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jeff_johnston
Reviews
The Birth of a Nation (1915)
epitomizes american film ever since
I have only a brief comment: Birth of a Nation seems interestingly to be paradigmatic of American film ever since: a truly passionate and emotionally involving movie, full of brilliant shots and great cinematography, groundbreaking in every way, that is interesting to watch and fun to enjoy. And, at its core, corrupt, soulless, and evil.
Birth of a Nation created Hollywood, and Hollywood has followed its example ever since. Their maxim is: entertain, dazzle, empassion, involve, and in all ways draw in the viewer-- but never, ever take the time to think out the deeper implications of the meaning of your film. The "cinema-industrial complex" can buy great cinematography, cool shots, stunning visuals, good acting, a well-written score-- that is, they can buy everything but truth and meaning. It will be a great day when we all realize that all that stuff that can be bought amounts to nothing when a film isn't honest and doesn't try to convey something that is true-- the hallmark of true art.
Memento (2000)
actually substantial filmmaking or "cool" fluff?
I recently saw this movie with a group of people who just couldn't stop talking about it afterwards. I watched for an hour or two as they tried to riddle out the mysteries of Leonard Shelby's "condition," of his strange trip, and of his connections with his friends. Finally, I couldn't stand it any more: what relevance, I asked, does any of this have to do to the supposed "deeper issues" that the movie half-heartedly attempts to make us believe that it has raised? No one could tell me precisely, but they assured me that, once I'd thought about the plot and figured out what REALLY happened, I would know.
I disagree. I see this movie as the latest installment in Hollywood's latest string of movies which try to sell themselves (and succeed, usually, very well) solely through a thick layer of "gimmicks," that is, tricks of the trade that make a movie look "cool." Memento has gimmicks galore: time moves backwards, in clips of a few minutes each; there is a "frenetic" and disjointed narration by the main character, repeating key bits of dialogue, mantra-style almost, to drive home his neurotic-ness (which seems to be very cool at the movies these days); there is a confusing plot that's hard to follow; and there is the traditional twist ending.
I challenge those who I can already hear complaining that these aren't "gimmicks," but essential parts of the plot structure, to ask themselves why these things are so essential in the light of what the movie takes to be its central object, memory. First of all: why does the action move backward in time? I could probably come up with some long, convoluted "film-school" answer to that question, but it wouldn't be a good one. The best answer seems to be: because it makes the movie look cool, and because it gives the added benefit of giving us a surprise ending. Since it's probably not a very important gimmick, we should imagine what the movie would be like without it; I think most people wouldn't like nearly as much.
While many people are content spending hours trying to figure out Leonard Shelby's shoe size, I personally couldn't care less. What annoys me about films like these is the fact that they're so dishonest; Memento, like Fight Club, American Beauty, and Pleasantville before it, seems, on reflection, to be trying most of all to make people say to themselves, "wow! what a smart movie" without actually BEING a smart movie. The few incredibly weak philosophical insights (such as the one at the end of the film) convince people that, buried under the convoluted heap of an impossible-to-follow plot, there's actually something deep and worthwhile. The surprise ending only makes this more blatant; Memento, like so many movies today, is aimed at making the viewer want to see it again in order to "get it better." But my suspicion is that there's really nothing to get; even Tom Tykwer's Winterschlaffen ("Wintersleepers"), from which the plot concept for Memento seems to have been lifted, treats the subject better. My suggestion: see an honest movie, one that doesn't need plot twists or obscurity to say something interesting or important, like The Seventh Seal, or a movie that uses plot twists and confusion in an honest and compelling way, like Hitchcock's great masterpiece, Vertigo.
Pleasantville (1998)
perfect example of hollywood technique
One of the drawbacks of IMdB is the fact that those who don't like a movie aren't likely, in my opinion, to comment on it. It's a drawback that I don't think the great folks running the dB can circumvent, but it's one we should keep in mind. Especially while reading about this movie.
Why do I say that? Because I'm certain, despite all the rave reviews of this film, that there are many, many people out there who saw Pleasantville and knew instantly that it's a piece of trash. I'm writing this review because I think it's an interesting and telling piece of trash.
I encourage people to see Pleasantville (not to actually pay for the rental or ticket price, of course, but only to borrow it or watch it with others if they happen to have it) because it's more illuminating than any other film I've seen on the latest hollywood technique: intellectual gimmicks. This movie is rife with metaphors that don't line up, symbolism that doesn't work out, images that obviously are meant to seem significant, and other such gimmicks that exist (but aren't as obvious) in nearly every movie hollywood releases today. For the unconvinced: what's the message of the film? "If you indulge in innocuous pleasures, society will shun you?" Okay, I can begin to believe that... until the "coloreds" political metaphor kicks in. "If you indulge in innocuous pleasures, society will shun you in a way that's a lot like racism?" Okay. But what does abstract painting have to do with this? What about the "garden of eden" imagery? All these things are so incongruous and disconnected that it becomes obvious on reflection that the seeming "metaphors" are designed simply for audience effect. Hollywood knows that people want movies that "make you think;" that's why hollywood engineered this type of movie, a movie so convoluted and inane that it should take a long time to sort out all the metaphors and realize that there's nothing behind them. Trouble is, this movie failed at that: it's obvious after a while that it's just inane, so the movie itself has to resort to trying to capitalize on its own inanity by being a "fairy tale." Indulging in the "liberals vs. conservatives" argument is just what hollywood wants us to do, too, and it gets us nowhere. It's not that hollywood is liberal; it's that they know that sex sells.
That's why I tell people to see this movie; after Pleasantville, the difficulties with movies like Fight Club, American Beauty and Memento become much more obvious. It's hard to see at first that these movies are just designed to sell themselves by puzzling the viewer; after one sees Pleasantville, however, one can appreciate hollywood's skills in this area much more, since all the foils and gimmicks are so obvious.
Week end (1967)
weekend: one of the few truly great political films
Weekend is one of the best movies I've ever seen, but it's also one of the most troubling. Its depth politically is, I believe, unmatched in cinema; Godard is truly a master, but this is, like a Sun Ra record, art for which you might need to be prepared.
By telling you to "be prepared," however, I don't mean to say you should go read up on film history. Sure, you'll miss a trick or two if you don't, but there's enough material to keep you very, very interested even if you're not a film student. Nor, in fact, should you even feel the need to read up on French history; it suffices to say that, to be very simplistic about it, as the U.S. was to Vietnam at the time, so France was to Algeria. Really, if you wanted to be ready for ALL the intellectual references and name-dropping, you ought to have a good classical education. That's hard to get, so I can't possibly suggest that...
What I do mean by "be prepared" is: be prepared for long shots that might not make sense, be prepared to consider your place in the world... be prepared to think about the movie while it's running. Hollywood encourages us to turn off our brains while we're watching a movie; Godard doesn't allow it. His film is intentionally aggravating and annoying at times, but Godard knows precisely what he's doing, and he manipulates the viewer expertly. (The infamous "car-jam scene" is to this day the most annoying and at the same time one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.) Be prepared to consider your place in society, society's place in the world, and the problems of those situations. Godard raises numerous incredibly important questions: what is the final fate of literature and the wealths of past generations handed down after political upheaval is finished with them? what is the point of any rhetoric-- communist or otherwise-- in a world of selfish, stupid bourgeois pigs (and, as anyone who's ever worked in fast food will tell you, this one is)? does art even have a purpose in a marketplace?
I personally disagree with those who claim that Weekend is dated and only interesting historically. The message is only obscured to us because the draft is no longer in full swing and because the entertainment industry has succeeded in lulling us into false security. We still have our Vietnams, though they may be secret; and, facts must be faced, most of us are still complete and total jerks, caring very little for the world around us and very much for our own pleasure. At the heart of Godard's movie is a deep and abiding love and compassion for humanity; the decadence of the world around us, however, forces the surface of the film to be cynical and hateful toward all the disgusting influences which keep us from being what we could be.
Det sjunde inseglet (1957)
an interesting note
There seem already to be a lot of good comments (although some may be overstated). The only thing I believe I can really add is an interesting note about the circumstances of the film: it's one of Bergman's earlier films, and Bergman later almost disowned it (along with "Wild Strawberries") because he believed that their subject matter was unimportant. He was "much happier," he said, after he left behind the agony of the quest for God and became a secular humanist.
For me, this simply underlines the intense difficulty with which one truly confronts the search for God. It is, I suppose, to be expected that Bergman had to leave his search behind, since it caused him so much pain-- a pain which is beautifully crystallized in his film. But I hope his movie remains popular, if only because I believe the struggle is an important one in the human legacy, one which every man must confront.
Few movies can even begin to approach the subject of religious agony without tending either toward the disgustingly sentimental and revisionist (a la "schindler's list") or the stupid "cool" atmosphere that seems to pervade movies these days. Ingmar Bergman does it in what is quite possibly the best way: taking a minimalist approach, he doesn't veer toward flashy camera techniques that dazzle, nor toward lingeringly emotional scenes. There is just enough of everything: just enough plot to tell us what is going on without confusing, just enough cutting to relieve us from longer shots without jarring the eye with too much motion, just enough dialogue to convey a singular tone that has both focus and depth. This film reaches an "arete" that is rare in cinema: its subject meets the medium perfectly, and the stark purity of the cinematography is met by the lonely nature of the ideas which it deals with.