movie blogs

Verstreute Hinweise.

Fri, 11 May 2012 08:31:00 GMT

Ein paar Hinweise: Der Bayerische Rundfunk hat sich in der Sendung Eins und Eins ausführlich mit Klaus Lemke unterhalten. Dank Podcast kann man die Sendung auch nachhören:

(direktlink)

Außerdem neu im Hörspielpool des BR: Nicht nur ein Stück schlummriger Bayernambient mit Gerhard Polt am Schliersee (hier die MP3-Datei), sondern auch die Radiobearbeitung von Thomas Harlans Veit:

(direktlink)

Außerdem: Das Korean Film Archive auf YouTube mit Klassikern der koreanischen Filmgeschichte - offiziell und größtenteils englisch untertitelt. Und Lloyd Kaufman kündigt an, regelmäßig Troma-Filme auf YouTube zu posten (eine gute Zahl findet sich schon dort).

Improvisations and Interactions in Altmanville

Fri, 11 May 2012 05:58:35 GMT

From Sight and Sound (Spring 1975); I’ve mainly followed the editorial changes (mostly trims) used in the version that appears in my collection Essential Cinema. — J.R. [. . .] Unless it is claimed that a pianist’s hands move haphazardly up and down the keyboard — and no one would be willing to [...]

Avalanche/Kraft

Fri, 11 May 2012 01:13:15 GMT

When Hollywood was leaving no stone unturned as far as scenarios for disaster films in the 70’s Avalanche, filmed in Durango Colorado, and starring Rock Hudson, Mia Farrow, Jeanette Nolan, and Robert Forster came and quickly disappeared from the theaters. It was produced by Roger Corman and directed by Corey Allen and featured Styrofoam snow for the avalanche which didn’t occur until one hour into the film, a drawback pointed out by reviewers.

If you purchase this CD you’ll have the entire output of soundtrack material of Kraft. He has done other films but this score originally released on LP by the classical company Delos is an extended version with alternate takes giving the listener an additional 14 minutes in this limited edition of 1000 units from BSX (BSXCD 8903) records.

William Kraft is multi talented in the field of music being a fine timpanist, conductor, and composer of modern classical material in addition to his work on films orchestrating, conducting, and composing. His list of awards and achievements are far too long to list.

A triangle signals a single extended note from the violins that blend quietly with flutes setting a mood for the Main Title. A majestic horn announces a fanfare which quickly turns to disturbing dissonance as the other horns contribute along with off key strings. The impending doom has been set for this disaster picture. The noise is structured as the single string note ends the track. This very well thought out track is one that I had to listen to multiple times before I understood the complexity of what Kraft was saying with his music. Nick and Caroline is a small chamber ensemble that features a dialogue between flute and clarinet which is highlighted by strings. The theme from the flute and clarinet is somewhat familiar to what we heard in the opening cue. Tina’s Hysteria sounds like the orchestra is warming relaying the out of control character of Tina. While Sleigh Ride will never make your holiday compilation CD it is a sprightly offering with happy uplifting strings, flutter from the flutes and harmony supplied by the woodwinds. This is one of the tracks that are accessible and easy on the ears to listen to. Kathy’s Sequence (Skating) repeats the Caroline/Main Title theme but has more drama with Bernstein style strings and danger horns lurking in the background. Bruce and Annette (Jazz) is structured style jazz that has a catchy theme introduced by a piano that shares the melody with the woodwind section. It is nicely supported by the percussion. The cue leads to brass riffs harmonizing the theme nicely. The track ends with flute, bass, and piano as it begin. As I listened to this nice track my mind drifted to thoughts of Lalo Schifrin.

Annette’s Sequence (Skating) is quiet classical with frantic strings whirling around trying to decide where to land. There is a conversation between the strings and the flutes. The End Credit offers first the main theme and then the same horns and string motif you hear in the first track. Included on this release are two additional never heard before cues Snow Storm and Bruce Tries To Outrace the Avalanche both rather dissonant and disturbing? There are also 5 similar sounding alternate/short versions included.

This was a score that required several listens before I began to understand Kraft. There is a lot of texture and the dissonance parts are quite structured. It is worth having in your collection as this might be your only Kraft release.

Track listing:

1. Main Title (03:02)

2. To The Rescue (03:13)

3. Nick And Caroline (02:11)

4. Tina’s Hysteria (00:35)

5. The Aftermath (02:07)

6. Bruce Skiing / First Avalanche (01:47)

7. Sleigh Ride (01:23)

8. Burning Ambulance / Rescue (00:52)

9. Snowmobile Race (01:46)

10. Kathy’s Sequence (Skating) (02:37)

11. Bruce And Annette (Jazz) (02:55)

12. The Avalanche (02:51)

13. Mother Collapses / Henry Digs Out (02:50)

14. Death Of Mark (02:42)

15. Annette’s Sequence (Skating) (01:16)

16. End Credits (02:46)

Avalanche Outtake Suite (Mono)

17. Sleigh Ride (Short Version)

18. Nick And Caroline (Alternate version)

19. Snow Storm

20. Bruce Tries to Outrace the Avalanche / Avalanche (Alternate version)

21. Snowbound / To The Rescue (Alternate version)

22. Annette’s Sequence (Short Version)

Total Duration: 00:48:04

William Kraft conducts the National Philharmonic Orchestra of London

Ich lese

Thu, 10 May 2012 21:48:31 GMT

seit einigen Tagen jetzt „The Mongoliad, Book One“, konzipiert und geschrieben von einem Autorenteam, dem die beiden Großmeister Neal Stephenson und Greg Bear angehörten. Entstanden als Internet-Projekt in diversen organischen Folgen (und lange nicht nur in Textform) für Abonnenten, wurde der gesamte (lange) Text jetzt neu strukturiert, fein poliert und in drei Büchern als Roman-Trilogie veröffentlicht.
Der erste Band, von dem ich jetzt knapp die Hälfte gelesen habe, spielt im Osteuropa des 13. Jahrhunderts zur Zeit des Mongolensturms. Ich merke, dass ich älter werde, daran, dass mir die apokalyptisch-nihilistischen Plünderungs-, Massaker- und Vernichtungsszenarien (mit Mongolen war wirklich nicht zu spaßen) etwas auf den Magen schlagen, obwohl sich das Buch nicht mal darin weidet. Ansonsten bin ich eigentlich schwer angetan: Ein ausgesprochen dichter und sinnlicher Abenteuer- und Schlachtenroman, bei welchem man eminent das Gefühl hat, dass da die Autoren Ahnung davon hatten, wenn sie über Waffen, Taktiken und die Zustände der damaligen Zeit schreiben.

Danach werde ich mir dann mal etwas Ruhigeres vornehmen, und von Jennifer Egan die beiden Romane „The Keep“ (dt. Im Bann) und ihren Pulitzer-Gewinner „A Visit from the Goon Squad“ (dt. Der größere Teil der Welt) lesen. Danach dann, Egan ist übrigens auch Fan von ihr, den neuen Roman von Joyce Carol Oates, „Mudwoman“.

Light at the end

Thu, 10 May 2012 20:13:41 GMT

It looks black up ahead, but nearly there....

Seance On A Wet Afternoon (1964)

directed by Bryan Forbes

cinematography by Gerry Turpin

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 7

Thu, 10 May 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Labyrinth – This is a movie I’ve been watching fondly since childhood, an early Jennifer Connelly vehicle which finds her navigating the titular trap-filled maze to rescue her brother from the goblin king (played by a magnetic glam-era David Bowie). The extensive use of sophisticated puppetry was provided by director Jim Henson’s workshop. Despite lousy reviews and ticket sales, the film quietly tightened its grip on my generation, emerging today as a recognized modern-day fairytale. The acting is a bit shaky, the plot is disjointedly episodic and one of the musical numbers is so bad I have to fast-forward through it, but my love for this movie is not mere nostalgia; there’s plenty of creativity, vision and heart here. Along with Phenomena, also on this list, this was Connelly's first starring roles and she's continued to be one of my favorite actresses over the years, despite some odious missteps.

Lady Terminator – An Indonesian knock-off of Terminator, but with the buff cyborg from the future replaced by a busty witch from the past. She’s the Queen of the South Seas and, oh yeah, she’s got a deadly eel in her vagina. Lots of nudity and shooting. Laser eyes. Etc. Terrible film. Great fun.

The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra – Parody films are usually good at skewering their targets, but too often fail to stand on their own two feet. Lost Skeleton, however, is a refreshing exception, perhaps because of its genuine affection for the cheesy sci-fi B-movies of the 1950’s. It manages to get me to care about the characters and, rarer still, care about the low-rent minimally-talented actors who thanklessly portrayed them. Dr. Armstrong, a scientist, and his wife Betty are looking for an asteroid made of atmosphereum, a grail sought by two crashlanded aliens, who need it as fuel, and the evil Dr. Fleming, who plans to reanimate a telekinetic skeleton. The alien’s rampaging pet mutant and Animala, a sexy composite of forest animals controlled by Fleming, round out the mix. The intentionally execrable script and acting are note-perfect, reminding one that it takes great skill to find the humor and humanity in mediocrity.

Master of the Flying Guillotine – After they finish reading the title most people will have already decided whether they want to see this film or not. Those who do will not be disappointed. It’s basically a series of tournament style showdowns between a one-armed boxer and the imperial assassins sent to kill him, featuring plenty of creative weapons, destructible sets and fight scenes that fill the time often squandered by other films on plot, character development and themes.

Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People – Japanese director Ishiro Honda has a reputation as the king of giant monster movies, a reliable source of men in rubber suits ravaging Tokyo with gusto. Best known for his Godzilla series, I find myself gravitating towards Honda’s odder anomalies (Frankenstein Conquers the World, Mothra), especially this eldritch adaptation of William Hope Hodgson (one of the forgotten giants and early founders of cosmic horror), modernized into a metaphor for atomic-era fear and despair. My childhood fears of fungi and skin disease (which linger to this day) probably influence how effective I find this movie despite its obvious cheesiness.

Mr. Freedom – A wild, scattershot 1969 satire of American ideological imperialism, Mr. Freedom is now more relevant than ever in our era of expanded cultural hegemony literally symbolized by America's endless superficial superhero movies. The title character wears an American flag themed football uniform and, on a mission to protect France from communism, must battle with threats that include Muzhik Man (notable for his outrageous Russian accent) and Red China Man (a giant inflatable dragon that fills an entire subway). It may be hyperbolic, loud and one-sided, but it’s also audacious, funny and smarter than it lets on. I'm a big fan of Delphine Seyrig and Donald Pleasence, who make good use of second-rate parts.

Mr. Vampire – Probably the best of the ‘hopping vampire’ subgenre, a popular Hong Kong convention in which the undead, cramped by rigor mortis, must hop stiffly towards their intended victims. A group of bumbling Taoist monks attempt to seal off an evil vampire and deal with a seductive ghost in this martial arts horror comedy that was a big hit in Asia, but left Western audiences befuddled. The bad special effects should clash with the quality choreography, but it all fits together seamlessly thanks in part to the whiplash pacing that doesn’t give you time to think, which you probably shouldn't be doing anyway in a movie like this. A close runner up, perhaps a little too successful to meet my criteria, is A Chinese Ghost Story and its several sequels.

Myra Breckinridge – “Myra Breckinridge is about as funny as a child molester. It is an insult to intelligence, an affront to sensibility and an abomination to the eye.” So ran Time magazine’s review of this notorious Gore Vidal adaptation, who, like everyone else, disowned the film. Rex Reed plays Myron, a man who gets a sex change and heads to Hollywood under the name Myra (and now played by Raquel Welch) where she teaches aspiring actors about classic films and female dominance. The self-consciously outrageous bluster is punctuated by inserts from old movies, often for humorous effect. It’s all so random and faux-subversive, but it’s unbridled, unhinged and unprofitable; everything Hollywood tries scrupulously to avoid. Right up my alley, though.

On the Comet – This is one of Czech stop-motion animator Karel Zeman’s least focused works, adapting from one of Jules Verne’s most minor novels. It functions primarily as a collage of Zeman’s boyish fascinations: interplanetary travel, dinosaurs, dirigibles, war, castles, cavalry, idealized love, etc. I think there were even pirates. Story and character development are almost non-existent, but if you can tolerate (or in my case enjoy) 75 minutes spent inside the head of a daydreaming 8-year-old, you’ll be fine. Just don’t try to make sense of it. Zeman’s Baron Prasil is his masterpiece, but within the animation community that’s already well-established so I disqualified it from the list.

Paranoiac – Paranoiac is one of those gothic horror films where a twisted family and their associates vie for the upperhand in a decaying mansion and generally resort to all sorts of dishonesty and crime. Oliver Reed steals the show as Simon, a drunken, scheming lout whose main rival is Tony, his brother, long thought dead and suddenly back. Eleanor, the innocent and naïve sister, is caught in the middle of their inheritance struggle. Of course a serial killer is also at large and 90% of the characters, including the likable ones, may be insane. Underground director Freddie Francis does a great job amping up the tension and twists, gleefully ignoring realism. His day job was serving as cinematographer on A-list pictures (he even won a couple Oscars) and his trademark pristine deep-focus black-and-white work is on display here.

Kant et la faculté de juger

Thu, 10 May 2012 15:33:08 GMT

1. Vitalisme, mécanisme... organisme ? (7 mai 2012) 50' [MP3] Adèle Van Reeth reçoit Philippe Huneman (chargé de recherches à l'Institut d'histoire et de philosophie des sciences et des techniques, CNRS / Université Paris I Sorbonne) à propos de la notion d'organisme dans la Critique de la faculté de juger de Kant 2. Qu'est-ce qu'un jugement de goût ? (8 mai 2012) 50' [MP3] Adèle Van Reeth

Sex, Lies and Death

Thu, 10 May 2012 14:49:48 GMT

Sexo, mentiras y muertos
Ramiro Meneses - 2011
Lionsgate Films Region 1 DVD

While the filmography of Alfred Hitchcock is finite, the number of films that have been remakes, homages, or just plain rip-offs might be, if not infinite, at least not fully explored. This article is of some help, but more as a starting off point than anything resembling the final word. When it comes to variations on Strangers on a Train, I will happily include Danny DeVito's fine and funny Throw Momma from the Train.

Patricia Highsmith is probably owed more credit than given for her original novel, about the two men who meet on a train, and agree to trade murder victims. I also have to acknowledge that Highsmith's popularity as an author is such that she has several books filmed more than once. I am certain, though, that it was Alfred Hitchcock's film of Strangers on a Train that has inspired the many versions that have followed. Among the more recent films I am aware of is a Tamil version, titled Muran. I am certain that more versions will be uncovered.

The original story has been described as being about tit-for-tat murders. This distaff version from Columbia might be described best as tit-for-tit. Viviana, taking a break from her abusive husband, is chatted up by Alicia, in a bar. Alicia is in an unhappy relationship with her lover. Within minutes of meeting, Alicia proposes murder. Viviana goes along, seemingly uncertain if this scheme will work. And of course nothing goes as planned.

That Alicia's victim is her lesbian lover is the least of the twists to this film. Sadly, the film, shot on video, is like the murders, better in the planning than the actual execution. When all is said and done, the potential for eroticism and suspense gets squandered. Had Brian De Palma gotten hold of the script, we might have had a better film. And hopefully, he would have added the murder of Viviana's cloying mother-in-law.

One aspect of Hitchcock's film that has been up for discussion is the depiction of homosexuality.. Sex, Lies and Death offers a mildly titillating view of women who love women. What makes Hitchcock's film enduring, while the Meneses remains a forgettable diversion, is that for all of the twists and turns in this remake, it lacks the depth that Hitchcock gave to his characters. There are worse ways of killing an hour and a half than watching the redhead star Columbian television star, Andrea Lopez. But Sex, Lies and Death also proves that when it comes to cinema suspense, it's not just the contents of story, but how you tell it that makes the difference.

I Wish: Japanese Brothers Reunite Under the Shadow of the Shinkansen

Thu, 10 May 2012 14:05:32 GMT

AKA: Kiseki; Miracle
Country and Year: Japan (2011)
Director: Hirokazu Koreeda
Starring: Koki Maeda, Oshiro Maeda, Nene Otsuka, Kyara Uchida

Review By: David Austin
Rating: 3 out of 4 stars (good)

I Wish, or Miracle (the more accurate translation of the film’s Japanese title), is Hirokazu Koreeda’s first film about children since his devastating, powerful Nobody Knows in 2004. While the intervening years and/or fatherhood have lightened his tone, Koreeda again pulls terrific performances and great emotion out of his child actors, even while lowering the stakes.

The kids at the center of I Wish, brothers Koichi and Ryunosuke, also face parental problems, though problems far more prosaic than those faced by the abandoned siblings in Nobody Knows. The brothers have been separated – relocated to different parts of Kyushu by divorcing parents. Older, sensitive Koichi lives with his harried mother (played by an excellent Nene Otsuka) and her elderly parents in scenic Kagoshima, where Koichi makes new friends but constantly broods about reuniting his family under the oppressive shadow of the ash of the active volcano Sakurajima. Meanwhile, younger, carefree Ryu lives with his child-like musician father (Jo Odagiri) in the industrial city of Fukuoka, acting as his number one fan and attracting his own group of friends through his natural charm.

The premise of the film – the high concept, if you will – is a sort of “Incredible Journey.” Hearing a rumor that anyone present when the new bullet trains connecting Fukuoka and Kagoshima pass each other for the first time will be granted a wish, the brothers decide to travelto the town at the center of the line in order to wish that their family will reunite, taking their friends along. In Stand By Me, which I Wish superficially resembles, the journey is the fulcrum around which plot and character develop. However, while the brothers’ journey in I Wish is a significant event, the heart of the film lies at home. Koreeda’s interests are far simpler and more humanistic, and less episodic – the majority of the film focuses on Koichi and Ryu’s daily life – their swimming classes, their friends, their teachers.

Koichi’s wish for his parents to get back together is sincere but the film takes a clear-eyed view about their compatibility. While Koreeda elides most of the history behind the divorce, what little we see in flashback and the time spent with the separate parents (now living their own lives) makes the reasons clear – no wish will change the reality of a curdled marriage. Similarly, the desires of the brothers’ friends are presented as sweet but childish fantasy – to be a better painter, to restore a beloved pet to life. The real miracle at the heart of the film is not some kind of abstruse train magic, but how children adapt to their new lives and develop.

Fortunately, Koreeda is blessed with a wonderful crop of young actors. Koki and Oshiro Maeda, who perform as the sibling comedy duo of MaedaMaeda, rarely put a foot wrong in the lead roles, keeping the film from devolving into melodrama or schmaltz. The brothers are supported by a cast of young actors who inhabit their roles comfortably, and given added gravitas by Kyara Uchida, playing aspiring actress Megumi, the most mature of the circle of friends (along with the all-star cast of grown-ups).

Throughout, Koreeda shoots in long, unbroken takes and allows the natural beauty of Kagoshima and the chemistry of his cast to take priority over directorial flash. By standing off and observing, Koreeda captures profound moments – like the way a child can effortlessly crush a parent with an offhand comment, as when Ryu casually mentions to his mother that he thought she did not want him to live with her because she thinks he is like his father. Unnatural drama is kept to a minimum and all the characters, from the boys’ grandfather to Koichi’s teacher are given their moments in the sun.

Recommended? While I Wish may not burn up the critical circuit the way Nobody Knows justifiably did, it is an excellent film that shows a more sentimental side of Koreeda then the tragic Maboroshi or Nobody Knows. Anyone looking for an idea of what a Japanese childhood unpopulated by giant monsters, serial killers and ferocious bullies is like should check this one out.

If you like this, you might like: Nobody Knows, Stand By Me, Ponyo, Good Morning, My Neighbor Totoro

la corrupción de chris miller (juan antonio bardem, spanien 1973)

Thu, 10 May 2012 13:56:56 GMT

Die junge Chris Miller (Marisol) kehrt von ihrem Aufenthalt in einer psychiatrischen Klinik zurück in das Haus ihrer Stiefmutter Ruth (Jean Seberg). Die kämpft immer noch mit dem Zorn auf ihren Ehemann, Chris’ Vater, der beide Frauen vor einem Jahr ohne Angabe von Gründen sitzen lassen hat. In die komplizierte Beziehung zwischen den beiden Frauen platzt der Musiker Barney (Barry Stokes): Der will eigentlich nur Unterschlupf finden, wird von Ruth jedoch erst vernascht, dann verjagt, als nächstes schließlich auf die Stieftochter angesetzt. Will Ruth die labile Chris aus Rache an ihrem Ehemann verletzen? Und ist Barney möglicherweise der umgehende Serienmörder?

LA CORRUPCIÓN DE CHRIS MILLER ist ein Thriller, der als Modernisierung einer klassischen Märchenprämisse verstanden werden darf: Die schöne Tochter bekommt es mit der bösen Stiefmutter zu tun, wird unter dem Deckmantel der Fürsorge nach und nach korrumpiert, wie der Titel verrät. Einen schönen Prinzen gibt es auch, nur ist nicht so ganz klar, ob es sich bei diesem nicht doch um den Wolf im Schafspelz handelt. Juan Antonio Bardem, der Onkel des Oscar-Preisträgers Javier Bardem, lässt diese Frage lange offen, erkundet in der ersten Filmhälfte zunächst die Beziehung zwischen Ruth und Chris, bevor er den männlichen Protagonisten in die Wagschale wirft. Die Entscheidung im sich langsam entwickelnden Psychoduell, in dem Ruth die treibende Kraft ist, wird jedoch recht abrupt kurz vor der Eskalation vertagt, weil sich der Film nun dem Killer zuwendet, von dem immer noch nicht klar ist, ob es sich bei diesem um Barney handelt. Die Sequenz, in der sich der Unhold in das Haus einer nichts Böses ahnenden Familie einschleicht, ist für sich genommen zwar durchaus spannend geraten, kostet letztlich aber vor allem Zeit, die dann am Ende fehlt, um die Geschichte um Ruth, Chris und Barney zu einem befriedigenden Ende zu bringen. Es geht plötzlich alles etwas hopplahopp, wo zuvor noch Geduld oberste Priorität hatte, und der finale Twist ist etwas zu banal, um als Höhepunkt durchzugehen. Bardem hätte lieber auf den sich dann noch anschließenden, merkwürdigerweise wieder aufreizend langsam entwickelten Epilog verzichtet, der so gar nichts bringt.

Auch wenn LA CORRUPCIÓN DE CHRIS MILLER also kein zu Unrecht vergessenes Meisterwerk ist, darf man ihn Freunden des mediterranen Spannungskinos als leicht überdurchschnittlichen Vetrreter empfehlen. Bardem gelingt es ganz gut, die Spannung zwischen den drei Protagonisten auf die Spitze zu treiben; die erste Hälfte des Films verspricht letztlich mehr, als die zweite einzulösen weiß, aber ein Versagen muss man ihm auch nicht attestieren. Bei der Recherche zum Film habe ich erfahren, dass Jean Seberg der Film, den sie aus rein pekuniären Gründen gedreht hat, angeblich eher unangenehm gewesen sein soll. Das finde ich reichlich übertrieben. Gut, für jemanden, der in Godards À BOUT DE SOUFFLE mitwirken durfte, einem der vielleicht einflussreichsten Filme des 20. Jahrhunderts, mag LA CORRUPCIÓN DE CHRIS MILLER tatsächlich wie nichtswürdiger Schund aussehen, etwas Humor und die Fähigkeit, sich selbst nicht ganz so ernst zu nehmen, könnten da aber Wunder wirken. Wenn man bedenkt, was andere, weitaus berühmtere Schauspieler für Leichen im Keller haben … Naja, für die Seberg kommt diese Anmerkung natürlich ein paar Jahrzehnte zu spät. Zugutehalten muss man ihr, dass man ihrem Spiel die Abneigung nicht anmerkt: Lediglich ihre fürchterliche Frisur, eine Art Vokuhila für Hausfrauen, könnte man als kleinen Sabotageakt deuten.

Nächste Station auf meiner Weltreise: Italien.

Das Hochzeitsvideo der Vermissten.

Thu, 10 May 2012 11:27:00 GMT

Zwei Texte heute in der taz: Fast schon übergehenswert entbehrlich ist Das Hochzeitsvideo, Sönke Wortmanns Versuch, die Found-Footage-Ästhetik mit der deutschen Beziehungskomödie zu vermählen, was nach allen Regeln der Kunst schrecklich schief geht. Außerdem: Das Langfilmdebüt Die Vermissten von Jan Speckenbach, dessen erste Hälfte leider in den trüben Gewässern des deutschen Problemfilms fischt, dann aber eine zwar nicht vollends gelungene, aber interessante Wendung hinbekommt - mehr dazu hier.

Girls

Thu, 10 May 2012 06:29:39 GMT

CARGO/Standard: Ekkehard Knörer über Lena Dunhams HBO-Serie Girls

The Forgotten: Mysterioso

Thu, 10 May 2012 03:04:38 GMT

The Forgotten: Mysterioso

Louis Feuillade's great serials of the nineteen-teens (Fantomas, Les Vampires etc) inspired numerous imitations, sequels and parodies: they still lurk behind the makeshift digital scenery of the modern action film, making threatening shadows and cackling mutely.

I've long been fascinated by the followers of Fantomas—and how I long to see Zigomar (a.k.a. Zigomar the Eelskin, 1911), directed by somebody rejoicing in the name of Victorin-Hippolyte Jasset, which actually predates the screen adaptation of Allain & Souvestre's master-criminal. The slippery Zigomar even manages a spectacular escape from the electric chair itself, reverse-rappeling into the ceiling at the crucial moment.

Above: "It's a severed hand, isn't it?"

What I have managed to see is La secta de los mysteriosos (The Mysterious Sect, 1914), or those parts of it which survive. Spain's answer to Feuillade, Alberto Marro, serves up an elaborate adventure in Barcelona, with a trio of black-masked desperadoes, known as The Fox (El Zorro), The Heron (La Garza) and The African (El Africano), in search of an ancient Moorish treasure which can only be located when the two parts of an ornamental chain are connected.

Unfortunately, The Mysterious Sect survives only in incomplete form: a German company cobbled the three episodes together and shortened the whole thing radically, and it was this version which was rediscovered and restored. It seems that even the incomplete cut was incomplete on its own terms, so that what remains feels like a collection of lacunae held together by wacky melodramatic imagery. It's hard for such a piecemeal narrative to compel attention in any normal narrative way, so the attraction of the long, episodic fragment becomes that of an accidental experimental film. Recall that when the surrealists viewed Feuillade's films in the 20s, the intertitles had gone missing, making the films even more elusive and cryptic: by some small effort of will, it ought to be be possible to enjoy Marro's films because of, rather than in spite of, its multiple mutilations. Here are some of its pleasures:

We first meet our supposed hero, Detective Hernandez, strapped to a table, facing the terror of the deadly lances—a Fu Manchu death-trap of slowly descending spikes, hooked to a ticking clock. We don't see how he got there, and his escape is pretty much undersold too. We never learn how he became involved in the case or why the bad guys chose to leave him in this position.

The scientist, Doctor Plana, who owns part of the MacGuffin chain, keeps a lion in the grounds of his home. Or at least I think he does. But we never see the lion again after its introduction, and after the chain is stolen we never see the scientist's home.

The little heroine Alexia (Spain's answer to Cabiria), daughter of "the Countess of Bellevue," is awoken by a strange noise in the night. But, minus a soundtrack (although I played a crackly old LP of Erik Satie's Gymnopedies for atmosphere), what seems to disturb her slumber is the violent popping of part of the nursery wallpaper, casualty of a rogue bout of nitrate decomposition. At other times, film decay makes the whole image shimmer like sailcloth.

The thieves steal both halves of the chain, leaving a note warning against their being pursued, but for some reason kidnapping Alexia, thereby ensuring that they are pursued. Cue much sloping around in ruined buildings, where hand-painted sets shuffle uneasily around atmospheric location shots, with gloomy/gleaming chiaroscuro reminiscent of Maurice Tourneur and Mauritz Stiller...

A few moments of conventional suspense are conjured, despite the choppy progression of incidents, but the real atmosphere is of mystery, the mystery of things lurking outside the frame, of action unseen, motivations unexplicated and plot threads left trailing...

The film's grooviest aberration owes nothing to celluloid deterioration or missing footage. In a prolonged flashback, we learn the dark origins of the hidden treasure, part of a backstory involving a romance between Fatma the Moorish Sultana and the Count Bellevue. But Bellevue is played by a woman, the same woman in fact who plays her modern descendant, the Countess, Alexia's anxious mother. Neither actress, director nor costume designer do much to conceal this conceit.

The theatricality of this device is charming, and quite in keeping with the film's penny dreadful sense of melodrama. The ravages of time have contrived to collaborate with the film's inherent quirks to create a kind of gaslit Satyricon, perfect in all its amputated beauty.

***

The Forgotten is a regular Thursday column by David Cairns, author of Shadowplay.

FILM OF THE WEEK: I Wish

Wed, 09 May 2012 19:17:54 GMT

by Vadim Rizov

Japanese director Hirokazu Kore-eda's last film to receive American distribution, 2008's Still Walking, ended with a long shot of trains passing, "a moment whose metaphoric intent is clear," wrote Trevor Johnston. "Those trains have people on them with the same problems as the rest of us." Japanese National Railways' high-speed bullet trains serve a more optimistic function in I Wish, as well as providing some of its financing. Shane Meadows made use of Eurostar's funding for the delightful Somers Town, and Kore-eda is similarly adept in making sure he isn't compromised by his financiers.

Continued reading FILM OF THE WEEK: I Wish...

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 6

Wed, 09 May 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Happy Accidents – More or less an insignificant blip on cinema’s radar, Happy Accidents is a disposable feel-good romantic comedy (exactly the type of thing I normally ignore or, if pushed, hate) with a whimsical touch. Ruby falls in love with Sam, who’s a bit quirky but otherwise a real nice guy, except that he has this hard-to-swallow secret life as a time-traveler from the future. I’m probably heavily biased by my soft spot for leads Vincent D’Onofrio and Marisa Tomei (and even a bit for 2^nd-tier genre helmer Brad Anderson), not to mention my obsession with time-travel movies, but I was really charmed. Think of it as K-PAX meets Kate & Leopold. Actually, don't think of it as that. That sounds like crap.

Heart of Glass – This dreary Bavarian arthouse folktale follows a small village as it succumbs to apocalyptic madness and destruction after losing the secret of their famous ruby red glass. It may be helmed by Germany’s established national treasure Werner Herzog, but it remains amongst his least popular works, in part due to the uniformly dispassionate blankness of the cast, the result, purportedly, of his having hypnotized the entire cast. The turgid pacing, esoteric historical setting and cryptic epilogue didn’t help draw audiences either. I find that the total lack of affect in the performances perfectly complements the unforgivingly doom-laden mood.

High Strung – This forgotten low-budget black comedy consists almost entirely of an angry man who never leaves his apartment (writer Steve Oedekerk) ranting about all the minor annoyances in his life and revealing an array of paranoid phobias. He frequently concludes monologues by shouting “I’d rather be dead,” resulting in Death (pre-famous Jim Carrey) actually showing up to call his bluff. This is a shrill, unambitious and craftless film by the creative talent that went on to make such dubious hits as Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, Patch Adams and Kung Pow: Enter the Fist, but even as a child I related to the curmudgeonly recluse. And also, it makes me laugh.

Hollow Triumph – Dr. Bartok is a psychologist with a theory that mankind intentionally ignores all details that don’t directly pertain to themselves out of lazy selfishness and convenience. An escaped convict, who looks exactly like Bartok except for a large facial scar, kills the doctor and impersonates him both professionally and romantically. But his own scar, self-inflicted, is based on a photo negative of the real psychologist and ends up on the wrong side. Will anyone notice or, irony of ironies, will Bartok’s theory hold true? Deliciously contrived 1940’s film noir whose ending twist adds yet more dark irony. Joan Bennet (who I think was more talented and prettier than she’s given credit for today) plays Bartok’s secretary. John Alton provides the shadowy cinematography.

Holy Blood – Mexican director Alejandro Jodorowsky’s penchant for spectacularly deranged visuals, anti-everything politics and dense allegorical tales color his works as eminently uncommercial and frequently opposed to the type of people and institutions that fund, market, distribute, view and buy movies. Holy Blood, shot in 1989, found a few champions amongst critics but alienated audiences, as usual, furthering his multi-decade financial freefall. The movie, a horror film about an ex-circus child whose armless mother exercises undue influence over his love life, doesn’t match the epic proportions, freestyle mysticism and mind-blowing imagery of his 1970’s output, but it showcases his most sincere and cohesive storytelling.

The Honeymoon Killers – Based on the true story of a pair of mismatched lovers, suave conman Ray Fernandez and disgruntled nurse Martha Beck, who swindled lonely women and frequently killed them, The Honeymoon Killers is the type of low-budget ripped-from-the-headlines exploitation that you know is going to be crude, uncomfortable and perfunctory. Only it’s not. Or at least, not in a bad way. Despite its failure at the box office, a growing circle came to appreciate its droll wit, spare cinematography and vividly drawn characters, especially Shirley Stoler as the unglamorous scene-shredding lead.

Hugo the Hippo – The Sultan of Zanzibar captures hippos to clear his spice harbor of sharks, but his people soon forget their debt and hunt the hippos to death until the plucky local children rally to save Hugo, the last remaining Hippo, from the sultan’s evil advisor and mad magician. 1973 Hungarian animated musical with naïve, but catchy, soundtrack provided by the Osmonds. Based on a true story. I love the loopy Yellow Submarine-esque visual style and still get the songs, unpolished as they are, stuck in my head to this day. Almost every scene is iconic, but the most essential involves Hugo being pursued through a magic nightmare vegetable garden come alive.

I Killed Einstein, Gentlemen – In the not so distant future terrorist bombs have caused women to grow facial hair, precipitating a national crisis. Shaving robots are unfeasible, meaning the only hope lies in travelling back in time to assassinate Einstein so that the physics underlying the fiendish technology never develops. This is Czech comedy at its wackiest and while a lot of the humor fails to live up to the originality of the premise, the structure is surprisingly tight and the ensemble cast scores points for chemistry and charm. Some of the ideas about time-travel wouldn't be recycled into American films for decades to come.

Keoma – Keoma is easily one of my favorite spaghetti westerns, but when asked by friends whether I love it sincerely or ironically, I can only answer “Both.” Director Enzo Castellari (a rising favorite for me) pulls no punches is his ruthless tale of a halfbreed Indian who exterminate his own family in a messianic vengeance quest. The go-for-broke attitude pervades every aspect of the film: Franco Nero’s steely-eyed werewolf-maned performance, Woody Strode as a magical black guitar-picking archery master, the operatic score (imitating an imagined duet between Leonard Cohen and Joan Baez) that functions as overly-literal Greek chorus, the slow-motion stunt-chocked action sequences and the heavy-handed religious parallels (including the wandering spirit of death, a plague ravaged Dante-esque mining pit, a crucifixion scene and a painful childbirth set during and crosscut with the climatic shootout). Castellari's previous films include Johnny Hamlet, a spaghetti western adaptation of Shakespeare.

The Killing Kind – Director Curtis Harrington is, today, written off as a hack when he’s even written about at all. There’s good reason for that, but within his oeuvre of limp horror films and failed experiments is this unexpectedly real and affecting study of a young serial killer played by John Savage (in his first starring role) whose relationship with his mother is uncomfortably intimate. Dark, lonely and sad, everything can be read in the nuances of Savage’s breakthrough performance.

Sherlock Season Two/Arnold and Price

Wed, 09 May 2012 16:45:48 GMT

I like the fact that Hartswood Films is limiting the number of episodes to three per season. You don’t grow tired of the main characters and I for one am already looking forward to season three! This isn’t the Holmes your use to seeing at all but a modern day creation that is more in the style of a Batman/Harry Potter character. He doesn’t smoke a pipe and is a young dashing figure who will win your heart over after watching one episode.

“Irene’s Theme” starts off the new season with a wonderful solo on the violin that is far too short. It is a new theme to the series that hopefully will continue to be used in some way. A haunting melody you won’t forget. “Potential Clients” offers a very subtle variation on the main theme but you have to listen carefully for it as it is masked with Latin percussion and mandolin dominating much of the track. “Status Symbols” begins with a lush romantic moment followed by the Sherlock theme which turns into a pulsating version quite the modern sound. “The Woman” is rather quiet underscore. “Dark Times” makes strong use of the synthesizer electronics as does “Smoke Alarm” which is backed by frantic strings. “SHERlocked” the final scandal cue is a yearning one which builds to a climax followed by delicate harp and piano in a quiet section. It builds to a second climax and quietly ends with the violin theme in the background. “Pursued by a Hound” is the first cue of the Hounds of Baskervilles and is appropriate music for a chase sequence. “The Village” more underscore offers a creepy soundtrack with dissonant synthesizer. “Double Room” offers another dose of quirky underscore with the composers making subtle references to the Sherlock theme. “Deeper into Baskerville” uses special effects, and features unusual sounds with the Sherlock theme in the background. “To Dartmoor” offers a subdued version of the main theme and quickly changes to reference the Sherlock theme before turning into a tension filled track performed by the urgent strings. “The Lab” fills the ears with a steady pulsating from the strings that turns into the piano referencing the main title. The dissonance becomes quite apparent and the tension mounts to a conclusion. “Mind Palace and Solution” the final Baskerville cue builds to a climax and slowly dies away. “Grimm Fairy Tales” the first of five tracks for the third and final episode of season two Reichenbach Fall is a tense one with references to the Sherlock theme but overall quiet and creepy with interesting use of the mandolin. “Prepared to do Anything” is classic tense underscore with references to the main theme and urgent strings that build to an incredible crescendo. “Blood on the Payment” is underscore for the supposed death of Sherlock Holmes and is morbid solemn underscore. “One More Miracle” is the final cue on the CD and offers the piano playing the main theme with sad strings in the background. It ends with an upbeat offering of the Sherlock theme and we can now wait for season no. 3 to unfold.

This release from Silva is a positive addition to the material previously released on their release. Definitely a step above much of the material offered for television.

Track listing:

1. Irene’s Theme (00:42)

2. Potential Clients (01:57)

3. Status Symbols (02:33)

4. The Woman (02:31)

5. Dark Times (02:16)

6. Smoke Alarm (03:01)

7. SHERlocked (03:44)

8. Pursued By A Hound (01:46)

9. The Village (02:30)

10. Double Room (02:21)

11. Deeper Into Baskerville (02:44)

12. To Dartmoor (03:11)

13. The Lab (03:40)

14. Mind Palace And Solution (02:05)

15. Grimm Fairy Tales (03:12)

16. Deduction And Deception (02:45)

17. Prepared To Do Anything (04:18)

18. Blood On The Pavement (02:07)

19. One More Miracle (02:08)

Total Duration: 00:49:31

Manifestations

Wed, 09 May 2012 13:47:10 GMT

Manifestations

Above: Das Magische Band.

For the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Oberhausen Manifesto, the International Short Film Festival Oberhausen seems to have deployed an expected reminder and canonization: a retrospective. But the reality is far from this conventionality. Instead, the festival has activated a series, sequence and near-simultaneity of films programmed by Ralph Eue and Olaf Möller called Mavericks, Mouvements, Manifestos that form a complex, varied and nuanced international constellation of absolutely necessary, engaged and reactive short films from the 1950s-1960s. It is not a look back, as most retrospectives inevitably are, but a bracing engagement with a reality, both historic and contemporary, that proves to be still absolutely crucial to our understanding of the world and its cinema.

The opening ceremony of the festival capped an endless series of introductions—which included an unexpected but moving reminder of and plea about the economic ghettoization of cultural workers—with a startling film whose power reverberated through the festival, my time in Germany, and afterwards. That would be Walter Krüttner’s Es muß ein Stück vom Hitler sein (That Must Be a Piece of Hitler, 1963), a caustically sardonic documentary in the form of a mock-info-travelogue of Hitler’s mountain retreats Berghof and the Eagle’s Nest at Obersalzberg in Berchtesgaden. The footage could, perhaps, be from an official document of tours and tourism around the location, but the narration undercuts every moment, from the onset framing the visit—the camera’s and that of the multitude of international visitors we see—as a tour of a site that the government has “officially” “destroyed” in order to discourage neo-fascist veneration, souvenir taking, etc. Yet physical structures, even in ruin, remain, objects are removed, slogans are graffitied, admissions are charged and paid tours are given. In fact, everything requires payment, official transportation, donations; and the impression is that despite supposedly official condemnation—and not just condemnation but sanctioned destruction—a public fascination remains for the architectural ruins of Hitler’s lifestyle. The narrator observes that a more accurate understanding of the Third Reich’s policies, history and function would be better served by tours through Dachau and Bergen-Belsen rather than Eva Braun’s bombproof bedroom (for a fee), creating an extra-historical irony for the envelopment of the Holocaust into the dangerous ambiguity of contemporary tourism.

From this beginning, the retrospective of German films moved bodily between the pursuit of the past in the present and the discovery of the future there, too. Obsession with the vertiginously fruitful present was a predominant motif, one as aggressively combative as Germany’s Nazi past in this retrospective. The series introduced this first, unintentionally, subtly, with the sheer multitude of people and local institutions that descended on Hitler’s ruined mansion in That Must Be a Piece—international tourism and a fascination for rather than repulsion of Germany’s history a sign of a new era.

Above: Le chant du Styrène.

But these black and white documentary images couldn’t prepare one for a present so amazing that even the production of styrene irresistibly calls for the hard candy-coloring, comic book framing and excitedly eager camera movements of Alain Resnais’ Le chant du Styrène (1957). Included in the first of several national cinema surveys that helped contextualize the Oberhausen Manifesto internationally at the time, Resnais’ film makes cutting-edge industrial process so hyper-vivid as to appear as science fiction. While Jean Mitry’s blazingly fast and giddily abstract three-image haphazard industrial collage Symphonie mécanique (1955) paid homage to Gance-Napoleon and the wild, industry-enamoured art-docs of the late 20s and early 30s, Resnais’ film points forward, and specifically into the program organized around the idea of FRG documentaries passing off, through cinema, the “real” as science fiction. The best example of this would be that program’s opening pairing that started with Herbert Vesely’s Autobahn (1957). This short renders the German superhighway as a place of ambivalent and unmotivated expressions of speed that quickly evolve from a tone of jocular amusement to disturbed, ambiguous threats and darkness—a motorized form of courtship segues into vehicular stalking that points direct lines to Crash and The Vanishing. Six years later, Edgar Retiz’s Kino 1. Geschwindigkeit (Cinema 1. Speed, 1963) has pushed any sense of narrative potential in this modern technology to abstraction, with the Cinemascope camera, attached to a speeding car, exhilaratingly unable to contain the passing landscape in anything resembling the pictorial. The passing images quickly break apart into the abstraction of stuttering foliage, the sheer planes of black and white, and, disorientingly, 360 degree camera pans, which, in ‘scope and operated while the camera itself is racing along, renders the roadway and passing country as an impossible, mutating oblong space.

Above: Kino 1. Geschwindigkeit.

Reitz further pursues the glory of sensually brittle material fragmentation in Kommunikation – Technik der Verständigung (Technology of Communication, 1961), for me one of the real finds in a giant pile of finds in the retrospective. Despite its title and inclusion of only imagery of modern communication mechanisms—switchboards, mail sorters, telephone/fax wires, handshakes, etc.—Kommunikation begins and remains in narrative abstraction. It appears first like the opening to a Lang film featuring discrete spaces and sinister events shown in a complex network of communications and virtual-techno-control—think of the openings of Dr. Mabuse and Spies—except these messages go nowhere, accomplish nothing, are decidedly not connected. Shot spectacularly in what I believe is Agfacolor, styled to a degree worthy of Dario Argento’s color experiments, it is a manic and exasperatingly frightening flurry of all the latest technical innovations, items and actions perceived as tying society together but isolated, jumbled, removed from context. Its images of the present become so perverse and overwhelming one gets the impression of a sequence beamed from a dystopic techno-future, all signals and messages and no connection or results.

Above: Kommunikation – Technik der Verständigung.

This semi-speculative, semi-industrial tone was not uncommon in the series. Two films by Ferdinand Khittl exemplify other possible variants. Das magische Band (The Magic Ribbon, 1959) is supposedly a documentary on the creation of and use for magnetic tape, but is told in the vein of Resnais’ film on the French program—super rich color palette and cartoon imagery. Syrupy images of liquid production of magnetic tape give way to an enumerated listing of applications, one of which lands squarely between Jerry Lewis's technical invention and Godard’s Passion: we see woman talking melodramatically to a man, Khittl’s camera moves back to reveal we’re watching a television rehearsal on camera, on set, the camera keeps going back and as the scene wraps the actress and director move to a video monitor and proceed to play back the performance we just witnessed—and this is done all in one take. Der heiße Frieden (The Hot Piece, 1965), a key centerpiece in the retrospective, sees this playfulness and runs with it, taking the form of an argumentative but highly general and oddly digressive docu-essay on the evolution of scientific invention from the thousands of years it was discouraged by the state to the current times when corporate-state interests all but monopolize, control, profit from and yet restrict and condition research and invention. The points are provocative, as is Khittl’s mise-en-scène which changes on a dime from animation to black-box lectures by a grey-suited professional to on-site tours of unnamed corporate monoliths. Yet the whole thing seems to dance around dense observations and supported conclusions, which leads, as many of these films seem to, to a tone of speculation bordering on the paranoiac-fantasy. The world couldn’t possibly be this cohesively, vaguely sinister, could it? Khittl and Reitz pitch their documentaries forward into a disturbing future, so that while all the images and many, if not most or all, of the words may be true, they remain so sheer and inhuman that what we’re seeing must be fiction and not, simply, surveys of the current state of things.

Above: Der heiße Frieden.

These, then, were the least forceful, the strangest of the films. (If the more abstract of the retro’s films lacked a certain sense of anger or argument, this is more than countered by seeing the present in terms of continuation into—or conjuration of—the future.) There was no floating sense of speculative fantasy in the retro’s opposing films, the analysts of history, whose granite-like punches to the gut were closer to the form and wryness of That Must Be a Piece—filmed proofs, architectural and otherwise, of the continuation of the past into the present. For example, Alexander Kluge and Peter Schamoni renders the monumental fascist architecture of the Nuremberg Rally site in Brutalität in Stein (Brutality in Stone, 1961) as totemic and without time; it is not even a ruin like Berghof but rather a memorial tomb dedicated to itself, with images of drawn plans and Nazi footage of scale models designing a future proliferation of this fascist architecture, scoping out a Europe covered in such grave sites. Yet if one were to think of these Nazi structures as immiently immobile, dead emblems of the past, Kluge also looks at a living example: in Porträt einer Bewährung (Portrait of a Probation, 1965) he schematizes the daily routine and briefly sketches the biography of a German policeman who consecutively served under five different governments, including those of the Weimar, Nazi, and Occupation powers. Profound gaps are left in the man’s narration of his history, with Kluge’s sharp use of archive footage shades in hints of the dark shadows cast by his story. It is unnecessary to say or imply more, the audience can do this itself when presented with a story that initially seems so surprising; that is, until the detective pleads against a decision for forced retirement by saying all he has ever done is serve the will and desires of his nation and its people. Bernhard Dörries’s disturbingly simple Stunde X (The Hour of Reckoning, 1959) gets right to the point of Kluge’s studies, which include his brilliant dedication to the culturally disrespected and politically hounded profession of teachers (Lehrer [Teacher], 1963): there is an unexploded bomb laying in the middle of Germany and it is in the process of being ritually removed. Dörries ends his film before we find out what happens to the bomb; the final cut to black after the camera scans unperturbed apartment and office buildings the bomb is being escorted past serves as its own exploding punctuation.

Above: Porträt einer Bewährung.

Kluge’s policeman was the capper of a series of films throughout the retrospective that focused not on technology, progress or the past but the people of the present. Jahrgang 1942 – Weiblich (Generation 1942 - Female, 1962) by Hans Loeper takes the early-60s, Chronicle of a Summer-like approach of polling youth—twenty year old girls born in ’42—on their current train of thoughts about life, jobs and romance. A single take scans the individual faces of a group of women in depth, and as their answers are narrated—interestingly, Loeper keeps off camera the actual subjects of the words—the accompanying footage vacillates between images of this generation in the workplace and on the walkway, at home and at the café. No single theme or answer emerges; it seems a generation, as usual, caught in between, with some pushing forward and others curling up in safety. With all the documentary’s semi-staged public observations, the film is suddenly opened up, as at the end, when it catches what seems the look of a real young woman out the real world in Germany, thinking to herself. No words are necessary.

The generation gap suggested by these various junge Frauen is hilariously mocked deep into the 60s with Ulrich Schamoni’s masterpiece Für meine Kinder - von Vati (For My Children - From Dad, 1969), which takes the form of a very convincing mock-amateur film of a former Wehrmacht soldier recording a 16mm message in his home to his kids. The message, is, essentially, they never knew who their father was—everyone has two sides, two faces. And—shocking!—the father’s “other” face was a preference for telling jokes, playing cards, singing songs and balancing a chair on his chin, all of which he discourses on or actually performs in Moullet-like lofi direct camera address. The profound mildness of the whole thing is the joke, a satire of the necessary truths that need to be communicated from one generation to the next—via film!—that come out only as a portrait of the inadequacy of such revelations, the medium, the attitude, and the personal willingness.

Above: Maßnahmen gegen Fanatiker.

The humor here was somewhat rare for the series, which saw its comic highlight, to my great shock, in the middle of a Straub-Huillet-Kluge-Farocki program with an insane bit of tomfoolery by Werner Herzog, Maßnahmen gegen Fanatiker (Measures against Fanatics 1968). This starts as, seemingly, a documentary on the eccentric characters who protect horses at a racetrack (a location already the subject of a another film in the series), only for each documentary tableaux-interview to progressively be intruded upon by increasingly obvious degrees of bizarre fictionalization. All the things Herzog gets accused of now in terms of the supposed crime of staging documentaries and exploiting unsuspecting colorful locals (please mentally add quotation marks around every one of those verbs, adjectives and nouns) is on vivid display here but taken to a degree of presentational surrealism not usually seen in Herzog’s later work. Yet the film was an inspired intervention into a program that included Machorka-Muff (Jean-Marie Straub/Danièle Huillet, 1962), Porträt einer Bewährung and Nicht löschbares Feuer (Inextinguishable Fire, Harun Farocki, 1969). Despite being the most irreverent of the group, it pulled out from these three seriously brutal and unforgiving visions of Germany’s National Socialist past living still in the present the perverse dark humor of these films—think of the Straub’s lickety-quick ironies in the rapid-fire voice-over, Farocki’s American industrial complex as cardboard sets and Z-level acting styles, and both of these film’s techniques coming together in Kluge’s detectiveman film. More importantly, however, was Maßnahmen gegen Fanatiker’s idiosyncratic revelation—and herein lies an observation that plays across all of this retrospective—that neither fiction nor documentary film forms can properly and precisely analyze these subjects, and that the most nuanced and rewarding explorations are reaching for a (perhaps impossible) cinematic form that lays between these poles. Thus, tucked in-between the knife-like incisions made by the more angry and aggressive filmmakers surrounding it, Herzog’s film crystallized an almost pure expression of something very much at stake between these films and indeed perhaps all films.

This uneasy but necessary balance saw its most profound instance in the shocking film which opened the French program that included the Resnais and Mitry, Oflag XVII A (1954). The film was directed by a group of French inmates in a Nazi military prisoner of war camp in Austria shot and on 8mm film smuggled into and out of the camp. The silent footage, to which the ‘54 release understandably appends an explanatory voiceover narration, primarily consists of two things: documentary footage of life in the camp and reenactments of both the processes of escaping the camp and the making of the film. In other words, stuck in prison with a secret camera, the inmates not only courageously document their situation extemporaneously as situations permitted, but also have the gall and ambition to document their documentation by staging, inside the camp, pseudo-documentary scenes of what they were actually doing at the time.

The complexity of filming reality—and specifically a reality totally informed by a near-immediate historical past—was undeniably at the heart of the Mavericks, Mouvements, Manifestos retrospective, whose programming weaved between simple, core examples (including failures both experimental and the most basic) and far more complicated works which ducked and weaved between registers, forms, histories and realities. Each needed the other—thus the triumph of the programming—and all need a far more in-depth exploration than I am allowed in this brief festival report. I sadly have to leave out two national cinema programs—American and Japanese—I was stunned by, and two—Swedish and Hungarian—I missed. Luckily, many, though not all, of the German films will soon appear on a region free DVD from the Austrian Film Museum label, which will hopefully allow home viewers to see a selection of this program and this moment in film history that we at the festival were lucky enough to experience, for the most part, in 35mm and in restored prints. If only all festival retrospectives were so ranging and instructive.

Hollywoodized Paris (de Baecque)

Wed, 09 May 2012 12:53:23 GMT

Comment Paris révèle Hollywood? analysé par Antoine de Baecque 4 mai 2012 (forumdesimages) 1h14' Pourquoi Hollywood a-t-il investi, en près d’un siècle, tant de moyens pour enregistrer, ou plutôt fabriquer, du Paris par centaines de films ? Comme si ces deux capitales du cinéma étaient condamnées à esquisser ce pas de deux prolongé, ininterrompu, un flirt irrépressible, afi n de mettre en

el retorno del hombre-lobo (paul naschy, spanien 1981)

Wed, 09 May 2012 08:39:01 GMT

Die Wissenschaftlerin Erika (Silvia Aguilar) hat die Grabkammer der Vampirgräfin Bathory (Julia Saly) ausfindig gemacht, und möchte sie – unter ihrem Bann stehend – zu neuem Leben erwecken. Zwei Grabräuber haben aus Versehen bereits den Wolfsmenschen Waldemar Daninsky (Paul Naschy), aufgeweckt, der sein Schicksal der Bathory verdankt. Zunächst kommt er Erika und ihren beiden Freundinnen aber zur Hilfe, nimmt sie dann bei sich auf und verliebt sich schließlich in die schöne Karen (Azucena Hérnandez), in der Hoffnung, dass sie ihn von seinem Fluch erlösen möge. Als Erika die Wiedererweckung der Bathory gelingt, treibt aber plötzlich auch eine Gruppe weiblicher und verführerischer Vampire ihr Unwesen. Kann Waldi sie aufhalten?

Mein Reisebericht aus Spanien hat länger auf sich warten lassen als geplant: Derzeit schlafe ich einfach bei jedem Film ein und bin dann zur Nacharbeit verdammt. Doch EL RETORNO DEL HOMBRE-LOBO ist nicht so richtig gut geeignet, ihn häppchenweise zu genießen, weil sein Erzählfluss gerade in der ersten Stunde so lose und locker ist, dass man nur schwer reinfindet, wenn man einmal draußen ist. Er ist mitnichten kompliziert oder gar langweilig, aber er verfügt auch nicht gerade über eine besonders flüssige Szenenabfolge. Vielmehr präsentiert er sich als munterer Reigen mal mehr, mal weniger theatralischer Szenen, mit denen sich Regisseur Naschy eher stolpernd auf einen Schluss zubewegt. So knutscht Daninsky in der einen Szene noch mit seiner neuen Angebeteten, bevor er in der nächsten ohne Vorwarnung und unter dem Einfluss des Vollmonds erst zum Derwisch, dann zum Werwolf mutiert. Nicht nur hinsichtlich seiner Bilderwelt – die Karpathen sehen verdächtig nach Spanien aus, der Werwolf wie ein mürrischer Teddybär, eine lebende Mumie mit Zahnlücke erinnert an die reitenden Leichen Ossorios und “Wissenschaftler” sind attraktive Frauen, die mit okkulten Amuletten herumwedeln – lässt sich EL RETORNO DEL HOMBRE-LOBO also am ehesten als “kindlich” beschreiben, auch die ihm zugrunde liegende Handlungslogik (oder der Mangel an einer solchen), erinnert an die Europa-Horror-Hörspielkassetten von einst, auf denen auch alle möglichen Monster bunt durcheinandergewürfelt und kombiniert wurden. Erst gegen Ende, wenn die Bathory mit ihren neuen Vampirsklavinnen durch die Gemächer wandelt, immer von einer dicken Nebelwolke umhüllt und schick ausgeleuchtet, findet EL RETORNO DEL HOMBRE-LOBO dann seine Linie und auch seinen visuellen Stil: Während der Sinn dafür, was hier “real” ist, unter dem Zauber der Vampirgräfin mehr und mehr ins Wanken gerät, wird der Film paradoxerweise gleichzeitig konkreter und klarer. Der Spuk endet schließlich in einer handfesten Balgerei zwischen Daninsky und Bathory, bevor er über seine geliebte Karen herfällt, die ihm aber noch den geweihten Silberdolch ins Herz rammen kann und so die Prophezeiung, er könne nur durch das Selbstopfer seiner wahren Liebe erlöst werden, wahr macht.

Was ich an spanischen Horrrofilmen so liebe, das ist die Mischung aus der beschriebenen kindlichen Naivität und einer melodramatischen Schwermut: Alle Gefühle werden zu Phänomenen von existenzieller Schwere aufgeblasen, die die Protagonisten von einem Zusammenbruch in den nächsten treiben. Exemplarisch dafür steht hier die herrliche, gut fünf Minuten dauernde Verwandlungssequenz, während der Daninsky die gesamte Inneneinrichtung zerkloppt, sich quer durch das geräumige Zimmer und wieder zurück arbeitet, ab und zu hinter einem Möbelstück verschwindet, um dann mit etwas mehr Gesichtsbehaarung wieder aufzutauchen, und sich in Schmerzen auf dem Boden windet, bevor er endlich als fertiger Wolf dasteht. Naschy ist dann auch der Grund, warum die Stimmung von EL RETORNO DEL HOMBRE-LOBO eher gedrückt ist: Sein herzensguter Held wirkt dank Naschys nun nicht gerade imposanter Statur und seinem eher durchschnittlichen Äußeren alles andere als heldenhaft, viel eher traurig und defizitär; den heißblütigen Liebhaber nimmt man ihm nur mit viel Goodwill ab. Ich meine, Naschy weiß das: Man kann ihn von der traurigen Daninsky-Figur kaum trennen und wahrscheinlich begreift man diesen Film deshalb am besten als ausuferndes Stimmungsbild, denn als kohärente Sinneinheit. Das karge iberische Ungarn ist ein Spiegel von Daninskys/Naschys Seelenleben, das unter ständiger Bedrohung unbekannter, außerweltlicher Kräfte steht. Mit der unsterblichen Liebe geht der eigene Tod einher und was im einen Moment noch glasklar erscheint, darüber legt sich im nächsten schon dichter Nebel. Und wer fragt bei so viel Poesie noch nach der korrekten Interpunktion? Das Bild der ekstatischen Bathory, als sich nach Jahrhunderten der Dunkelheit endlich wieder das rote Blut einer Jungfrau über ihr bleiches Antlitz ergießt, lässt keine Fragen offen.

Miriam Hansen

Wed, 09 May 2012 06:28:18 GMT

Veranstaltungshinweis

Zu Miriam Bratu Hansens posthum veröffentlichtem Buch Cinema and Experience gibt es in CARGO 13 ein Gespräch von Simon Rothöhler mit Gertrud Koch.

Heute findet in der American Academy eine hochkarätig besetzte Diskussion über The Scholarship of Miriam Bratu Hansen statt. Teilnehmer sind Raymond Bellour, David Bathrick, Thomas Y. Levin und Albrecht Wellmer. Moderatorin ist Gertrud Koch.

American Academy in Berlin, Am Sandwerder 17-19, 14109 Berlin (Anmeldung unter diesem Link)

Und hier einer zum Buch.

Gehört: 15 Alben

Tue, 08 May 2012 22:17:08 GMT

Wieder sehr bunt gemischt, bei diesen 14 Kurzbesprechungen sollte für jeden etwas dabei sein.

Edguy: Age of the Joker (Power-Metal, 2011)
Ganz nett produziertes und anhörbares Album ohne große Höhepunkte, aber immerhin mit einigen stellenweise ganz brauchbaren Tracks.
5/10

Trivium: In Waves (Metalcore, 2011)
Dieses Album veranschaulicht leider ganz gut, wie die häufiger zu hörende Klage gemeint ist, dass es im Moment zu viele US-Metalcore Bands gibt: Auch im Metalcore kann man dahinplätschern. Hier bleibt leider nichts hängen.
Punkte: 4/10

We Butter The Bread With Butter: Der Tage, an dem die Erde unterging (Electrocore, 2010)
Dieses Album definiert stilistisch und musikalisch den Begriff Heterogenität neu. Fast kein Track klingt wie der andere, und je härter sich die Band gibt, desto besser ist sie auch. Dass das alles lustig gemeint ist, merkt man an den Helge Schneider-Songtiteln und leider auch dann, wenn die Bands sich wie in dem Track „Der kleine Vampir“ mal nicht auf harte Riffs und Growls verlässt, sondern klar singt wie eine gewöhnliche Mallorca-Spaßband – dann wird es schlicht schlimm und dumm.
Fast alle anderen Tracks sind aber ziemlich toll und hauen ganz gut rein.
Punkte: 7/10

Graham Coxon: A + E (Pop/Rock, 2011)
Der ex-Blur-Sänger ist nach wie vor fleißig und liefert mit „A+E“ schon sein achtes Soloalbum ab. Die Scheibe klingt nicht mehr so sehr nach Britpop, sondern ist –ein Glück- teilweise ziemlich grooviger Rock, in welchem die Gitarren ordentlich gefordert werden. Einige sehr starke Tracks, die auch in die Beine gehen.
Punkte: 7/10

The Asteroids Galaxy Tour: Out of Frequency (Psychedelic Pop, 2011)
Diese dänische Formation bewegt sich stilstisch irgendwo zwischen Psychedelic, Indie Rock und Pop. Die beiden Single-Auskopplungen “Major” und “Hear-Attack” sind ziemlich großartig, gegen Ende hin franst das Album aber leider etwas aus und wird allzu beliebig.
Punkte: 7/10

Sintech: Schlampenfeuer (Dark Metal, 2011)
Neben dem Albumtitel sorgen auch Tracknamen wie “Narbenacker” und “Hassorgasmus” dafür, dass hier keine Zweifel aufkommen: Gefangene werden hier nicht gemacht. Wie häufig bei solchen Bands kann man sich nicht des Eindrucks erwehren, dass das Misanthropische viel Pose ist. Musikalisch gibt es aber nichts auszusetzen: Fast durchgehend sehr kraftvolle, starke, einfallsreich geschriebene und gut gespielte Tracks. Diese Dark Metal-Band aus Coburg muss man im Auge behalten.
Puntke: 8/10

Marilyn Manson: Born Villain (Industrial Rock, 2012)
Nach einiger Pause ist der bekannteste Shock-Rocker der Welt wieder da und muss (sich) nach seinen letzten kommerziellen Flops (die freilich als Alben gar nicht so schlecht waren) einiges beweisen.
Dies geschieht, indem er sich größtenteils treu bleibt - Manson-Fans bekommen ein typisches Manson-Album. Etwas mehr Härte und etwas weniger durchgängiges Midtempo hätten wir uns schon gewünscht, werden aber durch die beiden letzten Tracks auf dem Album, die stärksten, „Breaking the Same Old Ground“ und „You’re so Vain“, wieder etwas versöhnt. Aber: Kein großer Wurf.
Punkte: 6/10

Huntress: Spell Eater (Heavy Metal, 2011)
Viel Promotion hat die Band hinter sich, wobei Sängerin Jill Janus beiden etwas bot: Pubertierenden Mädchen Tarot-Karten und Hexengeöns, und für pubertierenden Jungs gab es in den PR-Vordergrund gerückte Silikonbrüste. Fällt man heutzutage auf so plumpes Marketing-Gehabe noch rein? Oh bitte…äh, natürlich haben wir uns das Album besorgt.
Musikalisch ist das sogar alles ziemlich erfreulich, die Band bietet sehr spielfreudig und musikalisch einfallsreich traditionellen Metal, nur ausgerechnet Sängerin Jill Janus sorgt nicht gerade für Freude: Selbst für Laien klingt ihre Stimme häufig überfordert (obwohl sie angeblich Opernsängerin ist und vier Oktaven beherrscht - Wo?!) und gerät schnell an ihre Grenzen.
Was das Hörvergnügen doch deutlich schmälert.
Punkte: 6/10

Nattefrost & Matzumi: From Distant Times (Ambient/Electronica, 2012)
Mit Spannung erwartete Zusammenarbeit zwischen der deutschen Electronica-Hoffnung mit der wunderschönen Stimme Matzumi, und Nattefrost, dem dänischen Synthesizer-Veteranen (nicht die norwegische Black Metal-Band).
Eher ruhige elektronische Musik, wobei Matzumi diesmal ihre Stimme verhältnismäßig wenig einsetzt. Viele gelungene, schöne Tracks, die beiden Künstler haben sich musikalisch viel zu sagen.
Punkte: 7/10

Picture Palace music: Indulge the Passion (Electronic Post-Rock, 2012)
Die aktuelle Scheibe des Sideprojects von Tangerine Dream-Keyboarder Thorsten Quaesching. Sehr komplexe, dichte, gelungene Kompositionen, wie immer hervorragend eingespielt als eine Mischung aus elektronischen und klassischen Rock-Instrumenten.
Benötigt etwas Eingewöhnungszeit, das Album, dann wird man von den dichten, über zwei Jahre hinweg aufgenommenen Tracks (was man, wie immer bei PPm, aber nicht hört - zumindest nicht auf meinem Lo-Fi Equipment) aber durchaus berückt.
Punkte: 8/10

Picture Palace music: Symphony for Vampires (Electronic Post-Rock, 2008)
Wie der Titel vermuten lässt, ein Album inspiriert von Murnaus Meisterwerk “Nosferatu” von 1922. Inwiefern die Musik genau an die Bilder des Films andockt, würde einer genaueren Analyse bedingen. Fest steht jedenfalls, dass dieses Album auch für sich genommen schlicht grandios ist und durchaus die Murnau-Bilder im Kopf evoziert. Kompositorisch brillant, hervorragend gespielt, in die Stücke kann man sich reinlegen. Ein meisterliches Album.
Es gibt noch eine EP mit Outtakes aus diesem Album namens „Walpurgisnacht“, der man allerdings schon anhört, dass es sich um Outtakes handelt.
Thorsten Quaesching hat in einem letztjährigen Interview durchblicken lassen, dass er sich auch eine Vertonung (ausgerechnet meines absoluten Lieblingsfilms, nämlich) von Murnaus „Sunrise“ von 1927 vorstellen kann. Soll er das tun, dann sterbe ich wahrscheinlich vor Glück und weiß aus Selbsterhaltungstrieb somit nicht genau, ob ich mir das wirklich wünschen sollte.
Punkte: 9/10 (Symphony for Vampires)
Punkte: 5/10 (Walpurgisnacht)

Nolwenn Leroy: Bretonne
Weltmusik/Pop 2011
Mischung aus softem Weltmusik-Pop und keltischer Musik dieser französischen Sängerin. Musik, die sich ideal für ein Picknick im Elfenwald von Lothlórien eignen würde. Leroys Stimme ist hervorragend, die Stücke schön verträumt und verträumt schön.
Punkte: 8/10

Moonspell: Alpha Noir (Dark Metal, 2012)/Omega White (Gothic Metal, 2012) Doppelalbum
Für ihre neueste Scheibe haben sich die Portugiesen etwas besonderes ausgedacht: In der Deluxe Edition von "Alpha Noir" findet sich weitere Tracks eines kompletten weiteren Albums namens "Omega White". Beide Alben decken stilistisch die Bandbreite der Band ab: "Alpha Noir" ist der in den letzten Jahren von der Band gewohnte Dark Metal, schön hart gespielt mit einigen sehr gelungenen Momenten, insgesamt aber kompositorisch schon eher weniger erinnerungswüridg. Viel Klargesang, deshalb auch Dark und kein Death-Metal. Kann man sich ganz gut anhören, aber keine Scheibe für die Ewigkeit.
Auf "Omega White" kehrt die Band zu ihren früheren Gothic Metal-Zeiten zurück und klingt dann so wie, als hätten sie die frühen Sisters of Mercy kräftig gechannelt. Viele Stücke offenbaren, warum diese Art Musik heute out ist, das klingt einfach abgehangen. Einige Glanzpunkte machen aber auch dieses Album dann doch immer noch ganz hörenswert.
Punkte: 6/10 (Alpha Noir)
Punkte: 6/10 (Omega White)

Agalloch: Ashes Against the Grain (Doom Metal/Neo Folk, 2006)
Agalloch: The Mantle (Post Rock/Doom Metal, 2002)
Die zwei Alben dieser Doom-Metal Band aus Portland bedürfen einiger Einhörungszeit, können dann aber sehr für sich einnehmen. Während „The Mantle“ von 2002 noch etwas rockiger daher kommt, ist „Ashes..“ vor allem Doom Metal mit ruhigerem Tempo und melancholischer Stimmung. Beide Alben strahlen eine dichte Atmosphäre aus, für die man allerdings in der richtigen Stimmung sein muss. Dann allerdings kann an der musikalischen Qualität kein Zweifel mehr bestehen, auch wenn auf beiden Alben leichte Redundanzen festzustellen sind. Davon soll man sich aber nicht abhalten lassen: Hört man sich in die Alben ein, ist man gefangen..
Punkte: 7/10 (Ashes Against the Grain)
Punkte: 7/10 (The Mantle)

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 5

Tue, 08 May 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Female Convict 701: Scorpion – Probably the best women-in-prison movie I’ve seen, this Japanese revenge thriller doesn’t actually need all the nudity to keep viewers interested (but don’t worry, it’s there, in spades). Every genre convention you might expect is present (shower room brawl, prison riot, senseless interrogation, etc.), but it’s the craft (stylish camerawork, above-average acting and well-paced script) that holds it together. I’m not into bondage, torture or mass nudity (it’s too impersonal), but I can get behind a ferocious performance of an avenging angel kicking ass when it’s handled with such traditionally unnecessary, given the genre, passion and skill.

Fidelity – Fidelity is Polish madman Andrzej Zulawski’s adaptation of the 1678 French novel The Princess of Cleves. I’ve read it and I can say they have this in common: homo sapien main characters with the same names and relationships. This is an epic romance that is often unbearably highbrow and B-movie trashy in the space of a single scene. I think of it as the final and most sophisticated homage to Zulawski’s long-term girlfriend, the beautiful Sophie Marceau, and through all the muddled chaos of yellow journalism, organ trafficking, wild sex and bad poetry one senses that he’s trying to deliver some aching inarticulate message not just to her, at the twilight of their 17 year relationship, but to the audience as well. A popular and critical fiasco, it’s hard to convince people to track down and sit through the even rarer uncut 3+ hour version that makes slightly more narrative and thematic sense. Even I must admit it falls well short of Zulawski’s magnum opus, Possession, (which only failed to make this list because I refuse to admit that it might not be perfect), but I found this to be another of his feverishly passionate cries sent echoing into the universe’s void. Who doesn't like those?

Flash Gordon – Flash Gordon, “King of the Impossible,” must rescue fetching journalist Dale Arden and save the Earth from Emperor Ming the Merciless (Max von Sydow), who is raining down hot hail and sending the moon onto a collision course. His plan will unite perennial foes Hawkman (Brian Blessed) and space Robin Hood (Timothy Dalton), but not before they shout some pretty atrocious dialog at each other. The costume design and soundtrack by Queen would, alone, make this a favorite, but the film’s contagious sense of campy abandon puts it over the top, amply earning its eminent cult-circuit reputation.

Footprints on the Moon – Like Death Laid an Egg this is another one of those obscure giallo films that just doesn’t fit the mold. It has a sci-fi subplot, almost no murders and a cameo by the great German actor Klaus Kinski, plus a plot so abstruse and subtle that I had no idea what was going on during my first viewing. Alice, a woman haunted by eerie dreams from her childhood, visits a seaside resort she learns about from a postcard and begins investigating a woman who may be herself. The chilling ending is all the more effective for its otherworldliness. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (The Conformist, Apocalypse Now) provides the excellent visuals.

Four-Sided Triangle – I don’t consider myself a fan of Britain’s Hammer studio, which churned out largely formulaic and forgettable horror and sci-fi movies from the 50’s to the 70’s, but this underrated gem is one of my favorite B-movies. There is no monster, no alien, no violence and hardly any special effects. There is only a love triangle (two scientists, friends since boyhood, who fall in love with their beautiful assistant) and the troubling ethical implications of an invention, a duplicator, which may provide a way for the triangle to, shall we say, expand into square. Of course, technology only makes things worse. Tragically doomed actress Barbara Payton (who is not ashamed) provides the female lead and, for me, it’s not hard to imagine how she could break a heart. Efficient, resourceful and perhaps deeper than it realizes, this is exactly the type of film I think low-budget filmmakers should strive for. It’s few viewers, however, seem to brush it aside.

Freeway – A modernized adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood with Reese Witherspoon as a highly independent trailer tramp on her way to grandmother’s house and Kiefer Sutherlands as the highway-prowling serial killer wolf. The usual damsel-in-distress scenario is reversed after Witherspoon pumps a few bullets into her would-be predator, but the legal consequences land her in prison. Undaunted, she fashions a homemade shiv and busts out with a pair of new friends for a final bloody confrontation at grandmother’s. Hilariously no-holds-barred and flagrantly over the top, it’s a pleasure just to see Witherspoon’s spit and vinegar performance (she got so safe and bland later!) and Sutherland at his most unctuous. Even the critics admitted liking this, but it’s the type of film we’re not supposed to.

Full Contact – Full Contact is Hong Kong action courtesy of Ringo Lam, creator of such classy cinema as City on Fire, Prison on Fire and Maximum Risk. I don’t remember the plot, but it involves Chow Yun-fat punching, kicking, shooting, chasing, fleeing, driving and crashing. Often in slow-mo. The movie gave us ‘bullet time’ seven years before The Matrix, and did it from the bullet’s own POV. It also gave us one of the great final lines, tossed off at the flamboyantly gay villain as he dies: “Masturbate in hell.”

Glen or Glenda – Director Ed Wood’s most infamous film, the staggeringly incompetent “Plan Nine from Outer Space,” gets more attention, but Glen or Glenda is arguably even worse, which, of course, makes it even better. Bela Lugosi, via senselessly over-the-top narration, presents us with the story of Glen/Glenda’s cross-dressing and sex change. For a film that achieves so many inadvertent laughs, it’s also strangely touching, especially in light of Wood’s personal investment: a cross-dresser himself, he stars in the title role playing against his real-life girlfriend, who wasn’t yet fully aware of Wood’s proclivities.

God Told Me To – In New York City random people are violently running amok, with the only common thread being their dying insistence that “God told me to.” A Catholic detective investigates, increasingly terrified by the possible truth. A surprisingly aspirational B-movie slushy of police procedural, urban horror, religious allegory and science fiction. In my opinion this is schlock staple Larry Cohen’s one brush with greatness.

Grendel, Grendel, Grendel – An Australian animated children’s musical adaptation of the 11^th century English epic poem Beowulf, but told from the sympathetic point-of-view of the villain in the style of John Gardner’s experimental parallel novel. Peter Ustinov steals the show as the oddly genteel Beowulf, but sadly he doesn’t show up until the final act. The Schoolhouse Rock reminiscent limited animation, lukewarm tunes, uneven pacing and a lot of confusion as to whether a target audience for this concept even exists make the film, pretty much unavailable anyway, fabulously unpopular.

Schoolgirl Report #8: What Parents Should Never Know

Tue, 08 May 2012 15:01:04 GMT

Schulmadchen-Report 8: Was Eltern nie erfahren durfen
Ernst Hofbauer - 1974
Impulse Pictures Region 1 DVD

During the first half of 1973, I was living in Portland, Oregon, primarily doing unpaid work at the Northwest Film Study Center. My capacity as some kind of expert in film got me into a special advance screening of Deep Throat, that seminal film in the history of "Adult Cinema". I found out after the screening that most of the audience at that screening was composed of lawyers, presumably enlisted in case of possible legal action against film or the theater. While I appreciate the erotic in film, my interest in films made primarily for the raincoat brigade is casual at best.

I figured that as long as Impulse Pictures was going to send me Schoolgirl Report #8, the least I could do is take a look. This is best described as a soft core film, presented as a documentary, about some overly ripe high school girls on a field trip, telling stories about their sexual misadventures. There's a bit of bawdy humor, and some slapstick, mounds of pubic hair, the obligatory group shower scene, and a sanctimonious ending voiced by some male narrator in a feeble attempt to give the film some sense of greater signicance. Sometimes just watching plump and naked German girls, circa 1974, is its own justification. Maybe the best that can be said is that at the time this film came out, my idea of German cinema was catching up on work by Wim Wenders, Werner Herzog and Rainer Werner Fassbinder, among others who were lumped as part of the "New German Cinema". What I wasn't watching was the kind of German movies that actually helped pay the bills.

Coming, as it were, when more graphic depictions of sex were on theater screens, Schoolgirl Report #8 seems almost innocent in comparison. The kind of coupling going on here is pretty basic, no gymnastics, and nothing that could be considered kinky by anyone other than those self-appointed guardians of morality. Regarding personal preferences, I can only depend on Pedro Almodovar, an openly gay filmmaker, to provide me with decent cinematic depictions of cunilingus. In this film, there's sex in bed, in a field, on a pool table, all hetero and vanilla and simulated.

I'm baffled by any contemporary interest in this kind of film. This movie appears to have been originally shot in 16mm, and no one will be fooled by the obviously post-dubbed dialogue. I can only assume that there is a firm cult for this kind of film to justify making it available on DVD. The actors and actresses are listed in the film as uncredited parents and students although here is where IMDb proves itself useful. The online trailer, in German without subtitles, provides a brief taste of the action. What may be this films best asset is that the actresses look like relatively attractive girls next door, and not a collection of wannabe models. And when too many women in front of the camera are filled with silicon and other artificial ingredients, there is some pleasure to see one voluptuous actress run blissfully naked, her breasts bouncing in the breeze.

Similar Images #6

Tue, 08 May 2012 13:09:41 GMT

From Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959), matte painting by Matthew Yuricich:

From Dario Argento's Suspiria (1977), cinematography by Luciano Tovoli:

Part of our on-going series, Similar Images.

Call for Support

Tue, 08 May 2012 09:30:47 GMT

Dear Friends,

Staging the 2012 Temenos event in Greece is proving to be more of a financial challenge than in previous years. This is due in part to the economic crisis in Greece, which has made sources of funding for the arts within Greece more difficult to secure. The event itself will take place as scheduled, and it will continue to be held free of charge; however, as a way to supplement the already-strained Temenos foundation, we have decided to launch a Kickstarter campaign.

We are asking for $20,000, which is approximately half the amount needed to print cycles VII and VIII of Markopoulos’ Enaiaos. If you are familiar with the Kickstarter model, you know, we will be permitted a finite period of time (30 days) in which to raise the funds; if we fall short of this goal we will have to return all donations and won’t collect a cent. I therefore urge you who to give any amount – but more importantly, please spread the word about the campaign to those who aren’t already on the Temenos mailing list. We have assembled rewards at all donation levels that we think will appeal to film and art lovers alike, and we feel that the uniqueness of the event is in itself a compelling story that could trigger a strong response in the donor community.

In the spirit of extended community that marks this incredible vision and binds all of us, we wanted to ask if you’d be willing to take an active role in forwarding the Kickstarter call to your networks, friends, and families, and (as is often necessary) follow up to encourage donation. Since Markopoulos is not known to many outside the world of avant-garde film, we have an important role to play in catalyzing awareness, interest, and financial support.

Please forward the link to anyone you think might be interested!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1525866264/towards-eniaios-and-the-temenos?ref=live

Tue, 08 May 2012 08:36:33 GMT

[27. April 1980]

1Q84, Teil 1&2 (Haruki Murakami, 2010)

Tue, 08 May 2012 06:53:25 GMT

Zitat vom Mai 2010: Die Kategorie "für das Bücherregal" habe ich sträflichst vernachlässigt. Leider habe ich aber auch in letzter Zeit so viel relevante Literatur gelesen, dass ich es wohl nicht mehr schaffen werde, die alle vorzustellen. Ein paar Highlights in den nächsten Wochen sollen genügen.

Das hat ja wunderbar geklappt. Zwei Jahre später nun also der nächste Eintrag:

In der Vergangenheit, der Schulzeit liegt das eindrücklichste Erlebnis ihrer Jugend für die beiden Außenseiter Tengo und Aomame: nach der hämischen Attacke eines Mitschülers ist Aomame der schüchterne Tengo beigesprungen. Zum Dank drückt sie ihm für einen kurzen Moment die Hand, ein Erlebnis, das sich dem Jungen für immer ins Gedächtnis einbrennen wird. Etwa zwanzig Jahre später spielt nun die Handlung des Buches 1Q84, das auf George Orwells dystopischen Roman verweist (Q kann in seiner japanischen Aussprache lautlich mit 9 verwechselt werden). Denn in dieser Welt hat sich etwas verändert - als Aomame in einem Stau auf der Autobahn aus dem Taxi steigt und über eine Treppe die Hochtrasse verlässt, ist es, als ob sie über eine Schwelle geht. Plötzlich erscheinen zwei Monde am Himmel, und auch sonst haben sich Details verändert, Verhältnisse verschoben. Minimal, aber unübersehbar. Aomame ist Auftragskillerin und auf dem Weg zu einem Job. Die verschobenen Verhältnisse lassen sie erst zögern, doch dann funktioniert sie wie eine Maschine. Tengo hingegen lehrt Mathematik an einer Mittelschule und ist in seiner Freizeit Gelegenheitsschriftsteller. Von seinem Agenten bekommt er den Auftrag, einen mysteriösen Text einer 16jährigen umzuschreiben: den Roman Die Puppe aus Luft. Tengos Fassung wird ein Bestseller, doch verschweigt der Verlag Tengos Eingriffe. Es ist ein junges Mädchen, das hier ihren Erstlingserfolg haben soll. Dass hinter der fiktiven Erzählung ein dunkles, reales Geheimnis um eine religiöse Sekte lauert, ist nicht nur eine stetig wachsende Bedrohung, sondern führt Tengo auch überraschenderweise zu seiner Jugendliebe Aomame...

Das ist viel Plot in einem Buch, das in seinem Text dennoch schlank wirkt. Teil 1 und 2 nehmen gut 1000 Seiten ein und es liest sich rasend, da es wieder in einfacher, schlichter Sprache gehalten ist. Besonders die Dialoge wirken, etwas, was mich auch schon an anderen Romanen Murakamis gestört hat, manchmal sehr simpel, beinah etwas naiv - allerdings hat man es hier mit zwei Protagonisten zu tun, die nicht gerade die kommunikativsten Menschen sind. Dennoch wirken sie oft behäbig, verstockt, und ganz so, als hätten sich die Menschen in diesem Roman eigentlich nichts oder zumindest nicht viel zu sagen. Murakami wendet erneut das von ihm schon öfters angewandte erzähltechnische Prinzip der zwei parallelen Erzählstränge an, die immer wieder aufeinandertreffen um sich schließlich zu vereinen. Das hat viele Vorteile: man bekommt als Leser kleine, anspielungsreiche Häppchen serviert, die stets auf etwas Größeres, der Geschichte Dahinterliegendes verweisen. Und man ist stets bemüht, die Konnexionen herzustellen. Außerdem hat der Autor es relativ einfach, eine abwechslungreiche Story zu generieren (da er ja eigentlich zunächst deren zwei erzählt), die mit Cliffhangern gespickt, den Leser am Ball bleiben lässt. So ist 1Q84 natürlich auch Genreliteratur, ein Kriminalroman innerhalb der Liebesgeschichte. Was die Welt zusammenhält, zumindest die der Protagonisten, ist das emotionale, aber noch leere Zentrum - das nur mit dem Gegenüber gefüllt werden kann. Das Ich als Puzzle, sozusagen. Die Kriminal- und Verschwörungselemente sind dabei die bedrohenden Aspekte des zunächst beruflichen Alltags, der freilich auch das Privatleben der beiden Protagonisten dann so stark beeinflusst, das die beiden Sphären nicht mehr zu trennen sind. Das Leben der Akteure verläuft auch hier in parallelen Bahnen: zunächst sind sie aktive Subjekte, die die Dinge in Gang setzen. Später dann aber müssen beide untertauchen, werden zu den Bedrohten und Verfolgten, die sich, hier kommt die Liebesgeschichte wieder ins Spiel, wieder finden müssen. Der zweiten Band schließt dann auch mit einer solchen Szene auf einem Kinderspielplatz, auf dem sich Aomame und Tengo beinahe begegenen. Und später dann vielleicht auch richtig? Und obwohl ich zunächst wenig Lust hatte, an diesem Mammutwerk weiterzulesen, muss ich mittlerweile gestehen: ich komme wohl nicht drum herum, das schließende, dritte Kapitel doch noch nachzuschieben.

MARYLAND 2012: Critic's Notebook

Mon, 07 May 2012 17:25:13 GMT

by Steve Dollar

Somewhere around 1 a.m. at the Lithuanian Hall in Baltimore, it hit me. Why shouldn't this be the place to have a passionate, detailed conversation about independent filmmaking? Film festivals take pride in the range of experiences they can offer guests and patrons, but nothing I've experienced quite compares with this backdrop: a packed, sweaty dance floor hopping with enthusiastic groovers, while a DJ plays deep soul classics and Charm City icon John Waters sits in a corner having an intimate chat with a fan. Behind the rectangular bar, burly old guys from the Old Country gruffly dispense $2 bottles of Utenos and Svyturys. I bump into an old friend I haven't seen in 20 years, and he immediately introduces me to an unalloyed artifact of the city. I don't understand too much of what he's trying to tell me, but from his T-shirt I know his name. The garment bears a likeness of his pixelated gaze and wild shocks of white hair framing a bald dome, and underneath his face the legend: Rezzy Ray Has a Posse.

We didn't talk for long, Rezzy Ray and I, as I had another posse to engage. In an adjacent room was a convergence of American filmmakers, brought to town for the Maryland Film Festival, which has evolved into an important annual summit meeting. The festival's particular focus is on the ever-emerging microbudget movement and smart, risky, handmade cinema, the kind that has to work hard to assert itself in a world where distributors often want everything and offer next to nothing.

Continued reading MARYLAND 2012: Critic's Notebook...

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 4

Mon, 07 May 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Death Laid an Egg – This giallo by the virtually unknown Giulio Questi is one of my favorite films in the genre. A twisted love triangle on a mechanized chicken farm, this is what a murder mystery melodrama might look like directed by Jean Luc-Godard. Jean-Louis Trintingnant stars. Beautiful women and cinematrography meet ugly revelations about murder and infidelity and even uglier boneless, limbless chick blobs. The story, acting, set design and themes are exactly what I look for in a rare horror gem, but the skeptics are unlikely to bother tracking this down in the back-alleys of the internet.

Death Race 2000 – Cyborg celebrity frontrunner Frankenstein (David Carradine) goes head-to-head against Machine-Gun Joe Viterbo (Sylvester Stallone), cowgirl Calamity Jane, neo-Nazi Mathilda the Hun and gladiator Nero the Hero in The Death Race, a dash across America where points are issued for running down civilians along the way (bonuses for women, children and old folk). Annie Paine, Frankenstein’s sexy new copilot/mechanic is secretly a spy for an underground resistance group, but finds herself falling in love with the enigmatic driver. One of the most perfect 1970’s exploitation films, Death Race 2000 has an inimitable blend of style, violence, camp and fan service. The casting, vehicle design and script are just right.

Death Walks at Midnight – It’s hard to make up my mind between this and its sister film Death Walks on High Heels so plan on a double feature. Susan Scott (who, next to Edwige Fenech, is probably the best actress in the giallo genre) plays a feisty scene-stealing model who ill-advisedly takes a hallucinogenic drug and ends up in some embarrassing photos. The odd thing is that the visions from her bad trip match up with a murder that took place next door six months in the past. Some great suspense sequences and no-one-believes-me tension build towards a fine denouement. Villains include a killer with a spiked gauntlet and a giggling knife-throwing hitman.

Deep Blue Sea – Unfairly bashed before the gates even opened just for not being Jaws, this is still one of the best shark thrillers that money can rent. Saffron Burrows plays the requisite conspicuously-hot scientist who genetically alters sharks to increase their brain mass (which no matter how you explain it, still sounds stupid) and then must team up with the combined badassery of Samuel L Jackson, Stellan Skarsgard and LL Cool J to escape the resulting monsters and her slowly sinking ocean research lab. The script isn’t Shakespeare, but it keeps things fast, tense and peppered with convention-defying surprises.

Demolition Man – A supercop (Stallone) and his nemesis (Snipes) are cryogenically unfrozen in a ‘utopian’ future where all crime, vices and awesomeness have been eradicated. They immediately head to a museum to load up on guns and bombs. Things blow up. Sandra Bullocks is there. Stallone teaches her how cussing and unhealthy stuff is great. Shameless, gauche and tons of fun.

The Devil-Doll – Tod Browning became a household name on the strength of Dracula and Freaks, two films that defined the horror genre in the early 1930’s. However, I prefer his less-beloved silent circus melodrama The Unknown, about an armless knife-thrower, and The Devil-Doll, about an escaped convict who uses a shrinking serum to wreck vengeance on the Parisian bankers who framed him. Lionel Barrymore is incredible as the criminal mastermind, performing most of the film in drag. Despite the sensational story, his relationship with his estranged daughter (Maureen O’Sullivan) provides a touching emotional core that few horror films ever achieve. The special effects were decades ahead of their time and still impress me today.

Doppelganger (2003) – One of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s lesser known films, Doppelganger is about a scientist working on an artificial body. Exhausted from stress, administrative skepticism and creative stagnation, our lead is on the verge of suicide when he is visited by a mysterious doppelganger who isn’t burdened by the same moral scruples. Of course, this type of devil’s pact never ends well, but Kurosawa’s last act genre shift into slapstick comedy wasn’t the ending twist the critics wanted. Koji Yakusho is, as usual, excellent in the lead role. Part of my love for this film comes from its moody, formalist use of triple split-screen (I’m a big fan of unconventional editing). Kurosawa’s little-loved existential eco-thriller Charisma could just have easily made the list, but I’ve written about it before.

Dr. Jekyll and His Women – Director Walerian Borowczyk was a Polish surrealist animator turned art-house novelty pornographer. His rarely seen (and even more rarely liked) adult-film adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde stars Udo Kier as a doctor stifled by the trappings of civilization and hesitant about his impending marriage to a loving society ingénue. His transformation into a sex crazed monster who kills with his… member, gives vent to his primal needs. Arguably a failure as art or porn, it still succeeds as a bracing, unique and profoundly disturbing horror film.

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On – A brilliant and still criminally unsung Japanese documentary about Kenzo Okuzaki’s investigation into mysterious deaths in the wake of the WWII New Guinea campaign. Though the truth is revealed to be devastatingly macabre, the sensational subject matter is gradually eclipsed by Okuzaki himself, a man clearly driven mad by righteous hatred. Utterly devoid of objectivity, restraint or fear, he is willing to beat the truth out of his interviewees (including his former military superiors) ultimately going so far that he loses the support of the victim’s families and, perhaps, the sympathy of the audience. Okuzaki eventually finds the man he hold responsible and, off-screen, guns down his son. The final title card tells us that Okuzaki has been sentenced to 12 years in prison.

Enemy at the Gates – At a certain age in every American boy’s life he plays a videogame that lets him snipe and he believes he’s found his calling in life. I was about that age when Enemy at the Gates came out and it reinforced my conviction that snipers were cooler than astronauts. Jude Law and Ed Harris stalk each other through rifle scopes. Rachel Weisz is pretty. Bob Hoskins is Russian (whaaat?). And of course Ron Perlman shows up, as he does for every movie like this.

marvel’s the avengers (joss whedon, usa 2012)

Mon, 07 May 2012 14:32:22 GMT

Dass für den Freund bunten Firlefanzes dieses Jahr kein Weg an MARVEL’S THE AVENGERS vorbeiführt, zeigt sich schon daran, dass selbst ich den Weg ins Kino gefunden habe, um ihn mir mit 3D-Brille bewaffnet anzusehen und mich selbst davon zu überzeugen, dass es sich hierbei um den CITIZEN KANE des Superheldenfilms handelt. Zwar bin ich ganz froh, dass ich mein anlässlich des grauenvollen X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE geäußertes Versprechen, Marvel-Filme zukünftig zu meiden, gebrochen habe, dennoch hapert es auch bei diesem jüngsten Werk ganz erheblich an allem, was über Krawall und Action hinausgeht. Was das heißt, könnt ihr in meiner Rezension nachlesen, die ich für Hard Sensations verfasst habe. Klick!

Ask Director Tobe Hooper Your Questions

Mon, 07 May 2012 12:40:41 GMT

Ask Director Tobe Hooper Your Questions

Tobe Hooper is best known for directing Texas Chainsaw Massacre, a classic horror film but one whose fame and influence has often eclipsed the rest of the director's equally interesting earlier and subsequent work. This is why we are particularly excited to present an exclusive, limited online run of Hooper's fantastic feature debut Eggshells (1968/69) alongside his Hammer horror parody short, The Heisters (1964)—both restored and presented by Watchmaker Films and still playing on the site for two more months.

Now that we've given you some time to see these previously unreleased and unknown cult gems, we thought we'd give you the opportunity to ask Tobe Hooper your own questions. Please submit your questions in this forum thread; the thread will be open for two weeks and we'll send Tobe some of your best inquiries to answer. We'll then post the subsequent the community interview at MUBI. Head to the forum to ask your questions now!

Unfolding Film and Media Studies: "Postproduction", Freeze Frames, Death, Games, Augmented Reality and Biological Media

Mon, 07 May 2012 11:05:32 GMT

Framegrab from Christiane F. - Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo/Christiane F. – We Children from Bahnhof Zoo (Uli Edel, 1981). Read Varpu Rantala's essay on studying this film via the link given below.
A quick little entry today, just to alert Film Studies For Free's e-bookworm readers of the latest, excellent update to FSFF's permanent list of links to online and openly accessible ebooks:

Jukka-Pekka Puro and Jukka Sihvonen (eds.), Unfolding Media Studies: Working Papers 2010 (Turku: Media Studies, University of Turku, 2011) PDF

Full contents are set out below.

Preface 7

Film Studies
ILONA HONGISTO: Documentary Fabulation: Folding the True and the False 9
VARPU RANTALA: Samples of Christiane F.: Experimenting with Digital Postproduction in Film Studies 19
TOMMI RÖMPÖTTI: To the Freeze-Frame and Beyond 33
OUTI HAKOLA: Modeling Experience: Death Events and the Public Sphere 49
MARIA KESTI: Science on Fire! A Flying Torch Articulates 63

New Media

JUKKA SIHVONEN: Careless Saints: Notes for Research on the Aesthetics of Digital Games 69
TERO KARPPI: Reality Bites: Subjects of Augmented Reality Applications 89
TAPIO MÄKELÄ: Locative Games as Social Software: Playing in Object Oriented Neighbourhoods 103
JUKKA-PEKKA PURO: Turning Inside: Towards a Phenomenology of Biological Media 123

Five Contrasts for Orchestra and other works/Zador

Mon, 07 May 2012 04:16:51 GMT

To those who have a good knowledge of soundtrack material the name Eugene Zador (1894-1977) is a familiar one as he spent 20+ years as the chief orchestrator (89 films) to fellow Hungarian Miklos Rozsa. Immigrating to the United States like Waxman, Korngold, and other Europeans he seemed to have found an excellent relationship with Miklos. Unlike Hugo Friedhofer, another famous orchestrator for Korngold and Steiner, he did little original soundtrack composing but did spend time on classical works and he composed some excellent material, relatively unknown until this new release from Naxos, champion of the little known composers. Hopefully this release will alleviate the situation.

Aria and Allegro for Strings and Brass got its premiere in Los Angeles in 1967 and was well received. A couple of years later performances by the Utah Symphony/Abravanel enforced the popularity of this fine example of neo-classical composition as called it novel among other adjectives. The first movement features a horn fanfare which is nicely counterpointed by the strings. A somewhat complex fugue follows in the second movement but still arranged and orchestrated to give the ear nice accessibility.

Five Contrasts for Orchestra was first performed in 1965 by Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. The opening “Introduction” is one that would certainly fit into a film noir situation and the sound makes one recall Rozsa. The horns quietly open the movement with a mellow fanfare theme ominously backed by lower register strings. It quickly changes to jagged staccato strings which call back and forth to one another. It continues with swirling strings and bold brass statements and ends quietly as it began. The second section called Autumn Pastorale has a delicate oriental flavor of flute and harp mixed with a yearning harmony from the strings. The mixture is truly contrasting in styles as east meets west. Phantasy, the third movement, begins with first dissonant type piano chords followed by a solo trumpet which gives way to distorted fanfare from the brass. This dance is a mocking one of the dead. The Scherzo is full of spirit and Zador has fun with the accordion and bassoon. The finale is a fugue filled with melodies and counterpoint and a fitting end to this wonderful study in styles.

A Children’s Symphony is written in a traditional four movement style it was first performed in New Orleans in 1941 and begins with a very classical style with the strings evoking a happy and uplifting mood well supported by woodwinds and brass. It leads to more peace and serenity with the clarinet offering a melody backed by a hint of the orient from the flutes and woodwinds. The middle section offers some tension and turmoil but in the end the melody from the beginning returns. Another great example of an easy accessible movement is the march beat from a single snare drum with a solo trumpet leading the orchestra with a melody and response being given back by different orchestral combinations. There is a laughing playful section with the tuba and bassoon calling to each other. The movement ends as it began. “The Farm” takes one through a day on the farm. Zador uses the public domain tune It’s Raining, It’s Pouring while we hear geese, cows, and chickens all to an Americana scene reminding one of Copland. He ends the work by returning the prelude of the opening movement for closing. Overall this is a very nice introduction to classical music for children.

Hungarian Capriccio got its first performance in 1935 in Budapest and offers a free moving piece that the listener doesn’t know which direction it’s going to turn. Beginning as a symphonic movement it is quickly off course with swirling strings, brass, and woodwinds offering multiple motifs and tempos.

Csardas Rhapsody was composed in 1939 and performed in New York the following year. The clarinet begins with a slinky introduction offering a sharp contrast between it and the harp. The dance turns into a playful cheery situation similar to his “Children’s Symphony.” It ends with a wonderful gypsy dance which becomes quite frantic ending with climaxes!

While the hours of Rozsa listening has made me quite aware of the Zador this CD furthers that opinion. Mariusz Smolij conducts the Budapest Symphony in a spirited performance. It sounds like their quite familiar with his material. Take a chance and you won’t be disappointed.

Track Listing:

Aria and Allegro for Strings and Brass:

1… Aria (Andantino) (3:14)

2… Allegro (7:21)

Five Contrasts for Orchestra

3… Introduction (3:26)

4… Autumn Pastorale (3:59)

5… Phantasy (3:50)

6… Scherzo rustico (3:58)

7… Finale: Fugue (4:31)

A Children’s Symphony

8… Allegro moderato (con spirit) (3:17)

9… Fairy Tale (4:09)

10.Scherzo militaire (2:44)

11. The Farm (6:32)

12. Hungarian Capriccio (9:41)

13. Csaridas Rhapsody (9:20)

Total Time is 66:49

Naxos 8.572548

Possibly in Michigan: The 50th Ann Arbor Film Festival

Mon, 07 May 2012 02:11:34 GMT

Possibly in Michigan: The 50th Ann Arbor Film Festival

Photo courtesy of Abby Rose Photography.

This year marked the 50th anniversary of the Ann Arbor Film Festival, which would be a milestone for any cinema-related event in the U.S. But for a festival that has carved out a niche in the area of experimental and avant-garde film and video, AAFF's achievement is especially noteworthy. Even within the rarefied realm of cinephilia, the avant-garde tends to be something on the margins, or even in the best of circumstances (e.g., the Rotterdam, New York, or Toronto film festivals) one part of a much larger whole. So the fact that Ann Arbor and its intrepid citizens have continued to support this strange little festival, and all the bizarre films the festival has thrown their way over the years, speaks very highly of both the town and the festival founders and organizers (many of whom were present for an on-stage birthday ceremony, dressed as candles and performing a sort of Busby Berkeley dance configuration).

In observance of the 50th, executive director Donald Harrison and program director David Dinnell made the bold and welcome move of placing nearly equal emphasis on retrospective screenings and highlighting new work. One of the ways they did this was to include classic experimental and / or narrative shorts within the competition programs, interspersed among the newer films and videos. This not only helped place the current work in unexpected and in many cases edifying perspective; in many cases it provided the chance to see great films from the festival's past which have been all too rarely revisited in the intervening years. Films like Jordan Belson's abstract mandala film Chakra (1972, screened at the 11th AAFF), Greta Snider's skronky ray-o-gram Flight (1997, screened at the 36th AAFF), or Arthur Lipsett's found-footage horror film 21-87 (1964, screened at the 2nd AAFF) are, by any reasonable measure, canonical works. But how long has it been since we'd seen them? By the same token, Dinnell and company took the opportunity to revive early films by notable makers, films such as Gus Van Sant's sharp The Discipline of DE (1978, screened at the 17th AAFF), or Matthew Buckingham's lyrical featurette Amos Fortune Road (1996, screened at the 35th AAFF).

Above: Washing Walls.

Similarly, competition juror Kathy Geritz, programmer of Berkeley's Pacific Film Archive, was invited to assemble a show of films that had played in the AAFF at some point in its 50-year history. Having eight such films (and, it should be noted, no videos—all glorious 16mm) assembled in one program provided a more than convincing argument for the richness of the AAFF's history and long-time curatorial acumen, as well as the continued vitality of celluloid as a vehicle for images and sounds. Highlights included Braddock, PA's own Tony Buba, represented with his avant-doc short Washing Walls with Mrs. G. (1980), a portrait of his immigrant grandmother; an underseen gem from the Viennese avant-garde entitled Egypt, by Kathrin Resetarits (1997), which explores communication among deaf Austrians and the gaps between European sign language and filmed representation; and Sarabande (2008), one of Nathaniel Dorsky's very greatest works, in which layers of light and shadow are modulated in a play of lightly competing surfaces.

Above: Sarabande.

But in this grand spirit of looking back and taking stock of fifty years of experimental film history, two programs at Ann Arbor this year stand out as major contributions to the field of cinema studies. For most of us in attendance, they were revelatory, although in two quite distinct ways. In one case, I and several others had the rare opportunity to immerse ourselves in a strand of filmmaking of which we'd only been vaguely aware. In the other, we had the chance to fully submit en masse to films, and a filmmaker, that we thought we knew well, only to discover how much we still had left to see and hear.

The festival offered the rare, unmissable opportunity to see two full programs of Japanese experimental films and videos, co-curated by Dinnell and leading filmmaker Tomonari Nishikawa (whose gorgeous Tokyo-Ebisu was shown on opening night of the fest). The first program, "Space/Time," presented ten films from the 1970s and 80s. As the title and the timeframe implies, these films tend to share certain concerns with the contemporaneous structural / materialist efforts taking place in the West, although seeing the works in a bundle, certain aesthetic preferences begin to emerge, notably a persistent sound / image divide wherein music or noise accompaniments float along as somewhat separate entities, the camera's motility and the structure of editing providing the artist's primary formal investigation. There is also a continual interest among some makers, such as Isao Kota (Dutch Photos, 1974) and Takashi Ito (Spacy, 1981), to explore the specific collision point between cinema and photography, motion and stillness. This attitude results in the most compelling films, such as Spacy (apparently the towering classic in this bunch, and easy to see why), or Hiroshi Yamazaki's Heliography (1979), which applies tricked-out camera obscura technology to the horizon line, resulting in a cool, raging "sunspot cinema." As for Atman (Toshio Matsumoto, 1975), another major classic in the program, its endless zooming into the face of a woman wearing a demonic Noh mask, and its violent electronic soundtrack, were an admirable but unwelcome blend of Ernie Gehr and Sion Sono. By the end of its 12 minutes, I just wanted my mommy.

Above: Spacy.

Nishikawa and Dinnell's second program, "In Praise of Shadows," featured Japanese film and video from the 1990s and 2000s. Although the Tanizaki title was more aesthetically apposite for some films than others—particularly Takshi Ishida's Gestalt (1999), a canny combination of actually light play and two-dimensional drawing—the program as a whole displayed an impressive array of approaches to visual experimentation in the last two decades. The work on the docket that was most familiar to many of us, Eriko Sonoda's marvelous Garden/ing from 2007, burst onto the scene several years ago with its impish structural play between large-format photos of a recessed backyard window and the actual spatial description of that same space with a video camera. Taking nothing away from Sonoda's brash originality, but the two programs Ann Arbor presented this year helped both to contextualize her work in a manner many Western critics (like me) sorely needed, and to clarify just how intelligently she has expanded on the vocabulary of forebears such as Ito, Kota, Matsumoto, and Shiho Kano (Still, 1999). All in attendance agreed that Dinnell and Nishikawa had truly provided a service, and they deserve our thanks for expanding our frame of reference.

The major event at AAFF 50, however, was a complete retrospective of the films of San Francisco Bay Area legend and Canyon Cinema / SF Cinematheque founder Bruce Baillie. Baillie, usually too ill to travel, made a rare festival appearance for the occasion, going so far as to introduce one set of screenings with a detailed synopsis of one of his favorite "Seinfeld" episodes. Suffice to say, the man is full of surprises. And, as I said above, Ann Arbor's other major retrospective program was a crucial chance to re-engage with a history that so many of us thought we knew well. Of course it is never less than a treat to see old-friend films like Castro Street and All My Life (both 1966) on the big screen, in lovely preservation prints. But having the chance to imbibe the Baillie Project all at once, to witness its breadth and evolution, is an experience of the purest pleasure and deepest intellectual engagement. As Chuck Stephens recently observed in Cinema Scope Magazine, Baillie may well be the avant-garde's all-time greatest sound designer. The sensitive sociopolitical listening involved in his more complex, engaged works, such as To Parsifal (1963) or his mighty cross-country yawp, Quixote (1965), play exceedingly well against, say, a delicate haiku such as Tung (1966) or the ultra-rare motorbike docu-poem Yellow Horse (1965). But if two works could be said to stand out, and draw even greater power from their grouping amidst Baillie's life's work in cinema, they would be his Mexican filmic ballad, Valentin de las Sierras (1967), a small masterpiece that should be required viewing in any modernist ethnography seminar as a exemplar of ethical, loving depiction; and Quick Billy (1970), Baillie's abstract feature on, among other things, the viability (or not) of the filmmaker as a Western hero (in both senses).

Above: American Falls.

To be sure, Ann Arbor 50 featured a lot of strong new work, too. If I were to single out one absolute triumph, it would be a masterful installation of Phil Solomon's feature-length video triptych American Falls (2010), which, like the Baillie work, dazzles by providing new, unexpected perspectives on images and ideas we thought we knew so well. Solomon's piece, originally commissioned for the rotunda of the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, D.C., is a public artwork in the finest sense, in that it edifies through dialectical argument, moving us from the foundational images of U.S. history—even beginning with popular representations of the Founding Fathers—and moving us right through to the turbulence of the Civil Rights Movement. Solomon subjects the images to his customary pulsating, painterly illumination and woodcut-like texture and turmoil, revoking the commonality of such scenarios (scenes from Greed; the Depression; Eisenhower's final speech) and infusing them once again with the thrust of temporal struggle. In a way, American Falls exemplified the spirit of the festival's bold anniversary year, taking stock not only on how far cinema has taken us, but also on how these transmissions from the past continue to jab at us, not letting us go so easily into some all-digital, skim / scan future. Fifty years on, and these muscular shadows, these insistent whispers, are still not done with us.

Gesehen: Das Konzert

Sun, 06 May 2012 22:04:12 GMT

(Le Concert)
Komödie von Radu Mihaileanu, Frankreich 2009, 123 Minuten (BD-24fps)
Mit Aleksej Guskow, Mélanie Laurent, Miou-Miou u.a.
BD, Sprache/Tonformat: Russisch & Französisch DD 5.1 mit dt. UT, Bildformat: 2,35:1 anamorph

Im Bolschoi aus politischen Gründen 1979 abgehalfteter Dirigent (Guskow), der dort seit Jahrzehnten nur als Hausmeister arbeiten darf, bekommt durch widrige Umstände die Chance, mit seinen alten Recken das große Violinkonzert von Tschaikowski in Paris zu geben. Dass sie sich dabei als das wahre Bolschoi-Orchester (an diesen vorbei!) ausgeben und die alten Recken, inzwischen Taxifahrer, Möbelpacker und ähnliches, sich nicht mehr sonderlich um Probendisziplin scheren, ist da nur der Anfang der vielen Probleme..
Auch wenn der schlagend brillante „Zug des Lebens“ (1998) leider damals in der Aufmerksamkeit etwas unter die Räder von Benignis „Das Leben ist schön“ geriet: Den Namen des Regisseurs Mihaileanu vergaß man nicht. Viele Projekte hat der in Frankreich arbeitende Rumäne seit dem nicht realisiert, diese Mischung hier aus Konzert-Film und Slapstick Komödie ist eines davon.
Der Film scheut sich nicht, den großen Spagat zwischen brachial-burleskem Humor, großer Politik und noch größeren Gefühlen zu wagen und dies alles der Musik poetisch unter zu ordnen - und überzeugt damit größtenteils. Auch wenn die politischen Anspielungen schwammig bis fahrlässig naiv sind und man dem Drehbuch gigantische Plotlöcher und Logikfehler durchgehen lassen muss – der Humor sitzt und große Gefühle werden erfolgreich mobilisiert. Wenn ein Film einen viel zum lachen bringen und anrühren kann – das ist schon einmal viel wert. Gute Darsteller und vor allem die wunderbare filmische Realisierung des Finales, in welchem Kamera und Montage sich lustvoll-exaltiert Tschaikowskis Musik unterordnen, runden einen sehr positiven Eindruck ab.
Punkte: 8/10

Gesichtet wurde die deutsche Blu-Ray von Concorde.

Gesehen: Don 2

Sun, 06 May 2012 21:49:42 GMT

Gangster-Film von Farhan Akhtar, Indien 2011, 155 Minuten (DVD-NTSC)
Mit Shah Rukh Khan, Priyanka Chopra, Lara Dutta u.a.
DVD, Sprache/Tonformat: Hindi DD 5.1, Bildformat. 2,35:1 anamorph

Nach dem großen Erfolg des „Don“-Remakes 2006 war eine Fortsetzung ausgemachte Sache. Auch diesmal darf Shah Rukh Khan den Spagat zwischen gutem und bösem Jungen wagen in einem auf Hochglanz polierten Caper-Movie, das von Malaysia bis nach Berlin pendelt. Dies ist kein richtiger Bollywood-Film, sondern eher ein arg glatt poliertes internationales Produkt ohne große Seele. Songeinlagen gibt es so gut wie keine, auch typische Masala-Elemente finden nicht statt und Shah Rkuh Khan macht in anderen Rollen mehr Spaß als mit dieser Poser-Figur. Ganz unterhaltsam ist das alles schon, viel mehr aber auch nicht.
Punkte: 5/10

Gesichtet wurde die internationale DVD von Reliance Ent.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 3

Sun, 06 May 2012 17:00:00 GMT

Clifford – Critically mauled Martin Short vehicle in which he plays both an elderly priest and a 10-year-old boy (in a movie-length flashback which never loses its half-intended quasi-surrealism considering Short was well into his forties at the time) chronically obsessed with visiting the Dinosaur World theme park. Clifford’s uncle gets saddled with the problem child, who engages in woefully unfunny pranks like planting bombs. Similar to ‘What About Bob?’ in that it’s obnoxious and yet, at times, mesmerizing. God, it’s terrible. I’m not sure I can or even should defend it.

Con Air – Nicolas Cage, John Cusack, Malkovich and Buscemi star in this overblown action film about a hijacked prison plane. I’m not a fan of producer Jerry Bruckheimer in general, but Con Air’s non-stop nonsense is so resourceful, lightning-paced and special-effect-laden that one forgets its total nonsense. Or one doesn’t care. The film tends to lose several stars if not seen while eating buttery popcorn.

The Crawling Eye – Also called The Trollenberg Terror, this is a vintage 1950’s black-and-white sci-fi B-movie about an alien invasion. The aliens, mind-controlling giant eyeballs with tentacles that hide in radioactive mountain-top clouds, are amongst my favorite monster designs of the period (up there with Fiend Without a Face). The film is somewhat schematic and plodding during the lulls, but the best parts are thrilling and the worst parts are funny.

Cruel Intentions – Filmmakers just love adapting Dangerous Liaisons, but since its 1782 inception it has too often been treated as high art period piece Literature and not as the salacious prurient-pleaser that it was in its day. Roger Vadim’s version comes close, but this 1999 modernization starring a cast of hot young stars (Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe, Reese Witherspoon, Selma Blair, Sean Patrick Thomas and Tara Reid) takes the cake for sheer shamelessness. Watching this film at 15 I was openly salivating over the meat puppets (Gellar as a brunette *swoon*) and completely into the killer soundtrack while being perfectly comfortable ignoring the clunky script, weak development and forgettable mise-en-scene (not that I knew what that was). I don’t have my age as an excuse anymore, but it’s still the Dangerous Liaisons version that I’m most likely to rewatch and, even if a bit ironically nowadays, to enjoy.

Cube – A bunch of people with nothing in common wake up in a large cube made up of many smaller cubical rooms, some of which are booby-trapped to kill them in all sorts of nasty ways. They try to figure out why they are there and how to get out. A great example of keeping viewers intrigued with only a single set, little acting talent and less money. The incoherent sequel Hypercube ran with the tagline “The first one had rules,” in an interesting case of producers trying to market a film by highlighting its greatest flaw.

Danger: Diabolik! – Diabolik is a sexy daredevil master-thief living in the height of 1960’s Italian kitsch. With his beautiful wife, he stages outrageous capers and makes fools of the government and criminal underworld alike. Even destroying the country’s tax infrastructure and stealing a multi-ton boxcar of gold hardly breaks his stride. Mario Bava’s film is light as a feather, but the heists are actually quite cleverly conceived and executed (I’m a sucker for a good heist). The humor, fashion and momentum win childish grins and clapping from me. On a more technical level, I like the way Bava uses bright colors and strong horizontals and verticals to break up the image in a way that harkens back to its comic book origins.

Dark Star – Astronaut hippies, unwanted by the space program, are given smart bombs and sent on an interminable semi-pointless mission to implode stars that might be inconvenient for future colonizers. One of the smart bombs develops sentience and begins to question the nature of its existence, forcing the hippies into a philosophical argument for their lives. Carpenter’s first film is a zero-budget student project that frequently transcends its visibly humble roots. Dan O’Bannon, later of Alien and Total Recall fame, wrote the script and helped with the endearingly low-fi special effects.

Day of the Dolphin – Do-gooder husband and wife scientists try to teach dolphins how to talk until terrorists force them (the dolphins) to bomb the president’s yacht instead. It sounds ridiculous, but everyone plays it straight and I was hooked. George C. Scott and his real-life wife starred. Prix Goncourt winner Robert Merle wrote it. Mike Nichols directed. I was apparently the only one who watched.

Deadly Circuit – Isabelle Adjani stars as a black widow killer hunted by The Eye (Michel Serrrault), a detective who has lost his daughter. In an odd twist, The Eye develops romantic/fatherly feelings for the murderer, whom he has never actually met, and begins to cover her tracks rather than pursue her arrest. When she falls in love with one of her prospective victim, relinquishing her life of crime, The Eye can’t take it and must act to restore their doomed trajectory. It is, perhaps, a throwaway thriller, but the unusual touches in the script by a young Jacque Audiard (later a fantastic director in how own right) and the cast (I can watch Adjani in anything) make this work for me.

Dear Wendy – Much-loathed critique of American gun fetishism by uneven Danish director Thomas Vinterberg. A group of misfit teens becomes a tightknit club of friends through a shared fixation on antique firearms and foppish wardrobes, but their idealistic code of honor is no match for simply human failings. Predictably, blood will flow. Over-stylized, misdirected, insincere, self-indulgent and hypocritical (given its own capitalization on violence), this is still a film that I feel has a timely story to tell, points worth mulling, a cast with chemistry and a presentation that catches the eye.

Coffee Break

Sun, 06 May 2012 15:58:57 GMT

Alida Valli, Guillemette Grobon and Marie-Christine Barrault in Le Jupon Rouge (Genevieve Lefebvre - 1987)

Lucio Fulci bobblehead

Sun, 06 May 2012 15:44:58 GMT

Saw this on Antonella Fulci's facebook page a couple of days ago: A Lucio Fulci bobblehead.

Available from Cult Collectibles, who also do a Jill from The Beyond with alternate normal and shot heads, and various others for Rudy Ray Moore's Dolemite and the original Black Devil Doll.

Unfortunately they're only available in the US, so think I will have to get my sister to get one and post it on / bring it over next time she visits ;-)

New SCREENING THE PAST: Special Issue on KNOCKNAGOW (1918)

Sun, 06 May 2012 15:41:01 GMT

Knocknagow; or, The Homes of Tipperary (1918)

Silent film based on 1873 novel of the same name by Charles J. Kickham. Production company: Film Company of Ireland. Director: Fred O'Donovan. Screenplay: Ellen Sullivan. Released in Ireland, the United States, and Britain in 1918. This film is in the public domain.

Film Studies For Free happily tips its readers the wink that there's a new special issue up of the high quality open access film studies journal Screening the Past.

Issue 33 is devoted to the study of one of Ireland's first feature films, Knocknagow, an incredibly popular historical drama set during the land-clearances of the 1840s. Six articles by specialists examine this cinematic landmark in relation to Irish history, politics, sport, literature, and cinema in Ireland and the United States.

Appendices include a plot summary, contemporary press reviews and publicity materials, and a copy of the screenplay.

The issue contains a link to the film itself (embedded above), which was shot on location in Tipperary in summer 1917.

Screening the Past, Issue 33, 2012: "Featuring the Nation: Knocknagow (1918) and the Film Company of Ireland"

Introduction: Ireland’s Own Film by Stephen Donovan
Knocknagow, the Film Company of Ireland, and Other Irish Historical Films, 1911–1920 by Kevin Rockett
The Making of an Irish Nationalist: James Mark Sullivan and the Film Company of Ireland in America by Dan Schultz & Maryanne Felter
“Pointing a Topical Moral at the Present”: Watching Knocknagow in 1918 by Denis Condon
The Film Company of Ireland and the Irish-American Press by Gary D. Rhodes
“For the honour of old Knock-na-gow I must win”: Representing Sport in Knocknagow (1918) by Seán Crosson
Irish National Discourse in the Poems and Songs in Knocknagow (1918) by Christopher Natzén

AppendicesAppendix A. – Plot Summary
Appendix B. Cast of Knocknagow (1918)
Appendix C. Intertitles
Appendix D. Press cuttings
Appendix E. Publicity Materials
Appendix F. Film Company of Ireland filmography
Appendix G. Typescript of Knock-na-gow, or The Homes of Tipperary with manuscript annotations
Appendix H. Intertitle Artwork

Acknowledgments