Encounters at the End of the World
28 August, 2008
What madness is it that drives the man to conquer the beast or summit the mount? And what of insatiable curiosity, the pursuit of knowledge? Is it the same urge? To know everything, to catalogue it and keep it close in bound paper vaults, is this the same as conquest and enslavement? Is all of this rooted in some form of greed? I do not know. And what of beauty? What of awe? Does submission in the face of beauty overcome the greed? To pursue ones dreams to the logical end… to the actual end… to the place from whence one can only begin…
It is spectacular, I think, that Mr. Herzog finally found his un-looked-upon images, and he was not in control of the camera. Even he was not permitted to look upon his subject. Only a special few are admitted to that cathedral, and even he is not among them.
Hancock
10 August, 2008
Hancock is essentially two movies- one fairly decent one, one completely awful one- stuck together with thumbtacks, or perhaps a staple gun. The pacing is slapdash, and the story itself is all kinds of weird. There are some very pretty shots, and then there are things that seem as though they have been processed to the point of no longer retaining any ‘real’. The thing I really don’t get, though, is the number of reviews I read that said Will Smith had really put himself into this role, that he wasn’t just smiling and joking his way through. He wasn’t smiling big and dumb for the camera, but he was certainly having a good laugh over the whole ordeal. Anyhow. It’s barely passable, but it does have some hysterically funny moments. And Jason Bateman is loveable as always- I would like to see Bateman play a serial killer or something. Not really worth seeing, but if you’re bored, why not?
The Wackness
10 August, 2008
Essentially, this is the new Garden State, with better music and no Manic Pixie Dream Girl. I mostly saw it because I wanted to be creeped out by Ben Kingsley making out with Mary-Kate Olsen. Which did happen, but was not particularly creepy. It actually kind of made sense. And with her utter lack of talent, she’s going to have to find someone older and wiser to take care of her, because pretty soon people are going to stop paying for the novelty of having her around.
Maybe she should make out with Bob Saget. That would be creepy.
Anyhow. The film was enjoyable and cotton-candy light, without the sugarsick afterwards. Not bad, really. And Kingsley was having the time of his life, which was great to watch.
The Dark Knight
20 July, 2008
Ok, so I’ve seen it twice now. Appropriately projected on film once, projected on crappy crappy digital once. I don’t really remember much but Mr. Ledger’s performance. I don’t really need to remember much beyond that- the Joker will never be appropriately played again. The pacing, of course, because editing is Mr. Nolan’s forté, is exceptionally good, and surprising in ways that films don’t often surprise me any more. And there is a clever contrast between the limpid cinematography during the Joker’s ultraviolent escapades and the opaquely shot work of the Batman- enough of a contrast to bring Mr. Nolan’s own morality into question, though his other work has frequently done the same, so this is no surprise. The film also borrows a page from P.T. Anderson’s book (and, by proxy, David Lynch’s) in using, instead of overwrought tension-building music, an atmospheric whine at very appropriate junctures, and an utter lack of diegetic sound at others.
The film wants to be something more than it succeeds in being, unfortunately, though Nolan has gotten away with quite a lot. There is a choppiness in the last act- an inability to bring the story to a proper conclusion, that leaves me wanting. It is, by Hollywood standards, an exceptional film. But I prefer not to disrespect the celluloid by holding things up to such a short stick.
On a not completely related but certainly tangentially appropriate note, I would like to know how in g-d’s name they managed to control Mr. Ledger on the set, when he was not in front of the cameras. Had he lost his mind as thoroughly as it seemed? Or did he maintain control until the film wrapped, and then succumb to madness? Because he was mad, this much is clear. So very little of him was apparent in that role that I think he may have erased himself entirely. And that is the sort of thing from which one does not return.
Priceless
4 July, 2008
Romantic comedies are terribly boring and terribly predictable no matter what language they are in.
Wall-e
30 June, 2008
Pixar continues to put out adorable, morally upright, exquisitely animated films. I have nothing bad to say about the piece. Even the movie in-jokes were hilarious, though I was frequently the only person in the theater laughing at them- a position to which I am quite accustomed at this point. I especially appreciated the end credits, with their condensed history of art.
Lewis Klahr
30 June, 2008
Lewis showed three pieces which I do not feel like separating into different entries- The Pharoah’s Belt, Valise, and episode two of The Diptherians. The first two pieces, like much of Lewis’s work, are completely entrenched in his own world of near semaphoric communication- indecipherable except superficially to nearly everyone, and at the same time mesmerizing and beautiful and possessed of a subconscious clarity completely unique to Klahr.
The Diptherians features Willem Dafoe. I don’t really have anything else to say about it.
Standard Operating Procedure
27 June, 2008
The world would be a better place if Danny Elfman were to suddenly disappear. I don’t wish any harm upon the man, but I’d really like him to just go away.
The film would’ve been fascinating in silence. Mr. Morris should’ve taken lessons from Werner when Werner jump-started his career, learned the art of proper reserve. Not that Werner is exceptionally proper or reserved, but he does know when to hold back, when to exercise a modicum of restraint. Generally.
The Great Art of Knowing
24 June, 2008
To clarify, I went to a semi-private screening of David Gatten’s work this past Friday- hence the repeated Gatten-related posts. He showed three films- Secret History of the Dividing Line, The Great Art of Knowing, and How to Conduct a Love Affair- in that order. The Great Art of Knowing was followed by a break during which the rest of the audience discussed the first two films. I took that opportunity to sit in the hallway and shake and consider the implications of the work I had been so graciously presented with. I cannot think of any way to address this piece other than in the form of a letter directly to its creator, so you will have to bear with me. Please, feel free to leave off here if you feel so inclined, with the knowledge that the film was good enough that I could not think for a good thirty minutes.
David,
Please know that I mean no disrespect to your other work when I say that The Great Art of Knowing is the most exceptional piece of cinema I have encountered since my first experience with Hart of London or Passage Through: A Ritual. I have not had my faculties so thoroughly removed nor my paradigms so thoroughly shifted since seeing those films.
Your epistemological pondering is, or seems, so thoroughly convergent with my own that I have trouble addressing it appropriately, but I will give it something like a reasonable attempt.
The greatest art of knowing, it would seem, is knowing when an awareness of it is appropriate. There are the hard things, written down in books as a catalogue of information. And there are the soft things, lodged someplace between the diaphragm and the lungs, that you cannot breathe without, or perhaps must breathe in spite of. The contrasts between hard knowledge and soft are endless, and exceptionally permeable- at so many points hard knowledge mingles with soft, in a passionate pursuit of understanding. And yet there must be a line- at which point does hard knowledge no longer play any part? It is easier, of course, to excoriate the hard knowledge from the flesh. Soft knowledge is the flesh itself and cannot be removed.
I am certain that I will have more thoughts on this at some point in the future. Until then, I cannot wring my brain further without doing permanent damage.
With all my affection.
Libi
Before the Rains
21 June, 2008
Santosh Sivan has made an almost note-perfect entry into the ever-growing compendium of third cinema inspections into the source, and subversion, of imperialist power in colonial states. The various power dynamics here- between British and Indian, between man and woman, between boss and employee, between man and wife, man and son- tell a tale of delicate balance, and of balance lost.
The primary power dynamic is between Henry Moores and T.K.; the English plantation owner and his Indian right hand man, a Western-educated man who has been occupied, as it were, by British ideals. The interactions between Moores and his wife; between Moores and Sajani, his housekeeper and illicit lover; between Moores and his wife; between Moores and the people of the village, and so forth, all serve to illustrate the same themes to different or lesser degrees.
The themes are, of course, familiar, but only because they must be. There is nothing else for them to be- the occupied colonies are, at a very basic level, all the same. And it is the variation on the themes that is interesting- in this case, an inspection of the damage wreaked by even the most benevolent power. Even a man viewed as gentle, and harmless, is rendered monstrous by his position of power.
And then, of course, there is the film as a visual thing. Sivan as a cinematographer is superb. While at times he is playful to the detriment of the work, generally the film is sumptuous and elegant- quite simply, utterly beautiful.
