DOWNLOAD -> PART 1 – PART 2 – PART 3 – PART 4

Genre: Adventure | Biography | Drama
Director: Bernardo Bertolucci
Imdb (6.6 Rating)

Part I can be found here.

Part II is twiddling its thumbs here.

And Part III is lurking about over here.

20) CODE UNKNOWN (2000)

Dir & Scr: Michael Haneke

Stars: Juliette Binoche, Thierry Neuvic, Luminita Gheorghiu

Given Michael Haneke’s deserved reputation as modern cinema’s stern professor, a withholding elder prone to doling out moral lessons and punishing the easily satisfied, presumably preferring Code Unknown to his later, designated masterpiece Hidden would be applauded in its perversity of judgment. Of course, in reality Haneke wouldn’t care less; either way, you the audience have to work like crazy to decipher his glacial sociological treatises. Anything less is a waste of time. His time, naturally, not yours.

Code Unknown is no less formally precise and unblinking, piercingly intelligent and utterly remorseless as Hidden. But for me, arguably, there are glimmers of hope, of laughter, of vibrant, spontaneous life here often excluded in Haneke’s minutely calibrated work and, thankfully, a less hectoring tone too. A multi-character (led by the wonderfully unadorned Binoche), multi-strand narrative that’s the polar opposite to the likes of Crash’s neat, tick-boxed, catch-all thesis, the subtitle “Incomplete Tales of Several Journeys” is about as upfront as Haneke ever gets. A series of extended sequences, often in smooth, unobtrusive lateral tracking shots, punctuated by violent cuts to black, it brilliantly exposes modern life’s disconnects, false assumptions and bitter ironies, never better illustrated than in its masterly opening shot. (see below).

Code Unknown Opening Scene:

see also:

THE EDGE OF HEAVEN (2007)

Dir & Scr: Fatih Akin

Stars: Baki Davrak, Patrycia Ziolkowska, Hanna Schygulla

Akin follows up his full throttle debut Head On with a more tempered, but equally enthralling look at the cultural politics of his own German-Turkish background. An interlinked, three-part, dual relationship story – the tragic, foretold deaths of a Turkish woman in Germany and German woman in Turkey – Akin uses his straightforward symmetry to constantly surprise and delve into a pair of fascinatingly unorthodox couplings and the impact felt on those around them. The original German title, “On the Other Side”, more clearly shows Akin’s sensitivity to how two different cultures switch, clash but ultimately, might reconcile through their common humanity.

The Edge of Heaven Trailer:

19) UP

Dir & Scr: Pete Docter  / Bob Peterson

Voices: Ed Asner, Jordan Nagai, Christopher Plummer

America’s greatest movie success story of this (any?) decade, Pixar Animation Studios seems to have it all: a challenging yet nurturing work environment whose “brain trust” of experts still defers to individual filmmakers; cutting-edge technology at the service of inventive, soulful stories; and that elusive ability to continually astound, engross and delight the proverbial kids of all ages.

Not that there aren’t certain formulas in play across Pixar’s output (buddy movies, frantic chase finales), but it’s their successes’ sheer nerve rather than complacency that amazes. Up’s premise – a flying house powered by helium balloons – screams multiplex bonanza. But would anyone else tether this high-concept to the tale of a grumpy old widower bound for Venezuela? Accompanied by a chubby Korean-American boy scout? Decisions like these separate Pixar from the pretenders (and justify the more crowd-pleasing talking dogs and airship pursuits); visually, too, not only is the digital animation ever more fluid, so is the storytelling. The ‘Carl & Ellie’ montage here combines Wall-E’s graceful, silent economy with the emotional wallop of Toy Story 2’s ‘Jessie’s song’ for a true heartbreaker. For anyone else, you’d think it must be downhill from here. For Pixar, you sense, the only way is Up.

Up Trailer:

See also:

ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL (2008)

Dir: Sacha Gervasi

Stars: Steve ‘Lips’ Kudlow, Robb Reiner, Slash

As in Up, here are more old fogeys still doggedly pursuing their dream, though these metalheads raise the roof with amps that go to 11 (and numerous other Spinal Tap-isms – what ya gonna do when your drummer’s called Robb Reiner?!) rather than balloons. Former Anvil roadie-turned-Spielberg screenwriter Sacha Gervasi’s affectionate documentary on his ageing rock idols impresses for how straight he plays things, allowing Lips and co’s own priceless unintentional comedy and puppyish sincerity to finally make it, entertain and, ultimately, genuinely move us. Ideally seen on a double bill with Tap and not embarrassed in such prestigious company.

Anvil! The Story of Anvil Trailer:

18) THE LIVES OF OTHERS (2006)

Dir & Scr: Florian Henckel Von Donnersmarck

Stars: Ulrich Mühe, Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch

Some of the best German films this decade have confronted their country’s troubled past head on, from Hitler’s Downfall to Goodbye Lenin!’s just-reunified Berlin. In The Lives of Others, the Wall and Communism are still very much in place as writer-director Florian Henckel Von Donnersmarck insinuates us into Stasi Officer Wiesler’s head(phones). A devoted implement of the state, Wiesler dispassionately eavesdrops on the GDR’s star playwright Georg Dreyman and his actress lover Christa-Maria Sieland to find incriminating evidence. Slowly, though, he’s captivated by the lives of these alluring, intriguing, disarmingly fragile others.

No mere simplistic morality play, HVD constructs a fiendishly intricate set of interlocking character studies and, alongside Coppola’s The Conversation, captures the definitive take on the illicit thrills and anguish of voyeurism. East Germany’s drab, neo-Orwellian bureaucracy is terrifying in its banality and mirroring its two male leads – both patriots, writers documenting their times, infatuated with the same tragic woman – adroitly shows how oppressive paranoia affects everyone it touches. Unashamedly endorsing art’s healing power and the basic act of ‘doing good’, the film personalises (and so dramatizes) the political through the superbly alert, internalized performance of the late great Ulrich Mühe’s Wiesler, one of modern cinema’s great anti-heroes.

The Lives of Others Clip: Wiesler’s Turning Point:

See also:

THE DREAMERS (2003)

Dir: Bernardo Bertolucci  Scr: Gilbert Adair

Stars: Michael Pitt, Eva Green, Louis Garrel

Paris, Spring 1968. Revolution’s in the air but for three giddy cinephile adolescents (French siblings and an American interloper) in Bernardo Bertolucci’s sensual, explicit celebration of cinema, sex and youth, the true cause is movies. [From my original BBC Collective review] “Aren’t the supposed sexual politics merely sex instead of actual political engagement? …the film’s point is how the threesome avoids direct confrontation with the real world by taking refuge in fantasy – until the revolution literally comes crashing through the window. Less a wake-up call to today’s apathetic youth, more a ravishing trip down memory lane, it’s dreamy stuff, nonetheless, and Bertolucci’s best in decades.”

The Dreamers Trailer:

17) A SERIOUS MAN (2009)

Dir & Scr: Joel & Ethan Coen

Stars: Michael Stuhlbarg, Richard Kind, Fred Melamed

A prolific if variable decade from arguably today’s pre-eminent US filmmakers ends with their most personal – i.e. Jewish – and, for me, finest achievement since 1990’s Miller’s Crossing (and given interim brilliance like Hudsucker, Fargo, No Country etc, that’s some going). Featuring the late-60s Midwest suburbs of their youth, it’s another black comedy that mines outrageous mirth from the sort of cringe-making indignities that would sustain a dozen domestic dramas. Yet, as with the inner-ear / Jefferson Airplane shot near the beginning (you’ll know it when you see it), it feels that the Coens are really inside their characters’ pain this time and not just giggling down from on high. It’s serious laughter.

The image composition, editing, evocative use of sound and music are predictably immaculate, but what makes this film even more fascinatingly addictive is the use of Jewish mysticism as both question of genuine faith and Borscht Belt punchline. It’s a daring gambit but succeeds because of the refined absurdist humour and stellar deadpan performances from a cast of lesser-known stage veterans, chiefly Michael Stuhlbarg as their befuddled suburban Job. All-powerful and unknowable, the Coens are arcane and unyielding gods – but seriously, do we worship any other kind?

A Serious Man Clip: “I’ve Tried to be a Serious Man.”

See also:

ADAPTATION (2002)

Dir: Spike Jonze  Scr: Charlie Kaufman

Stars: Nicolas Cage, Meryl Streep, Chris Cooper

…or another desperately serious man trying to flourish in a cold world. After 1999’s insanely inspired Being John Malkovich, where else would Spike Jonze and screenwriting genius Charlie Kaufman go other than ponder Being Charlie Kaufman? With two great Nicolas Cage performances as tormented artist Charlie and (fictional) sweet-natured sell-out twin brother Donald navigating Hollywood’s straitjacket storytelling, it’s another bravura act of mischievous, self-reflexive, narrative knotting whose gear-changing third act somehow honours clichéd conventions whilst still subverting them. All this and note-perfect tragicomic turns from the sublime Streep and Chris Cooper, Adaptation only confirmed Kaufman (and Jonze) as true originals.

Adaptation Clip: The Beginning

16) À MA SOEUR!

Dir & Scr: Catherine Breillat

Stars: Anaïs Reboux, Roxane Mesquida, Arsinée Khanjian

Having endured 1999’s Romance, French provocatrice Catherine Breillat’s tediously explicit, near-pastiche of po-faced sexual theorising, her follow-up on the exploitation and youthfully deluded expectation of adolescent girls wasn’t exactly on the must-see list. But nothing could prepare for the icy, confrontational brilliance of À Ma Soeur! in which Breillat operates on teenage fantasy like a surgeon doing a heart transplant. Only Breillat takes hers out.

Two young siblings, chubby pre-teen Anaïs and fifteen-year-old nymph Elena, holiday with their parents. They bicker, taunt each other’s appearance, but they’re blood sisters and at night in their bedroom, Anaïs bears witness as a lothario Italian student tries to bed Elena. It’s a remarkable extended scene that shows up seedy male manipulation but has nothing on the film’s shocking climax (and dread-soaked approach), which gives previously stated desires a horrific twist. Breillat snakes the typically romanticized coming-of-age saga into something savage and primal; and though her tendentious body politics are not for everyone, the film’s corrosive ideas scar your reeling mind for days. One last thing: the film’s English-language title Fat Girl peddles the pseudo-rabble-rousing that Romance served up; yet its cheap label can’t disguise the potency of this penetrating, genuinely disturbing feminist masterwork.

À Ma Soeur! Trailer:

See also:

MY SUMMER OF LOVE (2004)

Dir & Scr: Pawel Pawlikowski

Stars: Nathalie Press, Emily Blunt, Paddy Considine

Polish-born Pawlikowski’s last feature to date is a peculiarly timeless British coming-of-age fable that ambitiously aims at so much – class, sexuality, spirituality – and hits every target. Based on a Helen Cross novel, Pawlikowski and lenser Ryszard Lenczewski’s febrile images steep the Yorkshire Dales in a hazy glow that reflects, even triggers, the fevered, intense relationship between scrappy orphan Mona and privileged bohemian Tamsin. While viewers are seduced into this dangerous world of lyricism and lust (with tender yet erotic love scenes), Pawlikowski remains clear-eyed and tough on the deceptions we all cast, eliciting sensuous star-making performances from Press and Blunt.

My Summer of Love Clip: ‘Edith Piaf’

Bertolucci was born in the Italian city of Parma, whose films are known for their colorful visual style, in 1940. He attended Rome University and became famous as a poet. Later he dropped out. He served as assistant director for Pier Paolo Pasolini in the film Accattone (1961), and His first film directed La commare secca (1962). His second film, is the acclaimed, Prima della rivoluzione (1964), which was released in 1971. It was the same time that the boom of Italian film, he received an Academy Award nomination for best screenplay. Bertolucci also received an Academy Award nomination as best director for Ultimo tango a Parigi (1972), and the best director and best screenplay for the film The Last Emperor (1987), which walked away with nine Academy Awards. His styles are expressionistic lighting, a highly mobile camera, and an inventive, time-hopping narrative structure.

The Adventures of Robin Hood (dir. Michael Curtiz, 1938): Triumphalistic as only Errol Flynn movies can be. A celebration of camaraderie and littleness. So much so that you can just envision a made-for-TV-movie satire based on the life of Robin Hood after King Richard returns to the throne. He gets fat off of royal monthly checks, Matron Marian leaves with the kids, Friar Tuck excommunicates him, and he attempts a Sylvester Stallone-like comeback once he decides Prince John was the real man of the people.

Last Tango in Paris (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1972): An incomplete viewing this time around by virtue of not finishing it and disabled subtitles. Still, hard to miss the basic idea. At the risk of dismissal, it’s one of these post-Antonioni existential soliloquies on the emptiness of life, but without the movement, the process of The Passenger or even Zabriskie Point.

Pineapple Express (dir. David Gordon Green, 2008): Watched it awhile ago, but funny enough to deserve mention. R-rated comedies have long loved to shock audiences with sex, but not so much with violence, making this something pretty unique. It thrives on character chemistry: we’re not yet sick of Seth Rogen, and we were definitely sick of seeing James Franco in James Franco roles. May be the final (or only?) subtle performance of Ken Jeong, who is normally too funny for his own good.

«Sono pronta a cogliere ogni opportunità e ogni cambiamento che mi faccia sentire una donna, una pornostar e un’artista…Lotta Continua, Sasha Grey». Si firma proprio così, la giovane pornostar sul suo visitatissimo myspace. Quale lotta? Forse – come ha dichiarato in conferenza al Tribeca film festival dove in anteprima mondiale è stato presentato The girlfriend Experience – quella per uscire dal mondo dell’hard di cui al momento è una star indiscussa anche solo 21enne. Non è la prima volta che una pornostar finisce a Hollywood ma non sempre viene diretta da un regista premio Oscar.

L’attrice americana è stata voluta da Steven Soderbergh, che passa dall’icona rivoluzionaria del Che (bocciata dal pubblico) a quella dell’adult movie, trasportandola nel ruolo di una escort di nome Christine, una ragazza di 22 anni, bella, magra,esile, bruna (anzi brunette come recitano i tag dei portali porno). Mentre il suo boyfriend fa il personal trainer e guadagna 125 dollari l’ora, Christine ne guadagna 2000 e si adagia sul divano vestita con bustini fetish.

Funzionerà questa doppia vita disciplinata dall’ambiziosa Christine? Ma soprattutto, per Sasha Grey si tratta davvero di una liberazione? Lasciando perdere il luogo comune dell’America terra di mille opportunità, l’esordio hollywoodiano finora è stato l’occasione per dichiarare che è stufa del mondo porno come può esserlo una macchina umana di quella industria dove «il sesso davanti alle telecamere è pura performance, dove ci sono solo io e il mio pubblico» e che vuole vedere «qualcosa di eccitante rispetto a tutto quello che ho fatto finora». Niente di strano, considerate le velleità intellettuali di Sasha Grey che invita a guardare di più Pasolini, che si dispiace di non aver incontrato John Cassavetes, che ama la Nouvelle Vague, Antonioni ed Herzog,  Monte Hellman e Bernardo Bertolucci, Terrence Malick e Louis Malle, David Lynch, Gus van Sant, John Stagliano, e Catherine Breillat, che impazzisce per John Coltrane, Mingus, Joy Division, Bauhaus, Hendrix, «Old Elton John», Bowie, Dylan, Radiohead e l’elettronica di Aphex Twin.

Ma non è una fuga perché a soli 21 anni, Sasha Grey da Sacramento, sui set hardcore da appena tre anni, ancora non è entrata nel cliché dell’attrice porno vissuta e dai mille sacrifici. Ancora lontana da venire una sua biografia sul modello di Jenna Jameson, la regina del porno americano che tre anni fa pubblicò una una storia edificante  ma con bollino in copertina «senza censure», chiedendo alla forma libro di comporre e legittimare a ritroso una via crucis necessaria a ottenere il successo in un’industria di altissimo livello, nel nome però della esclusiva liberazione sessuale delle fantasie maschili. Più che una biografia, un libro di cartone che voleva risultare candido come una certificazione di trasparenza nei buoni propositi, a dispetto del ruolo e dell’immediatezza planetaria del web dove Jenna è accessibile solo a pagamento e punta dritto ai desideri del pubblico.

Eppure anche la Grey ha un’immaginario da allontanare, perchè non è una pornostar qualsiasi: «I giorni delle pornostar complessate e vittime sono finiti, io appartengo a una nuova razza» ha dichiarato al giornale indipendente degli studenti dell’università di Santa Barbara in California. Ma quale razza? La razza di un mercato hardcore sempre più violento, non dietro le quinte ipercompetitive di una carriera come quella di Jenna Jameson, ma direttamente sulle scene dove l’esile Sasha- che fisicamente è lontana dalla Jameson con le sue curve imgombranti e l’aspetto vistoso, prepotente, da calendario- è invece sottomessa e umiliata.

La Grey è l’icona di un immaginario porno che spinge sempre più sull’acceleratore di un sesso estremo, targato Bdsm (bondage, dominazione, sadismo e masochismo) e accelerato nelle dinamiche fisiche, che spezza qualsiasi semplice armonia di coppia restituendo l’immagine di un motore che si ingolfa ogni due metri.

Il passo che l’ha fatta arrivare a Soderbergh non è un pentimento, ma l’evoluzione naturale di una immagine che Sasha ha curato insieme ai set hard: il suo myspace che non può ovviamente riprodurre immagini porno per non violare la policy relativa a ogni account, ci restituisce l’immagine di Sasha come una starlette alternativa, ritratta da Terry Richardson e Rony Alwin, che finisce sul Rolling Stone perchè quel mondo le appartiene, e non semplicemente perchè la ospita. Il cammino della Grey, la ragazza che invece di apparire nuda come altre pornostar nel corso dell’Howard Stern Show, preferisce mostrarsi avvolta in una bandiera palestinese è diverso dalla Jameson, regina scalzata che attende due gemelli da un lottatore, ma non per questo un cammino meno violento.

So, work is work, but work is film, and film is busy at the moment. Between (uni) work and (film festival) work time has proven stretched beyond all initial asssumption. Alas I know this is a recurring motif, but Hope Lies at 24 Frames Per Second has once again suffered at the hands of lady time. Apologies once again, and I assure all that once the Leeds International Film Festival is complete the scene will commence once more.

Bizarrely, despite the lack of activity of late, Hope Lies has once again seen a rise in monthly hits for October. I cant explain the interest, alas I’m not going to complain.

So, here are some films I watched this month -

Il Conformista

Last Tango in Paris

Bernardo Bertolucci

As per a module at university I took a look at a couple of Bertolucci films this month. In the past I haven’t really become that attached to any Bertolucci film (as per this look at his The Dreamers), but I really enjoyed both Il Conformista and Last Tango in Paris, with the former especially impressing.

Zombieland

Ruben Fleischer

A major surprise, both in terms of just how much I enjoyed it, and just how strong a piece of mainstream cinema it is. Fresh off of the back of the aptly titled spiritual prequel Adventureland, Jesse Eisenberg once again proves that the unfairly attached Michael Cera comparisons really are uncalled for. Woody Harrelson provides his most notable leading turn for some years (excluding The Walker, a film I have recently picked up and apparently containing a towering performance from Harrelson). As has become the norm for whence discussion turns to Zombieland, I feel compelled to point out just how great the cameo is.

Earth

Alexander Dovzhenko

Soviet Cinema is perhaps the one area of film that has alluded me the most; I just don’t enjoy it. With that in mind I took in a screening of Alexander Dovzhenko’s Earth, the tale of a Ukranian farming village, and the onset of state endorsed collective farming. Earth is a stunning looking film, and technically a wonderful film, alas it suffered from the usual problem’s that I have when it comes to enjoying this type of cinema.

Groundhog Day

Harold Ramis

The perfect antidote to the day from hell, Groundhog day was a favourite of mine as a young boy. Its a film I remember fondly seeing multiple times at the cinema during my youth, and it still manages to impress. One thing I never realised as a kid was just how long Bill Murray’s Phil spends trapped in time. Modest estimates suggest 8 years or so, but Harold Ramis claims that he lives the same day over and over for a mammoth 30 to 40 years! With this in mind, the film takes on a much more sinister aura.

Shadow of the Vampire

E. Elias Merhige

While conceptually of interest, Shadow of the Vampire fails to live up to its interesting premise. A comedic take on the tome that actor Max Schreck was actually a bona-fide vampire, the manner in which the film portrays my beloved F. W Murnau really bothered me.

Brief Encounter

David Lean

The wit and forth-righted nature of Brief Encounter still manages, and I presume always will, impresses me. I love the look and feel of the film, and while the opening bars seemed to lag somewhat on this occasion, generally speaking its one of most perfectly structured pieces of British cinema I can think of.

Green for Danger

Sidney Gilliat

A lost piece of 1940’s British cinema, Green For Danger proved to be highly entertaining. Alistair Sim’s Inspector Cockrill was a genuine delight.

Underground

Anthony Asquith

A silent British film, long thought lost proved to be a highlight of the London Film Festival. Not only is the film a testament to the work of the restoration team at the British Film Institute, but also to the intuitive ear of Neil Brand, the improvisational composer that provided such a wonderful score.

Ultimo Tango a Parigi

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci.

Guión: Bernardo Bertolucci y Franco Arcalli. Diálogos adicionales de Agnès Varda.

Intérpretes: Marlon Brando, Maria Schneider, Maria Micci, Catherine Allégret, Jean Pierre Léaud.

Música: Gato Barbieri.

Fotografía: Vittorio Storaro.

Francia-Italia. 1972. 120 minutos.

Ofuscación

A pesar de que su celebridad se debe a sus diversos pasajes eróticos –uno de ellos, el de la mantequilla, erigido en este país como icono del cine prohibido por la generación de burgueses que en las postrimerías de la dictadura franquista cruzaban la frontera para poblar los llamados cines “de arte y ensayo”, quizá más bien en busca de experiencias voyeurísticas-, la sustancia de esta película, confusa, ofuscada, dolorosa, radica más bien en el retrato de una tragedia, la tragedia de la pérdida de los valores que daban sentido a la existencia del personaje de Paul –superlativo Brando-, que se precipitan por mor del suicidio de su esposa Rosa, fatal acontecimiento que deja al esposo –además de viudo, despechado- en la encrucijada de un porvenir sin sentido. Aunque ésa es la premisa narrativa del filme, cuando el metraje se inicia ya ha acaecido aquel suicidio, y la opción de Bertolucci consiste en ir desgranando los acontecimientos previos (no por la vía de flash-backs, sino mediante la dosificación de esa información mediante monólogos o diálogos posteriores) concatenándola con la turbia, dolorosa (otra vez), progresivamente enfermiza y asfixiante relación que Paul inicia de forma casual con Jeanne, una joven burguesa parisina a la sazón a las puertas del matrimonio con otro burgués que se pretende director de cine de aspavientos autorales (personaje retratado de la forma más ácida, reduciéndolo a un estereotipo de la estupidez burguesa; al respecto, decir que parte de la crítica quiso ver en aquel personaje la plasmación de un ataque dialéctico del guionista y director del filme a Jean Luc Godard, director que fue referente de Bertolucci y con quien éste mantuvo una constante relación de amor-odio –el personaje en cuestión era interpretado por Jean Pierre Léaud, auténtico icono del citado realizador y de otro eminente miembro de la nouvelle vague como fue Truffaut; supongo que ello abona la anterior teoría-).

Escenografía de lo anacrónico

Donde El último tango en Paris encuentra su razón de ser, su entidad dramática y sus mayores logros artísticos, es en el desazonado viaje que propone al espectador para seguir los esquinados pasos de Paul. Ya desde esa escenografía de lo anacrónico y marchito en el piso donde Paul y Jeanne consuman sus encuentros sexuales, pasando por la sensación de vacío con la que se retrata un París frío y mecánico, y sobretodo en la martirizada composición del actor protagonista y la sensación de nihilismo que exudan sus palabras y actitudes (particularmente en esa malsana relación sexual, pero también en otras secuencias tan brillantes como la del monólogo del personaje ante su esposa muerta). En el apartado escénico, Vittorio Storaro merece tantos parabienes como el propio Bertolucci por su brillante tarea lumínica y la experimentación de claroscuros, así como el juego de contraste entre tonos azulados –los del presente descorazonado de Paul afrontando la muerte de su esposa- y un áureo luminoso –en el piso donde detiene el tiempo en sus encuentros con Jeanne-; nos hallamos ante un filme de reflejos pálidos y sombras, y en ese sentido y propósito el trabajo de Storaro alcanza las más altas cotas estéticas.

Aniquilar la pasión

Como viaje sin redención que se promueve desde el propio título, en los últimos compases del filme podemos atender cómo Paul trata de aceptar la pérdida y los rencores del pasado e intenta, aunque tétricamente, recuperar a Jeanne. Jeanne fue inicialmente seducida y llevada a una pasión exacerbada e inimaginable para sus códigos morales, pero conforme avanzan los acontecimientos es progresivamente devorada por las agrias y para ella incomprensibles pulsiones de aquel hombre sin nombre; con soterrado cinismo por parte de Bertolucci, en el último jalón del filme, tras la suerte de ensoñación etílica y romántica en la sala de fiestas, Jeanne escapa literalmente, y termina ajusticiando a Paul con una pistola, que era de su padre –y sobre la que la madre de ella, en un pasaje anterior del filme, le manifiesta que “es necesario tener una pistola en casa”-. En el último plano, y en una dimensión entre lo trágico y lo patético, Paul yace muerto mientras Jeanne planea lo que le va a decir a la policía -que no le conocía de nada, que quería violarla-, mientras sostiene en su mano el arma, símbolo inequívoco de que la joven casquivana acaba de reintegrar el confort y la cuadrícula de una vida ordenada, familiar y burguesa, al único precio posible: la aniquilación literal de la pasión… y de la duda.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070849/

http://camillacastro.org/Movie/Last_Tango_In_Paris/index.html

http://film.guardian.co.uk/Century_Of_Films/Story/0,4135,368319,00.html

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20040815/REVIEWS08/408150301/1023

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,903717,00.html

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/last_tango_in_paris/

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

The Dreamers. Les Inocents. I Sognatori.

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci.

Guión: Gilbert Adair.

Intérpretes: Michael Pitt, Eva Green, Louis Garrel, Anne Chancellor, Robin Renucci.

Música: Bill Kreutzmann, Phil Lesh, Paul Robi.

Fotografía: Fabio Cinachetti.

GB-Francia-Italia. 2003. 114 minutos.

Bertolucci, Adair: Mayo del 68

Aunque el trasfondo histórico (y mítico) en el que se mueve e inmersa esta The Dreamers resulta muy cara al realizador de Antes de la Revolución, es quizá curioso constatar que Bertolucci parte de un material ajeno, una historia de Gilbert Adair, un americano que, como Matthew, el protagonista del filme, residió en Paris durante aquellos meses de revueltas estudiantiles y convulsiones políticas. Bertolucci ni siquiera participa en la adaptación a guión, y eso que, en el sustrato radiográfico de aquel tiempo y lugar, parece hecho a su medida, ya desde lo que podríamos enunciar como el prólogo en el que se nos referencia (materiales de archivo incluidos) el escándalo de la mítica Cinématheque francesa -que finiquitó la tarea de su director, el tan venerado por Bertolucci Henri Langlois-, hasta la constante referencia cinéfila –que abraza desde el cine mudo norteamericano, pasando por el genérico, negro, musical, clásico de los grandes estudios, hasta obras decisivas de la nouvelle vague, de Jean Luc Godard o François Truffaut-.

Educación sentimental

Y ese mayo de París no deja de ser (o al menos hasta la solución final) un telón de fondo, un sustrato de nebulosa ideológica y moral que sacude pero no empapa a los protagonistas de la trama, los dos hermanos gemelos unidos por ese lazo afectivo superlativo y enfermizo, y el que en definitiva es el protagonista, por quien habla el filme y de cuya educación sentimental se refiere, el joven norteamericano que traba contacto, amistad, amor y celos con ellos. Sí, mientras se suceden las vagas y los cierres de los comercios y los disturbios civiles, las existencias burguesas de Matthew, Teo y Isabelle se dedican a nada más que ver y hablar de cine, a escuchar músicas de su tiempo –ellos o nosotros por ellos escuchamos a Janis Joplin, The Doors, Bob Dylan… por cierto que en la mayoría de los casos en estimulantes elecciones narrativas-, entregarse con pleitesía a placeres particulares y compartidos, beber vino y sucumbir a una cerrazón que de emocional trasciende a literal, física, y cuya velada incapacidad subyacente para asir o siquiera definir una posición real en su intelecto y emociones está a punto de terminar en tragedia. De ahí que el título de la película sea I sognatori, nada más (y nada menos) que la plasmación de Aldair y de Bertolucci de la porfía cultural y emocional de los jóvenes en tiempo de la Revolución y la preeminencia que acaban teniendo sus pulsiones emotivas y sexuales sobre el tamiz de la (contra)cultura que supuestamente les espolea. La confusión campa a sus anchas en las discusiones que Teo y Matthew mantienen sobre Vietnam o sobre el Maoísmo, campa a sus anchas sobre el porvenir individual y colectivo de aquella generación; pero no así su pasión cinéfila exacerbada (esos constantes juegos de “a qué película pertenece”, o la afición de Isabelle a reproducir secuencias cinematográficas, todas ellas –las reproducciones- secuencias magníficas gracias al talento de Bertolucci y a su mimo con el material que maneja y venera). Sin embargo, la amistad y pasión de Matthew por, respectivamente, Teo e Isabelle no es confusa, la relación de apariencia casi simbiótica de los hermanos tampoco lo es, pero los placeres que comparten son fungibles, están condenados y ellos lo saben, pero en esa intimidad apasionada se entregan tratando de detener el tiempo y con ello el miedo a su propia confusión.

Una piedra de la Revolución

El desenlace es doblemente ilustrativo, y doblemente estimulante. Primero, una piedra arrojada desde la calle salva, literalmente e in extremis, su vida, esto es una fuerza mayor, porque el filme ya nos ha dejado clara la sentencia a la que esa insuficiencia existencial hubiera arrojado irremisiblemente a los protagonistas; pero no deja de ser una piedra de la Revolución, es decir la irrupción de la realidad, el despertar, la lucha colectiva como destino y no como vehículo de la Revolución. Segundo, Matthew y los hermanos toman opciones diferentes en el seno de aquella manifestación: el americano no cree en la violencia, y Theo e Isabelle se atreven a meterse en el territorio más hostil para arrojar un cóctel molotov a la película; y el filme nos está diciendo que poco importa lo que hagan uno u otros, porque en el fondo su actuación no obedece a una férrea convicción ideológica o moral sino a una descarga instintiva, pero lo que sí importa es que el precio que pagan por su decisión es la separación, tan absurda como decisiva.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0309987/

http://worldfilm.about.com/cs/italianfilms/fr/thedreamers.htm

http://www.brightlightsfilm.com/45/dreamers.htm

http://www.foxsearchlight.com/thedreamers/

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/dreamers/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dreamers_(film)

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

Crítica de Cinema – Texto publicado originalmente em A ARCA, em 09/12/2004.

O americano Matthew tinha 20 anos e estava largado na França. Foi à cidade luz para aprender francês e acabou ficando por lá. Extasiado com o clima romântico e cultural de Paris, viciou-se na Cinemateca Francesa, onde ia praticamente todos os dias para assistir clássicos de Nicholas Ray, Samuel Fuller, entre outros. Matthew, assim como vários outros jovens, sempre sentava-se à primeira fila. E se indagado, explicaria que era para receber as imagens antes de qualquer um, antes que elas se difundissem fileira por fileira, antes que elas morressem pequenas, do tamanho de um selo, na saída do projetor. Matthew era como qualquer um dos jovens daquela época. Era a primavera de 68.

Assim como o personagem Matthew, o ponto central de Os Sonhadores (The Dreamers, 2003), o cineasta Bernardo Bertolucci, realizador da película, também viveu aquele ano. Para quem não conhece a história, em 68 explodiu o movimento hippie, a liberação sexual, as contestações à banalidade da Guerra do Vietnã e, no Brasil, o tropicalismo. Tudo, a não ser a última citação, estourou de vez e teve sua maior representação na juventude politizada da França, inspirada e movida pelos clássicos cinematográficos da nouvelle vague dirigidos por François Truffaut, Jean Luc Godard, Jacques Rivette, Henri-Georges Clouzot e tantos outros. Os franceses inspiraram o resto do mundo a lutar pelos seus ideais e direitos. Sem repressão política e sem condenar a liberdade de expressão. Era proibido proibir, como dizia a tão conhecida música.

Em Os Sonhadores, novo filme de Bertolucci – mais conhecido por quase ter matado as senhoras conservadoras com o perturbador O Último Tango em Paris -, a revolução política e social de 68 serve apenas como pano de fundo de uma história de amor. Não o “amor” com relação aos três personagens centrais, mas sim o amor ao cinema. A todo momento, vemos na tela “re-encenações” perfeitas de cenas de filmes como A Vênus Platinada, com Marlene Dietrich, Os Incompreendidos, de Truffaut, Luzes da Cidade, de Charles Chaplin e muitos, muitos outros longas. Tudo isto, claro, numa embalagem poética e muito fascinante.

Mas veja bem, você deve evitar este filme se a) você não é cinéfilo inveterado, restringindo seu gosto aos novos blockbusters, e b) se tem pudores e não suporta ver uma única cena de nudez no cinema. Porque é o que mais tem aqui: nudez explícita e cenas que quase chegam a beirar a pornografia. E quer saber: Bertolucci, com seu enorme carinho pelo tema, pelo cinema e por seus personagens, transformou tudo em poesia pura. Nada consegue ser gratuito.

A história começa quando Matthew (Michael Pitt, de A Vila) chega à Cinemateca para mais uma sessão de cinema e encontra o lugar fechado e com um aglomerado de estudantes/manifestantes à sua frente. O fundador da Cinemateca, Henri Langlois, fora demitido – acusado de, com sua programação, incitar a libertinagem política e sexual. No meio da confusão, Matthew faz amizade com os irmãos Isabelle (a super-hiper-ultra-mega maravilhosa Eva Green, destronando praticamente todas as beldades apresentadas neste ano pelo cinema) e Theo (Louis Garrel). A polícia chega pra acabar com a brincadeira, e os três acabam passeando pela cidade, conversando amenidades.

Sozinhos em casa, Theo e Isabelle convidam Matthew para passar uns dias em seu apartamento – os pais dos gêmeos estão viajando. A princípio, o americano (a esta altura já hipnotizado pela beleza estonteante da moça) estranha a ligação muito forte entre os irmãos. Quando é aceito pela dupla como um autêntico conhecedor de cinema – numa cena emocionante que consiste numa travessia em corrida pelo Louvre, alusão clara ao clássico Bande à Part, de Godard, e de cara a cena mais linda do cinema neste ano -, os três se trancam no apartamento e passam as tardes a discutir filmes, política, revoluções. Até que o americano percebe, chocado, a relação incestuosa entre Theo e Isabelle. E acaba cedendo à graciosidade dos gêmeos. À medida que as relações se aprofundam, as coisas fogem ao controle. E eu não falo mais nada, pra não perder a graça!

Esquecendo-se das inúmeras qualidades técnicas de Os Sonhadores, desde a sua excelente montagem (que mescla cenas de fitas antigas) até a ótima trilha sonora que conta com Janis Joplin, Doors e Jimi Hendrix (que já abre o filme com tudo ao som de Third Stone From The Sun), entre outros, o que mais se destaca no longa é mesmo a paixão que Bertolucci imprime a cada frame. Não é difícil se encantar com a trajetória dos três jovens. Se o espectador souber interpretar as tórridas cenas de sexo e nudez, enxergará nada mais do que o retrato de uma geração que ousou correr atrás do que julgava certo, usando como armas as palavras, o amor e a própria arte de se fazer filmes. E apesar da militância panfletária, nunca parece cansativo ou politizado demais.

O final em aberto deixa claro que ninguém pode tentar tomar o controle de nada. É o cinema em estado bruto, sem intenções de ludibriar e apenas para se fazer pensar, e não só como instrumento de entretenimento ou uma máquina de fazer dinheiro, como muitos diretores e executivos de estúdios acreditam.

Ou seja: é um filmão! Belíssimo, com imagens lindas, e atuações viscerais de todo o elenco. Vale muito a pena! E pra finalizar, a Eva Green é linda. Só este elemento já vale o ingresso!

CURIOSIDADES:

• O papel interpretado por Michael Pitt foi oferecido inicialmente a Jake Gyllenhaal, que recusou devido ao forte teor das cenas eróticas. Realmente, depois de assistir à fita e dar de cara com o close das, bem, partes baixas dos atores, dá pra entender o temor de Gyllenhaal.

• Os Sonhadores foi o primeiro filme desde Bent (1997) a receber a tão temida classificação NC-17.

• Pelos cálculos feitos pela minha pessoa durante a projeção de Os Sonhadores, pelo menos 60 filmes (!) são citados ou referenciados nas quase duas horas de duração.

THE DREAMERS • EUA/ITA/FRA/ING • 2003
Direção de Bernardo Bertolucci • Roteiro de Gilbert Adair
Elenco: Michael Pitt, Eva Green, Louis Garrel, Anna Chancelor, Robin Renucci, Jean-Pierre Léaud.
115 min. • Distribuição: Fox Searchlight.

среда 14 октября 2009

ПОСЛЕДНИЙ ИМПЕРАТОР / The Last Emperor
год 1987
страна Франция, Великобритания, Италия, Китай
режиссер Бернардо Бертолуччи
АНГЛИЙСКИЙ ЯЗЫК, РУССКИЕ ТИТРЫ
сценарий Марк Пиплоу, Бернардо Бертолуччи, Генри Пу И
продюсер Джон Дэйли, Franco Giovale
оператор Витторио Стораро
композитор Дэвид Бирн, Рюити Сакамото, Конг Су,
жанр драма, биография, история
время 166 мин.

выбор фильма, подготовка к показу и лекция Максим
“Разочаровавшись в современной политике и культуре Европы, не желая даже работать на этом континенте, выдающийся итальянский режиссёр Бернардо Бертолуччи отправился в Китай, к тому же заручившись поддержкой британского продюсера Джереми Томаса, на счету которого была такая заметная лента, как «Счастливого Рождества, мистер Лоренс». А Бертолуччи решил перенести на экран историю жизни последнего китайского императора Пу И, написанную им самим, а также воспоминания англичанина Реджиналда Джонстона, который был учителем и советником властителя, в общем-то, никогда не обладавшего реальной властью.

В 1908 году, в возрасте трёх лет, Пу И был отобран у матери и доставлен в Запретный город, чтобы стать номинальным императором Китая, а фактически — узником собственной роли. Хотя тогда ещё сохранялся по традиции старинный ритуал почитания и преклонения перед властителем Поднебесной, но уже не имел никакого значения за пределами недоступной для прочих резиденции, поскольку в 1911 году в стране была провозглашена республика. И вплоть до 1924 года, когда республиканские войска заняли Пекин, а Пу И был изгнан, он оставался своего рода «высокопоставленной марионеткой», как и позже, в 1931 году, когда согласился на пост правителя Маньчжурии в условиях японской оккупации. Только однажды Бертолуччи, адаптировавший вместе с Марком Пиплоу, братом своей жены Клер Пиплоу, документальные записки о судьбе Пу И (ещё один «Оскар» — за экранизацию), разрешил себе как бы авторскую подсказку, отступление от строгого стиля исторического повествования. Он дал возможность бывшему императору уже на закате собственной жизни вновь побывать в пустом и безлюдном Запретном городе, где пожилой Пу И выглядит словно турист-чужестранец, который случайно попал в этот музей под открытым небом. Ведь человек — всего лишь песчинка в бесконечном потоке Истории, перемолотая в жерновах неумолимого Времени.
Но, как и в финале «Двадцатого века», режиссёр оставляет героя наедине со своей индивидуальной памятью посреди вечности, не отбирая у него права хотя бы мысленно вернуться назад, в годы детства, чтобы испытать иллюзию, что всё можно было сделать иначе. Примирение отдельного человека с большой Историей происходит в тот момент, когда старость будто рифмуется с детством, а небытие «после» с небытием «до». Только на этом экзистенциальном рубеже наступает освобождение от той навязанной роли, которая поневоле игралась на протяжении всей жизни.

Созданная с постановочным размахом картина Бернардо Бертолуччи, была с особым восторгом принята в Америке, где собрала $44 млн. «Последний император» удостоился девяти «Оскаров» (кроме — премии за фильм, режиссуру, монтаж и оригинальную музыку, написанную интернациональным коллективом в составе японца Рюити Сакамото, англичанина Дэвида Бирна и китайца Су Кона, а также за звук). Помимо того, лента получила множество иных наград в разных странах — от Италии до Японии”.

Bernardo Bertolucci, born in 1940, is an American film director and screenwriter. His films are always the topic of controversy because it’s reoccuring themes such as sex and politics.  Bertolucci’s movies are especially known to explore alot of human emotions to the details, which is one the reasons for many of the erotic scenes that never fails to be a topic of debate. Regardless of the negative criticisms, his creativity have led many psychologists to study him. Futuremore, Bertolucci’s characters are similar in characteristics. For instance, the leading lady in Stealing Beauty and The Dreamers have the same traits and personality. He is a winner of several Academy Awards. Other famous films by Bertolucci are The Last Emperor and Last Tango in Paris.

“I don’t film messages. I let the post office take care of those.” – Bernardo Bertolucci

Selected Filmography:

-        The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (dir. Dario Argento, 1970)

-        The Conformist (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970)

-        The Spiders Stratagem (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970)

-        Last Tango In Paris (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1972)

-        1900 (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1976)

-        Apocalypse Now (dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)

-        Reds (dir. Warren Beatty, 1981)

-        One From the Heart (dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1982)

-        The Last Emperor (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1987)

-        Dick Tracy (dir. Warren Beatty, 1990)

-        Little Buddha (dir. Bernardo Bertolucci, 1993)

-        Bulworth (dir. Warren Beatty, 1998)

-        Dominion: Prequel to the Exorcist (dir. Paul Schrader, 2005)

Vittorio Storaro is an absolute master, considered by many to be the greatest living cinematographer. I’m not going to argue with this. In fact, if you really forced me to choose I’d have to confess that I think his work on The Conformist is close to perfect. Every frame is rich with meaning and displays the photography of a true intellectual. Storaro collaborated many times with Bernardo Bertolucci and it is obvious they had a very clear understanding of each other. The lighting strategies Storaro employs are perfect visual metaphors for the central characters various emotional states. In The Conformist patterned shadows trap Marcello like prison bars, apt for his impossible predicament and equally fitting for a film set in Mussolini’s fascist Italy.

Storaro is also well known for his work with Francis Ford Coppola, famously on Apocalypse Now. Later he collaborated with Warren Beatty on Reds, Dick Tracy and Bulworth. However, one of his earliest films (actually shot the same year as The Conformist) is The Bird With The Crystal Plumage, a neat giallo directed by none other than Dario Argento (his debut feature). If you can get a hold of this film I strongly recommend it.

I also recommend Storaro’s excellent book Writing with Light in which he discusses the influence of artists such as Rembrandt, Vermeer and Caravaggio. Each painter was a master of using light and so too is Storaro. The Plato’s cave allegory in The Conformist is a marvellous example of this. Storaro also believes strongly in the ability colour has to affect emotion and thus his palettes are carefully thought out (influenced by Goethe’s Theory of Colours).

Storaro is also distinguished as being a three-time Oscar winner for his work on Apocalypse Now, Reds and The Last Emperor.   

Below are some links to a few interviews with the man himself, as well as a link to his official site. The last link is from the site The Hollywood Interview which features a wealth of interviews with a hoard of great people.

Vittorio Storaro’s Official Website

A Conversation with Vittorio Storaro

The Hollywood Interview Blogspot with Vittorio Storaro

Souffle au coeur, Le (1971)
★★★★ / ★★★★

Written and directed by Louis Malle (“Au revoir les enfants”), this unconventional coming-of-age picture (also known as “Murmur of the Heart”) was about an intelligent fifteen-year-old named Laurent (Benoît Ferreux) and his quest to lose his virginity. He has a difficult time achieving his goal because his family watches each other’s moves very closely: two brothers who act like spoiled rich brats, a father (Daniel Gélin) who is a gynecologist, and a free-spirited mother (Lea Massari). He finally gets away from his family (except his mother) when he gets ill and has to go to a medical spa in hopes of getting better. I mentioned that this was an atypical coming-of-age tale because, in a way, it kind of excuses or glosses over the issues of childhood molestation and incest. Scenes that would normally or supposed to bother people, such as a religious leader inappropriately touching a boy and a mother who is way too involved with her son (emotionally and physically; taking “European” kind of closeness into consideration), are an integral part of the story, the director decided to not judge and simply show what was happening. In many ways, I admired this technique because most films that I’ve seen that tackled the same topics could not help but pass judgment. This film reminded me of Bernardo Bertolucci’s “The Dreamers” not because of of its subject matter itself but because of the many scenes that were shot indoors, the political backdrop of the story (in this case, the IndoChina War), and that feeling of freedom to explore any kind of topic and emotion that could easily be labeled as taboo. In the end, I really got to know Laurent: what kinds of books he likes to read; his tastes in music and girls; what he thinks about the people around him; and his own capabilities as a blossoming adolescent facing pressures exerted by himself and other people. Perhaps if I knew more about the authors and books that Laurent referenced to, I may have had a better understanding regarding some of his motivations to do certain things. This was a daring film but, in my opinion, did not cross any line but merely straddled it. I must also note that this was not just about a person who wanted to have sex for the first time. It was much more complex than that. But another one of the many layers of this movie was the dynamics among the family members, whether or not in its core, they were truly happy.

Ieri sera ho ceduto alla tentazione dei grandi classici e mi sono persa in uno dei capolavori di Bernardo Bertolucci, Ultimo tango a Parigi.

Ultimo tango a Parigi, film di Bernardo Bertolucci (1972)

Schiacciato dal peso del passato, un uomo di mezza età (Marlon Brando) trova, grazie all’incontro con una ragazza poco più che ventenne, il modo di dimenticare i suoi dolori affogando i dispiaceri nel sesso. I loro incontri, incastrati nei ricordi del passato, restano tuttavia un mondo chiuso, asettico, slegato dalla realtà alla quale l’uomo sembra voler sfuggire. Parallelamente scorre la narrazione della vita della ragazza.

Gli incontri, fotografati magistralmente da un regista abilissimo, proseguono sino a quando l’uomo non decide di far accedere la ragazza alla sua vita reale, raccontandole il suo passato e svelandole le sue speranze per l’avvenire.

Come sempre, il ritorno alla realtà infrangerà il mistero sciogliendo l’incanto.

*

Una storia raccontata con poesia e intensità, in modo elegante, dove le scene più belle sono quelle che ci regalano una visione della coppia creata da giochi di luce e riflessi, riunendo, nell’illusione, ciò che nella realtà è disunito, e disunito resterà.

scena tratta dal film "Ultimo tango a Parigi"

*

TRAILER

Isabelle: Name a film where someone tap dancing drives someone else crazy!
Matthew: Oh, I know this!
Isabelle: Come on! Quick! Quick!
Matthew: Top Hat! Top Hat! Fred Astaire’s dancing over Ginger Roger’s room. And she’s mad because he wakes her up. I’m right.

The Dreamers (2003)

Dovrebbe bastare dire questo di The Dreamers, il nome del regista, e chi ne capisce qualcosa di cinema saprebbe che vale la pena di vederlo. Perché questo non è un film qualunque, di un regista qualunque e le critiche feroci lo dimostrano. Bernardo Bertolucci è un maestro del cinema, Dario Argento lo ha definito il più grande regista italiano vivente.

The Dreamers, basato su un racconto di Gilbert Adari, The Holy Innocents, è uscito nelle sale nel 2003 e racconta la storia di Matthew (Michael Pitt), giovane studente americano che giunge a Parigi all’alba del 1968 e delle proteste studentesche. Incapace di socializzare con i ragazzi del posto, Matthew passa le sue ore alla Cinémathèque française. Ben presto la crescente protesta travolge anche i cinema e la Cinémathèque viene occupata dagli studenti e dai cinefili. È in questa occasione che Matthew conosce Isabelle (Eva Green) e Theo (Louis Garrel), fratelli gemelli. I tre stringono ben presto amicizia, e dopo la partenza per le vacanze dei genitori dei due fratelli, Matthew viene invitato a vivere nella loro casa. Rinchiusi nelle grandi e deserte stanze dell’appartamento i tre ragazzi vivono immersi in un mondo fatto di cinema, poesia e musica. Vivendo con loro Matthew scopre l’immensa intimità di Theo ed Isabelle, che va oltre i normali rapporti che intercorrono fra un fratello e una sorella. I due vivono infatti in simbiosi, incapaci di vivere divisi e Matthew non può che sentirsi, nonostante il forte contatto, qualcosa di estraneo a quel legame. Nonostante tutto sboccia l’amore fra Matthew e Isabelle e la storia assume un ritmo vertiginoso, fatto di scommesse, giochi perversi, in cui i ragazzi vivono isolati dal mondo reale e da una Parigi ormai sconvolta dalla contestazione. Il ritorno brusco alla realtà avverrà proprio durante un corteo a cui prendono parte, in cui Matthew capirà definitivamente di non poter fare parte della vita dei gemelli, incapace di sostenere il loro legame esclusivo.

Come già ho scritto sopra Bertolucci è un maestro del cinema e lo dimostra anche in questo film, per la sua eccezionale capacità di ricerca di dettagli e per la scelta delle citazioni cinematografiche, dalla corsa dentro il Louvre, tratta da Bande a Part di Jean-Luc Godard alla scena in cui Isabelle recita Venere Bionda, passando per Scarface, Cappello a cilindro, Luci della città e Freaks.

La musica, i dettagli storici, l’iconografia è volontariamente ricercata e legata allo stesso periodo in cui è ambientata la storia.

Quando precedentemente ho parlato di critiche feroci, mi riferivo a quelle emerse in merito alle esplicite scene erotiche che compaiono nel film. A difesa credo che Bertolucci giri queste scene in modo raffinato ed elegante in confronto alla volgarità di tanti altri registi. Ad esempio la scena in cui Eva Green si “traveste” da Venere di Milo credo sia di una bellezza che raramente si vede al cinema di questi tempi.

Io non credo in Dio, ma se ci credessi sarebbe un chitarrista nero e mancino… (Matthew parlando di Jimmy Hendrix).

Nothing is more poignant than a huge budget film maudit. I have a special place in my heart for films that, however great or flawed in execution, are at least trying to do something unusual, and are damned not for their failure at that, but for their failure to be a kind of movie they weren’t even trying to be, one much more ordinary, by viewers (typically including critics) who refuse even to acknowledge what is being attempted.

Heaven’s Gate is such a film, and one that proves my hypothesis that in mainstream filmmaking, if you don’t tell a story well, the better the movie is in other respects, the more it will be rejected. In other words, a crappy formulaic blockbuster’s deficiencies in story are accepted, presumably because the pleasures of spectacle redeem it, at least in the eyes of the paying public. And if it isn’t actually entertaining, that’s just business-as-usual. Whereas an artistically ambitious work with a deficient story is perceived as a sort of crime.

I projected Heaven’s Gate last night, first time I’ve seen it. And it’s true that, on a narrative level, it is flat and boring. It never actually develops in depth or complexity, even while it proceeds with exquisite slowness; a half hour’s worth of plot stretched out to 3 hours and 40 minutes.

Now, I am a screenwriting Professor, and plot is important to me. But movies can offer other pleasures than plot (after all Tarkovsky has even less plot than this, and I find his films pure pleasure) and there are things going on in Heaven’s Gate that seem to continue to elude the people who write about it, and I found the film occasionally dazzling.

Heaven’s Gate is clearly intended in the mode of Bertolucci or Visconti, concerning itself more with an evocation of its time and place, and even more than that simply with the human condition as a kind of swirling collective movement within which the individual struggles, with great difficulty, towards meaningful action. There is one amazing sequence after another, revealing virtually nothing about the characters as individuals but providing instead a panoramic sense of their community expressed through virtuoso camera choreography.

Like the work of those Italian masters, it is very specific in its historical setting (in this case, the Johnson County War in 1892 Wyoming), necessary given that the films’ subject is as much the idea of history as the specifics.

Unfortunately, Cimino may have studied Bertolucci and Visconti, and he has a team of craftsmen who can match his masters; but he simply lacks their understanding of how to integrate the large scale with the intimate. It’s the scenes with one or two characters in Heaven’s Gate that lie there, lifeless, creating empty space between the big scene setpieces which are concerned with large groups of people. It would have been better if Cimino had hired a screenwriter.

Beyond the script problem already noted, Cimino’s deficiency is apparent in the casting department. He needed actors with sufficient mythic gravity to anchor his archetypes, classic movie stars, so that we wouldn’t feel the lack of individualized character as an emptiness. He needed a Peckinpah cast (say William Holden and Robert Ryan), but of course the whole point of a Peckinpah cast (classic Peckinpah) is that its an elegy for its own immanent disappearance. And by 1980 those types were gone, at least if the characters were going to be under about 55 years old.

Instead he has Kris Kristofferson, who is blank and pretty and not convincingly soulful. (Yes, I know Peckinpah worked with Kristofferson three times, but take a look at how he used him for the sense of hollowness he projects, opposite the soulfulness of a James Coburn or a Warren Oates.) Christopher Walken who, while still far away from exploring the heights of ham that lie ahead, manages to place a neurotic veneer on a character with a neurotic core, resulting in a sort of black hole of neurosis, character who seems completely disconnected from his role in the plot. Only Isabelle Huppert, who is probably incapable of giving a bad performance (and she is at her most beautiful here) manages to strike some convincing notes,  though her character is basically Julie Christie’s Mrs. Miller from Altman’s McCabe & Mrs. Miller. There is zero chemistry between her and either of the men she is supposedly in love with.

Another obvious point that seems to have escaped reviewers is that, while Cimino’s screenwriting credit betrays the movie’s lack of a real screenwriter, cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond is the actual co-auteur. Heaven’s Gate’s look not only evokes what Zsigmond did for Altman on McCabe & Mrs. Miller, both films are about their look as much as anything else. This is something American critics and audiences can’t abide. It equates with pretension, which I find a silly equation, since many movies have trite stories, and images can be rich with meaning and depth (and in these two films certainly are).

The film’s critical treatment is well summed up by Vincent Canby and Roger Ebert’s reviews, which are not only terribly negative, but carefully calibrated to do as much damage as possible. (Indeed the film’s initial reviews caused United Artists to yank it out of cinemas and cut it to half the length – cutting out the wrong half, since the film’s quality is in its pictorialism and not in its dramatics). I suspect this was as a corrective to their inflated reviews of Cimino’s preceding film The Deer Hunter (“the most emotionally shattering movie ever made” – Ebert), which, I hypothesize, was celebrated for the hope that its portrayal of heartland America coming to terms with the trauma of Vietnam portended the end of the 70’s, a decade Americans really wanted to end (ironically, given what followed).

(Note: I haven’t seen The Deer Hunter since December 1978 during its week-long academy-award qualifying run in Westwood. I remember how awed the sold-out audience seemed by the film’s sense of its own sociological importance.)

That Mr. Cimino, from the point of view of the film business itself, became, with Heaven’s Gate, the one to end the 70’s and take his own career down with the decade, is one of the strange ironies which are the currency of history.