kagablog

March 16, 2010

272. Onna ga kaidan wo agaru toki / When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (Mikio Naruse 1960 JAP)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 11:10 pm

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Ion Martea
posted 27 June 2007

Mikio Naruse is not a household name for European audiences. Eureka’s recent release of a Naruse DVD box-set, in conjunction with a retrospective of his work at the BFI Southbank, which opens on Friday 29 June with the UK premiere of the long awaited When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960) – all aim at changing that perception. For once, Japanese cinema achieves something that British audiences may perceive as universal, not through intellect (a trend developed by Ozu, Kurosawa and Mizoguchi), but primarily through feeling. Watching a Naruse film is unsettling, as he seems a rather unique blend of Douglas Sirk, Michelangelo Antonioni and Billy Wilder, yet his characters, his settings, even his technique are intrinsically ingrained in Japanese cinema.

There is a stunning shot near the beginning of When a Woman Ascends the Stairs in which we see the beautiful Keiko Yashiro – a widow in her early thirties, a bar hostess in the middle of Tokyo, the woman everyone calls endearingly Mama so as to amplify her status as a lady of dignity and as an object of unreachable desirability – walking to work, with a peaceful, undemanding look suggesting faith in the future. This shot, following the actress Hideko Takamine (a Naruse regular, appearing in seventeen of his films) reminds us of the hopeful walk of Maria Ceccarelli (Giulietta Masina) in Fellini’s tribute to his wife’s talent, Le Notti di Cabiria [Nights of Cabiria] (1957). In essence, Naruse’s Woman appears like a tribute to Fellini’s Cabiria, as both films look at a single woman who wants to be loved for the lady she truly is, while the men surrounding her rarely see anything more but a piece of meat they’d like to devour. Both women are loose women (prostitute for Europeans, bar hostess for Japanese) through their own choice, based on a wish to survive in a world which allows only men to prosper. Yet, while we sense a future of redemption for Cabiria, we realise that Mama Kieko has lost all chance of becoming the person she wants to be.

Naruse’s film is born of the changing relationships between men and women in Japanese society. The death of the Geisha left space for the bar hostess, caught between two worlds. On one level she seeks status by getting as much money as she can from her men; on another, she still hopes that it is her beauty, her manners, and above all, her spirit, that will ensure success in this business. It is thus not surprising to see Kieko’s losing customers in a modernised late 1950s Tokyo. We also doubt her chances of improving her business by going independent, and establishing a venue run according to her own ideals. She is trying, but investments with doubtful financial (or sexual) returns seem uncomfortably risky for all who respect her, for all who say they love her.

When a Woman Ascends the Stairs could have been made as a dramatic story of survival, or a less successful romantic fairytale. Naruse’s decision to go for melodrama seems a risky venture, but it is accomplished with a unique touch of the un-dramatic. Hideko Takamine has no scenes in which she is obviously passing through a psychological breakdown, except a convincing drunkenness, and an inhibited cry at the disappointment that her rich fiancé (a long awaited relationship after the death of her husband) turns out to be just a poor married fellow who can’t help proposing to all the women he lusts after. Otherwise, we see Kieko just living: going to work, talking to her customers and talking them out of bedding her, and hoping that life will not be just a monotonous show of unfelt feelings fuelled by alcohol.

It is surprising that despite the density of the plot, cluttered with a plethora of fully-rounded characters, among whom Tatsuya Nakadai’s bodyguard/manager and Masayuki Mori’s banker/lover are particular achievements, the film centres so much around Takamine’s representation of womanhood, that one can fully understand the intricacies of the story only by submitting to Naruse’s vision. His whole body of work, like those of many of his 1960s European fellow directors, finds in the life of woman a undying source of inspiration. The love the director has for his heroine is heartbreaking in its purity of understanding her completely, of making her appear akin to a goddess demanding respect simply by being.

However, this is not feminist cinema. It is humanist cinema, which puts the principle character at the heart of the society, thus developing a discourse on the roles of individuals within a whole aiming for unity and coherence. Mama Kieko is the victim of society not through her own choice. However, her Darwinian need to progress in both the physical and the sentimental lead her to an existence that appears as the only available choice to her. The horror of the dénouement comes precisely through her rationalisation of her choice as inescapable. For Naruse, the bar hostess’ ascending of stairs towards the place she is deemed to deserve and must accept unconditionally, is nothing more than a demonstration that progress in society is just sheen on the dehumanisation of the individual. The theory may be faulty from the start, yet When a Woman Ascends the Stairs makes sure you leave the cinema believing that Naruse’s reasoning is impeccable.

this review first appeared on culturewars.org.uk

March 15, 2010

hollis frampton on the (inevitable) intrusion of language in the cinema

Filed under: film — ABRAXAS @ 3:19 am

Every artistic dialogue that concludes in a decision to ostracize the word is disingenuous to the degree that it succeeds in concealing from itself its fear of the word…and the source of that fear: that language, in every culture, and before it may become an arena of discourse, is, above all, an expanding arena of power, claiming for itself and its wielders all that it can seize, and relinquishing nothing.

March 14, 2010

and god created woman

Filed under: film — ABRAXAS @ 11:51 pm

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273. De smaak van water / The Taste of Water (Orlow Seunke 1982 NL)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 6:44 pm

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Hes, an uptight and disaffected social worker reaching retirement, discovers a young woman, Anna, in the closet of an acquaintance who has committed suicide. Realizing that she has been kept in the apartment all her life, he moves in and helps her comes to terms with the complexities of the real world. Although Anna suffers from serious mental disabilities, she and Hes form a tender bond as she takes her first, tentative steps towards normality. As he helps Anna on her journey, Hes finds new meaning to his empty life and an escape from his Kafkaesque job.

Based on the novel by Hungarian writer György Konrád, A Taste of Water is a sensitive and moving character study. Director Orlow Seunke won a Golden Lion award at the Venice Film Festival for Best First Work.

Director Orlow Seunke
Screenplay Orlow Seunke
Dirk Ayelt Kooiman
Jan Utger Achterberg
Maarten Koopman
Producer Orlow Seunke
Jan Musch
Tijs Tinbergen
Editing Orlow Seunke
Tom Erisman
Original Novel György Konrad
Cinematographer Albert van der Wildt
Music Maarten Koopman
Art Direction Dorus van der Linden
Cast Gerard Thoolen
Dorijn Curvers
Joop Admiraal

March 6, 2010

2010 Bradford International Film Festival: Packed With Underground Greatness

Filed under: dionysos andronis, film, peter whitehead — ABRAXAS @ 8:32 am

By Mike Everleth

Bradford International Film Festival

The 16th annual Bradford International Film Festival, which will run March 18-28, is a total celebration of all forms of cinema, from classic films to modern world cinema to a tribute to Cinerama and more. But, most excitingly, is a bombastic collection of some of the best, most exciting underground films being made today.

From Bad Lit’s perspective, the most thrilling screening of the entire 10-day affair is the new film by British filmmaker Peter Whitehead, Terrorism Considered as One of the Fine Arts. In the U.S., Whitehead is a “lost” filmmaker from the underground’s heyday in the ’60s, being left out of most histories of the underground movement. Whitehead directed several influential films, including Wholly Communion and The Fall, before dropping out of filmmaking in the mid-’70s.

Film historian Jack Sargeant wrote extensively about and interviewed Whitehead for his wonderful book on Beat cinema, Naked Lens. Whitehead was also featured, along with South African filmmaker Aryan Kaganof, in the documentary By Any Old Light by Dionysos Andronis and Ca Ca Ca, although that doc hasn’t been seen much in the U.S.

According to the BIFF website, Terrorism Considered as One of the Fine Arts “is based around a mesmerising psychogeographical exploration of modern-day Vienna. The film incorporates a record of the subversive underbelly of the city into poetic meditations on conspiracy theory, eco-terrorism, time and cinema (the story of Carol Reed’s film The Third Man is retraced).”

Fittingly, the screening of Whitehead’s return will be preceded by another film by Dionysos Andronis, called Pandrogeny Manifesto, which features gender-bending artist Genesis P-Orridge and his wife Lady Jaye, filmed before her untimely death in 2007.

In addition to the Whitehead screening, there are loads of fantastic underground films from the U.S. screening at BIFF, many of which I’ve written about many, many times on Bad Lit.

read more here

February 20, 2010

cinema abattoir’s a rebours

Filed under: film — ABRAXAS @ 5:32 pm

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this review first published on rareoopdvds.com

February 19, 2010

275. Ja zuster, nee zuster / Yes Nurse ! No Nurse ! (Pieter Kramer 2002 NL)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 1:15 pm

February 18, 2010

WRITERS – CLASSICAL VS EXPERIMENTAL: karen van schalkwyk interviews aryan kaganof

Filed under: kaganof, south african cinema, film — ABRAXAS @ 8:40 am

1. How important is it to understand the three act classical structure?

Hugely important if you are writing a three act classically structured piece.

2. What are the advantages of this understanding?

One is able to replicate the clichés and appear brilliant to other mediocre minds (of which there are many).

3. Many script teachers emphasize that one cannot break the rules without knowing the three act structure, what are your views and when does experimentation become necessary?

A film is not a building, it won’t fall apart if the foundations aren’t laid properly. Therefore one approaches its construction with entirely different principles.

4. What do you think are the important aspects about directors like Fellini and Godard that breaks with the ‘traditional classical script structure/film?

Neither of these directors break much with traditional narrative structures. Their films are intimately related to the so-called classical conventions and would not work without a knowledge of those conventions that are being ostensibly “broken with”. If you are looking for film makers who really did break away from the so-called classical structures then you should try Sergei Paradjanov, Isidore Issou and Guy Debord.

5. Do you think that the Hero with a Thousand Faces (if you have read the book) can translate into a more experimental film?

Joseph Campbell is being filmed and re-filmed unconsciously, in the collective subconscious of most movies being made. His is the meta-movie constantly being mashed up and remixed in our universal brain.

6. When do script/films become boring and why do you think this is?

After about 5 minutes.
Because they are all the same.

7. If you look at Hollywood there is a particular style, the same with Bollywood. Do you think that SA can develop its own unique style and what would this be?

Claire Angelique has developed her own unique film style in “MY BLACK LITTLE HEART”. That is an example of how to do it. But there isn’t only one film style possible in South Africa. There are many. In order for a truly authentic film style to develop in this country we would need to be able to have film students study film in their indigenous languages. Until that happens all our cinema is colonized.

8. Who are some of writers you admire and why and how do their scripts translate into film?

Jean Claude Carriere
Tonino Guerra

I was very moved by Tonino’s speech that he gave in Rimini on the occasion of Fellini’s death. He described how he used to write for Fellini, always in the kitchen while both of them were cooking. He described how he never ever did a re-write of a script, “Re-writing is for those writers who lack talent.”

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tonino guerra

February 17, 2010

276. Suspiria (Dario Argento 1976 I)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 2:32 pm

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L’amour aux toilettes

Filed under: dionysos andronis, film — ABRAXAS @ 2:01 pm

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“L’amour aux toilettes” de Stewart Home, dans la collection “Intoxication, L’écriture sous stupéfiants” sous la direction de Toni Davidson, éditions “Au Diable Vauvert”, Vauvert (France), 2002

Stewart Home est un écrivain anglais ayant plusieurs points communs au niveau du style et de la thématique avec Aryan Kaganof. Malgré le fait que Toni Davidson a fait le choix de cette anthologie de nouvelles (Davidson est l’auteur de “Gay Scotland” et “Queer World”), cette nouvelle de Stewart Home se base à l’univers macho, comme plusieurs romans de Stewart Home dont nous avons déjà parlé au kagablog :

http://kaganof.com/kagablog/2007/09/09/%c2%ab-peter-whitehead-et-stewart-home-ensemble-%c2%bb/

Le langage argotique de Home est très frais et très direct: “Lindsay tenait encore la plus grande partie du manche dans sa main” (op.cit. page 166). Rien à voir avec “la manche” des nos habits (ndlr). Le brio et le talent d’écriture de Stewart Home sont tout à fait compatibles avec le “brouillon artistique” de son style inimitable, qui a plusieurs points communs avec celui de James Moffat (alias Richard Allen). En tant que critique d’art, Home a plusieurs fois défendu le Néoisme, un courant artistique canadien né dans les années 70 par Istvan Kantor (alias Monty Kantsin), un artiste qui est devenu par la suite proche de notre “Cinéma Abattoir” :

http://kaganof.com/kagablog/2008/11/22/beuys-die-revolution-sind-wir-we-are-the-revolution-kantor-und-wir-auch-and-we-too/

Dans son CV à la fin de cette anthologie de nouvelles, Home écrit: “Il est célibataire, habite Londres et n’a jamais pu garder un emploi” (op.cit, page 274). C’est un point commun que nous partageons avec lui et c’est maintenant que nous l’avons appris.

Le point à souligner c’est que l’écrivain est aussi un”barfly” (pour utiliser un autre mot argotique cher à Bukowski), tout comme Kaganof qui en parle souvent dans ses romans comme “Hectic (Agité)” ou Pierres encore (Stones Again)”. Il a lui aussi une manie avec les excréments (qui était un des sujets favoris de Kaganof dans les années 90, voir l’article d’Immanuel Stammelman) et le contenu érotique fort et macho. C’est pour ça que les trois fois que nous assistons comme lecteurs à ses “amours aux toilettes”, c’est avec des filles différentes: 1. au début chez la riche Emma mais avec la belle Lindsay, 2. au club reggae avec deux nanas inconnues et 3. chez Emma encore une fois et avec elle-même enfin !

Après “Slow Death” et “Blow Job”, c’est sa troisième fiction (roman ou nouvelle) pour nous à lire traduite en français ou en grec. Stewart Home est sûrement un de nos auteurs préférés !

écrit par Dionysos Andronis

February 15, 2010

sounding

Filed under: music, film — ABRAXAS @ 7:30 am

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February 13, 2010

THE INFLUENCE OF PETER WHITEHEAD ON THE NEW GENERATION OF EXPERIMENTAL FILM MAKERS

Filed under: dionysos andronis, film, peter whitehead — ABRAXAS @ 10:08 am

Peter Whitehead was born in 1937 in Liverpool. Even if he has not made films since 1978 he remains, however, the most important representative of the avant-garde cinema in the UK. And this is so, even though he has shot films other than experimental films. Peter Whitehead is among that group of film makers who have shaken the European film making scene. Despite his hasty cessation of his film making activities, Whitehead continues, even today, to influence the young experimental film makers in Europe as well as in the USA.

In order to prove this thesis, let’s place in parallel the film making work of Peter Whitehead to the work of five young experimental film makers, four European (Isaac Julien, Mara Mattuschka, Ian Kerkhof, Dionysos Andronis) and one American only: Richard Kern. Let’s concentrate on a few aesthetic common points which will feed our debate.

Whitehead has inherited the aesthetic novelties of the ‘Cinema Direct’ and he has transferred them poetically into his own films. The use of a lightweight camera, also the minimum of persons working in the film crew - the camera man, the sound engineer, etc. - Whitehead has replaced them with one person.
In this way, in practically all his films, Whitehead is the only one in charge during the shooting. This gives to his films a great/strong flexibility in the camera movement which can appear brutal but which is, in reality, very astonishing and efficient. In Wholly Communion (1965 - 33 min) the successive zoom in/zoom out on the readers at the Albert Hall Festival of Poetry breaks the aesthetic rules of television documentary and introduces a creative dialogue between the audience and the film.

In the same way, Richard Kern (born 1954) is happy to film events being the only person in the film crew. This has not, however, reduced his competence as a film maker nor the length of his films. In Right Side Of My Brain (1984) the camera runs for 30 minutes following the characters in the intentionally unlit interior and exterior scenes. This helps to underline the psychological instability of the heroin as well as the darkness of her soul.

Whitehead is content to record the artistic documents by practising their placement in the abyss. In the Benefit Of The Doubt (1967 - 60 min) Whitehead emphasizes the distance between the audience and the filmed theatrical show (the play Us of Peter Brook) by complicating, with his new stage direction, his starting point. Equally, in Wholly Communion it is the recited poetry which defines the protagonists, whilst in Daddy it is the sculptures of Niki de St. Phalle. The eye of the film-maker filters with a new touch of distance the pre-existing artistic production.

The Bulgarian-Austrian ‘Mara Mattuschka’ (born in 1959) on the instruction of Peter Whitehead made the same use of documentary recordings. Her hysterical monologues are accentuated by the double stage direction of the film producer (who does not fail to complicate the narrative structures thanks to the game played between the improvised and the non-improvised. Her film Cerolax reminds us of the Benefit Of The Doubt where “this new art form, let’s say, emphasizes in the comedian a new notion of responsibility, taking into accounts all the facts. If, of course, the written dialogue exists, it can happen that the actor overrides it by using his own inspiration, his own exaltation, his indignation, his dream … “(in Positif Magazine …)

By mixing intentionally the cinema to other art forms, Peter Whitehead becomes the defender of a new form of cinema which is not ‘multi-media’ art, nor is it mainstream cinema but something rather more powerful. The Wholly Communion film is full of recited poems which completes the poetic values of the movie format. It is not by chance that it also exists in a collection of poems published the same year (1965) by Lorrimer.

The same is for Benefit Of The Doubt which is neither theatre nor cinema. As for the latter, if we are dealing with a filmed play, it is nevertheless taken from the seventh art, in so far as it takes a visual depth, a photogenic, and intensified image, a dimension of movement which is in part lost in the theatre (op. cit) - Mattuschka also escapes the theatre image with her personal way of using the out-of-focus as well as using jerky and neurotic shots.
In all Peter Whitehead films the frequent use of hard rock music backing is obvious. This type of music inspires him directly - not because of its mass popularity but rather for its power as well as its utopian dimension. This last dimension makes the link with its aesthetic propositions. The direct inspiration of the hard rock music attributes to several of his scenes the character of a ‘cine-clip’ belonging to a bigger production, but rather than utilising the aesthetic of the video clip which has all the artifices of technology, with Peter Whitehead the cine-clips incorporated in his films are shot in the manner of a craftsman using one camera only.

In the film Tonite Let’s All Make Love In London (1967) there is an original cine- clip sequence shot by Peter Whitehead with The Rolling Stones and their song We Love You.

Across the reconstruction by the members of the group of the condemnation scene of Oscar Wilde locked in prison the director places the first stone of his edifice - the theme of the film pins on the sexual liberty of this revolutionary epoch and its negative defeat by the media.

It is true that the cine-clip has remained famous thanks to its simplicity of presentation but also for its economy as regards the requirements of the mass public.

The Whitehead cine-clip aesthetic has directly influenced many recent film makers. Even Derek Jarman used a similar method in Edward II (1991) where Annie Lennox is filmed using only one panoramic shot.

The caricature is a stylistic intention of Peter Whitehead in his film Daddy (1973). Niki de St. Phalle holds the leading role pretending to be Lili Marlene whilst the other actors are very grotesque. The character of the Colonel father incorporates the power (and its parody) whilst his military uniform is always accentuated. Niki is also very caricatured by wearing cartoon clothes. Peter Whitehead achieves very well the expression of the eternal violence between the two sexes and has shown to us that this violence is unavoidable since the two sexes are inseparable and inter- dependants.

This metaphorical use of human caricature in order to suggest the oppressive rapport of the sexual battle is very similar in the work of Kern. In all of Kern’s films one can find the roles of executioner and victim which are attributed most of the time to a man and a woman respectively. It is not by chance that both authors have been attacked by feminists, especially in Kern’s work, who is the king of the 1980s (meta-punk) cinema. The sex acquires a negative and prerogative interpretation - as in all the musical and social movements of the same name - with Kern sex is represented as a socially oppressive instrument, as well as submission of the individual. The sexist aspect of his films aims to reveal the disgusting side of forced sex in the bosom of contemporary male chauvinistic society. Sometimes these images become very violent and sexist and this is done to inform us of the true sadistic character that human relations have obtained. The scene of his film The Evil Cameraman (1990 - 10 min) where we can see at the end a woman tied up and tortured by a man who slips and falls onto the ground, are very similar to those scenes of Daddy beating up his wife and also seen sticking a sword in her arse in front of the eyes of their stupefied daughter.

This attitude of provocation which permeates sex, in common in both of the two authors, can also have a feminine interpretation. Niki de St. Phalle speaks of this: “The agent had lots of personal problems in connection with this film, being rather misogynous, he wanted to say ’see how women really are - they are sick’; ‘this is what they want to do to us: paralyse us’; ‘we must fight back, they are all crazy and psychopaths’. In fact to do this was an act of vengeance. I was not at all in agreement.” (In Ecran Magazine No.28 Aug/Sep 1974 p 32)

In the manner of a fanatical anarchist Peter Whitehead draws his set of themes through the brutality of power which permeates many different examples: the police for The Fall (1969 - 110 n), the father-master for Daddy (1973 - 90 min), the media for Tonite Let’s All Make Love In London (1967 - 70 min). His constant reference on this topic is more evident in The Fall, which is a militant documentary of a great poetic value, a film which maintains its actuality.
Having participated in the student revolution at Columbia University in New York in April of 1968 and having filmed their collective manifestation as well as their brutal interruption because of the transgression of the university campus by the New York police, Peter Whitehead offers us a testament which was going to influence several militant anarchist documentarists in Europe.

The Englishman Isaac Julian (born in 1960) made his debut in 1983 with the medium length documentary Who Has Killed Colin Roach? (35 min) which has as its theme the assassination of a black militant by the Ku Klux Klan and the suspect role of the police.

Also, his following documentary Looking for Langston Hughes (1984 - 46 min) has a similar theme. His work as a reporter reminds us of a Peter Whitehead film by the fact of the active participation in the protestors events.

It is this anarchist ideology which pushes Peter Whitehead to denounce the atrocities committed by a ‘Marxiste’ generation of the ’60s and during the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s. But he does it in an allegorical and shocking way - his last film Fire On The Water (1978 - 90 min) is based on the same motive. The final scene summarizes everything : a chicken is tortured by a pianist who tries to accompany the song from The Doors The End - symbol of this generation of ex-anti authority who have now become oppressors, with the help of the chicken’s body - the chicken parts are slowly tearing apart.

The pornography together with hints of sadomasochism in the film Daddy has not only influenced Richard Kern but even more so the Dutchman Ian Kerkhof (born in 1964). In relation to this subject Peter Whitehead is advanced: ’sexuality is for me like a theatre. Pornography is like a sacred dance, the latest ulterior image of beauty’ (In Entropy No.1 p14). This way, the images of Daddy tied up on a chair, having to eat his own excrements whilst his vengeful daughter practices in front of him a lesbian sketch - the images are replaced in Kerkhof’s work by those of a killer who, in the film Ten Monologues of the Lives of the Serial Killers (1994 - 54 min) masturbates himself in front of the camera whilst telling us of his disgusting acts. This film has obtained the first prize in the 5th week of the experimental cinema of Madrid in April ‘95.

The conglomeration of the symbols is obvious in each of Whitehead’s films, especially in Daddy. The film sets have Freudian connotations which are created by Niki de St. Phalle in an intentionally excessive manner. For example, all the stuffed animals (even the rats) which are parts of the father’s collection are destined to underline a special feeling for each scene.

In my film The Lamp (1994 - 13 min) it is exactly this rich atmosphere with Freudian connotations directly inspired by Peter Whitehead which I wanted to recreate. The icon of Christ filled with traces of lipstick, the ugly faces of the Christians believing in different ideas, aim only to reveal the misery of a sexually oppressed universe, which is in contrast to the one in which a young couple frolic behind a bush in the same area.

These examples proving the influence exercised by Peter Whitehead on the new generation of experimental film makers do not stop here. The TV documentary The Falconer, produced by Channel 4 of BBC confirm this and can give also new reference points.

this article first published here

February 12, 2010

277. Raging Bull (Martin Scorsese 1980 USA)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 11:17 am

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February 7, 2010

one day - michel gondry

Filed under: cherry bomb, film — ABRAXAS @ 7:39 am


February 5, 2010

278. Happiness (Todd Solondz 1998 USA)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 7:16 pm

February 4, 2010

welcome nelson

Filed under: warrick sony (kalahari surfer), kaganof short films, film, politics — ABRAXAS @ 11:46 am

This is just a short note to encourage you to have a look at a documentary I have just edited called WELCOME NELSON which will be broadcast by etv on wednesday 10 february at 8pm.

This documentary takes a different angle on the 20th anniversary celebrations of Nelson Mandela’s release from prison.

The release is analysed in terms of Guy Debord’s theory of the spectacle and views the event as an entirely staged media coup for the Machiavellian F.W. De Klerk.

Instead of the customary portrayal of Dr. Mandela as a liberating Messiah he is shown to have been taken completely by surprise by his release, pleading with De Klerk to allow him to stay inside for longer, and tragically identifying with his white warders in what must be one of the most acute cases of Stockholm Syndrome in history.

The never-before screened behind the scenes footage of the press conference and first speech provides a fascinating glimpse into how the news media shape and manipulate our memories of the future.

The documentary is shot, produced and directed by CRAIG MATTHEW
sound design and original music score DANIEL EPPEL
sound recordist WARRICK SONY
theme song SIMONE WHITE
editor ARYAN KAGANOF

2010, 23 minutes
first broadcast wednesday 10 february 8pm on etv

February 2, 2010

279. In the Valley of Elah (Paul Haggis 2007 USA)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 6:59 pm

February 1, 2010

280. Alphaville (Jean Luc Godard 1965 F)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 8:56 am

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Alphaville & Its Subtext In The Poetry of Paul Eluard

essay by michael benedikt

Many critics who’ve written about Alphaville over the years since its release in l965 have remarked on–among other things–its more up-front & in-your-face subtext levels. That is to say, they’ve duly noticed as is apt (1) the film’s many references to 1960’s Pop Art on the one hand, and (2) pulp fiction (sci-fi and detective fiction) on the other. Those references appear particularly at the start of the film in statements which hard-boiled-detective type, gun-toting central character Lemmy Caution makes which recall utterances of characters in pulp fiction or in comic-books. Whether exclaimed or spoken as flat statements, some of those utterances are accompanied by comic-strip-type like balloons such as can be found in the paintings of Roy Lichtenstein, a leading 1960’s US Pop Artist who’s now considered a leading US 20th century painter. The tie-ins of this l965 film with with both Pop Culture & Pop Art are indeed apparent–but there’s a whole lot of other sub-text going on beneath that Pop-inspired surface!

It’s often been said that Godard’s films–even when compared to the creations of French filmmakers as thoughtful as his ‘New Wave’ contemporaries–are uniquely concerned with ideas. With a thinker of Godard’s depth, that means of course concerned not only with ideas up front, but also with ideas in layers. Godard’s reputation as a thinker, coalesced by the time his playful, poignant, popular success Breathless was released in 1959, also suggests to me that–having looked at Pop-related levels (1) and (2)–one ought to look further and dig deeper. There’s gold down there, I think. Not only is additional subtext located on level (3), but I believe that the driving force behind Godard’s startlingly rich film called Alphaville, is located down there too. Alphaville’s subtext is in part literally text–text from the poetry of French Surrealist Paul Eluard, readings aloud from whose work occur at various points in the film and allusions to whose work abounds in it. Additionally, that relatively unexplored level (3) contains concepts which link Alphaville to Godard’s other early films–as well as to concepts which relate to his thinking and value-system in general, and ideas which are key to his work starting with his early work.

The third level I’m referring to relates to Godard’s feeling for Poetry. And specifically, in the instance of this French filmmaker, to a feeling for the trenchantly lyrical, visionary ideas of French Surrealism–the literary/art movement whose philosophy and iconoclastic literary productions brought new fire to both French poetry and world poetry starting in the mid 1920’s; & whose influence continued throughout the 20th century & into the 21st century as well. In addition to creating poems, paintings, and other works of art which have political implications in terms of their longing for accelerated patterns of change, Surrealists often sought literal political involvement. That kind of territory is also visible to anyone looking at Godard’s life and work, including Alphaville.

* * *

Who is the film’s hero Lemmy Caution and what does be represent? We learn early on in the film that he’s the fourth in a star-crossed line, secret-agent successor of Dick Tracy, Guy Leclair (Flash Gordon); and just after them, & just before Lemmy Caution, a fat little man named Henri Dickson. Caution’s been to sent from the “Outerlands”–lands so truly outlandish from the perspective of Alphaville, a place where freedom is unknown, that they might as well be located on another planet. Caution’s been sent to spy on Alpha 60, the giant computer complex which governs a monstrously unearthly, yet somehow also all too-earthly city created by Professor Von Braun and his fiendish science. (The reference to World War II German rocket scientist Werner Von Braun, who later worked on post-war projects for USA, is we believe deliberate. Lemmy Caution has a history, too. A hard-boiled character with same name, and also played by Eddie Constantine, appears in a series of earlier French films–detective films. But in the Alphaville context, the name Lemmy Caution takes on a deeper meaning, perhaps even giving this advice re coming to terms with either Alphaville or any place like it: “Let me wise you up & caution you against all this”).

When Caution’s quest finally leads him to his last living predecessor, Dickson is spending the night with, & as it turns out also his last on, one of the robot-prostitutes (aka “Seductresses”) of the vast, liberty-extinguishing city. Dickson gasps out his last breaths and somewhat mysterious words: “Lemmy… conscience… conscience… destroy… make Alpha… 60… destroy itself… tenderness . . — save those who weep.” A certain familiarity with the leading tenets of Surrealism–as well as a certain capacity to play connect-the-dots–can do much to explain those and other of the more enigmatic utterances in the film.

From beneath Dickson’s pillow, Caution extracts the dead man’s pillow-book–a battered volume of French poetry called Capitale de La Douleur. What is Natasha Von Braun–the fiendish Professor Von Braun’s very own daughter, who Caution manages to enlist as his guide to the city of Alphaville–doing afterwards at various intervals in the film, reciting selected passages from that book ? Why as if in exchange for her own invaluable guidance, has Caution introduced Natasha to that particular book? What was Dickson doing reading that sort of thing in the first place? What does all this mean?

Capitale de La Douleur (The Capital Of Sorrow, 1926) is perhaps the best-known book of poetry by Paul Eluard, who is one of the founders of the French Surrealist movement launched in the 1920’s. Eluard is, with Robert Desnos one of Surrealism’s leading lyric poets and also one of the most engaging 20th century French love poets. Love, & the transforming power of Love–particularly erotic love but not limited to erotic love–is at the core of & some might say at the heart of, Surrealist doctrine. (Andre Breton, poet and leading theoretician of French Surrealism, proposed that centrality in his First Manifesto of Surrealism in 1924 & then in later writings such as–to name only one example of many–his 1928 novel Nadja. As we learn early on in the film, the central problem in AIphaville is that nobody except a few misfit & seemingly impractical poetical types (who like Henri Dickson live in “condemned sectors”) is doing any living in, much less dying of, love. “What is the privilege of the dead?” giant computer Alpha 60 asks Caution in its hoarse, electronic voice during one of several interrogations. “Not to die any longer,” replies Caution. Meaning, according to Surrealist doctrine–which in effect cites dying of love as a prequisite for living–not to live any longer, either.

The city of Alphaville is a nightmarish place for many reasons–perhaps the chief of which is because it’s a city (a City-State, as ancient Greeks termed it? an entire Nation? a world?), where the privilege of the dead has been usurped. Hardly anybody is doing much dying there, for which one prepares by–in the first place–living. The title of the book Eluard published just before Capitale–which title appears onscreen in small font on the back of the edition of Capitale de La Douleur which Natasha holds up while reading from it–succinctly expresses that belief. Eluard’s pre-Capitale book is entitled Mourir de ne pas Mourir (Dying Of Not Dying, 1924). What could be more apt than that Henri Dickson, dedicated reader of Eluard, should both literally & figuratively, die both for & from, Love? What could be more appropriate than the relentlessly pedagogical Lemmy Caution–by introducing Natasha Von Braun to Capitale de La Douleur & by encouraging her to read it–also begin to teach Natasha (who in addition to being a very attractive young woman with unforgettable eyes also happens to be none other than the daughter of Alphaville’s founding father), the meaning of the word Love. For how else after all, is she going to learn about it?

* * *

The city’s spine-and-spirit-chilling slogan–initially seen by Caution when he drives into the city limits from The Outerlands–is “Alphaville: Silence - Logic -Safety - Prudence.” Those purely rational, calculating, left-side-of-brain values could not be more precisely the opposite of values which one of Surrealism’s major patron saints–the later nineteenth-century French poet Arthur Rimbaud–recommended when as a corrective to the limitations of logic, he called for “A systematic derangement of all the senses…”–an idea refined in Breton’s rather exquisitely-written yet nonethleless more or less systematically mind-boggling 1924 First Manifesto of Surrealism. (The leading figures of Surrealism, far from being merely misfit or impractical poetical types, were rather good at integrating both left sides & right sides of brain. Which is, we’ve had many occasions to observe in passing, a trait seldom to be found in so-called “tough-minded” left-side-of brain types–or in the humanoid computer who rules the city of Alphaville).

If Caution is, as I think he is, the perfect Surrealist person (that he isn’t an literary intellectual but a hard-boiled, super-practical gun-toting Private Eye type, is precisely the raison d’etre of Caution’s personality–we should remember that the Surrealists always spoke about Surrealism expressing itself in “actions” as well as in art-works such as poems), then Alphaville is the perfect anti-Surrealist city. Surrealists–Eluard in particular–often speak of going forward to the light (enlightenment). Alphaville is a black-&-white film. Godard maximizes the so-called ‘limitations’ of black & white film-stock to bestow upon the city a relentlessly stygian, hellishly dark look relieved only by reflections from substances such as formica, plexiglass, aluminum and chrome; or by clinically white rooms filled with florescent glare. The citizens of Alphaville–as in any Dictatorship including those Democracies which obfuscate by doublespeak, & in which there are vast gaps between theory and practise & between lofty Constitutional Charters & the relentlessly grinding actualities of everyday life as decreed by local & other authorities–are literally “kept in the dark.” Concepts such as freedom or happiness have not only been discarded, but have become invisible. (Enough has been made of Godard’s re-invocations of the shadow-strewn, dimly woozy world of Hollywood detective film & “Film Noir” we trust, for us not to have to additionally emphasize those stylistic roots in this context). The city of Alphaville is above all else dark because as Godard evokes it in the film, it’s a place built out of the stuff of anti-belief. It’s a place where Nobody Has A Clue–except perhaps, for denizens lacking imagination who only have a single clue: how to assure, in a highly monitored world, bottom-line physical survival via an absolutely unprotesting and even unthinking, silent conformity.

* * *

An aside (we’re attempting to avoid footnotes here): In our computer-era times especially and given the benefit of decades of hindsight, Godard’s been criticized for taking a tack that’s seemingly sentimental re technology in this 1965 film about a futuristic world dominated by computers. Those powerful gadgets which–as long as we control “PC’s” which indeed remain “personal”–mean for so many of us access to information we might not otherwise easily get, or even acquire at all; and opportunities to redistribute that same or other information, and freedom from a whole range of restrictions of that kind. And yet ordinary caution suggests I think, that we consider the fact that all the returns are by no means in, re that subject yet. As we know, legislation is regularly proposed worldwide which would permit greater State control of things which many people consider “personal”–computers & Internet being particular targets. So that, long-term, Godard’s sentiments may yet prove to have been both instinctively and intellectually correct. The mainframe computer which rules Alphaville is dangerous not because it’s a computer and because computers are inherently nasty, but because it’s either a computer In The Wrong Hands or a computerized databasing device which Frankenstein-like, has taken on a life of its own–and caution suggests at least to me, that inevitably the 21st century is going to see more of that..

* * *

In Alphaville, Godard makes enough direct, even blatant references to Surrealism to encourage us to think that he’s proposing Surrealist perspectives specifically, as curative to the kind of Consciousness Without Conscience represented by places like shadowy, obfuscating, enlightenment-blocking Alphaville. For in addition to being what one might call because of its seamlessly dictatorial, spying regime “a sick place,” Alphaville is also a rather sickening place. In the gloom-shrouded, claustrophobic city of Alphaville all those who’ve remained alert to either the more tender values which have traditionally sustained humankind, or alert to the value of human ingenuity in seeking some means of escape, are in one way or another murdered. (A particularly memorable example of which is the execution, in a swimming pool, & performed by acqua-suited Seductresses–actually mermaid-types straight from a Hollywood water ballet reminiscent of those of Esther Williams in the 1950’s–of non-conformists who’ve somehow survived a shooting by a firing squad at the tiled edge of the pool. Indifferently, if somewhat decoratively, the upstarts are finished off anyway by a bevy of water-nymphs with knives, performing with serene efficiency as if in a water-ballet).

After Caution attends a relatively slow extinction–that of Dickson, who chooses to kill himself over at least some version of love, rather than trying to live totally without it–he attends more rapid executions. During one of them, we hear quotations from Eluard as we witness the execution–i.e. murder–of two men. After being lined up prior to being shot, the condemned fling out their last words. The second is most emphatic. He shouts out a paraphrase of the Dickson-Eluard philosophy: “Listen to me, you normals! We see the truth that you no longer see. This truth is, that there is nothing true in man except love and faith, courage and tenderness.” The first proposes a somewhat more cryptic formula: “In order to create life, it is necessary simply to advance in a straight line towards all that we love.” That line is later reiterated during a reading aloud of Eluard into which the ever-pedagogical Lemmy seduces Natasha:

And because I love you everything moves–
One need only advance to live, to go
Straight forward towards all that you love
I was going towards you
I was moving perpetually into the light

Natasha Von Braun’s education in the nature & meanings of love will center upon the word spoken twice by Dickson in his death-bed speech: “conscience.” That key word also turns up during the Natasha’s recitations, when she reads aloud from Eluard’s Capitale:

We live in the limbo of our metamorphoses
But that echo which runs through all the day…
That echo beyond time, desire and caresses keeps asking…
Are we close to, or far away from our conscience…..

After Nastasha’s entranced recitations are done, how far we’ve come from the references to Pop iconography and pulp fiction which some have taken to be at the heart of this film! Godard’s Pop-culture referential pranks following the opening of Alphaville, which partake of the high-spirited playfulness to be found in much of his early work, contrast with the subsequent seriousness of the proceedings–so that when the underlying seriousness of Godard’s purpose begins to emerge, it may almost shocks us. We’re apt to listen almost in disbelief to the evocation of the Humanistic values which increasingly dominate the film as it unfolds–prepared for by what turns out to be a key event in the film: the moment when Caution obtains from beneath the pillow of the deceased Dickson, the Eluard edition.

Brief paraphase of “Author” theory of filmmaking, to which Godard has contributed much & to which he subscribes: The Director controls the whole show. As the film proceeds it’s as if Godard himself–having created Alphaville, the forbidding City of anti-belief via scenes of horrific darkness disorientingly highlighted by florescent urban glare–then set about raising the consciousness or “conscience” behind the sheer visual force of the opening of the film, ascending to visions which contradict the benightedness of Alphaville or of any place like it. In many ways, Alphaville still tells a contemporary “Cautionary” tale.

this essay first published here

January 24, 2010

meat in rotterdam

Filed under: catherine henegan, film — ABRAXAS @ 8:15 pm

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meat

Filed under: film — ABRAXAS @ 6:59 pm

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MEAT (Vlees)

de nieuwe speelfilm van
Maartje Seyferth en Victor Nieuwenhuijs

is geselecteerd door het International Film Festival Rotterdam 2010
in de sectie SPECTRUM en
zal zijn wereldpremière daar beleven.

WERELDPREMIERE
zaterdag 30 januari 2010, aanvang 21:45 uur
Pathé 2, Schouwburgplein, Rotterdam

Wij hopen iedereen op deze avond te treffen!
Maartje Seyferth - Victor Nieuwenhuijs

Andere voorstellingen in het festival:
1 februari, 14:45 uur, Cinerama 7
2 februari, 22:45 uur, Lantaren 2

voor reserveringen: www.filmfestivalrotterdam.com/nl/films/vlees/

January 21, 2010

281. Apur Sansar / The World of Apu (Satyajit Ray 1958 IND)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 6:48 am

January 13, 2010

julien sévéon on shabondama elegy

Filed under: dionysos andronis, 1999 - shabondama elegy (tokyo elegy), film — ABRAXAS @ 8:54 am

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a big thank you to dionysos andronis for sending this article as a digital file!

January 11, 2010

282. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest (Milos Forman 1975 USA)

Filed under: film, rené veenstra — ABRAXAS @ 11:23 pm

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a filmmaker’s axiom

Filed under: kaganof, film — ABRAXAS @ 10:33 pm

it’s the sounds of shots that make them look good

aryan kaganof

January 10, 2010

r.i.p. ivan zulueta

Filed under: dionysos andronis, film — ABRAXAS @ 10:40 pm

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Ivan Zulueta was one important spanish filmmaker of the “democratic” era of his country. We saw his second feature “Arrebato” (Rapture) in Madrid a long time ago, during a very old edition of the “Semana de cine experimental” (Experimental cinema week). The film was directed in 1979 and it was a really underground feature. Zulueta was 66 years old.

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