GOTTA SEE IT # 25 - "THE STRAIGHT STORY"

"THE STRAIGHT STORY"

Starring: Richard Farnsworth, Sissy Spacek, Joseph A. Carpenter, Jane Galloway Heitz, Donald Wiegert, Tracey Maloney, Dan Flannery, Harry Dean Stanton.
Written by: John Roach, Mary Sweeney
Directed by: David Lynch
Colour – 1999
112 mins
U.S.A.

The snow is falling here in Toronto and the 25th is but a mitten full of dreams away. So, I’ll tear away the figurative festive paper and unwrap this special Christmas edition of “Gotta See It” a little early. I hope you don’t mind.

There are many yuletide films, some of which are too obvious to mention, but I’m going to be a bit of a left of centre Santa this year and give you a Christmas “Gotta See It” that has absolutely nothing, at least on its’ surface, to do with that very special annual seasonal celebration.

The great Richard Farnsworth acted, for the very last time, in, this, one of Lynch’s "normal" films and, in doing so, left us with an aching and genuinely moving performance. It’s the true story of a man named Alvin, who, unable to drive his car due to health problems, takes his riding lawn mower cross country in order to patch things up between he and estranged brother.

No snow, no reindeers, no jolly fat man with his sack full of goodies – none of that. Yet, TSS is a quiet, gentle, emotionally mature and naked film about family, friends and the lengths one will go to prove one’s love to another. Now, if that doesn’t qualify it as a Christmas movie, then nothing will. ‘Cause, you see, if this time of year is about anything, it’s about love. And love, as I have heard it and seen it and felt it, needs no ho, ho, ho or thumpty-thump-thump.

During his very slow journey, Alvin stops off along the highway and camps out under the stars, meets folks – some lost, some not, some hurting from the same wounds as him. He talks, says little, but means much and, generally, gets to know his country and its’ people just a little bit better. TSS is a gentle breeze of a film, a soft landing, a warm bath of wisdom, an unexpected phone call from an old friend.

So, bake some cookies, make some hot chocolate, curl up on the couch and let the Christmas spirit find its’ way into you through the sunny, snow-less images of Richard Farnsworth motoring down the shoulder of a rural highway, headed to his brother’s place, to give him the only gift that’s ever counted and ever will.

GOTTA SEE IT #24 - "SEDUCED AND ABANDONED"

"SEDUCED AND ABANDONED" Starring: Stefania Sandrelli, Saro Urzi, Aldo Puglisi, Lando Buzzanca, Lola Braccini, Leopoldo Trieste, Umberto Spadaro, Paola Biggio, Rocco D’Assunta, Oreste Palella, Lina Lagalla,Gustavo D’Arpe, Rosetta Urzi, Roberta Narbonne, Vincenzo Licata
Written by: Luciano Vincenzoni (story and screenplay), Pietro Germi, Agenore Incrocci, Furio Scarpelli (dialogue)
Directed by: Pietro Germi
B & W – 1964
115 mins
Italia

Honour - some will do anything to hold on to it, even when it’s just an illusion. Scratch that, especially when it’s just an illusion. Take a dish of honour and toss in a dash of family and sprinkle some rural Italy over-the-top and you have one hell of a meal on your hands. A master of social comedies, Director Pietro Germi exposed the lunacy and hypocrisy of Italian society with wit and wackiness to create some dizzyingly funny films, such as this brilliant, spot-on send up of la famiglia circa 1964.

When the cowardly Peppino (Aldo Puglisi) deflowers his fiance’s sister (the ravishing Stefania Sandrelli) all hell breaks loose as patriarch Don Vincenzo (the remarkable Saro Urzi) barks and bullies his way towards his own strange conception of restoring honour to his family. Full of sly observations and sloppy laughs, S&A is a brilliant example of comedic escalation and a hilarious illustration of what happens when a society lives two different realities - the fake one that exists as an outward illusion, maintained by all, and the real one that happens behind closed doors but is never acknowledged.

Now, I’m Italian, so, I have first hand knowledge of the rural, Catholic Italian mindset. Let me assure you all, S&A rings true, as a comically exaggerated (just slightly so) take on the importance of appearances - whether it be an immaculately kept home or an immaculately kept reputation. Whether the literal or figurative sweeping under the rug has the edge, I cannot say.

Photographed in beautiful, glowing, high contrast black and white by Aiace Parolin (The Birds, the Bees, and the Italians), S&A is that rare breed of comedy – hilarious, well acted and directed and shot by an artist.

The whole cast is a screaming, shouting, gesticulating mass of energy that doesn’t peter out until the final frame fades from the screen. Every one of them deserves a tip of the hat, but Saro Urzi walks away with the picture with his artfully manic turn as the hypocritical oaf of a father, Don Vincenzo Ascalone. Like all great film comedians, Urzi has an elastic face and uses every part of his body in his performance. He manages the impossible by giving a great, broad comedic performance while also investing Don Vincenzo with a real humanity. He is a fully realized character, not just some lazy, one note caricature.

Goofy, wacky, sharply satirical and all pulled off with style and flair, S&A is a marvel to behold.

GOTTA SEE IT #23 - "BULLY"

“BULLY”

Starring: Brad Renfro, Rachel Miner, Bijou Phillips, Nick Stahl, Michael Pitt, Leo Fitzpatrick, Kelli Garner, Daniel Franzese, Natalie Paulding.
Written by: Jim Schutze (book), David Mckenna, Roger Pullis
Directed by: Larry Clark
Colour – 2001
113 mins
U.S.A.

In sports, it can be risky bringing a promising young athlete into the pro leagues before he’s ready. The shock of competing at a higher level can shatter his confidence and leave him second guessing himself into failure. Hopefully, he eventually hits his stride and finds his way, but sometimes, the damage is permanent and he never recovers and a once future superstar is done in by self-doubt and just done period. In life, the equivalent is rushing a child into adulthood before they are ready to deal with the responsibilities that come with sexual awareness, readily available drugs and alcohol and the cool belief that one is beyond the crushing boulder of consequence. Master at documenting the wild ways of American teens is director Larry Clark’s forte and, in "Bully", he has taken a real life story as the inspiration for his finest, most disturbing film to date.

The real story is how a group of high school friends planned and then carried out the brutal murder of a bully who was tormenting them. This flesh and blood portrait - you don’t know how appropriate those words are until you see the film - of this tragic real life incident is, in one way, straight forward, but its’ much more than just the story of the killing of a High School bully. It’s about children at play in an adult world - high and oversexed, disconnected from consequence, fantasizing about violent retribution without realizing just what that means and how it will feel when it all goes down.

In Larry Clark’s work, there’s a feeling of hyper-reality, of a world in which he traps the truth like some wild dog and then unleashes it in his own sweet time and in his own unique way. He adds something of his very own to what are essentially docu-dramas. And its’ this addition that gives his films a fire that burns them into your memory – leaving it charred and smoking for days afterward. He doesn’t pull his punches. He doesn’t soften any landings. He doesn’t sugarcoat a single stinkin’ speck. He strips sentiment and tastefulness from his films like skin from a bone - all that’s left is for that wild dog to gnaw on.

The other night I watched a modern Hollywood film - big name cast and budget - which seemed to be made as if the 70s and Scorcese, Peckinpah, Coppola and all had never happened. Watching this dull, phony, pointless and expensive exercise in photographed dress-up, I was amazed at how much it resembled those stale, past their due date Hollywood dramas that preceded the truly great, passionate, gripping works of realism of New Hollywood - films such as, “Scarecrow", The Conversation" and “Taxi Driver." Then I realized that there are still a few current filmmakers who are continuing in that bold tradition and, yes, I count Larry Clark as one of them. He’s making films that are alive with energy and anger and truth. They are not decorated with cop-out niceties to make all the ugliness more palatable, but free of all that polite wrapping – raw, naked, brutal living, breathing things.

Now, there is explicit sex throughout, with plenty of bare bodies twisting and writhing on soaked sheets, yes, but the bruised and beaten heart of this film is its’ truly astonishing murder scene that chills as it details the mixed reactions of the assembled teens - their confused, emotionally messy execution exposing them for the terrified and lost kids that they are underneath all that bogus boasting.

The entire cast is remarkable, but Nick Stahl muddies his hands a bit more than the others to dig up the cruel, sadistic, self-hating soul of Bobby - smearing his way into every shot with a kind of grotesque grace.

One dimensionally depicted parents aside, “Bully” is one jarring ride. See it with someone you love, because onscreen, it’s in short supply.

GOTTA SEE IT # 22 - "SMOKE"

“SMOKE”

Starring: Harvey Keitel, William Hurt, Harold Perrineau, Forest Whitaker, Stockard Channing, Ashley Judd, Michelle Hurst, Clarice Taylor.
Written by: Paul Auster
Directed by: Wayne Wang and Paul Auster (uncredited)
Colour – 1995
112 mins
U.S.A.

Connections - have’em and you’re in business. Don’t and you won’t be able to go on-line or won’t be able to hear that catchy song through those old speakers of yours or, worse yet, won’t ever know what it means to be part something bigger than yourself. When connections are made, wonderful and/or horrible things can and will happen, but without that meeting and giving and taking and fighting and loving and more fighting, nothing will happen - absolutely nothing. "Smoke" has little to say about nothing, but something significant to say about those hard to come by connections and its’ as satisfying as a fine Cuban cigar - minus its’ toxic, life threatening ingredients.

The Big Apple is the setting for this story of the down and out and scarred and soul sick. They all, at one time or another, step into the little neighbourhood corner cigar store owned and operated by Augie Wren (Harvey Keitel). Now, Keitel can play scummy and creepy and he can do it all with a kind of soiled grace, but, here, he flexes much more pleasant muscles playing simple and extraordinary as a shopkeeper with the heart of a poet.

Now, you may have noticed that I haven’t shared any of the plot with you. And I don’t intend to. How do you like that?!? Now, I’m not doing this to be difficult or lazy. No, I am simply doing this to keep this film as much of a mystery to you as possible. Sometimes, you just have to have a little faith…in me. Amen.

Instead, let me tell you what “Smoke” pulls off here: turns two acts of petty thievery into two separate moments of soulful, aching beauty; introduces a dazzling new talent in Harold Perrineau; gives Tom Waits his best video yet; and features Ashley Judd in her finest, albeit, briefest performance. Not bad, huh? Oh, and it also features Forrest Whitaker Jr. (the best thing in ”The Crying Game”) playing wounded and weary with so much grace and skill and warmth and humour he just about walks away with the whole damn thing tucked under his one good arm.

So, what Auster and Wang are getting at here is that connections are born out of a choice that each individual makes. They are not accidental. You choose whether to connect to another person or not. Heck, you can spend most of your life with another person and never connect, but, again, you’ve made that choice. All of the principal characters in “Smoke” face that choice, and, they fully understand that with it – no matter if it is a yes or no – come consequences. Life, as gracefully and whimsically as takes shape in these 112 minutes, is never simple, but always a matter of choice.

The art and artifice of storytelling also comes in for some scrutiny as well and it is best expressed and celebrated in a beautiful moment first spoken and then visualized in the dying moments of the film. It involves a Christmas story to end all Christmas stories and it is a stunner that also explains the genesis of Augie’s life’s project and movingly illustrates how life can take you down some strange and wonderful roads as long as you allow it to – there are those pesky choices again!

It’s all about connections, like, the one I hope I made with you, enough so you’ll take my word for it and race down to the nearest quality video store and rent this film. Now, go, now, choose ‘yes’ and I’ll wait for your thank you in my comments box.

GOTTA SEE IT # 21 - "WHEN A WOMAN ASCENDS THE STAIRS"

“WHEN A WOMAN ASCENDS THE STAIRS”

Starring: Hideko Takamine, Masayuki Mori, Reiko Dan, Tatsuya Nakadai, Daisuke Kato, Ganjiro Nakamura, Eitaro Ozawa, Keiko Awaji.
Written by: Ryuzo Kikushima
Directed by: Mikio Naruse
B & W – 1960
111 mins
Japan

Mama: Bars in the daytime are like women without makeup.

You can’t pretend to feel something you don’t genuinely feel. You can come close to replicating the feeling and fooling others, but you’d have a hell of a time pulling the wool over your own eyes - the few who can become sociopaths, murderers and entertainment reporters. We all pretend to feel something we don’t, from time to time, to avoid awkward or potentially volatile social situations. Or we engage in pretending to keep our raw emotions from busting loose and turning us into a tear-eyed, red-faced mess. It’s a survival mechanism. We pretend because, sometimes, being our real self is just too much to take. But, we never fool ourselves. We always feel the gap between pretend and real. The wider that gap gets, and the longer we feel it, the more we are separated from our true selves.

Mama (Hideko Takamine) is what you could call a professional pretender. She is a hostess at the Lilac Bar in post war Japan. A hostess is a woman who is employed by a bar to pretend to be interested, charmed, sexually attracted to the wealthy businessmen who come to get drunk and have their very formidable egos stroked. The women are not exactly prostitutes, though, a sexual relationship can develop. They are more like pretend girlfriends who are always perky and attentive and dazzled by every single word that comes out of a man’s mouth. One of the finest hostesses at the Lilac bar, Mama (Hideko Takamine)has been doing this for 5 years and she has only lasted that long because she hasn’t allowed her real feelings to surface. She is all smiles and fake warmth and it all functions as a sort of therapy that has helped, and continues to help her, if not get over her husband’s death, at least keep the pain at bay. She is in a suspended state – between old emotions she hasn’t fully processed and new emotions she continually pushes away.

The men depicted in this film are all pathetic in one way or another. They are cruel, deceptive, exploitive, hypocritical and parasitic. This is no surprise because the bulk of these men are customers or managers of the hostesses and, therefore, see them as an object to exploit for completely self-serving reasons. But the truly sad thing about Mama’s life is that, even far away from the hollow hostess world, both her mother and her brother treat her just as badly. So, Mama has fake relationships with strangers inside of the bars in which she works and fake relationships with family outside of the bars in which she lives. In one sad scene, her brother, coming to her, yet again, to borrow money, promises her that this is the very last time. To prove it, he tells her that he’s decided to cut ties with her all together. So, he’s willing to end the relationship with his sister just so he can prove to her that he’ll never ask for money again in order to get her to give him money this time. It’s a cold and cruel moment, made all the more so by his casual demeanour and complete ignorance of the pain he’s causing.

A sober study of male dominance, female objectification and the limited options that women faced in post-war Japan, WAWATS is a straight forward, low-key film featuring measured performances and a simple, uncluttered plot. In quietly assembled scenes, shot in beautiful black and white widescreen photography, what is proven is that, sometimes, pretending is one's only real option.

GOTTA SEE IT # 20 - "SHERMAN'S MARCH"

“SHERMAN’S MARCH: A MEDIATION TO THE POSSIBILITY OF ROMANTIC LOVE IN THE SOUTH DURING AN ERA OF NUCLEAR WEAPONS PROLIFERATION”

Starring: Ross McElwee, Patricia Rendleman, Burt Reynolds, Charleen Swansea.
Cinematography and Direction: Ross McElwee
Colour – 1986
157 mins
USA

Claudia: And that’s where they’re going to put the tennis court, right down there.

Ross: So, they’ll be able to play tennis in case of a nuclear attack?

Claudia: Right, they’ll have everything they need up here in case of a nuclear attack to survive in style.

You never know what you will find, if you are just open enough to look. Words of wisdom? Well, who knows? Maybe more like something you’d hear in a Disney film or any song sung by Celine Dion. I guess that makes me some kind of sappy hack. My apologies - now, back to the sappy hackery. Either way, this sentiment does apply to life, though in an admittedly simplistic way, and it fully applies to this charming and disarming documentary.

After receiving a grant to make a film about American Civil war general William Tecumseh Sherman’s devastating march through the south, filmmaker Ross McElwee proceeds to make a film about a different kind of march. Call it McElwee’s March Through Southern Womanhood While Contemplating The Nuclear Obliteration Of The World or McElwee’s March Through A South Sprinkled With Starry-Eyed, Narcissistic, Completely Bonkers Dreamers And End-Of-The-World, Little House On The Prairie Re-Constructionists, Civil War Obsessives And Also, Thankfully, Some Normal, Complicated Folk Living Their Lives The Best That They Can. Titles aside, this is what happens when a bright, thoughtful, funny man picks up a film camera and allows his subjects the opportunity to reveal themselves with a minimal amount of interference.

No matter where McElwee goes with his camera, every woman he knows – his step mother, sister, and especially his brassy friend Charleen - regards his filmmaking as a waste of time and wants to save him from this lost life by setting him up with a good southern woman. Only a good southern woman, they argue, can set him straight. Well, the southern women he is introduced to are quite pretty, some even sexy, but very few of them seem capable of setting McElwee “straight.” This is due to the fact that quite a few of them are just down right loopy – dreaming of a surreal Hollywood stardom not of this world, or preoccupied by end-of-the-world bible prophecy or just plain confused about love and life and holding on to unhealthy relationships with men who are either emotionally immature and possibly violent or just plain odd and intellectually suspect. McElwee’s back and forth with longtime friend/would-be-lover Karen is especially fascinating and hilarious when it is revealed that this beautiful, intelligent, accomplished lawyer is obsessed with a man who collects life-sized plastic animals with his friends. Talk about a mismatch. Somehow, though, she thinks that this guy is the one. McElwee’s dry observation of the man who beat him out is a beautiful bit of hilarious understatement.

Now, even though the film strays from the original purpose for which McElwee was granted the money, he still fulfills the Sherman’s March requirement and does it in an articulate and passionate way. He visits various Civil War landmarks and battle sights and delivers dramatic, half-whispered late night monologues about Sherman and what he faced before, during and after the war. It is clear that the Civil War and Sherman are ghosts still cackling down the corridors of McElwee’s dreams as well as those of much of the South. Apart from the comical and real life dramatic departures, the Sherman section alone is compelling - not to mention the fact that the whole “Southern Womanhood” part of the film is a comical recreation of Sherman’s original march. Yes, very much so a recreation, though devoid of its’ brutality, blood and relentless devastation and destruction. Well, at least in a literal sense.

The film is also a study of how one can use a camera as both weapon and shield, as McElwee does here - sometimes simultaneously hiding behind it and using it to knock his subjects off balance. Others, and he himself, comment on how his camera keeps him from connecting with the women he is supposed to be wooing and also forces them into uncomfortable confession and cross-examination type situations.

What emerges from this, one man’s idiosyncratic and personal portrait of the South, is an impression of land at once crazed, paranoid, exuberant, angry, joyous, complicated, colourful and never even two miles close to dull. This is the South, the American South - at least as Ross McElwee found it and coaxed it to open up to him in all its’ off-kilter, wacked-out glory. Enjoy.

GOTTA SEE IT # 19 - "DON'T LOOK NOW"

“DON’T LOOK NOW”

Starring: Julie Christie, Donald Sutherland, Hilary Mason, Clelia Matania, Massimo Serato, Renato Scarpa, Giorgio Trestini, Leopoldo Trieste, David Tree, Ann Rye, Nicholas Salter, Sharon Williams, Bruno Cattaneo, Adelina Poerio.
Written by: Daphne Du Maurier (story), Allan Scott, Chris Bryant
Directed by: Nicolas Roeg
Colour – 1973
110 mins
Italy/UK

Thrillers are a dime a dozen. Make that a nickel. They come and go and most are not even worth mentioning – stuffed, as they are, with cheap shocks and even thriftier twists. Then there are thrillers like this eerie, arty entry from the peak period of British filmmaker Nicolas Roeg’s career. Part thriller, part romance, part ghost story, DLN uses the complex, cobblestone maze of Venice, Italy to create a haunting film about the gruesome consequences of not being able to move on after a tragic loss.

Julie Christie and Donald Sutherland play Laura and John Baxter, a young married couple trying to pick up the pieces after their young daughter dies in a drowning accident. Traveling to Venice, where John has a job working to restore a church, the Baxters cross paths with two very odd sisters - one of whom is psychic and who, delightfully and creepily, informs Laura that her daughter is still with her, in ghostly form, and that she’s never been happier.

Ostensibly a cautionary tale about leaving the dead to the dead and life to the living, DLN benefits from terrifically naturalistic performances by its’ leads, beautiful cinematography and stunning editing. The opening is a remarkably cut sequence that goes back and forth from Laura and John Baxter inside their country home to their kids, outside, playing in their spacious backyard. As John studies slides of the Venice church that he will soon be working on, his young daughter - blonde mop of hair bouncing as she runs here and there in her little red raincoat – plays by a small pond. Quick cuts crisply match movement and colour, including a cute doubling of Laura’s gesture with her daughter’s. Suddenly, John thinks he sees the back of his daughter, dressed in her hooded red raincoat, sitting in one of the pews in the church pictured in one of his slides. What follows is a searing moment that serves as an unheeded warning and a moving and devastating depiction of a truly tragic event.

Short on plot, but long on mood and character, DLN is genuinely creepy - taking its’ time to build towards a real shocker of a finale. Venice has never been so beautiful and so creepy at the same time – often times resembling one massive graveyard, as dead bodies and ghostly forms turn up with alarming frequency.

There is another stunner of a sequence that has little to do with the thriller story at hand, but, nonetheless, is essential to the film. It’s a sex scene. More accurately, it’s a love scene and it’s shot, edited and scored with such attention to detail and overflowing with so much emotional that it can almost be labeled as a separate short film within the larger feature film. Roeg and editor Graeme Clifford (Images, The Man Who Fell to Earth) piece together a beautiful sequence that transcends all time as it simultaneously takes place in the present , the future and the past as the Baxters’ make love, get dressed after having made love, while looking back fondly on the love they just made. Got that? It’s glorious and cinematic and should be studied in film schools, if it hasn’t been already.

So, nuke a bag of popcorn, drop DLN into your dvd player, turn off all the lights and sit back and be prepared to get creeped out. Come on, you owe it to yourself.

GOTTA SEE IT # 18 - "THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP"

“THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP”

Starring: Anton Walbrook, Roger Livesey, Deborah Kerr, John Laurie, Muriel Aked.
Written by: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
Directed by: Michael Powell, Emeric Pressburger
Colour – 1943
163 mins
UK

The sad news of Deborah Kerr’s passing this past Tuesday made me think back to her wonderful performances in this beautiful and moving 1943 Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger film. I say performances, because she played not one, not two, but three roles. In lush and stunning Technicolor, Kerr’s delicate beauty and genuine warmth are on triple display as she repeatedly pops up as women in the titular character’s life over the course of some forty years - once as a governess, secondly as a nurse and, then, finally, as a member of the military assigned as his driver. Clearly, the filmmakers knew she was simply too good to cast in just one role and I couldn’t agree more.

Based on a comic strip, the film spans some forty years in the life of this career military man – from the Boer war to WW2. When we first meet Blimp (Roger Livesey), he’s brash and full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on any mission thrown his way. His superiors are not at all impressed, when, early in the film, he heads to Berlin and stirs things up in his attempts to protect the reputation of his beloved British homeland. Livesey is just remarkable – all charm and wit and able to play a character full through from anxious youth to out of touch old man without missing a beat. Anton Walbrook (a personal favourite of mine) gives a steady and touching performance as German soldier Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff whom Blimp befriends after, well, I won’t spoil it for you. Let’s just say that it’s probably not the best way to kick off a friendship.

This is truly a beautiful film in every imaginable way. Visually wondrous and unconventional, it is filled with moments of cinematic play that, to this day, are a breath of fresh air. The cast - Livesey, Walbrook and the enchanting Kerr - are perfectly chosen and, together, are a delight to watch. Walbrook’s subtle work - which reaches its’ peak in a late scene in which he calmly explains his reasons for leaving Germany and his desire to become a UK citizen – is a study in less is more acting that just stops you cold. His performance is so good and so filled with dignity and graciousness that it’s no wonder his portrayal caused controversy back in the UK when the film was first released. Remember, it was 1943 and WW2 was raging and victory was in doubt. A sympathetic portrait of the enemy, especially infused with the humanity that Walbrook brings, was, simply - to use a German expression – verboten.

The point of the film, made through the evolution, or, more appropriately, lack of evolution of the Blimp character, is one that, no doubt, needed to be made at a time when the fate of the world, in general, and of the British people, in specific, was in doubt. Though I don’t possess enough knowledge of the details of WW2 to offer an opinion as to whether I agree with the film’s central point or not, I couldn’t help but apply its’ reasoning to the current struggle in Iraq and the overall fight against Al-Qaeda. What I’m trying to say is that, though I love every single second of this movie, its’ concluding argument is one that, in the context of the current war, I cannot embrace. Love the film – understand the message in the context of the times - hate the message as it applies to the context of my time. Though, it might be best not to strip the point of its’ context and just let it stand.

So, pushing all that aside, I want to say that, though, Deborah Kerr is gone and though I knew nothing of her off-screen life and knew only a little more about her on-screen one, she has left a lasting impression of grace and warmth and beauty that has, with little effort, proven its’ ability to easily outlive the 163 minutes of running time in which it was initially expressed. Rest in peace Deborah Kerr. Rest in Peace.

GOTTA SEE IT # 17 - "THE VIRGIN SPRING"

“THE VIRGIN SPRING”

Starring: Max Von Sydow, Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindblom, Birgitta Pettersson, Axel Duberg, Tor Isedal, Allan Edwall, Ave Porath, Axel Slangus, Gudrun Brost, Oscar Ljung.
Written by: Ulla Isaksson
Directed by: Ingmar Bergman
B & W – 1960
89 mins
Sweden

I’m not a Bergman fan. I wanted to get that out of the way right off the bat. Now, as to TVS - yes it’s a Bergman film starring Max Von Sydow and shot by Sven Nykvist and it’s terrific. But, I’m still not a Bergman fan. Got that?

Based on an old Swedish ballad, TVS is a sad, harrowing and ultimately moving piece of religious filmmaking. Set in 14th century Sweden, it concerns a religious ritual wherein a virgin is tasked to take candles to church for Easter mass. The virgin, Karin - sweet and spoiled daughter of Tore (Max Von Sydow) and Mareta (Birgitta Valberg) - pleads with her too pliant mother to let her skip the ritual this year. Her mother would oblige her, but stern Tore simply will not allow it. So, off she goes with her polar opposite - pregnant, disgrace servant Ingeri - by her side. Though at its’ core a simple tale of revenge, TVS also aims its’ arrows at jealousy, religious superstition and guilt on its’ way to becoming a Christ-like story of martyrdom, redemption and resurrection.

Karin is the point of focus for every other character in the film - from her mother, who smothers her with love and lets her dictate to her instead of the other way around, to jealous, disgraced, and very pregnant servant girl Ingeri who sees through Karin’s "purity" to the self-absorbed, spoiled and flirty girl within. Envious of Karin’s stature and looks, Ingeri is so consumed that, in an intense and memorable opening scene, she calls on Odin - the Pagan Norse God of wisdom and war - to come to her aid.

There are many interesting things at work here, not the least of which is Karin’s supposed virginity. Her parents think she is a virgin. At one point, her mother, after having had a bad dream, suggests that another girl bring the candles to church, but Tore reminds her that a virgin must be the one to make the journey. Yet, Karin isn’t as pure as she puts on - maybe not even a virgin at all. During their long trek to the church, Ingeri confronts Karin about seeing her with the man by whom she was impregnated. Ingeri suggests that Karin’s behaviour was not becoming of a virgin. Did she have sex with the man? It’s not entirely clear, yet, one could come to that conclusion. Whether she has or hasn’t, clearly, the idealization of the virgin as a role model for all unmarried women - lifting them up on this pedestal of purity - is the mistake that leads to everything else that follows. Without it, you have no ritual, no trek and none of the consequences of that trek. You also don’t have the rejection and punishment of Ingeri, whose jealousy of Karin would also cease to exist. It’s the ultimate irony that, all of the corrosive thoughts and tragic actions in this story are born out of the worshipping of the virgin and the idealization of Karin as the embodiment of this icon of virtue. When all is said and done - purity begets tragedy.

The acting is first rate, with Von Sydow stealing the show as the proud and towering figure of the father. It is not difficult to see how he made the jump from Swedish star to International sensation. He is equal parts cheery, stoic and ruthless. He’s a man at once in control and out of control. His final “conversation” with God is a stirring scene of great sadness, anger and determination.

So often I come away from Bergman films unmoved, bored or indifferent. Whether this is his fault, my fault or a combination of the two, I cannot say. In this instance though, in a story of a tragedy piled on a tragedy, with sadness so palpable that a simple snowfall, timed to perfection, left me in awe. It’s little wonder, then, that this Bergman film made me, at least for 89 minutes, a true fan.

GOTTA SEE IT # 16 - "TREES LOUNGE"

“TREES LOUNGE”

Starring: Carol Kane, Mark Boone Junior, Steve Buscemi, Bronson Dudley, Anthony La Paglia, Michael Buscemi, Elizabeth Bracco, John Ventimiglia, Debi Mazar, Chloe Sevigny, Mimi Rogers, Samuel Jackson, Michael Imperioli, Daniel Baldwin, Seymour Cassel.
Written by: Steve Buscemi
Directed by: Steve Buscemi
Colour – 1996
95 mins.
U.S.A.

There’s a neat moment early on in "Trees Lounge" where two men meet and shake hands for the first time. Doesn’t sound too dramatic, does it? They don’t argue or throw punches. Heck, they don’t even say so much as a bad word to one another, yet, this clever, subtle bit resonates for the rest of the film.

Representing actor Steve Buscemi’s feature writing/directing debut, TL is a well-observed character study about a man who refuses to grow up. Buscemi, himself, plays Tommy, an out of work mechanic who is still reeling from being dumped by his now pregnant girlfriend - who has since hooked up with his best friend. Now that’s painful enough, but what’s really hurting Tommy has nothing to with unemployment or the betrayal of a close friend. They are the dominos. The initial "push" that caused them to fall, one by one, is where the title comes into play. A neighbourhood bar that functions as a home away from home for many of its’ regulars, "Trees Lounge" is where Tommy’s problems begin and end. He’s an alcoholic, not doubt about it, but, somehow, he can’t see the forest from the...you get it.

Filled with solid, naturalistic performances, Buscemi offers up a convincing portrait of a working class world of the responsible and irresponsible. There are those who have moved on from the adolescent world of excuses and excesses and have embraced the demands of the adult world. Then there are those like Tommy who are still making it up as they go along, certain that one day, magically, all their problems will disappear in a drink and they will, finally, find themselves to be who they always wanted to be.

There are two key people orbiting around Tommy who keep him firmly mired in his long past due adolescence. One is Mike (Mark Boone Junior) - a married man and father who, though he has accepted the added responsibilities of adulthood, consistently fumbles the snap and is forever calling the wrong plays. He’s a gloriously goofy mess. Then there is Chloe Sevigny. Ah, Chloe – my vote for the one actress who could get wood from a dead man. Here, she plays Debbie - a cute, flirty teenager for whom Tommy clearly has a thing. They are both symbols as much as people. She represents the illusory promise of eternal youth – all excitement and silliness with fleeting, shallow pleasures always just a kiss, a puff or a sip away. She is the pretty wrapping paper. Tear it off and open the gift and what you’ll find is Mike – an embarrassing oaf of a man who has mistaken a game of chess for checkers.

Sad, funny, haunting, TL is never phony and almost always dead on target. Pick it up, give it a look and, depending on your age, you’ll either find it to be a funny reflection of your current life, a queasy/pleasant trip down memory lane, or a nagging reminder of a To-Do List with one key item that has yet to be crossed off.

GOTTA SEE IT # 15 - "OFF THE BLACK"

“OFF THE BLACK”

Starring: Trevor Morgan, Nick Nolte, Sonia Feigelson, Rosemarie DeWitt, Timothy Hutton, Sally Kirkland, Noah Fleiss, Johnathan Tchaikovsky, Michael Higgins.
Written by: James Ponsoldt
Directed by: James Ponsoldt
Colour – 2006
91 mins.
U.S.A.

Usually I spend the first paragraph of these “Gotta See It” postings rambling on about this or that before, finally, getting to the task at hand. This time, though, I’m in no mood to ramble (not a bad title for a country song, by the way) – this is a damn good movie that’s well worth 91 minutes of your life. So there!

The story of a surrogate father-son relationship between miserable, aging, alcoholic small time baseball umpire, Ray Cook (Nick Nolte) and sensitive and promising young pitcher, Dave Tibbel (Trevor Morgan), OTB is as quiet as a dugout in December and possesses the kind of small movie miracles that one wishes were as plentiful as pop ups on opening day.

The first scene, at once perfectly symbolic and efficiently dramatic, sees our young pitcher, Dave, facing a 3-2 count with the bases loaded in a tie game. He looks shaky on the mound before delivering the decisive pitch. A dramatic pause follows before umpire Ray Cook calls it a ball. Much later, Ray will admit to Dave that in that pause he almost called the pitch a strike. This line refers to the nature of their relationship, which is a moving illustration of the idea that it is often easier to seek what you’re missing in an old relationship, not by repairing it, but by starting a new one.

Years pile on, one after another, and boundaries and attitudes to one another build up. A whole list of things you can and cannot do with one another or can and cannot say takes root almost without one knowing. Problems that should’ve been addressed when they were manageable, over time, seem too overwhelming to address and consequently, feel impossible to overcome. In the clean slate of a new relationship, though, you can right all of that or at least you think you can. Owing to his age, Dave is clearly unaware of what’s really at work between him and Ray, and, therefore, is incapable of seeing that the sole purpose of this relationship is ultimately to point to the deficiencies of a much more important one. Its’ energy directed at the wrong target, or, more appropriately, in the context of this film, a pitch thrown over the wrong plate.

The back and forth between Morgan and Nolte rings true - from a late night encounter that almost proves tragic to an eventual comedic interaction that leads into personal revelations which deepens their bond. Managing to convincingly convey emotional immaturity, naiveté, and a genuine feeling of being intimidated by the worn and wounded presence of Nolte’s Ray, Morgan pieces together a solid, non-showy performance which captures, in a fresh way, youth in all of its’ awkward glory. Here’s hoping he doesn’t become the next big thing and disappear down the rabbit hole of his own ego. Fingers crossed.

Now, Nolte was born to play Ray Cook. He looks and sounds the part and, somehow, is able to carry it all off without overplaying. Blessed with that unusual and remarkable ability to seem to be in many places at the same time, Nolte gives Ray Cook the respect he deserves. He doesn’t play him as a loser, but as a man who recognizes that, often in life, the battle was never there to be won. It appeared to be fought, yes, but, more than anything, experienced, learned from and applied to other parts of ones’ life.

Kudos to writer/director Ponsoldt, who, though at times lays it on a little to thick with his dialogue, ultimately fashions a mature and moving sketch of the way people often occupy a “stand-in” role each other’s lives. And a tip of the hat to Tim Orr whose cinematography is as calm and beautifully naturalistic as it was in David Gordon Green’s underrated “All the Real Girls.”

Ah, baseball, a sport I have next to no interest in provides some clever metaphors for a film that suggests a real talent in the making in James Ponsoldt. Let’s hope he continues to hit the black with his future films.

GOTTA SEE IT # 14 - "MR. HULOT'S HOLIDAY"

“MR. HULOT’S HOLIDAY”

Starring: Jacques Tati, Nathalie Pascaud, Micheline Rolla, Valentine Camax, Louis Perrault, Andre Dubois, Lucien Fregis, Raymond Carl, Rene Lacourt, Marguerite Gerard.
Written by: Jacques Tati, Henri Marquet, Jacques Lagrange, Pierre Aubert
Directed by: Jacques Tati
B & W – 1954
85 mins.
France

It was a dark, drizzly day in the late ‘80s and I was sick and, consequently, home from school. That was unusual - not spending a day home from school, but being sick while doing it. The week before, I had driven my father’s Oldsmobile from one end of Toronto to the other, and finally found a video store that carried a certain "comedy classic." I quickly learned to be suspicious of any hype surrounding films that had long ago flickered out the last frames of their original theatrical run. Those suspicions split, and split fast, as I sat, in stuffy-nosed awe, gleefully enjoying one playfully elaborate comedic moment after another. Though devoid of plot, Mr. Hulot’s Holiday is a treat. As treats go, it’s the healthy kind. It’s more carrot then candy. In other words, it’s the kind of treat you feel better for having consumed.

Owing its’ spirit and structure to the silent film comedies of Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd, MHH was, in its’ time, already past its’ due date. So, it’s old fashioned, but not entirely derivative. It tips its’ hat to the old masters while proving itself worthy of its’ own unique place in the history of slapstick comedies. It is graceful, witty, beautifully and artfully shot and scored and even has a point of view that informs the greater bulk of the gags.

The story? Well, there isn’t much of one other than to say that there’s this odd fellow named Monsieur Hulot and his free spirited ways clash with the uptight folks vacationing at a resort somewhere on the coast of France. And that’s all the story you’re going to need - trust me on this one. The man playing Hulot, by the way, is Jacques Tati. He was a master pantomime artist and creator of slowly evolving, cleverly constructed gags. There are several stand-out set pieces. One gag, involving Tati looking for a ping pong ball in amongst a group of card players, is a thing of beauty. Another, where Tati’s rickety car breaks down near a cemetery, features a brilliant transposition that he pulls off with effortless ease.

If you, like I, were raised on crass comedies where most sight gags involved one guy’s foot and another guy’s crotch, then you’ll probably be a bit mystified by the amount of attention and respect Tati brings to physical/visual comedy. I mean, the guy turns it into frickin’ ballet! You also might find the leisurely pace of MHH a problem. Instead of blindly racing from one cheap gag to the next in hopes that something sticks, Tati takes his sweet time – clearly confident in his abilities and clearly delighting in not only a bona fide gag sequence, but subtle, amusing observations as well.

Tati would go on to make only a few more films, but, with this, his first “Hulot” feature, he cemented his reputation as one of cinema’s truly unique artists.

GOTTA SEE IT # 13 - "NIGHTMARE ALLEY"

“NIGHTMARE ALLEY”

Starring: Tyrone Power, Joan Blondell, Coleen Gray, Helen Walker, Taylor Holmes, Mike Mazurki, Ian Keith.
Written by: William Lindsay Gresham (novel), Jules Furthman (screenplay)
Directed by: Edmond Goulding
B & W – 1947
110 mins.
U.S.A.

Ambition – I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen or heard that word used in a positive context. Actually, correction, I can – 1,750,356 times. Okay, I may be off by a few. Judging by those honest to goodness numbers, it’s often assumed that if someone is ambitious they are to be respected. It doesn’t take long to come up with dozens of examples of folks you wished had no desires beyond living a quiet, peaceful, absolutely average life. Talented Carny huckster Stanton Carlisle (Tyrone Power), plying his trickster trade in this is seedy stunner from 1947, is one such sad case.

Opening in the colourful carnival world of cons, strong men and geeks, Nightmare Alley charts Stanton’s journey from lowly mind-reading act assistant to high society clairvoyant to messianic swindler in stunning dramatic strokes. Ironically, his first act of ambition is accidental – as if he was operating unconsciously or, as is more in keeping with the flavour of the film, mysterious outer forces were at work to assure him of his greedy goal.

Throughout the film, the obvious fakery of Stanton’s con is balanced by some genuine and unexplainable forces – some for which Stanton, himself, is responsible. This apparent contradiction makes the film a much more interesting and complex ride then it otherwise would have been. It becomes a twisted tale of a man practicing a fake version of a very real phenomenon, which, in the end, claims him as a victim. Stanton knows he’s a fake in his craft, but his superstitious nature causes him to believe in the craft nonetheless. That is his true downfall - a clever and deeply ironic one at that.

Although somewhat flawed by what usually plagues a lot of otherwise really fine classic films – overly obvious dialogue, stiff acting and a compromised ending – Nightmare Alley nevertheless amazes with its’ innate understanding of human wants and needs, the beautifully inky blacks of its’ fine chiaroscuro cinematography by Lee Garmes (Forever and a Day, Lady in a Cage), and several stunning set-pieces. One such set-piece is so sad, so soaked with human longing and desperation and casual cruelty that it caught me off guard – as if I was convinced that no movie could so easily and artfully transcend the Hayes Code to present such a wrenching exhibition of human depravity.

One of the top Hollywood film noirs, Nightmare Alley is a cautionary tale, if there ever was one, and a fine example of a typecast Hollywood star, Tyrone Power, stretching his talents to reveal a depth which had previously gone unnoticed.

GOTTA SEE IT # 12 - "BLINDSPOT: HITLER'S SECRETARY"

“BLINDSPOT: HITLER’S SECRETARY”

Starring: Traudl Junge.
Directed by: Andre Heller, Othmar Schmiderer
Colour – 2002
90 min

Austria

Consensus sucks - in art, anyway. The majority opinion matters in politics, of course, but, it can suck too - like when your candidate loses. Hello, Democrats! In art, though, film art included, it is irrelevant. You like the movies you like - majority opinion be damned! (I swear, that’s the last exclamation point). I mention this because there seems to be a consensus that talking head documentaries are stale and boring. Since Michael Moore came along and exploded the documentary, there has been a definite move towards spicing things up in non-fiction land - pranks, gimmicks, flashy images and attitude have prevailed. I am very glad to report that Blindspot: Hitler’s Secretary ignores all of that and relies solely on a series of interviews with a single, solitary woman.

That woman is Traudl Junge, who at the age of 22, was hired on as Hitler’s secretary. Working for him from 1942 to 1945, the tale she has to tell is fascinating for both obvious and non-obvious reasons. The camera never leaves its’ static position, as Junge recounts, in incredible detail, her days working under De Fuhrer. Some of her memories are so trite - he named his dog “Blondie”; he hated the sight of dead flowers - as to be borderline inappropriate. After all, we’re not talking about some silly Hollywood celebrity here, but a man who was responsible for the slaughter of at least 10 million people. Yet, it’s darkly, sadly comical that this man even extended his view of Aryan supremacy to the naming of his dog and, though a butcher of epic proportions, couldn’t stand the sight of dead flowers.

More importantly, Junge’s inclusion of trite bits of information about Hitler suggests that she has never been able to fully reconcile the man she knew with the man the rest of the world knew. I would even go so far as to say that she has never lost her affection for him. Late in the film, as Junge recounts the final days of Adolf and Eva Braun, that affection surfaces as she becomes emotionally moved by her remembering. I mention this not to condemn Junge, but to underline the bizarre duality of this man - one minute being polite and jovial with his secretary and the next minute ordering the slaughter of a whole race of people. Also, and I don’t mean this in a sarcastic way, this proves, once and for all, that you can be in a person’s presence, day after day, for years and yet never really know them. People show you what they want to show you and hide everything else - including mass murderers.

There is a sort of personal sub-plot running through the film concerning Junge’s conscience. She insists that she never knew about the concentration camps. She blames her youth - she was 13 when Hitler came to power. Yet, at the very end of the film, she tells of a time shortly after Hitler’s defeat and suicide, when she passed a monument to a young girl, the same age as her, who was killed as a result of resisting the Nazis. Junge concludes that, though she blames her youth, this excuse doesn’t hold up at all. It is a powerful moment made all the more so by the fact that to that day, some 57 years later, Junge had yet to come to terms with her participation in an unspeakable horror that she was present for but never saw.

Containing more compelling moments than a dozen or so features combined, Blindspot: Hitler’s Secretary is a remarkable document of one person’s view from the eye of a terrible, brutal hurricane of horror.

GOTTA SEE IT # 11 - "ETRE ET AVOIR"

“ETRE ET AVOIR”

Starring: Georges Lopez, Alize, Axel, Guilliaume, Jessie, Johan, Johann, Jonathan, Julien, Laura, Letitia, Marie-Elizabeth, Nathalie, Olivier, Franck.
Directed by: Nicolas Philibert
Colour – 2002
99 mins
France

School. That word triggers a thousand memories - some truly wonderful, some absolutely horrible. Teacher. That may trigger even more. I can remember some genuinely awful teachers - those dark, miserable souls whose overall happiness seemed to rest on the very sunny prospect of me failing their class. Fortunately, flipping back the spiral notebook pages of my memory, I can also recall some very fine teachers - the kind who honestly gave a damn. The teacher profiled in this moving French doc is one of those ones.

In a one room school house, in a small French farming community, a soon to be retired teacher named Georges Lopez presides over children aged 4 thru 11. If there is any one quality a teacher has to have in abundance, it’s patience. Going over the same lessons, day after day, month after month, year after year, as students struggle to understand and progress, a teacher has to have the ability to wait for that moment when all of his pupils finally get it. If patience were pillows, Mr. Lopez would have several dozen warehouses stocked full of them. He, also, though, possesses a genuine love of his profession. He says as much in the only interview in the film - though by the time that scene rolls around, you’ve already watched that love in action.

Mirroring his subject’s calm, controlled manner, director Nicolas Philibert paces Etre Et Avoir in slow and steady steps. Heck, he even opens up with a couple of turtles crawling on the floor of the schoolhouse - a witty visualization of the unhurried rhythm at which country life, learning and Mr. Lopez operate. Philibert also mimics Lopez’s observational qualities, as he leaves his camera rolling and captures all manner of minor moments that charm and move - attention deficient Jojo neglecting his colouring; a more and more confused Julien getting “help” from a steadily increasing crowd of family members; an emotionally fragile Olivier opening up about his father’s illness.

Now, it’s no mean feet to make school seem like the most wonderful place in the world. Though this may not have been the intent, at times, it is undeniably the result. Who knows - there may be hours of outtakes of the kids turning Damien and driving Mr. Lopez nuts to the point at which he loses it in a profanity-laced tirade that makes Bobby Knight look like Mr. Rogers. I doubt it, but, just for this semi-cynic’s sake, let’s leave that possibility open. In the footage that we have to judge by, though, when things go wrong, Mr. Lopez, in calm and reassuring tones, uses logic, fairness, and emotional empathy as he attempts to turn even non-school activity into an important learning experience.

If you’re a teacher and feeling a little cynical about your chosen profession, then do yourself a favour and take a trip down to your local independent video store (those big stores won’t have it) and rent this movie. If you’re not a teacher, then this film might just make you wish you were.

GOTTA SEE IT # 10 - "THE BLUE ANGEL"

“THE BLUE ANGEL”

Starring: Emil Jannings, Marlene Dietrich, Kurt Gerron, Rosa Valetti, Hans Albers, Reinhold Bernt, Eduard von Winterstein, Hans Roth, Rolf Muller, Roland Varno, Carl Balhaus.
Written by: Heinrich Mann (novel), Carl Zuckmayer, Karl Vollmoller, Robert Liebmann.
Directed by: Joseph von Sternberg
B&W - 1932
101 minutes
Germany

“Beware of blonde women, they’re special, every one. At first you may be unaware, but something is definitely there. A little hanky-panky can be fun, but from their clutches you’d better run.” – sung by Marlene Dietrich as “Lola Lola” in “The Blue Angel”

Sex vs. Intellect - I know which one I’d put my money on.

This match up for the ages sends us down some cracked and crooked steps into the deep dark belly of German filmmaking circa 1932. Immanuel Rath (Emil Jannings), an esteemed professor, falls hard for a scandalous barroom entertainer named Lola Lola - played with effortless sensuality by early erotic icon Marlene Dietrich.

Compelling, focused, with an emotional intensity that is remarkably sustained for large stretches of scenes, The Blue Angel is a marvel to behold. Though a simple story of obsessive love and how it strips a once proud man of his dignity - leaving him stunned and struck silent by his inability to pull himself away from his object of desire – what amazes me most about this film is its’ sheer, cumulative power. Structured circularly, the scenes in The Blue Angel pass, one by one, each efficiently echoing and amplifying the last, until they achieve their full force in a devastating final shot which is simply too sad and haunting to be forgotten.

When Rath loses his dignity, something far more important also slips from his grasp - control. Students in Rath’s class snap to attention when he first enters the room every morning. Rath has total control over them. This is how he is able to teach them, to mould them and to keep the classroom from descending into anarchy. Without this power, he is finished as a professor. When his students spy their once intimidating prof reduced to a love struck schoolboy in Lola Lola’s presence, he is done. An authority figure is exposed as a fake and nothing will ever be the same.

Jannings and Dietrich, two legends of German film, make the most unlikely of couplings and, naturally, so too do Rath and Lola Lola – he’s large, heavy, unattractive, stiff and stuffy and she’s beautiful, sexy, playful and loose – yet their chemistry is undeniable. There’s an obvious father/daughter dimension to their pairing, yes, but you can actually picture the two as a romantic coupling. They compliment one another – he brings her class and sophistication and she offers him beauty, excitement and a much needed sabbatical from the suffocating strictness of his life.

Made some eight years after the end of German Expressionism, The Blue Angel, nonetheless, is informed by the movement’s taste for chiaroscuro lighting and grotesquerie. One need only watch Rath’s first visit to the titular club – as he sneaks through the dark, over a dimly lit cobblestone road, with a tall building jutting out and slanting over top of him – to see this debt in action. Or watch Rath’s final return appearance – a scene so bold and cruel and freakish that it has lost none of its’ sinister impact some seventy odd years later.

Bird imagery and mimicry take centre stage in pathetically and comically illustrating the complete collapse of Rath’s core being. These scenes are weird and disturbing and add a sinister quality to the descent of this once prideful man. It’s as if, in stripping him of his sense of self, he becomes some sort of beast - a sickly squawking creature who has lost his way. Early in the film, in a moment that should’ve convinced Rath to jump right back into bed, he discovers his bird dead in its’ cage. It’s not too long after that that Rath is doing his best impersonation of his beloved deceased pet in a cruel cage of his very own making.

GOTTA SEE IT # 9 - "BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA"

“BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA”

Starring: Warren Oates, Isela Vega, Robert Webber, Gig Young, Helmut Dantine, Emilio Fernandez, Kris Kristofferson, Chano Urueta, Donnie Fritts.

Written by: Frank Kowalski, Sam Peckinpah, Gordon T. Dawson.

Directed by: Sam Peckinpah

Colour – 1974

112 minutes

U.S.A.

Money is the root of all evil.

Okay, maybe things aren’t that cut and dry. After all, money can be a positive force in our lives. It’s all about balance, right? Well, this picture - Sam Peckinpah’s scuzzy, blood soaked up-chuck of a road movie - flips a filthy middle finger at that quaint notion.

A Mexican land baron, El Jefe (Emilio Fernandez), triggers a vicious and gruesome man hunt, when he offers a million dollars to the person who can bring him the head of the man who impregnated his young daughter. Yes, that would be Alfredo Garcia and, yes, he would be in deep, deep trouble.

Peckinpah favourite, Warren Oates (Ride the High Country, The Wild Bunch, Cockfighter) plays a down on his luck, small town bartender named Bennie, who is promised ten thousand bucks by a professional outfit if he’ll deliver Alfredo’s head to them within 4 days. They, in turn, will deliver it to El Jefe and collect a cool million for Bennie’s troubles.

Thematically focused like a laser, BMTHOAG is principally about two things - the corrupting nature of money and the power the past has over the present and, consequently, over any potential future. Bennie’s the victim of both, as he tries to use the search for Alfredo’s head as a means of turning his luck around and setting up a new life with Mexican girlfriend Elita (sexy and earthy Isela Vega). Oates has this regular guy-doofus appeal that makes BMTHOAG a surprisingly enjoyable ride. I say surprisingly enjoyable because this flick is bleak - no doubt about that - but Oates’ oddball charm keeps it from being eaten alive by its’ own relentless pessimism.

Peckinpah was a romantic. He threw his whole self into his films. Also, like Fellini or Woody Allen, his films are inseparable from himself. He is his films and vice versa. Consequently, his characters are larger than life, do or die, go-big-or-go-home types who live on the edge and prefer it that way. They cannot compromise. They cannot do anything half-way. They are what they are - for better or worse - just like the man who made them. Oates’ Bennie fits this mold, but he’s one of Peckinpah’s least commanding characters. He has more in common with Dustin Hoffman’s math professor from “Straw Dogs” or Jason Robard’s “Cable Hogue” from “Ballad of Cable Hogue” than he does with either William Holden’s “Pike Bishop” or Robert Ryan’s “Deke Thorton” from “The Wild Bunch.” He’s a loser (heck, he admits as much) and screws-up time and time again. He’s a horrible dresser, worse protector and a lousy judge of character. Summing up, it’s best not to pin your hopes on this guy. Yet, he’s the lead character in the film! Have I mentioned how much I like films about lost causes like Bennie?

There is plenty of doom and gloom in BMTHOAG - plenty of dirt and blood and dead bodies lying lonesome in the hot Mexican sun. There’s also romance, touches of black comedy and the grimy fingerprints of day old sleaze. Peckinpah has crafted an uncompromising work that, in the end, leaves no heroes and spares no villains.

GOTTA SEE IT # 8 - "THE GRISSOM GANG"

“THE GRISSOM GANG”

Starring: Kim Darby, Scott Wilson, Tony Musante, Robert Lansing, Connie Stevens, Irene Dailey, Wesley Addy, Joey Faye, Michael Baseleon, Ralph Waite.
Written by: James Hadley Chase (novel), Leon Griffiths.
Directed by: Robert Aldrich
Colour – 1971
128 mins.
U.S.A.

Class. Everyone has it. That is they belong to a class - low, middle, high. At least, these labels are slapped, sometimes carelessly, on those with or without money or those with questionable or unquestionable morals. You can actually belong to two classes at the same time - high (money) and low (morals). Many of our most famous/wealthy people achieve this contradictory, dual distinction with apparent ease. Okay, I’m a bit off topic. What I’m trying to say is that in, “The Grissom Gang”, the class divide is bridged and then, softly, annihilated.

Set in the 1930's, Kim Darby (The Strawberry Statement) plays Barbara Blandish, an heiress who is kidnapped and held for ransom by backwoods Ma Grissom (Irene Dailey) and her family/gang of very nasty and very sweaty boys. Her plan is to get the ransom and then kill the girl to avoid getting caught. There’s only one problem - her son, Slim (Scott Wilson), has a big ole crush on the captive rich girl.

“The Grissom Gang” is at once dark and kooky - at once compelling and just plain loopy. Yet, at its’ centre is a remarkable back and forth between Scott Wilson’s sadistic, yet dim and sensitive Slim and Kim Darby’s tough yet brittle Barbara. Their scenes together are funny, sad and romantic. They collide off of one another in surprising ways - at different times resembling quarrelling siblings, a tyrannical mother and her compliant child and, in a most touching way, young, naive lovers.

I confess - I’m a big Scott Wilson fan. He’s one of those terrifically naturalistic performers who makes the very difficult art of acting look easy. Lesser actors play characters, he takes possession of them - soul and all. He’s also got a wonderful sympathetic quality that, particularly here, makes detestable characters likable. There are scenes where Grissom Gang member and playboy creep Eddie (Tony Musante) plays Slim for a fool. They are painful, awkward moments. You catch yourself feeling deeply for Slim before you remember he’s heading upstairs to see a woman whom he played a part in kidnapping.

Producer/ Director Robert Aldrich (The Dirty Dozen, The Killing Of Sister George) is one of those filmmakers whose work always seems only a scene or two away from slipping into full-on camp. I felt that way about “The Killing Of Sister George” and still can’t get the image out of my head of him killing his son off during the opening credits/plane crash of “The Flight Of The Phoenix.” I chuckled as I typed that last sentence. This isn’t to say that I don’t like his films, on the contrary, especially when it comes to this one. I’m just acknowledging a peculiar, almost-falling-apart-but-still-very-good-quality of his movie making. His films are the cinematic equivalent of some wild Evel Knievel stunt - any moment it threatens to turn into a mammoth disaster. “The Grissom Gang”, thankfully, does not.

As the final moments play out under a scorching sun, with press, police, concerned and unconcerned parties looking on, something that truly, rarely happens in films happens - you’re moved. Yes, the film that almost teetered a bit too much and toppled into a land overpopulated by hack acting and inept direction ends with grace and power.

GOTTA SEE IT # 7 - "A FACE IN THE CROWD"

“A FACE IN THE CROWD”

Starring: Andy Griffith, Patricia Neal, Anthony Franciosa, Walter Matthau, Lee Remick, Percy Waram, Paul McGrath, Rod Brasfield, Marshall Neilan.
Written by: Budd Schulberg
Directed by: Elia Kazan
B & W – 1957
125 mins.
U.S.A.

We’re not in Mayberry – at least not yet. This late fifties stunner slid into theatres a few years before Andy Griffith starred in the good natured sitcom for which he’d become best known. If you’re only familiar with him from that or “Matlock”, well, you might just blow a fuse or two watching him bark and bully his way through two hours of film as a cunning hick who plays people with as much ease as he does his ever-present acoustic guitar.

Patricia Neal is the sturdy good girl Marcia Jefferies - a bright and adventurous radio show host who travels the country looking for new talent. She finds that and a whole bunch more when she visits an Arkansas jail where she encounters hick huckster extraordinaire Larry Rhodes. She christens him “Lonesome” and he sweeps her and the country off their feet with his potent mix of hillbilly bravado and wild eyed charisma on his way to becoming a regional radio superstar and, later, a national TV sensation.

Now, this was directed by Elia Kazan (On the Waterfront, East of Eden) who, to say the least, knew a thing or two about actors. Here, though, he outdoes himself by getting Griffith to crawl into every dirt corner of his being and dig out a performance all muddied with rage and wild desperation. Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes is one twisted mess of a maze of a man. He’s part boy-part man, part angel-part devil. He’s more real and alive than anyone you’ll ever meet. He’s also more fake and dead.

Schulberg (The Harder They Fall) and Kazan have created something complex and magnificent here - partly the chronicle of the unraveling of a megalomaniac, partly an undressing of a brand new mass medium and fully the skewering of a gullible public starting with none other than ambitious and love struck Marcia Jefferies. She’s a sort of a Dr. Frankenstein here. No, though she named him, she didn’t create Rhodes, but she certainly did let him loose on an unsuspecting public. He was a predator and she showed him to his prey. Heck, though she didn’t know it, she was his prey.

The film also works as a clever tale of country vs. city and intuitive vs. intellectual. Though bright and well educated, Marcia is no match for Rhodes. When we first meet him - asleep on a jail cell floor, looking spent and soul sick, ready to throttle the next person who so much as whistles his way - “Lonesome” already knows more about how people are hooked up than any human should. He’s bright and knowing in ways that Marcia and her pal Mell Miller (played with appropriate mild mannered dullness by Walter Matthau) cannot even conceive of, let alone comprehend.

There’s a startling scene, at a train station, fairly early in the film, where a crowded mass of Arkansas folk have gathered to see their hometown hero “Lonesome” off as he heads to Memphis to star in his very own big time TV show. It’s nighttime and the train is pulling away from the station. The folks are waving and cheering and “Lonesome” is hanging off the train, smiling and waving back at them. Then, the folks run out and so to does the smile on Rhodes’ face, as he rolls into the night and stares, sad faced, into the endless, empty dark. That brief, yet memorable moment, hints at the saddest of all truths about Larry “Lonesome” Rhodes – he was the first and he’ll be the last casualty of his own cruel con.

GOTTA SEE IT # 6 - "ELLING"

“ELLING”

Starring: Per Christian Ellefsen, Sven Nordin, Marit Pia Jacobsen, Jorgen Langhelle, Per Christensen.
Written by: Ingvar Ambjornsen and Axel Hellstenus
Directed by: Petter Naess
Colour – 2001
88 mins.
Norway

Buddy movies – they are a dime a dozen. Many are lazy, unfunny and seem to take it as a given that two guys (or girls) hanging out together is inherently funny and compelling. That reminds me, have you seen “Bad Boys”? The good ones, though, “Scarecrow”, “California Split”, “Midnight Run”, “Sideways”, distinguish themselves by building real characters with real inner lives whose personalities are in constant conflict with one another. It’s these sparks that fly from the tension between the two, as if they inhabited a world unto themselves, that make or unmake these films. Good writing, directing and acting also help as well.

Two maladjusted adult men, Elling (Per Christian Ellefsen) and Kjell Bjarne (Sven Nordin) recently released from an institution, are given an apartment, in Oslo, and tasked with the challenge of living on their own. If they fail, it’s back to the institution. That’s the film. It’s a simple, straightforward story about co-dependence, growing and learning to overcome your fears and, most importantly, it’s damn funny.

Another key ingredient to the “buddy film” is the discovery that, even though these two friends are complete opposites, they fill in the gaps of the other. In this case, Elling is the agoraphobic, anxiety ridden brain to Kjell’s dim, caring, and outgoing beast. Kjell pushes Elling to leave the safety of their apartment and connect with the world around him, while Elling helps Kjell romantically connect with neighbour Reidun Nordsletten (Marit Pia Jacobsen).

Ellefsen and Nordin make a great team. Ellefsen plays Elling’s uptight, nervous, know-it-all with great ease and depth. There’s no overplaying here, just a perfect fit for actor and role. Nordin brings great warmth and child-like energy to the oaf’s oaf that is Kjell Bjarne. But, Bjarne is the straight man here and it is Ellefsen’s wonderful turn as Elling that triggers most of the laughs. The opening, in which the two initially click, is a brilliant bit of comedic give and take.

Even though I’d describe this as a “slight” film, with many terrific comic moments, “Elling” also has stretches that are full of depth and tenderness. There are some real dramatic craftsmen at work here. The scene at Christmas is a marvelous funny-moving sequence that foreshadows what’s to come for the two and it is followed by one of the funniest bits in the movie.

So, if you’re looking for a kooky buddy movie set in Norway – okay, even if you’re not – then pick this one up. “Elling” is worth the time and effort to get to know.

GOTTA SEE IT # 5 - "MONDAYS IN THE SUN"

“MONDAYS IN THE SUN”

Starring: Javier Bardem, Luis Tosar, Jose Angel Egido, Nieve de Medina, Enrique Villen, Celso Bugallo, Joaquin Climent, Aida Folch, Serge Riaboukine, Laura Dominguez.
Written by: Ignacio del Moral, Fernando Leon de Aranoa
Directed by: Fernando Leon de Aranoa
Colour – 2002
113 minutes.

Unity - one for all and all for one. In theory, it’s a concept that seems a given – one pledges loyalty to a collective and the collective reciprocates. In reality, though - especially in bleak and desperate times – this give and take relationship is often put to the test by the temptation of an easy way out.

Santa (Javier Bardem) is one of a group of former shipyard workers, living in Northern Spain, who was laid off some three years ago. He, along with his colleagues, are still jobless, still suffering from the demoralizing effects of this blow to their lives, to their identities, and, most importantly, to their sense of self worth. Santa is their leader, their conscience. He’s a big, bearded bull of a man titling his horns at selfishness and greed and charging at those who seek to weaken his sense of community. He’s the glue that holds everyone together and reminds them of why they are together in the first place.

Santa’s fellow unemployed are struggling with feelings of inadequacy – Jose (Luis Tosar) can’t deal with the fact that his wife, Ana (Nieve de Medina) is now the breadwinner; Paulino (Jose Angel Egido) is fighting his age, as he competes for jobs against workers twenty years his junior; and most sadly, Amador (a brief but touching performance by Celso Bugallo) has simply fallen apart. Fernando Leon de Aranoa and Ignacio del Moral capture the humanity of these lost souls. They contrast the impersonal world of unemployment offices, and, in one key scene, a cold and indifferent bank employee, with the, at times shaky, yet ultimately solid bond that these characters feel with one another.

In the haunted hush of scenes that pass by with much warmth and humour, you’ll find a portrait of lives adrift, moving further away from one another and, consequently, from what gives them strength and meaning. The jobs that they lost gave them a sense of self, a sense of pride, but it’s their relationships with each other that truly define and sustain them. Time and again, in MITS, characters are weakened when they act alone – they sabotage themselves, their marriages, their dignity. Yet - and, again, this is where the film’s heart beats loudest – when they rely on, trust, and generally put their faith in one another, they heal, they persevere and hold on to hope.

The script is thoughtful, respectful and only occasionally hits its’ notes too hard. The acting is superb, but not in a showy way. It’s honest, sometimes brutally so, with Bardem - who stands out in an excellent cast – putting most high priced Hollywood actors in their place with his cool, ragged charm and broken hearted bravado.

Look out for “The Grasshopper and the Ant”, “The Siamese Twins” and a brilliant scene inside a soccer stadium. Look out for “Spregel”, hair dye and an achingly romantic line about a mermaid. But, most of all, look out for your heart, this film may just break it.

GOTTA SEE IT # 4 - "LE CHIGNON D'OLGA"

"Le Chignon D’Olga"

Starring: Hubert Benhamdine, Nathalie Boutefeu, Florence Loiret, Serge Riaboukine, Marc Citti, Antoine Goldet, Valerie Stroh, Clotilde Hesme. Jean-Michel Portal.
Written by: Jerome Bonnell
Directed by: Jerome Bonnell
Colour – 2002
89 mins.

This film is a ghost story – though not in the way you would expect. There are no scenes of doors mysteriously closing or of otherworldly voices warning of impending doom, but this low-key French gem about emotional, creative and physical paralysis is haunted by a character who’s never physically present and is only mentioned in one short scene.

Gilles (Serge Riaboukine), Julien (Hubert Benhamdine) and Emma (Florence Loiret) are a family coping with the loss of a wife and mother. She’s gone and, yet, she’s not gone. Gilles and his kids rarely, if ever, talk of her, specifically, yet her presence is undeniable. She exists in the things that Gilles, Julien and Emma don’t say to one another. She is felt in the looks they give one another, in the subtext of their conversations, in their silences.

Each one of their lives has been stopped in its’ tracks by this loss - Gilles, a children’s novelist, is suffering a serious creative block; Emma has dropped out of school; Julien, a gifted concert pianist, no longer even plays. These moments are so casually mentioned that if you weren’t paying close attention, you’d miss them. There are also odd, yet moving moments that also speak to their loss – Gilles breaking down at a costume party, Julien momentarily losing it and chasing some sheep around their farm and Emma coming across pictures of her mother while searching for a new photo to use for re-registering at school. They are small, brief yet touching moments that catch you by surprise.

Bonnell’s writing/directing style is minimalist. His scenes are sketches – brief moments that always hint at something bigger without necessarily delivering on it. He’s restrained, in that particular French filmmaking way, and by being so, he leaves space for us to wander and wonder. He captures the awkward rhythms of life – its’ confusion, its’ start-stop nature. He creates the sense that we are truly peeking in on real people who are not at all certain of how to deal with what has so cruelly been delivered upon them.

Lest I leave you with the sense that “Le Chignon D’Olga” is all sadness, there are moments of real humour - particularly one scene where Julien tries to play hero to get the attention of a woman with whom he’s obsessed. The woman is Olga and she works at a book store that Julien frequents. She’s beautiful, elegant, and though she is a secondary character, her name is the only one to appear in the film’s title. There’s good reason. Bonnell doesn’t spell it out, but there is a scene later on in the film where she appears to Julien and it’s this brief flicker of a moment that solidifies her role in the film.

Bonnell is a director who trusts and respects his audience. It’s all there and he knows that if we are game, we will search and find the connections and make sense of it all. Another example of this first appears to be a subplot involving Julien’s attempts to help his friend Alice (Nathalie Boutefeu) deal with her emotional mess of a boyfriend. It is in the playing out of this story thread and its’ contrast to the Olga thread where Bonnell weaves his subtle emotional magic. This portion of the film is moving and simple and brilliant - it lingers in the mind and heart for days. This movie will too, that is, if you’re game.

GOTTA SEE IT # 3 - "IL BIDONE"

“IL BIDONE”

Starring: Broderick Crawford, Giulietta Masina, Richard Basehart, Franco Fabrizi, Sue Ellen Blake, Irene Cefaro, Alberto De Amicis, Lorella De Luca.
Written by: Federico Fellini, Ennio Flaiano, Tullio Pinelli.
Directed by: Federico Fellini
B & W – 1955
91 mins.

Buried treasure – it’s the central prop in the opening scam deftly pulled off by three con men in this sad and haunting Federico Fellini film from 1955. It’s also an apt description for the film itself, which followed and preceded two much more celebrated Fellini films - “La Strada” and “Nights Of Cabiria.”

Three con men – a slick playboy named Roberto (Franco Fabrizi), a childish family man named Picasso (Richard Basehart), and aging and desperate Augusto (Broderick Crawford), make an effective team running elaborate and cruel cons on the peasants of the Italian countryside.

Fellini and collaborators Ennio Flaiano (La Dolce Vita, The Tenth Victim) and Tullio Pinelli (The White Sheik, Boccaccio ’70) invest their three central characters with varying amounts of humanity – from the least, Roberto, to the most, Augusto – and in doing so bring sadness and poignancy to otherwise cheap, pathetic lives. In the end it is Crawford’s film, as his aching, world weary mug pulls you in and makes you care for a man whose humanity is something he keeps locked away until it is too late. Crawford plays Augusto with broken intensity - he’s all sad faces and pained expressions. He’s a lion who has grown too old and heartsick for the jungle he, nevertheless, continues to roam.

There are several beautifully constructed and executed scenes, but the highlight is a New Year’s Eve party thrown by an old con colleague of Augusto’s named Rinaldo (played with nihilistic oiliness by Alberto De Amicis) who has made it big and is now rubbing his old friend’s face in it. Few filmmakers were as good as Fellini at shooting large gatherings. Here, in a spacious and crowded apartment, his camera is always moving, always capturing the contained chaos of the revelers as well as a few choice contrasting moments – couples having a blast while Rinaldo and his mistress fight; Picasso and his wife Iris (Giulietta Masina) sharing a kiss at the stroke of midnight while Augusto stands painfully and awkwardly alone. The scene ends on an embarrassing and defining note that stings our trio of tricksters - most especially Augusto.

Fellini went on to bigger budgets, more complex narratives and images that presented remarkable, dense, dream-like worlds where seemingly anything was possible. Here, though, in this harsh sketch of a film, he contrasts the selfish, cruel world of the con and the humble, hardworking life of the peasant with moving results. As the final moments slip by, when redemption seems only a car ride away, cruelty is no longer an elaborate con, but, instead, it is a dirt road and an honorable life just out of reach.

GOTTA SEE IT # 2 - "THE SWIMMER"

“THE SWIMMER”

Starring: Burt Lancaster, Janet Langford, Janice Rule, Tony Bickley
Written by: John Cheever (story), Eleanor Perry (screenplay)
Directed by: Frank Perry
Colour - 1968
96 mins.

A companion piece to “Seconds”, this late sixties stunner dazzles the mind and heart in equal measure as it, once and for all, slams the door shut on the “Father Knows Best” generation.

Burt Lancaster plays Ned Merrill, a middle aged business man, who surprises a group of well-off friends - whom he hasn’t seen in a while - by using each of their pools to "swim home."

Both literally and figuratively an attempt to go home again, Ned Merrill’s journey slowly pulls back the curtain on mid 20th century American fatherhood to reveal the flawed, scared, and in-denial boy-man behind it. In doing so, director Frank Perry (David and Lisa, Rancho Deluxe) and writers John Cheever (Alfred Hitchcock Presents) and Eleanor Perry (Diary of a Mad Housewife) create a character who is no likeable slam dunk. Ned's charismatic and full of life, yet also desperate and pathetic – a man taking bows to a chorus of boos he cannot hear. He’s suffering from a severe mental block, yes, but it is entirely self-serving, as it shields him from dealing with those around him – especially the ones he’s hurt.

To Ned, a swimming pool is not just a hole in the ground filled with water - it’s a river leading home; a destination in and of itself; a womb; an escape from reality; a reminder of a long since evaporated childhood. A swimming pool soothes and re-energizes him - it’s a place of refuge. His connection to it is authentic and emotional. On the other hand, his friends - who own the very pools in which he swims - treat them as nothing more than status symbols. It is telling that none of them are actually shown swimming in their own pools.

Though filled with fine actors, this is a one man show with Lancaster mobilizing his trademark cheer and vigour as a kind of last front in a war against Ned’s quickly encroaching reality. Lancaster holds nothing back – shattering to a million pieces his usual assuredness and macho bravado. Allowing himself to be seen as physically and mentally weak, he melts the metal armour of American manhood and, in doing so, gives a performance of stunning naked intensity.

Somewhat visually embracing the spirit of the times, “The Swimmer” swirls with vibrant colours, lens flares, lap dissolves, and one remarkable slow motion sequence. The music, by Marvin Hamlisch (Ordinary People, Sophie’s Choice), is conventional Hollywood, but its’ perfect – so sad, so romantic and so wistful.

Ultimately, “The Swimmer” is a film about a man who’s drowning in his own illusions and he doesn’t even know it.