isn't worth putting much mind to (and which the villain seems to gleefully agree at the end). Oliveira doesn't seem capable of compellingly BSing academic personas on a Greenaway level, but that's okay as the sights of the film especially as the people intrude upon it are breathtaking. About a half hour in there's a shot of the devil guy with his back turned in a mountain of green which is worth the whole film.

The narrative begins to improve itself as de Oliveira fuses his didactic style unto genre elements more closely. I don't know if this is his first attempt at doing a genre Struab/ Huillet, but I think his later ones I've seen, A Talking Film and No, or the Vain Glory of Command, more effectively play out this idea which has some small weaknesses in the way it is pulled off. One example that I'm glad to see attempted, but am also glad was dropped from the later films is to impose the didactic commentary onto the genre as well as the reverse. Having the characters talk about Goethe, in particular Faust, and acknowledge that they are in the story could be interesting I suppose but given how unusually straight laced for the film it is treated as the whole affair flops. Sincere meta-horror which is effective as horror is a hard thing to pull off let alone when your villain literally shouts maniacal laughter.

I'm also not sure if his arguments on the morality of modern academic methods along with the concept of true knowledge is entirely sound. Maybe under more length I'd better appreciate the attempt, which I should note is the most interesting part of the film, but as is though the thesis is well described the arguments and counterarguments as parlayed by Deneuve and evil man are a bit thin and seem to only strike at the surface of the problem. Perhaps if the two other caretakers who disappear from the film early on where given more time expanding the whole first act, as an example, the idiocy the one refers to, and yes I realize that was the film playing some comedy though I think it works with some of the ideas well, would be better understood. Likewise I really enjoy what the film is doing contrasting Deneuve with the young girl, but I feel like it would have been better served with more scenes like the one where she talks with the devil guy which really sets up how the two are different in regards to the film's subject of experimentation Malkovich. I don't think the film is encouraging a permanent relationship with the girl over Deneuve yet the way she parlays the devil guy seems more intellectually sound whereas Deneuve seems more an emotional defense, maternal and normal for the genre, which isn't as powerful a tool in the context of the style of the film. Though, to argue myself against my own opinion, the structure of Faust forces this dilemma forth so I wonder if all of that is a deliberate effect of the film and what it means for the relationships of the characters is just another joke this time with morality instead of genre. Certainly she frees him of the deal in the same way as Goethe. Though it ends in an allusion to Aphrodite which just throws the whole cart off.

As an aside how hilarious is the art to the Lionsgate disc desperate to sell this as a Malkovich horror show?

[swo17]

Nice thoughts on the de Oliveira.

As for the results, a certain film just shot into the lead which didn't even make the last Sight & Sound poll! (Actually, neither did 2 other films currently in the top 5.)

[knives]

Thanks, seems I saved all the best films for last. Too bad so many of them are lateral to films are on my list rather than clearly better. I'm really trying to figure out a way to get The Blue Bird on my list. Speaking of great films...

Mauvais sang
I can certainly see why this would be lumped in with Beineix's films as the appearance of genre and elements of stylization particularly in the use of colour have a remarkable similarity to one another, but that also seems very superficial with Carax building off of theater and theatrical technique rather than merely roiding out genre as I find Beineix does. The style also seems more playful with Carax having this almost self deprecating approach wherein these giddy moments of silliness are introduced between the drama and each accomplishes the reverse. This is a very fun movie which isn't exactly what you could say about The Moon in the Gutter. In many moments, like with the hemophilia of tears, I was actually most reminded of Alphaville especially as Carax slips in some really weird acts of illogical that don't make any sense of realism, but accomplish an emotional truth that when balanced with some of the dialogue brings the idea out of platitude (like Alphaville the big point here seems a basic truism on love) and into this odd realm of mundane significance.

Much more than the statements on love I find the ones on communication to be more effective perhaps because they are left to the background starting off as another surreal joke before turning into this devastating emotional cry. Piccoli mutating Lavant's words is a funny little thing, but already with the 'gee' that sets off the David Bowie scene it becomes easy to break down in sadness because Lavant is basing all of his happiness on the look of the circumstances ignoring the intent behind them. It is no wonder that he breaks things of with Delpy so cruelly and with such an idiocy of reasoning. He's full of himself and gross, but aside from Delpy and her blonde hair in this sea of black everyone else has shades of that which I wonder might be the joke with all of the statements of love even in terms of the film's plot to be interpreted as the dumb dream of immature youth with real love being totally outside the possibility for expressing by a young, intellectual punk. That the guard's simple aside about his kids calling him at the end is the most complete ode to love in the film despite its size in contrast to the relationships built with Binoche and Delpy says it best for me. That honesty in the film's limits and its earnestness in ignoring them all the same really makes me like the film far in excess of its actual qualities which aren't entirely solid especially in its non-handling of structure.

[swo17]

Dude, did you get a leak of my list? Because it seems like that's all you've been watching lately.

[knives]

Ha, no. When the extension came I decided to plop down on the most interesting titles I hadn't seen yet to insure I'd have less than fifty unwatched from the master list. I still have Le Pont du nord, Nenette and Boni, and the Fleming film to go before resubmitting. There's really too many great films on the list.

[domino harvey]

I think knives actually got a copy of my not list

[Shrew]

A couple final suggestions as the days wane.

The World
Jia Zhangke’s magic is in grafting big, pretentious concepts onto ordinary human drama. In the hands of other directors, these ideas could easily be heavy-handed or obfuscated in formalism. The magic is that these films, while rife for academic analysis, rarely feel weighed down by their themes. They are often even fun. The World is his most accessible film since that big idea--China’s place in the globalized world through the eyes of a working class aware of global society but unable to take part in it--is represented by a surreal hook: a theme park made up of small-scale simulacra of famous landmarks.

Jia depicts performance and sincerity, artifice and reality, not in opposition but as intertwined. In The World, the theme park workers play at being different nationalities, at being flight attendants, at being in relationships. These are all false performances, but simultaneously real. Take the scene where the main couple Tao and Taisheng make up and take a ride on a “magic carpet” green-screen video. Jia shows the couple waving awkwardly in front of the green matte, then pans over to the video screen where they look like a truly happy couple. The real and the fake are one and the same.

Indeed, Jia’s often labeled a realist, but The World actually does a lot to disrupt the filmic illusion. The most obvious touch is the flash-animated interludes that show up every time someone uses a cell phone (flash animation seems to have been a pretty popular medium in mid-00s China—at least, I recall seeing flash cartoons on TV there, sometimes on a Tosh.0 style internet video roundup). A lesser film would paint these as delusions or illusions used to get through the day (a la Billy Liar), but Jia gives a mix of melancholy and hope that digital communication can really help realize these character’s dreams. Jia also plays a lot more here with non-diegetic scores and composition. He even highlights the artificial landscape of his park—actually created by combining two similar parks in Beijing and Shenzhen, thousands of miles apart (characters take trains styled as planes between the two different parts of the park/two cities).

I fear I may have made this all sound too academic, but I find Jia’s films most more approachable and human than his most obvious influences Hou (for his long-shot/long-take aesthetic) or Antonioni (for his use of space, location, and framing). If you’ve pushed Jia down your kevyip because you’ve classified him in contemporary festival cinema’s long, slow, long-take flavor of the day, please give him a chance.

Docks of New York
If each great Sternberg is about romantic feelings hiding behind cynicism being pitted against some external force (family, duty, social expectations, friendship, patriotism), Docks of New York deserves some recognition for being the film that makes cynicism itself the antagonist.

The film’s tone is a miracle. It teeters on the brink of tragedy throughout, but never loses its ironic edge. In this way, it’s most akin to The Scarlet Empress, but it lacks the camp and layering of ironies. Docks’ depravity isn’t as baroque (or tinseled) as other Sternberg’s, but the waterfront offers its fill of visual pleasures. The reflection of the girl in the water, the black shells of the stokers, the seagulls constantly fluttering outside windows. Everything about this couple screams disaster and disappointment, and yet there is something intangible in the film. It’s the reason Hymnbook Harry hangs around the docks, bitter and despised, waiting to find truth in a mockery of a wedding.

I fear Sternberg is one of the directors whose films will be badly hurt by vote splitting. While I understand Shanghai Express or another film may draw your attention, this is a reminder not to forget this little gem of a film. It’s also the shortest of the nominated Sternbergs!

Henry Fool
This is, I admit, an idiosyncratic choice, and I doubt there’s anything I could write to turn make anyone who’s decided Hartley’s not for them to try again. The film’s staccato dialogue and editing match no natural conversation but rather the rhythms of life in my brain. It is one of the most humane explorations of the ugly intersection between art and artist. It’s an ode to friendship and to teachers. It contains the line, “The pope… offered a prayer for the young, whom he described as sadly in need of faith, not the illusion of conviction offered by rock music, drugs, and contemporary poetry.”

[domino harvey]

I remember not minding it when I caught it on Sundance a million years ago but I strongly hated Henry Fool this time around. So much juvenile ugliness (let's get a puking scene AND an extended shitting scene in there!!!) and thoroughly unpleasant ciphers interacting in the same space as each other like a science experiment. I did laugh at Parker Posey's response to being asked if she was registered to vote, so maybe my effusively positive memories of Fay Grim are safe... I'm not outright opposed to Hartley's whole ethos and approach, and I think Amateur shows how his eccentricities can work in harmony as a cohesive whole, but I'd rank Henry Fool among the worst films offered by our list

[Rayon Vert]

Last viewings.

Fury. I prefer several of Lang’s American films to his silent and German ones, and this is one of them. Lang’s tropes and stylistic trademarks remain present even in this Hollywood studio production, recalling past films, from ticking clocks to burning buildings and a behind-the-scenes “Mabusian” control of events. Good film, but didn’t enjoy it quite as much as in the past.

Stardust Memories. Another film I used to feel a lot more strongly about. It’s an exquisite looking film (the Arrow blu looks great BTW, though some scenes betray the film not having been restored, i.e. white specks), really up there among the films of this period where the cinematography and camera framing showcased such care and originality. There’s tremendous acting too, especially by Allen who I often feel has not often enough been properly appreciated as the talented actor he is, even if his range is always within the “Allen persona”. But I was struck more this time by the effect of there not being a very strong narrative, and the film consisting of disjointed sequences, strong though some of them are.

Andrei Rublev. Only the second time I’ve seen this, and the AE blu looks terrific. Ambitious and impressive, it has moments of great beauty, very varied sequences and moods, and an unflinching, hard-earned sense of spirituality amidst all the physicality and brutality of terrestrial life.

Thanks a lot to swo for helming this project - and for the extension! - and to Noiradelic for persuading me to participate. It's been of great use for getting a sizable chunk of my rewatches done and a lot of fun!

[domino harvey]

Fury. I prefer several of Lang’s American films to his silent and German ones, and this is one of them.

I think he became a much better director once he hit Hollywood-- though I enjoy Spione and the Mabuse films a lot, I think on the whole his silents are widely overrated. He strikes me as one of the most adaptable of film emigres, who saw how to use the constraints of the studio system in harmony with his own evolving approach. But, I'm sure there will be lots of time to hash this out later this summer when we do the Lang Auteur list!

[TMDaines]

What time will you tabulate, swo? Wondering if I can submit my list lunchtime UK time?