Werner Herzog and Christian Bale on the set of Rescue Dawn

In a column for the Guardian over the weekend, Joe Queenan used A Serious Man to stand in example of movies by directors which stand apart from the rest of their filmography. In the case of A Serious Man, Queenan writes:

A Serious Man falls into that category of films that, for whatever reason, do not have the same texture or mood as a director’s other films. It may be a decision the film-maker has made deliberately, or it may be entirely inadvertent, but these films stand apart from the other movies in a director’s body of work. It is as if the film-maker abruptly decided to take a holiday from his own personality and make a film in somebody else’s style.

He goes on to cite other examples of this theory for great directors. He notes Werner Herzog for Rescue Dawn (“…a well-crafted action picture. And nothing more.“), Spike Lee’s Inside Man (“…certainly doesn’t have the feel of any other Spike Lee film. It is work for hire.“) and Ang Lee with The Hulk (“…one of those catastrophes so bad that its sequel seems like the industry’s personal apology to the movie-going public for what has gone before.“)

He also cites a few examples of better one-offs, such as Scorsese’s Age of Innocence, Eastwood’s The Bridges of Madison County and, inexplicably, Peter Weir’s Green Card.

I’ll leave what he considers good or bad to the side (seriously though, Green Card?) and just comment on the mistake of characterising so many of these films as being far apart from the other work by directors.

A Serious Man may well seem on its face a distance from the defining work of the Coens (Fargo, Lebowski etc.), but the themes at its centre are perhaps as close to a distillation of their career as could be found. The central character is tortured by the world around him (see The Dude in The Big Lebowski, Llewellyn Moss in No Country for Old Men) for  the choices, or lack of decisions, he makes. The entire world in which the film is set seems to beset its citizen with acts of randomness, much in keeping with the nihilistic viewpoint that many detractors, and most supporters, of the brothers would see as an identifying feature of their work.

To wit, Dana Stevens’ review for Slate reads:

A Serious Man unfolds in a moral universe that’s recognizable from earlier Coen films. It’s a cruel and ultimately inexplicable place. What Anton Chigurh, Javier Bardem’s pitiless mass murderer, was to No Country for Old Men, the Hebrew God (whom the characters refer to with the respectful, indirect name of “Hashem”) is to this movie.

Whether you read this as a good or bad feature of the film, there is no doubt that A Serious Man very much fits into the Coens canon. The only difference is that it is so explicitly autobiographical, in the way that perhaps something like Barton Fink, which seems at least partly to reference their experience in working on Miller’s Crossing, never aims for.

Rescue Dawn, Queenan’s citation for Herzog, is another which seems out of step with his oeuvre at first, but the themes once more reveal themselves quite quickly. Specifically, the film entirely fits with Herzog’s fascination with nature as an unforgiving and beautiful foe. This strongly characterised masterpieces like Aguirre, The Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo, notably in the second in which a man is constrained by nature in achieving his lifelong ambitions. Linked to those two films is the leading man choice.

Klaus Kinski, Herzog’s greatest on-screen collaborator, was both a genius and insane. He would push himself to levels of intensity almost unknown to most actors. Christian Bale, whilst probably not quite in the Kinski league, is a superb actor on his day. He is also a deeply committed performer. Witness the intense weight-loss undertaken for The Machinist, followed by bulking up for Batman Begins and then rinse-repeat for Rescue Dawn and The Dark Knight. Say what you will of Bale, but he wholly commits to Rescue Dawn.

In addition to that, to describe this as just a slick action film seems to wholly miss the personal aspects of the film. As a dramatic retelling of the story of Dieter Dengler, the subject of Herzog’s documentary Little Dieter Needs to Fly, he was attempting to do justice to the story of a man he obviously admired greatly. Whether Queenan likes the film or not, there is no way to describe Rescue Dawn as just a tossed-off slice of popcorn entertainment.

I’ll take the point with Inside Man by Spike Lee – it probably does stand somewhat out of what most people would think of then they think about Spike Lee. By that, and I’m only assuming what Queenan was thinking with this film, this would entail that the film is not explicitly about American racial politics (though, as noted by Ruthe Stein, this does occur a bit) from the standpoint of African-Americans. That’s probably true, but that would be an act of pigeon-holing a director whose work stands well beyond themes of race. Specifically, perhaps more than being an explorer of racial issues, his great skill has often been in exploring New York. Inside Man, for me, stands alongside 25th Hour and Do the Right Thing as a great New York movie.

If you want to take a film from Lee which stands outside the realms of his standard work, try When the Levees Broke, his four-part HBO documentary on Katrina. Though definitely in keeping which exploring the (predominantly) black experience in America, the film has none of the overt political messages that Lee often attempts to hammer home in his work, instead allowing the imagery to speak for itself and letting the actions of the Bush administration hang the whole White House.

The last one to note is Hulk. This argument is much more personal than the others, because I remain one of around seven people in the world that like Hulk’s take on the superhero film. Even so, the themes of Lee’s other work, specifically personal identity, are writ large over the film.

I understand what Queenan was going for and I don’t want to just crap on his taste in film. I would strongly argue, however, that most of the films cited have much in common with other work done by their directors, you just need to dig deeper than the trailer to realise it.

Hace tiempo, pero que mucho tiempo, que tenía en mente incluir en esta recopilación de películas de cine con relación con la fotografía a este filme de Peter Weir. Pero es una película que vi en su momento hace muchos, muchos años, y quería volver a verla para tener frescas las impresiones del comentario.

El miércoles por la tarde sufrí un accidente doméstico, que aconsejó que ayer pasase la tarde en reposo y con el pie en alto. El cuarto dedo de mi pie izquierdo, tras un golpe con la pata de un sillón, tenía el tamaño del dedo gordo y estaba negro como mi conciencia. Descartada mi hora de tenis de los jueves, repasando la programación del satélite, he aquí que TNT programaba la película que me interesaba, ¡y además, con la opción de verla en versión original subtitulada! Y ya tenéis la reseña de El año que vivimos peligrosamente en mi colección La Fotografía en el cine.

Muchos serán los que piensen en el pesado de Mel Gibson al recordar esta película, aunque en aquel momento el australiano no había alcanzado el grado de endiosamiento que posteriormente le caracterizó. A mí siempre me ha parecido un actor mediocre,… lo que son las cosas. Sin embargo, para mí el/la protagonista absoluta/o es Linda Hunt con su interpretación del pequeño pero interesante Billy Kwan, el fotógrafo y camarógrafo del periodista que interpreta Gibson.

En fin, una entretenida e interesante película, no exenta de defectos, pero que merece la pena verse. Y claramente relacionada con el mundo de la fotografía.

Os dejo con una relajante fotografía otoñal.

Paseo a orillas del Canal Imperial de Aragón en Zaragoza - Panasonic Lumix LX3, G 20/1,7 ASPH.

Bergen International Film Festival tries to market itself as a documentary festival. However, the program sports plenty of fiction films as well. Some of these are the usual festival circuit films; i.e. independent films and foreign films with small chances of a wide distribution. And then there are early premieres of films that will see a regular distribution later on, normally Hollywood films or films directed by relatively big art house names.
I admit that I’m not a big fan of documentaries per se. In my experience, it’s seldom that a documentary manages to be original either in subject matter or in execution. And I’m so, so tired of Michael Moore. I have enjoyed some of the work of Errol Morris and the occasional other documentary, but films like Super Size Me just seems a dumbing down of subject matters best left for newspaper articles. Often documentaries struggle to escape their talking heads format and even more often they are extremely self important, seldom if never allowing competing realities in their narratives. This works in propaganda, but a good documentary would often be better with a bit of balance in its presentation. For some reason documentaries generally get better reviews than fiction films even though they can be just as trite in execution as well as in choice of topic.

I was initially disappointed upon glancing through this year’s program, but after some rumination, I have picked some 25 films that I plan to see. I don’t expect every one of these to be masterpieces, but it would be nice if at least 2 or 3 of them will cut the mustard.

Yesterday, day 1 of the festival, I started what will surely be a more or less exhausting cinematic week by catching Terry Gilliam’s latest personal project; The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. While overlong and probably plagued by the death of Heath Ledger towards the end of the filming, I liked this. It is certainly much better than the work for hire he did in the Brothers Grimm. Perhaps Gilliam could have needed some script revision from, say, a Tom Stoppard, who whipped Brazil into shape, as Gilliam left to his own devices can be a bit much whimsy. I hate to say it, but as much as unbridled imagination is what gives Gilliam’s films their particular qualities, a bit of streamlining on the plot-side of things would probably have helped the film. The risk is always that his films can lose some of their Gilliamness in this way, but perhaps that wouldn’t have to be an unqualified bad thing. There are scenes here, though, that make me excuse much of the meandering in the dialogue and the “real world”-segments, and the actors are all very fine. Just don’t expect a Twelve Monkeys kind of hit, as this is a more idiosyncratic feature.

The documentary Reporter, by Eric Daniel Metzgar follows the New York Times journalist/columnist Nicholas D. Kristof to Congo. It attempts three things: To be a kind of portrait of Kristof, to examine his methods of reporting atrocities/catastrophes and finally to question whether this kind of reporting has a future in the modern world of media with cut backs and less resources for this kind of journalistic enterprise. While it is impossible to remain unmoved by some of the things we witness in the film, I have to say that it misses all three of its aims. We learn little about the journalist; apart from a brief biographical sequence early on. The film seldom asks the eponymous reporter any illuminating questions and his reasons for which places to go, what cases to report, as well as his personal stance and reflections, never quite comes into focus. As for his methods, at one point the film maker says that he has begun to question Kristof’s insistence upon finding the worst cases in order for his readers to maximize their sympathy with the sufferers. That is the only critical question in the film, and it is not even put to the Kristof himself. Tellingly, the director never picks up this thread later on.Thirdly, the part of the future of journalism is kept to two sentences lasting about thirty seconds at the very end of the film, and are put there almost as an afterthought. Needless to say, in that time it would be impossible for anyone to say anything that would be news to most people. I’d suggest you see the last season of the Wire, flawed as that season is, for more insight into this matter.

In a way I found this film to represent many of the things I dislike about the documentary genre, particularly documentaries that try to say something about human rights, relief or third world problems: It is so easy to show us images of starving people and make us vicariously suffer. And certainly I found myself touched by the destinies we meet. However, I don’t know if this makes for a good film. Kristof has received much acclaim for being an insistent reporter; even though a crisis is out of vogue or has been reported upon many times before, he continues to press the matter home, reporting on many similar incidents that, by themselves, are perhaps not news in the hard news sense. In his quest to do so, he tries to find those special cases that can sum up the larger suffering of a people in the extreme suffering of single victims – of starvation, war or usually both. I would at least venture to suggest that this method is not without problems; perhaps even unethical both in a human and journalistic sense. Kristof claims that the end justifies the means: to activate “the people back home”, the readers of his articles. I won’t say that he’s wrong, but surely it would be worth looking into while making a documentary of this type! As it turns out, the film only serves as an extension of Kristof’s own methods and concerns, and as such it presents itself as something which it is not, which only makes the single line of objection in the film pathetic and dishonest.

After the horrors of Kongo, I found myself in need of some escapism, and what better way than a celebration of some of the most tasteless films ever made? OK, I exaggerate for effect. The documentary Not Quite Hollywood charts the so called Ozploitation wave of the 70s and 80s. The Australian film industry was almost non-existent until the late 60s, when more or less shady characters began to produce B- or C- films with cheap titillation as its main effect and goal. After a while Australia got a reputation as a serious film industry with films like Peter Weir’s wonderful Picnic at Hanging Rock and Bruce Beresford’s Breaker Morant. Concurrent with these artsy and serious period films, there thrived a sub-industry based on lowbrow humour, tits, gore, ridiculous action and over the top car scenes. This, as you have guessed, is what Not Quite Hollywood is about.
As a documentary, the film is no great shakes. Various talking heads talk in 10 second snippets, offering the odd anecdote, but never any real reflection. This is interspersed with a generous offering of short scenes from the films mentioned. Quentin Tarantino is there, of course, Mad Max-director George Miller, Wolf Creek’s Greg McLean and most of the players of the time, including Brian Trenchard-Smith, perhaps the biggest name of Ozploitation. In a way I felt as if this could be the extra features on a DVD disc; any DVD of the films “discussed”. While never pretending to be more than a presentation of the type of films of the Australian exploitation scene, the film is pleasant enough and entertaining – at least for those with even a marginal interest in the subject matter.

Carpe Diem

These lines are the movie `s short script. I`ve watched this movie before, and this movie was so impressive that I want to tell you about the story.
This well-known movie was made by Peter Weir in 1989. Originally it was a novel written by Tom Schulman. And Robin Williams was given the roll of John Keating who is the new teacher of Welton Academy.
Welton Academy, which is very strict school, had good reputation. But tearing a first page of textbook, Mr.Keating started his first English class. And he emphasized ‘Carpe Diem’ which means ’seize the day’. He encouraged students to against uniformity and tradition. Students were affected enough to make a circle named ‘Dead Poets Society’. In this circle they read poems and discussed about dream, future, anguish, and love.
Especially, there was a boy who wanted to be a actor, but his parents wanted him to be a doctor. On the night that he performed his first play, he committed suicide in agony of conflict.
Welton Academy examined cause of his death, and imputed a guilt to Mr.Keating because of his instruction. Unavoidably Mr.Keating was forced to leave Welton Academy.
In last class, standing up on the desk, and calling ‘oh captain, my captain!’, students paid their honor to Mr.Keating.
Actually, I wanted to be a ‘just’ teacher. But after watching , I decide to be a teacher like Mr.Keating. Because he taught ‘true guidance;’ to students. He loved his students. So he took a risk. If I were him I could not do that way.
And He gave me a great lesson ; seize the day. As a highschool student I have to endeavor to achieve my future dream. In order to achieve my future dream I should seize the day. I think seizing the day is not waisting time, but lead my life. As long as I can lead my life I will make it. So I remember this in my mind.

‘Carpe Diem, seize the day’

Picnic at Hanging Rock – 1975

my birthday movie

Sinopse:

O filme é uma crítica e também uma sátira da persuasiva manipulação da mídia. O vendedor de seguros Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) tem todos os momentos da sua vida capturados por câmeras escondidas. Tudo é televisionado para uma audiência gigantesca, sem que ele saiba. Seus amigos e sua família são atores que lhe sorriem agradavelmente. Tudo não passa de uma farsa, incluindo a cidade onde vive e seu casamento com Meryl (Laura Linney). Aos 30 anos, Truman desconfia que há algo estranho em seu mundo.

- Fazia tempo que não assistia esse filme. Bem legal!

- Assistido em 12/10/2009

The Fortune of War is the sixth book in the Aubrey-Maturin series:

Director Peter Weir used this joke in the film Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World:

Two weevils crept from the crumbs. ‘You see those weevils, Stephen?’ said Jack solemnly.

‘I do.’

‘Which would you choose?’

‘There is not a scrap of difference. Arcades ambo. They are the same species of curculio, and there is nothing to choose between them.’

‘But suppose you had to choose?’

‘Then I should choose the right-hand weevil; it has a perceptible advantage in both length and breadth.’

‘There I have you,’ cried Jack. ‘You are bit – you are completely dished. Don’t you know that in the Navy you must always choose the lesser of two weevils? Oh ha, ha, ha, ha!’

(p. 42, HarperCollinsPublishers, 2003)

Stephen discusses the illogical nature of human beings:

[Mr. Evans:]‘When you look about the world, and view monarchs in it – I do not refer to your own, of course – can you really maintain that the hereditary king cuts a very shining figure?’

[Stephen:] ‘I cannot. Nor is that the point: the person, unless he be extraordinarily good or extraordinarily bad, is of no importance. It is the living, moving, procreating, sometimes speaking symbol that counts.’

‘But surely mere birth without any necessary merit is illogical?’

‘Certainly, and that is its great merit. Man is a deeply illogical being, and must be ruled illogically. Whatever that frigid prig Bentham may say, there are innumerable motives that have nothing to do with utility. In good utilitarian logic a man does not sell all his goods to go crusading, nor does he build cathedrals; still less does he write verse. There are countless pieties without a name that find their focus in a crown. It is as well, I grant you, that the family should have worn it beyond the memory of man; for your recent creations do not answer – they are nothing in comparison of your priest-king, whose merit is irrelevant, whose place cannot be disputed, nor made the subject of a recurring vote.’

(p. 124, HarperCollinsPublishers, 2003)

Pique-nique à Hanging Rock

Bande annonce

De Peter Weir

Avec Rachel Roberts, Vivean Gray, Helen Morse, …

Synopsis :

En 1900 en Australie, un professeur et ses trois élèves disparaissent lors d’une excursion à Hanging Rock…

Notre avis :

Pique-nique à Hanging Rock, un film des années 70, se déroule dans une Australie déserte et aride. Une nuée de jeunes filles dans un pensionnat, le jour de la Saint Valentin. Elles lisent des mots d’amours, resserrent leurs corsets et brossent leurs cheveux blonds. Tout est blanc : les draps, les robes, les mains. Tout est pur.

Ces jeunes filles emmènent chapeaux et ombrelles pour passer l’après-midi à Hanging Rock. Durant cette première demie-heure où les filles se reposent au pied du rocher dans la moiteur de l’après-midi , on voit clairement la fascination du réalisateur pour ses actrices, et notamment pour Anne Louise Lambert. Les plans serrés sur le visage d’une jeune blonde évanescente et légèrement floue nous rappellent étrangement cette image si connue de Kirsten Dunst dans Virgin Suicides. En effet, Sofia Coppola n’a pas hésité à avouer que Pique-nique à Hanging Rock, son film préféré, l’avait beaucoup influencée pour sa seconde réalisation. Les thématiques se ressemblent, les images aussi.

Puis le fantastique entre en jeu dans Hanging Rock. Quatre jeunes filles partent explorer le rocher, comme attirées par une force surnaturelle. On sent bien l’attirance qu’éprouve Peter Weir, comme les jeunes filles de son film, pour cet “Hanging Rock”, qu’il filme sous tous les angles comme pour nous montrer son magnétisme, sa présence. La végétation aride, sèche, jaune, qui peuple le rocher s’accorde avec la lumière dorée et les reflets dans les cheveux des jeunes filles. Dans leurs robes blanches, on voit apparaître et disparaître des silhouettes derrière les pics rocheux. Tout cela se veut poétique, gracieux. Cela finit par agacer. La scène est longue, la musique à la flûte de pan plombante. Cette délicatesse tant voulue devient presque prétentieuse, prétention qui atteint son apogée avec le long cri d’horreur que pousse l’horripilante Edith en dévalant la colline. Est-ce que ce sentiment était voulu ? Cette scène si longue a-t-elle pour but de nous montrer la force surnaturelle, la pureté tâchée de ce roc ?

Heureusement, le ridicule s’arrête là, et le film reprend son cours… Ellipse. Au retour du pique-nique, la nuit est tombée, les étudiantes rentrent échevelées, en larmes, dans le pensionnat. Trois des jeunes filles ont disparu, comme happées par le rocher. Une des professeurs qui les accompagnait est également introuvable.
A partir de cet instant, le film dévoile ses vrais atouts. L’enquête est intéressante. Deux mondes s’ouvrent : celui des jeunes filles à l’étroit dans leur pensionnat, et celui d’un jeune noble obnibulé par leur disparition. Deux personnages, les plus vrais, lient ces deux mondes : l’orpheline désespérée et le domestique désabusé.

Certes, il y a des longueurs, des scènes tragiques qui tombent à plat (les cris hystériques des jeunes filles sonnent faux dans la plupart des scènes)… Le film peut bien être inégal : il ne cherche qu’à être mystérieux. Et c’est ce qu’il restera à jamais pour nous. Un mystère.

Dame Patience

Aprender a liderar no es fácil, como tampoco es fácil enseñarlo desde un punto de vista teórico. Explicar qué es liderazgo, dirección, en un vistazo es prácticamente imposible. No se aprende ni se asume con escuchar su definición. Se ponen en las mesa muchas cartas que hay que jugar bien: el poder, el respecto, el deber, la confianza, el honor, el derecho de los demás, la estrategia, la creatividad, la comunicación… entre muchas otras.

Este film dirigido por Peter Weir y protagonizada por Russell Crowe da una visión de lo que es un líder, de lo que es un barco viejo “bien gobernado”… Situada en un momento concreto de la historia, traigámosla a la realidad de hoy dos siglos después porque su magia no desaparece…

Master and Commander

Decir algo más sobre esta película sería nublar su significado…

The Truman Show.

Director: Peter Weir.

Guión: Andrew Niccol.

Intérpretes: Jim Carrey, Ed Harris, Laura Linney, Natasha McElhone, Noah Emmerich, Paul Giamatti.

Música: Bukhard Von Dallwitz

Fotografía: Peter Biziou.

EEUU. 1998. 105 minutos.

El Gran Hermano

Cuando a finales del siglo pasado se estrenaba la película que nos ocupa, aún no estaba tan en boga el epíteto “mediático”: lo mediático existía, pero su denominación no era tan irrefutablemente conocida y utilizada por cualquiera como sucede actualmente. Cuando The Truman Show se estrenó, aún no habían saltado a la palestra de las grandes audiencias y contratos millonarios los programas del tipo Gran Hermano y sucedáneos, todos ellos variantes del “Truman Show” que se emite en la película homónima: variantes porque en ambos casos se trata de dar carta de naturaleza narrativa al retrato de vidas reales que además nada tienen de trascendentes; en el caso hiperbólico planteado por la película, particularmente innoble, porque se trata de una cámara oculta, porque Truman Burbank no sabía que su vida era emitida en directo, y los participantes de esos concursos que emiten por la tele sí saben que su mera presencia y el morbo que puedan despertar en el espectador sus miserias les propiciarán suculentos beneficios de todo tipo. Estamos, pues, y sin duda, ante una película visionaria, de la que por ahora podemos decir que con el tiempo no hace más que ganar trascendencia.

De valores

El primero de sus artífices, el guionista Andrew Niccol, con posterioridad a esa carta de presentación logró labrarse una carrera como cineasta en la que destacan filmes como Gattaca y S1mOne, lo que da fe y coherencia a su labor en la preparación del primer libreto de The Truman Show: en todos los casos, Niccol se sirvió de los estilemas de una reformulada ciencia-ficción para reflejar la superficialidad y la falta de valores en la que vive inmersa la sociedad occidental. A pesar de que su guión, que se desarollaba en pleno Manhattan, fue bastante modificado –Weir arguyó que la principal diferencia en su punto de vista respecto del guión fue su interés por dejar de lado la narración de corte ficcional, para adentrarse en el terreno del drama-, Niccol merece el mayor de los respetos por haber pergeñado semejante premisa argumental (cuyo sentido no dista mucho del de las restantes obras del realizador, que a mí me suelen resultar interesantes).

Puntos de vista

El segundo de los artífices, y el más decisivo, es el conocido realizador de Gallipoli y Master & Commander, Peter Weir, director meticuloso y brillante donde los haya, capaz de llevar propuestas de muy diverso pelaje a extremos de perfeccionismo poco usuales en el modo de hacer películas de estos tiempos que corren. Weir tenía ante sí una papeleta apasionante a la par que complicada. El sustrato argumental –en lo que la caracteriza como narración de una narración- podía dar lugar a múltiples posibilidades de planteamiento visual y escenificación, a interminables manierismos que podían atiborrar la pantalla con el riesgo de someter bajo su formal yugo la trascendencia de la historia de los personajes. Weir, sabiamente, optó por la sobriedad expositiva y la extracción del jugo dramático en la intensidad de las interpretaciones (magníficas todas ellas: Carrey, Emmerich, Linney y Harris). Así desplegó la historia desde diversos puntos de vista, uno concerniente a la subjetividad del propio Truman y la creciente sensación de paranoia y claustrofobia (que culmina en ese inolvidable plano en el que el velero navega libre en la inmensidad del mar y choca literalmente contra el horizonte), contrarrestado por el punto de vista objetivo del narrador que se sitúa por encima de los acontecimientos para enjuiciarlos (tanto en las escenas que retratan, no sin cierto y elegante cinismo, a los espectadores del show, como aquellos constantes planos generales y picados que van desentrañando el artificio de la comunidad-plató, y que se tornan grotescos cuando la falsa realidad se hace extensible a los fenómenos meteorológicos).

Sentimientos

Esa dualidad expositiva –y su pertinente hechura visual mediante técnicas y estrategias narrativas de lo más imaginativas- consiguen aplacar el sufrimiento del protagonista con el desapasionamiento de la visión “externa”, para así desnudar el discurso a su esencia: el periplo personal, la historia de liberación en que The Truman Show se erige pretende ante todo llamar la atención sobre los efectos perniciosos del morbo promovido por los mass-media: la negación de sentimientos reales a un pobre individuo como el precio para patrocinar ficticios sentimientos en los espectadores (que se emocionan con la misma facilidad con la que, en el último plano de la película, comentan tan tranquilamente: “anda, mira qué dan en este otro canal”).

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120382/

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

http://www.unomaha.edu/jrf/truman.htm

http://www.anthropoetics.ucla.edu/ap1002/truman.htm

http://www.slantmagazine.com/film/film_review.asp?ID=1762

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19980605/REVIEWS/806050302/1023

http://gregoryfeeley.blogspot.com/2008/11/truman-show-another-retelling-of-hamlet.html

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

Gallipoli.

Director: Peter Weir.

Guión: David Williamson, basado en una historia de Peter Weir.

Intérpretes: Mark Lee, Mel Gibson, Bill Kerr, Harold Hopkins, Tim McKenzie, Robert Grubb.

Fotografía: Russell Boyd.

Australia. 1981. 105 minutos.

Australianos

El de Gallípoli es uno de los más (tristemente) célebres episodios de la intervención militar de los ANZAC (agrupación de australianos y neozelandeses) en la Primera Guerra Mundial, aunque su huella histórica efectúa especial hincapié en el hecho “nacional” más que en razones estrictamente bélicas. En cualquier caso, uno de los más grandes realizadores australianos de la historia del Cine, Peter Weir, decidió en 1976 (gestación que se alargó hasta su estreno en 1981) llevar a la gran pantalla una historia de amistad en tiempos de guerra en el marco de aquella sanguinaria batalla. Gallípoli fue uno de los más exportados exponentes del boom de la cinematografía australiana de finales de los años 70 (cuyos dos nombres-insignia son precisamente el propio Weir y uno de los coprotagonistas del filme, Mel Gibson, quien por aquellos tiempos terminaba de rodar la exitosa Mad Max).

Jóvenes en la guerra

Las razones del éxito del filme son más que justificadas. La pericia y el empeño del equipo comandado por el realizador Peter Weir (quien en el futuro nos depararía obras tan variadas y a la par tan mayúsculas como Dead Poets Society, The Truman Show o Master & Commander) saca adelante una obra que se va desplegando desde un pequeño caparazón narrativo del que acaba extrapolándose un discurso universal: un bello y fulgurante alegato antibélico. La película toma partido por una minuciosa descripción de la época que retrata, y lo hace a partir de la escenografía –donde destaca la inspirada tarea lumínica de Russell Boyd, secundado por el entonces operador de cámara John Seale-, pero principalmente sobre la representación de cada personaje. El espectador avispado (o informado) sabe a los cinco minutos que la película habla permanentemente de la guerra y sus efectos sobre una generación de muchachos, pero ese leit-motiv temático sólo planea constante el metraje (en el planteamiento y nudo de la función, hasta eclosionar en los minutos finales), En la película “la guerra” es un concepto lejano, percibido por sus protagonistas como una oportunidad, como un deporte, como una aventura. Casi como una broma personificada en la perenne sonrisa y optimismo de Archy (Mark Lee), que dejará de serlo para tansitar hacia la injusticia y el horror en la sanguinaria ratonera de las trincheras, en esa secuencia final de una portentosa fuerza que, por lo demás, Weir puntúa sabiamente con el sobrecogedor Adagio de Albinoni. En la secuencia de las trincheras, el espectador asiste al nonsense de la estrategia militar basada en el despilfarro de vidas humanas, pero sobretodo al precio que, en el campo de batalla, se pagó (y, en otros parámetros, me temo que se sigue pagando) por causa de las inevitables confusiones y empecinamientos de los burócratas.

Tan rápido como un leopardo

El anzuelo de la narración se basa en la caracterización de los dos protagonistas como extraordinarios atletas, cuya capacidad para correr “tan rápido como un leopardo” (según el célebre mantra que Archy recita, en tan opuestas condiciones, al principio y final del filme) es el hilo que enhebra su amistad, la razón por la que logran unirse en la misma compañía y, al final, la virtud humana que no les impedirá perecer bajo un fuego demasiado fácil (haciendo inútiles los superlativos esfuerzos de uno y otro en ese sentido en los últimos minutos del filme, con lo que Weir subraya poderosamente el inesquivable poder devastador de la guerra por encima de cualquier aptitud humana, o dicho de otra forma, la imposibilidad del heroísmo).

Sugestión

La fuerza de sugestión de Gallípoli es enorme, y radica, como siempre sucede en los filmes de Weir, en la feliz yuxtaposición entre las intenciones narrativas y la majestuosa puesta en escena. En este caso, la impronta visual de no pocas de sus imágenes es sencillamente portentosa, sin importar el pelaje de la secuencia: da igual si es una travesía del desierto, si se trata de la despedida de los soldados en un muelle, si se limita a un apretón de manos bajo la luz crepuscular en la cima de la pirámide de Keops, o si la cámara se vuelve submarina para mostrarnos un baño de los soldados, instante en el que lo idílicio pasamos a lo macabro, la metralla que hiere a uno de los reclutas.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082432/

http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/

http://www.peterweircave.com/articles/articlej.html

http://wwwmcc.murdoch.edu.au/ReadingRoom/film/dbase/2002/gallipoli2.htm

http://au.rottentomatoes.com/m/1008074-gallipoli/

http://www.peterweircave.com/gallipoli/hart.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gallipoli_(1981_film)

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

The whole world watches Truman Burbank sleep in "The Truman Show".

(Peter Weir, 1998)

September 17, 2009

by Joel Crary

For better or for worse, but I imagine mostly for worse, “The Truman Show” is probably regarded today as one of the most prophetic films released in the 1990’s. It didn’t introduce the concept of reality TV, but it pointed in the direction it could take if certain ethical concerns were left in the dust of network profit and ratings. Over the last 10 years prime time television has turned into a wasteland of everyday people doing increasingly ridiculous things for money. No one seems to have the slightest comprehension of what it can mean to have their very identity become a synonym for embarrassment.

A few weeks ago I wrote a column elsewhere about the American Dream, which George Carlin skewered so eloquently: “It’s called the American Dream because you have to be asleep to believe it.” These days every pop culture junkie believes they have a shot at fast and easy fame. Reality television exhibits a twisted perversion of the American Dream in which we do not realize our full potential but instead become widely associated with our deepest faults and insecurities. The camera loves a look of shame and regret on our masochistic faces. The viewers at home take a moral ground higher than any they’ve ever known, for at least they aren’t making fools of themselves nationwide.

The difference between Truman Burbank (Jim Carrey) and the rest of reality television’s stars is his unwitting involvement in the production, which has been going on since before his birth and which he has gone about 30 years without recognizing. There have been small hints along the way, but if the world you’d known since birth more or less reliably behaved in a certain way, you wouldn’t notice the hints much either. What makes Truman begin to notice is the seemingly impossible reappearance of his father (Brian Delate), who capsized at sea when Truman was a boy. Bitter at the loss of his on-air role, his father – or rather, the actor playing his father – sneaks back onto the set while the production team scrambles to cover it up.

Unbeknownst to Truman, he is the world’s first son adopted by a corporation. The closest thing he really has to a father is the show’s creator, a Howard Hughes-esque artist known as Christof (Ed Harris), who directs the 24-hour-a-day show unseen from a control room located in the moon, which is fake. The sun is fake. The clouds are fake. Ditto the weather patterns, the streets, the entire city of Seahaven where Truman resides. Only Truman is real, according to Christof. In its 30th year, viewers around the world tune in to the show obsessively, leaving it on at night for comfort, secure in the proof that another person somewhere out there is living.

Director Peter Weir and screenwriter Andrew Niccol wisely refrain from taking a grander what-if route for the film’s first hour, whetting our appetites for select explanations from Christof in an exclusive interview. Harris’ performance is fundamental to the film’s success. Clad in a wealthy artisan’s garb, he gives direction as though he is conducting a symphony. Even God wasn’t so histrionic when He created the universe. When Truman comes to learn the truth of his circumstances, he battles the world he knows with all he has.

The film cleverly offers reasons for Truman to have stayed put all these years without overselling it. With an apple-cheeked wife (Laura Linney), a steady job, a sensible car and a best friend (Noah Emmerich) who always jumps on the perfect moment to grab a beer, Truman is one step away from living the American Dream before a light goes on inside of him. There’s great inspiration in watching a human being fight for a normal life; no matter how normal it may feel, it simply can’t exist on camera. Even the blasé tranquility of Seahaven, which has the feel of a small American suburban community circa the late 1950’s, can’t provide the tonic for Truman’s explorer spirit.

“The Truman Show” was Carrey’s first popular foray into more dramatic work after a string of films that revolved around his skill as a physical and rubber-faced comedian. He portrays Truman as a man who has indeed been coddled by his false society’s conventions. His manufactured tragedies are offset by manufactured pleasant surprises. Carrey dials down almost every reaction to suit a character who simply wants something different from what we’re all told we want. The producers can control how Truman is seen and perceived, with music that swells and angles that flatter, but they cannot control his heart and mind.

Ideally, that’s the precise reason why “The Truman Show” won’t become a fulfilled prophecy. People these days might act heartless (and more often mindless) for a television camera, but given the choice, no one likes to be kept in a bubble. It’s Truman’s reaction to the assault on his free will that ends his television coverage. “If he was absolutely determined to discover the truth,” Christof offers, “there’s no way we could prevent him.” These are words spoken ironically. Accurate as they are, no reality television producer would let the truth prevent the show we pay to see from airing.

Bad Guys Win takes your recommendation and decides whether it is Torture or a Treat.

A recommendation from Mary, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World comes with the baggage of being a period piece starring Russell Crowe. Crowe loves period pieces, he’s easily made more than 5 thus far in his career, rough estimate, and tends to be a good fit, as do most British and Australian actors. Let’s face it, anyone not from the Fifty Nifty can generally pull off a period piece. But I do not like Gladiator very much and don’t really want to revisit A Beautiful Mind, which also featured Paul Bettany. So, deck stacked.

Lo and behold, the deciding factor appears to have been director Peter Weir. My film professor at Lake State once referred to Weir as one of finest directors alive. I scoffed at this statement, based solely on the fact that Dead Poets Society is garbage. Based on Master and Commander, I might be willing to reconsider the man. (But just the man. Life is too short to sit through DPS again.)

Master and Commander takes place almost entirely aboard the HMS Surprise, captained by Crowe’s “Lucky Jack” Aubrey. After a surprise attack by a French vessel at the beginning of the film, Captain Jack and his crew engage in pursuit, despite the fact that they are both outnumbered and outgunned. This is a thrilling setup for a film and I’m happy to say that Master and Commander delivers. It also succeeds in making those Pirates of the Caribbean movies look even worse than they already do. Russell Crowe is perfect casting as Captain Jack, projecting a strong man’s man vibe while not coming off as cold and impersonal. He’s such a good captain because his crew respects him, and it’s pretty enjoyable to watch this crew of men, bonded by their close quarters, work together to solve their dilemmas. Paul Bettany is the ship’s surgeon and Captain Jack’s best friend, engaging in spirited cello and violin duets in between discussions and debates on matters of the crew and their mission.

Master and Commander is a gorgeous film. According to the IMDB, much of it was filmed on actual ships, which makes the entire enterprise feel that much more real and involving. The special effects are seamless on account that I didn’t notice any. How often does that happen? More importantly, I just got plain old sucked into this film. I’m a sucker for a story about team, all with specific skills, facing insurmountable odds that will test their will and abilities. Yup, I’m in.

Period films often seem boring and dull because of how people talk in them. The dialogue can sound very dry as if the past was a very stale time and things only got interesting once spaceships were invented. Master and Commander overcomes this issue by containing characters with passion and interest, as it should. If you’ve been put on a ship and cast out to sea to do battle, where if you die your body will be cast into the ocean, you better be a little bit interesting. Every face in Master and Commander tells a story, from the old man who survives brain surgery at sea to only spark paranoia, to the young boy who loses an arm in a cannon attack but never loses his excitement for being a part of this ships crew. There are all kinds of characters in Master and Commander, but not one whiny asshole. Who knows, their might have been a guy like that but they threw him overboard before the movie started. When the camera panned over a row of dead sailors near the end of the film, I actually felt sad, sighing as each cold, motionless face was passed by the camera. You touched me, movie.

The battle scenes are clear and vicious. This film does not fuck around when it comes to cannon battles, not to mention the damage resulting from a cannon battle. So vicious is the attack at the beginning of the film I seriously doubted whether any of the characters were going to make it. I can’t rag on a film that owns its violence like that. Fist bump, Peter Weir.

For the first edition of Torture or Treat, I’ve found myself with one hell of a treat. Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World does more than its fair share of work redeeming the period piece along with delivering a great Russell Crowe performance. Maybe I do want to see Crowe in more period pieces. What’s his next movie? Robin Hood? With the director of Gladiator? Ugh, maybe not.

(Do you have a recommendation for Torture or Treat? Leave it in the comments below.)

Lataa Ohjelma (MP3)

TosiTV-profetioita käsittelemme tämänkertaisessa KinoSilmässä kahden saman teeman ympärille rakennetun elokuvan parissa. Elokuvat kun povaavat 24h-tositeeveetä jo kauan ennenkuin se oli todellisuutta. Käsittelyssä siis The Truman Show vuodelta 1998 ja EDtv, vuodelta 1999.

Linkit:
The Truman Show (Wikipedia)
The Truman Show (IMDb)
EDtv (Wikipedia)
EDtv (IMDb)

If you tell a taxi to take you to the Beirut neighborhood of Gemmazeh, they’ll drop you at the start of the Rue Gouraud – the main bar, restaurant and club packed street running through this noisy neighborhood, which somehow manages to be grungy and upscale chic at the same time. I love it! You can spend entire nights hopping from cafe to bar, from bar to club, and never get bored or run out of new places to try.

General Gouraud

But anyway, I’ve been curious for awhile now about the street’s namesake ‘Gouraud.’ I wikipedia-ed that shit and here’s what I found: Henri Joseph Eugene Gouraud was born in France in 1867.  For one of the plethora of reasons that inspire young men to take up arms for their country, he joined the French army and began to bump his way up the ranks.  He actually lost his right arm while he was commanding French forces during the Battle of Gallipoli in 1915. Like Cervantes in the Battle of Le Panto! Although, that was his left arm. Ha! History NERD in the house.

You know the Battle of Gallipoli – World War I, fought on the Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey. British and French trying to capture Istanbul from the Ottomans and failing miserably. Tons of people died on both sides – honestly doesn’t sound like it was worth it. Oh,  and they made a movie about it in 1981 – which in today’s pop culture world is probably more well known than the battle itself. The film was directed by Peter Weir and stars a very young Mel Gibson and Mark Lee as two hopeful, promising young Australians who join ANZAC (The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps – a branch of the British Army during WWI) and then get butchered in Gallipoli. It’s a great film but obviously very depressing.

ANYWAY, I digress.  So the reason why they care about this General in Lebanon is that from 1919-1923 he was a commander of the French army of the Levant (Levant = the eastern Mediterranean countries in general – specifically, Lebanon, Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Israel and sometimes Iraq and Saudi Arabia) and played an important role in the creation of the French Mandates of Syria and Lebanon.  From what I’ve read, the locals in the region had mixed opinions of Gouraud and the French presence, but apparently he had enough of an impact to merit a street being named after him!

I actually found an article in the archives of the the NY Times, written in 1922, entitled ‘Gouraud Doubts Turks Want Syria: French Policy, the General Says, Is Merely to Carry Out Mandate Helpfully.’ I love the internet

Some background info: So in 1916, you get the Sykes-Picot Agreement (s0 called because it was negotiated by François Georges-Picot of France and Mark Sykes of Britain) between France and the UK that defined who would get control of the different territories in the Middle East after the Ottoman Empire fell.  But this agreement was secret and didn’t become official (although it was enforced all the while) until after the end of WWI, in the 1920s by the League of Nations. So in 1920, in the Treaty of Sevres (peace treaty between the Ottomans and the Allied forces), France was official granted control of Syria. The Syrians were pissed, understandably and actually from 1919 (French presence already in Syria but yet to be officially granted power by the League of Nations) until 1921 you get the Franco-Syrian War, with the Syrians trying to oust the French. The Syrians lost and the French remained in control. Quelle surprise.

So when this NY Times article was written in 1922, the French presence in Syria (Lebanon had yet to be created as it’s own country and was just a state in Syria – in fact the article is written from Beirut, Syria not Beirut, Lebanon) was established but Gouraud and his troops were still facing small attacks from different groups in Syria who hadn’t given up on their goal of evicting the French.  Syrian grievances against the French included French suppression of Syrian newspapers, political activity, and civil rights and the division of Greater Syria into six different states (Gouraud actually headed this division of Syria, one of the states being that of Greater Lebanon, which eventually became the country).

In the article, the author interviewed Gouraud who was trying to set the record straight about the French influence in Syria, explaining that the French were trying to restore stability in the region, reduce their presence in Syria and were generally liked in the region despite the recent attacks – “He was sure the Syrian people were beginning to realize the generous motives behind the French mandate and the elevating influence of French efforts in Syria, and he was happy to be able to say that the French were now meeting with ready and cordial cooperation.”  He also explained that he felt the Ottoman’s would not try to retake Syria and insisted that the French were “…on excellent terms with the Turkish authorities.” So interesting. Wish I had a Syrian article written at the same time on their perspective, but given that the French were suppressing Syrian papers, that might be more difficult to come by.

Gouraud returned to Paris the year after this article was published, in 1923, where he worked as Military Governor until his retirement in 1937, and eventually died in 1946.

Well, anyway, there you go. A brief sum up of the man behind the street name in the party district of Beirut.

The boys reconvene for a discussion of the sex and drugs marathon that is Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. They go on for a rant on the re-casting of Futurama voices, dive into the world of Roald Dahl and Wes Anderson and then have a think about movie lengths and what difference these make. They follow this with a talk about the third season of Dexter, the Blade Series and Russell Crowe in Master and Commander, before concluding with a talk about the very best book adaptations the movie world has to offer.

Download The Movie Overdose Episode 27

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