The Lowell Film Collaborative headquarters recently upgraded our home theater system (unfortunately, we will still be schlepping the same old portable system for our local screenings – call us selfish!), and the results have been simultaneously euphoric, awe-inspiring, and time-consuming, destined to inhibit productivity around the house for months. At the crux of this “dilemma” is a Samsung Blu-Ray player with the inherent ability to stream Instant Play selections from our Netflix account directly through our television – oftentimes in HD!!!

It’s like a dream come true, and we have already made the most of it. Our latest discovery is Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession, a 2004 documentary tracing the roots of the infamous cable station that dominated the households of film buffs in Los Angeles from 1974 to 1989.  Before movie-centric cable stations like HBO and Cinemax, Z Channel brought the miracle of uncut, commercial-free cinema to the homes of a select group of lucky LA subscribers.

At the center of it all was Jerry Harvey, a manic depressive film addict who seemed incapable of having any discussions outside of those involving film. When I say the man eat, drank, and slept film, it’s an understatement. Thanks to Harvey, Z Channel delivered more than just the blockbusters of the day. He was willing to show anything from art house films to foreign films to experimental films, and the “voice of the customer” was simply not a factor in his equation. In Harvey’s mind, catering to the least common denominator didn’t make sense. By catering to the opposite – the elite film snob – everyone else was sure to eventually catch up. And they did. When HBO and Showtime moved in to take over market share in L.A., they found a firm wall of fierce Z Channel faithfuls that were unwilling to give up their subscription to the station.

Z Channel the film is fun to watch if for no other reason than to discover forgotten films of the channel’s era. If you love film, rent this documentary. It will help you rediscover why you love the art form so much.

One day soon, I’ll be in reading bliss with Mitchell Zuckoff’s Robert Altman: The Oral Biography. Altman, like Coppola, is one of those filmmakers whose stories from behind the scenes are just as interesting as his movies.

In writing novels, I draw on Altman’s movies all the time. I’m not as inspired by the content of the movies as the process and philosophy behind them. Here are three examples:

1. Altman was asked what movies influenced him. His response was, and I am quoting loosely, that he was inspired by hundreds of movies that he hated so much that he never wanted to make anything like them. Yep. When I was a kid, I was driven to write mostly to prove to ex-girlfriends that they missed the boat. Now that those ex-girlfriends are long gone, I’m driven by revenge against the awful books I’ve read.

2. Undermining audience expectations. Altman would set a western in the snow and make the hero a coward. He would create a sense of anticipation in the viewer, and then deliver something different. All genres and atmospheres in fiction (and movies) have been done to death. Want to create something that smacks of originality? Take something that seems familiar and conventional and smash it to pieces.

3. Improvised dialogue. According to legend, Altman wouldn’t let his actors see the script or rehearse. When he filmed a take, he wanted spontaneity. He didn’t want the actors to sound like voices inside the writer’s head. Sometimes, it worked; other times, not so much.

While a film can be improvised, a novel is a scripted “fixed” document. However (and I am saying this as the writer of two voice-saturated novels), a novelist can create dialogue that has a spontaneous feel, write characters who have no idea what they are going to say next, and don’t all speak in the writer’s voice. Novelists choose the principles that guide their work and know what good writing is when they see it. Altman-style dialogue on the page might look unruly; the trick is having the self-confidence to know it’s good writing, and then letting the book’s self-confidence speak for itself.

Soundtracks, we all have our favorites and some of us refuse to acknowledge their existence all together. I, on the other hand, have a good relationship with soundtracks, depending on the movie/television show/web series it comes from. These are pretty good choices that I just happen to own, interested? Read on.

#A – Girl Interrupted.My first glimpse into WILCO, a lovely little band that may see a bit on the pretentious side but really have some amazing songs. One of those bands that make you love every song, sound, word, vibe. They start off this semi-depressing group of misfit songs that work well with the movie of the same description. Title works fantastic with the motif of this album, “How to Fight Loneliness”, this first glimpse was not the end of my relationship with Wilco, they are still alive in my soul to this day. This album also has one of the greatest bands and one of my favorite songs from them, Jefferson Airplane with “Comin’ Back to Me”, such a beautiful song, really beautiful is the one perfect word to explain this song, and most of their music as a whole. Other artists include, Aretha Franklin, The Band, The Mamas & The Papas. Take a listen why don’t you?

#B – The Craft.

Witches who just so happen to be a bunch of bitches, makes for a great soundtrack, well its more of a sentimental one for me with a couple good songs that make me reminiscent of the first viewing of the movie. Great pop song with Letters to Cleo’s “Dangerous Type” and some heavy grungy hate music with Sponge’s “All This and Nothing” and a surprisingly good song by Our Lady Peace with “Tomorrow Never Knows”, (you can tell I’m obviously not their #1 fan). A not so good cover of a Harry Nilsson song, Tripping Daisy’s “Jump into the Fire”, I’d rather” they have put the original but they never asked my opinion on the subject. Some other good jams, like Spacehog’s ”Horror” & Love Spit Love’s “How Soon Is Now”, but the gem is Matthew Sweet’s “Dark Secrets” which made me want to own it to begin with, it pleases the ear gods for sure.

#C – Jawbreaker

Yes, pranks that turn deadly mixed with pretty girls who look nothing like the regular high school student, proves great for a rockin’ soundtrack. (Plus, Julie Benz, a young vampire on BTVS, classic). Songs to get you pumped and sent back into the 90’s like a whirlwind. I’ll start of with the favorites, The Friggs ”Bad Word for a Good Thing”, those Frigg girls can belt and rock, plus rock while never becoming famous, some hardcore girl power going on with that song. The icing on the cake? Imperial Teen’s “Yoo Hoo”, again the reason I even wanted the album in the first place, an amazing jam with the most intoxicating sound, voice is prime on this one. Ending it out with one of the most depressing songs I’ve ever heard in my life, The Transisters “Flow”, its beautiful and sad and painful, if I ever needed to be heartbroken with a theme song, this is it. Having a bad breakup? Lost a person close to you? Listen UP.

#D – The Wedding Singer

Get ready for some 80’s! This soundtrack has the “good shit” from the 1980’s, and its a double disc-er! Unfortunately I only have one half the album but that’s alright by me.  The half I have has bands like, Billy Idol, David Bowie, New Order, Musical Youth, Elvis Costello, The Thompson Twins, The Police, Culture Club, The Psychedelic Furs, and so on. If your in an 80’s mood, then stick the sucker in and enjoy your weird flashback that ensues.

yeah, tricked you. I know its not a song, but Buscemi rocks.

#E – Garden State.

We’ve got some good ones on here folks. Of course their is the “what lead me to own it” song, which we’ll begin with. Frou Frou’s ”Let Go”, a very graceful sound and is a basic recap of the movie itself. Jump in, what are you waiting for? Date Natalie Portman, Zach Braff, just DO IT! But any who, next up is another great jam, that I didn’t come in contact until long after I had the Cd, but when a friend of mine did it in a talent show, another song full of beauty, Bonnie Somerville’s “Winding Road”, pretty voice meets pretty sound, good good. The entire beginning of this Cd gets me in a crazy odd mood, I used to listen to it on my Ipod walking through the halls of high school, very surreal. First, Cold Play’s “Don’t Panic”, and No, I am not a cold play fan or freak, its the only song I dig, so get over it. Following it, is The Shins with “Caring is Creepy”, great sound, goes right through to the bone. And after that? Zero 7’s “In the Waiting Line”, one of the other songs I am in love with on this soundtrack, a main reason you might as well just go out and get it right now.

#F – Once More With Feeling – BTVS

A musical episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer belongs on this list, if not dominating it. Joss Whedon, the entity himself, wrote the songs, music, all of it. Which would be good reason for me to love it so, and I do. Its addictive to the highest extent. These actors, just people, who yes, famous, but normal; not singers, (well not all of them, James Marsters, Amber Benson, & Tony Head), just people, made beautiful music together. I probably listen to it at lease a couple times a week. I don’t think I would have the power to actually say out loud, or type, my favorite song from this album. I’ll just go through most of them for you to decide.

So, we start with Buffy complaining shes lost her mojo for her job, we can all sing a long as the demons agree with her and she diss’s the gentleman in distress.

Then you’ve got a group jam with the gang, which turns ugly with Anya, the demon, yelling about bunnies, and ending with a who-even-gives-a-crap attitude brought along by sad-sap Buffy.

A song about Mustard being removed from clothing.

A lesbian love song between the 2 most believable, non-skanked-out-for-the-sake-of-MALES-everywhere lesbians on television ever, and probably will always be. You just gotta love Willow & Tara, for ever, and ever, and so on.

Then we have the couple, demon and construction worker, Anya & Xander, talking about the things they can’t stand about each other that they could never say out loud, without song of course, which leads towards the end with Anya “dancing crazy!”. You have to love a song  that has a line about penis diseases, classy.

One of great writers of the show finds herself singing about a ticket she’s getting for parking in front of a hydrant, which has become one of my favorites to sing in the car.

Then the addictive song of Spike, the whiny love ridden fool song, he even admits he’d be Buffy’s slave, talk about being whipped. Just let him rest in peace, Buffy. Just let him be buried and go get Angel to sooth the pain. Sorry…

Next, a snippet of dawn’s voice before she gets kidnapped, pretty voice while its lasts.

Pretty Ballet instrumental leads to the dancing demon, Sweet, singing out with his great deep man singing voice trying to hit on 15 year old Dawn, Hawt.

A big hit in my car sing-a-long, the Giles song, sad but upbeat and lovely, he doesn’t want to leave Buffy, but needs to, sweet slow-mo scene with some kick-ass dodging of sharp things while pulling off some gymnastic moves, go SMG.

Here we have 2 songs emerge which is a high on the list for me, putting together the two amazing voices of Tony Head and Amber Benson, wonderful actors and brilliant singers. Such a beautiful addition to the already amazing track listing.

Up next, everyone joins in while wanting to walk through the fire, another great song, with some awesome lines, “things are turning out so dark”, “No, I’ll save her then I’ll kill her!” &  “I think this line mostly filer”. The best part is when the scooby gang chimes in and does their little part, is the slayer too far gone to care?

Then us listeners get something to sing about, a glittering world, and a dancing almost-to-her-death Buffy ending with dropping the heaven bombshell.

And to help finish it off, sweet rubs it in all our faces that things didn’t quite go our way with the whole dancing thing, that lead to the death thing, and the “aw we all have so many secrets!” thing.

Ending with the cast leaving confused, not knowing where to go from there. And a big sloppy wet one from Buffy & Spike, which I wish i could scrub from my brain.

If you’ve never see the episode, watch it. If you’ve never heard the soundtrack, listen to it. You’ll have to track it down like I did, since the boyfriend and I bought the only 2 copies in our area. Plus, if your REALLY lucky, like me, you’ll get to take a trip to Indianapolis and watch actors act out the episode, sing the songs, and dance the dances, an amazing experience, especially on the night before Halloween.

#G – Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog

How shocking, right? Another Joss choice, you get my love yet? Do you? Do You? Well you’ll figure it out eventually. Now, this sound track is Uh-Maze-Ing, seriously. NPH (For the less hip folks, Neil Patrick Harris) really shows us the talent that Doogie never really did, he sings, and he sings well. Fantastically well to be exact. He’s a villain looking for his big villainy break, to belong to the big-bad’s club, that’s of course ran by a horse, derr. Then we have the love interest, with a killer voice, no other than the beautiful Felicia Day, (who if you don’t watch the guild, START, I’ll explain more later), the helpless-helping-homeless-home-giving goddess that the villain is head-over-heels in love with. But in walks the bad guy, wait no, the GOOD guy. He just happens to be a prick, with a picture of a hammer on his chest. But he is played by no other than the mystical, magical, stud-man-guy Nathan Fillion. The guy crushes of the world surround this guy, which makes it easy for your Felicia, “Penny”, to fall for instead. (sad). So with this comes amazingly catchy songs that, yet AGAIN, Whedon is responsible for, also making it a family affair adding brothers and a sister-in-law. This is another Cd that is found being played in my car multiple times within a week. You’ve GOT to get this soundtrack, like now, LEAVE, GO!

#H – Pick of Destiny

Okay, Tenacious D is the best band EVER. Maybe this statement is not something you would agree with, and if it isn’t, stop lying. Seriously you know the truth, they probably ARE the greatest band EVER, why you ask? Because they have it ALL. What other band can use curse words like poetry, I mean really, “Mother Fucker” never sounded so good. If you haven’t had the chance to gander at the power that is the D, its time my friends. My passion for the D is forever deep, I was hooked the first time I heard them, saw them, and inevitably fell for them. “The Pick Of Destiny” is a movie and an album, and both are glorious. Watching Jack Black and Kyle Gas for 93 minutes straight has to be an experience, and sir, it was. But, the soundtrack that came along? GODLIKE, truly amazing music, which is not surprising from this duo. Another album i could not possibly begin the misery of deciding the best song on it, so you will have to venture out on your own and taste the taste that is TENACIOUS D.

be blown away by Rage Cage & Jables, KG & JB.

#I – Nashville

Great movie, wonderful soundtrack. Robert Altman is an amazing director and he did an amazing job on all the movies I’ve seen of his. They always have crazy relationships, and madness masked in innocence and he didn’t shy away from that with this one. Country singers, singing and crawling in drama filled situations; if you get a chance make sure to check this one out, i have a feeling you’ll be pleased if your in anyway cool, or hip, or happenin’ in the way I am. So rent it, steal it, borrow it, either way watch it, and make sure you listen to the songs you hear, it won’t be hard. I’ve leave you with a video of my favorite song from the movie that happens to be a great part of the film. Watch and aw.

So that’s it for now, I might come back and surprise you with more amazing songs that go with amazing movies/tv shows/web series, or I wont, don’t hold your breath. I leave you with a thought… Come back and see me, I mean read me, sometime.

sas

Seit drei Jahrzehnten wird A Praerie Home Companion, eine beliebte Radio-Varieté-Show, nun Woche für Woche in einem alten Theater in Minnesota aufgeführt. Nachdem das Theater jedoch von texanischen Investoren gekauft wurde und einem Parkhaus weichen soll, schlägt an einem verregneten Samstagabend die letzte Stunde der Show. Wehmütig erinnern sich die Akteure (u.a. Meryl Streep, Woody Harrelson, John C. Reilly) hinter und auf der Bühne an ihre großen Momente und an unvergessliche Momente aus dreißig Jahrzehnten, in denen sie gemeinsam aufgetreten sind, und schwelgen in einhelliger Melancholie, während sich das Ende der letzten Sendung nähert.

Einen so stimmungsvollen und entspannten Film wie “Robert Altman’s Last Radioshow” habe ich, wie ich gestehen muss, selten gesehen. Es ist genau das unaufgeregte Spätwerk, das man von einem großen Regisseur in seinen letzten Jahren erwartet – in der Tat ist es der letzte Film von Robert Altman gewesen, den ich persönlich immer mit einem seiner ersten Filme verbinde, “M*A*S*H” nämlich, der nunmehr auch schon vierzig Jahre auf dem Buckel hat und dennoch ein absoluter Klassiker bleibt. Das Zeug zu einem solchen hat “Robert Altman’s Last Radioshow” ohne Zweifel ebenfalls.

Der Film, der lose auf einer realen Radioshow basiert, deren Moderator Garrison Keillor sich im übrigen selbst spielt und auch das Drehbuch verfasst hat, verzichtet im Grunde auf eine wirkliche Handlung; wer hier verzwickte Plot-Twists und ein überraschendes Happy End erwartet, wird sicherlich enttäuscht werden. “Robert Altman’s Last Radioshow” ist im Großen und Ganzen ein Abgesang, zugleich aber auch eine geschickt gestrikte und liebevoll konstruierte Hommage an die amerikanische Popkultur, die als Ensemblekomödie, wenn dieses Genre denn existiert, vor allem von ihren skurrilen Charakteren, aber auch den oft rasanten, manchmal nachdenklichen, immer witzigen Dialogen, mit denen die Protagonisten nur so um sich feuern. Dass gegen Ende Tommy Lee Jones mit einer amüsanten Nebenrolle für den schweigsamen Gegenpart der redseligen Showmitarbeiter sorgt, ist eines der vielen Highlights des Films.

Für seinen letzten Film hat Altman ein fabelhaftes Ensemble um sich versammelt, dem es ohne Weiteres gelingt, die fast vollkommene Abwesenheit von Handlung zu kaschieren. Meryl Streep ist mit ihrer herzigen Darstellung von Yolanda Johnson, die sich gemeinsam mit ihrer Schwester Rhonda an ihre alten, glorreichen Zeiten erinnert, für mich endlich dieses Hass-Image aus “Machtlos” losgeworden, mit dem ich sie schon seit einiger Zeit verbinde. Woody Harrelson und John C. Reilly als vulgäre Cowboys singen gemeinsam eine Lobeshymne an schlechte Witze und ernten damit ganz klar den Preis für den besten Witz des Films. Lindsay Lohan schafft das Kunststück, als depressiver Teenager absolut nicht fehl am Platz zu wirken, und Kevin Kline gibt als verhinderter Privatdetektiv einen Clown allererster Güte ab.

Neben den tollen Darstellern, die ihre Rollen ausnahmslos mit regelrecht offensichtlicher Spielfreude angehen, überzeugt natürlich auch die Musik, wie sollte es anders sein. Worüber sollte man sich da groß beschweren? “Robert Altman’s Last Radioshow” ist ein beschaulicher, herziger kleiner Film, der sicher nicht als großes Meisterwerk in die Geschichte Hollywoods eingehen wird, der aber auf jeden Fall das Zeug zum Kultfilm hat. Robert Altman hat sich mit seinem letzten Werk ein würdiges Denkmal gesetzt.

Wertung: 8 / 10

Journalist Mitchell Zuckoff has managed to something I thought might be tricky, if not impossible. He’s managed to stuff a complicated figure like Kansas City-bred movie director Robert Altman (M*A*S*H) into the confines of a hardback book and to retain his spirit, intellect, weaknesses and contradictions. Zuckoff has even delivered it in a format his late subject would probably have loved.

If you care about movies or about Kansas City’s contributions to cinema and other art forms, you need to get your hands on Zuckoff’s book, Robert Altman: The Oral Biography.

Zuckoff is in KC today to talk about the book,  first on FM 89.3 KCUR’s Up to Date with Steve Kraske at 11:00 a.m. He’ll then discuss and sign the book at the Plaza Library at 6:00 p.m. Accompanying Zuckoff will be Kathryn Reed Altman, the director’s widow, and Frank Barhydt, who co-wrote Altman’s Short Cuts and Kansas City. To reserve spot at the event, call 816 701-3407 or go to kclibrary.org.

Altman grew up in Kansas City during the 1930s when jazz played in 100 clubs and Tom Pendergast ran Cowtown’s political machine with an iron fist.

Altman served as a co-pilot on a bomber in World War II and tried his hand at a business venture in his hometown that flopped as hard as some of his later movies like Ready to Wear and A Perfect Couple. His company tattooed dogs for identification, and local boy Harry Truman was one of his first clients.

Zuckoff and the nearly 200 people he interviewed for the book readily acknowledge the role Kansas City played in Altman’s development. He shot his first feature, a forgettable quickie called The Delinquents, here. He also cut his teeth making educational and promotional films for the now-defunct Calvin Company. When Altman was making these projects during the 1950s (including the fascinating curiosity, The Magic Bond), there weren’t any film schools. So these little films help him learn the skills that later led him to make masterpieces like The Player, The Long Goodbye and Gosford Park.

There isn’t a filmography, and many of Altman’s more complicated and accomplished films like Nashville and McCabe & Mrs. Miller are presented in a truncated manner. This is a minor quibble because Zuckoff has managed to get many people who haven’t previously spoken about working with Altman to open up. For example, Warren Beatty has previously been mum about working with Altman on McCabe & Mrs. Miller, even though the film features some of the best work both men have done.

He also allows people who had issues with the director to have a fair chance to respond. Even though Robert Altman: The Oral Biography runs 560 pages, it’s a brisk read because we get a chance to learn about Altman from several different perspectives. Altman’s finest movies captured human beings at both their best and worst. From reading the new biography, it’s almost as if Altman had directed the story, treating himself in the same non-judgmental but observant way he treated his other characters.

Movie director Robert Altman, who had a special affinity for Ann Arbor, will be the subject of a special tribute sponsored by the University Library at 7 p.m. Wednesday, Nov. 18 in the Library Gallery, 100 Hatcher.

Altman biographer Mitch Zuckoff and Kathryn Altman will discuss the director’s life and cinematic accomplishments. Altman died on Nov. 20, 2006.

Zuckoff’s book, Robert Altman: The Oral Biography, chronicles Altman’s dynamic life through the words of his family, friends, a few enemies, agents, writers, crew members, producers, and stars who worked with him. Also included are words of Altman himself from his exclusive last interviews.

Altman loved Ann Arbor and the University of Michigan. His long association with U-M began in 1977 when he captivated a packed audience in Hill Auditorium with a Q&A session that resulted in one audience member landing a small role in his next film, A Wedding. Throughout the years, Altman directed an opera (Rake’s Progress) with the School of Music in 1982, taught a mini-course in Angell Hall, shot a film in the Martha Cooke residence hall (Secret Honor) in 1984, held benefit screenings of several films at the Michigan Theater, and regularly offered internships for U-M students at his New York production company.

The Altman archives were recently acquired by the library.

Following the presentation, there will be a book sale and signing with the author and Kathryn Altman.

A Cia Vértice montou nos anos de 2004 e 2005 dois espetáculos que abordavam os padrões e sistemas de repetição que desenvolvemos nas nossas relações familiares e sociais. A pesquisa de linguagem investigava a tênue fronteira entre o real e o ficcional. Ambos os espetáculos partiam de um material captado da realidade – depoimentos, entrevistas e histórias pessoais – para construir a dramaturgia.

Corte Seco será uma espécie de Short Cuts. A referência à obra do cineasta Robert Altman não é gratuita. Queremos falar das relações na contemporaneidade, paisagens de uma realidade social que se comprime e explode; em cidades partidas, em apartamentos espremidos, em choques, em grandes diferenças sociais, em grandes vazios existenciais; uma espécie de crônica fragmentada do que se olha em volta ou, em outras palavras, da experiência coletiva da pólis.

Como em um quebra-cabeça, em cortes secos, a peça será remontada a cada dia. A equipe: diretora, iluminador, diretor musical… estarão atuando junto com os atores na reconstrução do espetáculo a cada apresentação. O público assistirá a uma peça e a um processo criativo.

A intenção é criar um curto-circuito do real, colocando à mostra suas diversas camadas, construindo uma cena plena de ambigüidade entre real e ficcional. As imagens serão usadas para transformar a estrutura do espetáculo, modificar seu espaço, manipular o tempo, modular sua dramaturgia, através de uma percepção descontinuada de fragmentos múltiplos e simultâneos.

2006: A Prairie Home Companion di Robert Altman

“Il racconto di ciò che accade dietro le quinte di uno dei più importanti show radiofonici andato in onda in America a partire dal 1974, che nel film viene improvvisamente cancellato. Un «Last Waltz» che l’ottantunenne Bob Altman dirige con la fermezza del grande regista che è” (Giancarlo Zappoli).

Come in Nashville e I protagonisti un cast stellare e una moltitudine di storie intrecciate: un vero microcosmo non solo per la consueta riflessione sul mondo dello spettacolo ma soprattutto per rappresentare una nazione invecchiata in cerca di una nuova identità. Giustamente MyMovies esalta la voglia politica (nel senso più positivo del termine) di raccontare un pezzo di America che finisce con il rappresentarla tutta… la straordinaria capacità di seguire un numero considerevole di personaggi senza perderne di vista uno e dando ad ognuno una sua consistenza. Impossibile non dare ragione, sottolinea Il Messagero, “a Meryl Streep quando si dice fiera dell’idea che il film porterà nel mondo un’immagine dell’America, oggi generalmente poco amata al di fuori dei suoi confini, molto diversa da quella che purtroppo si è imposta in questi anni”. Con sarcasmo (ma soprattutto con tenerezza) un addio a un mondo in estinzione, un ritratto di una America autentica che qualcuno vuole cancellare. Malinconico affresco con tanta nostalgia per un Paese vitalistico ed innocente che non c’è più. Ma Robert Altman non ricatta lo spettatore, rifugge dall’offrire facili emozioni. Crepuscolare, ironico, agrodolce, malinconico, contemporaneo… Radio America è un film di grande classe che sorprende per la sua delicatezza, per l’equilibrio, per la sottile raffinata inquietudine che riesce a trasmettere coinvolgendo il pubblico come raramente accade. Il grande regista, con lucido distacco, non rimpiange: descrive. “Il rimpianto si forma, caso mai, nello spettatore” (Il Giornale). Con una favolosa colonna sonora che va dal country al gospel e al jazz, con battute spiritose ed intelligenti, con gag misuratissime e calibrate al massimo, con un cast che fa scintille (quanto di meglio si sia visto nelle ultime stagioni, con una Meryl Streep dalle strabilianti doti canore e giustamente premiata ai National Society of Film Critics Awards, un Kevin Kline di cui Raymond Chandler si sarebbe sicuramente innamorato, un Woody Harrelson e un John C. Reilly affiatatissimi e autoironici…), con quella caffetteria che pare fotocopiata dai quadri di Edward Hopper, con quel teatro Fitzgerald che sta per essere smantellato ma che sembra essere diventato la tua casa, Radio America (meritoriamente accolto con una ovazione generale al 56° Festival di Berlino) illustra la fine di un’epoca che è anche il tramonto di un’intera civiltà e ci offre, al contempo, un campionario di valori e sentimenti in cui è impossibile non riconoscersi: “alla fine travolti dall’emozione, bisogna darsi dei pizzicotti per ricordare che non possiamo correre in palcoscenico ad abbracciare tutti, Altman incluso” (Corriere della Sera).

scheda

premi e riconoscimenti

I love everything about this movie– which might seem, at first, like an obvious thing to say about one of my favorite films, but it’s particularly meaningful where this one is concerned, for Gosford Park is a movie that attempts so much: It contains multitudes, it juggles an enormous cast of characters and a tangled web of story lines with a greater sophistication than nearly any other movie I know, and it throws equal weight behind everything. There is no character left underdeveloped, no story arc that is not, in some way, rich and resonant.

Altman’s penultimate film– and, in my opinion, his masterpiece– reads very differently in paper than it does on the screen. Technically, one could very truthfully say that this is a traditional British murder mystery, wherein a large number of guests are invited to spend the weekend at a chilly English manor, only to have their holiday shot to hell when their esteemed host– a man whom all of them secretly dislike– is discreetly offed. A bumbling police inspector shows up and comes to the grim conclusion– gasp!– that all of them are suspects.

But the genius of Gosford Park is that the murder plot is almost irrelevant; its significance lies mostly in its use as a structural device, not as the central conflict. The killing doesn’t happen until halfway through the film, and its resolution is deliberately anticlimactic. What makes the movie tick is, well, everything else that happens. And there’s so much happening that it feels like a different film every time I watch. On the first viewing, one tends to be attracted to Helen Mirren’s big revelation at the movie’s end, or perhaps Clive Owen’s dark, brooding secrecy. Subsequently, one might shift focus to Maggie Smith’s hysterical and maddening pretension, or the masked anguish of Kristin Scott Thomas.

I tend to think the key to the movie is Kelly Macdonald: It is through her eyes of innocence and naivete that we see humanity’s cruelty and hypocrisy, but also brief and stirring moments of grace.

And it’s those same eyes– of youthful wonder and close attention– that we are encouraged to watch the movie over and over, for it’s a movie about, ultimately, the things that lie beneath the surface. Class, politics, society, gender, sex, secrets– the film’s themes are many and they are rich, but they are also lurking beneath the surface of this elegant, wise, and witheringly funny movie, one that seems only to grow deeper the more time I spend with it.

#7. Lost in Translation (Coppola, 2003)
#9. Almost Famous (Crowe, 2000)

Has Robert Altman really been gone three years already?

Fortunately, the director’s legacy will live on with a collection of movies that could only have been attributed to him: M.A.S.H., Nashville and Short Cuts perhaps among the most notable.

For a true appreciation of the man behind the camera, check out Robert Altman: The Oral Biography. 

The New York Times has a detailed review of Mitchell Zuckoff’s fantastic new study of what drove this great auteur.

And go fire up the Netflix account to catch up on some of the great catalog of Altman films that you may have missed the first time.  Nobody will ever again make the movies like he did.

Unbalanced

For some reason past viewings of Gosford Park made it difficult to say much about it. Theories abound as to why, but undoubtedly two reign supreme: the slow mental digestion of this viewer, and a wedding – truly a becoming one flesh – of form and content on the part of the filmmaker(s). At this stage in his career, it must be admitted that Robert Altman had primary and probably sole creative control over his projects. So once again, bonjour auteur theory. Despite lame efforts to ignore you, you have again reared your pretty head.

Intrusion

If a viewer struggles to grasp the basic idea overarching and undergirding Gosford Park, look only at the division of actors in the end credits: “Above stairs,” “Visitors,” and “Below stairs.” The class separation within this film, which may seem only as strong as it is in Renoir’s The Rules of the Game, is more fluid, traversed, and transgressed. By virtue of these boundary-crossings, the class differences are highlighted all the more. So overt are the examples of these instances that some characters, usually those below the stairs, discuss them openly. A rule prohibits servants to respond to their own names when downstairs. Instead, they are identified by the names of their masters and mistresses. The servants wonder at what it must be like to be wealthy. When one of them turns out to have been posing and is in fact a wealthy actor, he is shunned and spurned by the servants thereafter. The head servants proclaims the highest dignity to be the one who “knows what they (the elite) want before they themselves do.”

Watching

How this factors into the murder-mystery aspect of the film is more provocative. Whereas Agatha Christie’s novel-films use the class distinction as a tool to suspend the mystery and postpone the answer to the whodunit? question, Altman here switches things, using the murder-mystery to bring us back to his higher concern. That the murder, it turns out, was carried out twice (sort of), makes the crime as ambiguous as the class distinction seems to be upon close inspection. From a distance, we see clearly. Up close, it’s quite clear. But from that arm’s length distance at which most of life is lived, things are quite difficult to make out. The murder has its roots in an early transgression of the boundary: the master sleeps with his servant. The child is given up, the servant remains faithful but grows older, the master finds new and younger playthings, and the child and mother grow bitter as they gain perspective.

Being watched

Fitting that this film was made in the new century, as it represents a quintessentially postmodern twist on a classic genre of film and literature. The twist is only slight, but it is indisputably present. In the end, two people think themselves the murderer, and only one is right, but both are also right. A familial relation is uncovered between them, but seems to be known by only one. The justification for the murder is rather strong, and no one is “punished” for it in the traditional sense; at least, no one is found out by the authorities. The police enter but have no powers over the world of the upper-class. (This is evident quite literally in the inspector’s inability ever to finish pronouncing his own name, despite numerous attempts.) The spat-upon token American guests (above the stairs) commit the transgression as Americans are best at doing: grabbing and running. The Hollywood producer (perfectly cast: Bob Balaban performs here flawlessly and is a producer of Gosford Park) snags the shamed servant and drives away with her to offer her an acting career. As the crony of the murdered man, she is rewarded for her faux pas while her master remains quite punished. Renoir’s film was something like a moral tale, a social critique. Altman’s is a social critique but a rather amoral tale, more akin to the new world in which it was made than to Renoir’s. Altman’s floating camera remains detached from all the goings-on but constantly interested. The viewer feels like an invisible spy wandering around freely, neither judging the lives it watches nor celebrating them. If the film comes down on anyone, it comes down on everyone. The sins are of omission and commission, ranging from innocent naivete to backstabbing treachery. The biggest problem that the film itself points to, however, isn’t of individuals but of the society that so trains them.

Messy mixture

Oops

The warmest story in Short Cuts, the story dealing with the more loving, caring side of life is “A Small, Good Thing.”  It shares similar themes with the other stories: loss, grief, death; but it deals with them in very different ways.  Ann and Howard’s son, Scotty is put into a coma by a hit-and-run.  Like Carver’s other characters, Ann and Howard are not in control of their situation and things happen do them as if they were merely dead bodies caught in the current of the Naches.  They watch over Scotty in the hospital, reassured by doctors that he will be just fine.  He is almost over the hill.  But he is not.  When Scotty dies they find respite in the kitchen of a bakery where an embittered and socially awkward baker nourishes them with rolls and conversation.  He tells them “You have to eat and keep going.  Eating is a small, good thing at a time like this.”  And so is this story.  In the midst of all the chaos Carver has created he gives us this one small, good thing to bring us back to life.  Even in Carver’s dirty reality there is comfort.

Tess Gallagher or Robert Altman (or whoever organized this selection of stories) deserves credit for putting “Jerry and Molly and Sam” and “Collectors” as buffers between “A Small, Good Thing” and “Tell the Women We’re Going.”  The middle stories help to bring us back into the darker side of Carver’s world before “Tell the Women We’re Going” rips it all to shreds.  What starts off as very ordinary, mundane story about two best friends and their lazy existence (high school, odd jobs, cars, women, kids, houses) quickly spirals into a nightmare, interestingly, once alcohol is introduced.  Again, we have Carver using alcohol as a catalyst for the most terrible things people do.  You get drunk, your life falls apart.  Simple.  The characters in this story (as well as most of the others) spend so much time self-medicating with a bottle of whiskey or a can of beer they hardly realize their lives getting darker and slipping further out of their control.

The final piece in the collection, “Lemonade,” is a poem.  Truthfully I didn’t know what to expect from a Raymond Carver poem.  It ended up being much like reading a Richard Brautigan poem, not that Carver and Brautigan are similar in any way.  What I mean is, reading a Carver poem is incredibly similar to reading a Carver story.  Identical even.  Here Carver brings up the notion of Sweetness.  While reflecting on the death of his grandson a character reflects “God always takes the sweetest ones, doesn’t He?”  In the end of the poem Sweetness is brought up again, this time in regards to the deceased’s father:

But dying is for the sweetest ones.  And he remembers

sweetness, when life was sweet, and sweetly

he was given that other lifetime.

Sweetness is innocence.  The side of life Carver rarely finds time to write about but acknowledges all the same.  In these stories dying is certainly for the sweetest ones.  Scotty in “A Small, Good Thing.”  The girls in “Tell the Women We’re Going.”  Only the innocent die.  Only the innocent are allowed out of the trap of life, the curse of living.

Isang paglalakbay sa katahimikan at kamatayan.

Biyaheng Lupa (Soliloquy)
Director: Armando Lao
Cast: Jacklyn Jose, Julio Diaz, Coco Martin, Angel Aquino, Eugene Domingo, Susan Africa, Shamaine Buencamino, Mercedes Cabral, Carlo Guevara, Allan Paule, Andoy Ranay, Archie Ramos, Jess Evardone, Jose Almojuela, Isabella de Leon, Mely Soriano
2009

Sabi nga ng cliché, “it’s not the destination that matters, it’s the journey itself.” Kesehodang may naghihintay sa iyo sa terminal ng bus, o sa end of the road, ang importante ay ang naging paglalakbay. Ilang tula na ba ang gumamit ng paglalakbay bilang metapora ng buhay? Hindi naman sa gasgas na, pero siguro hindi na rin road less travelled ang ganitong alegorya.

Pero interesante ang mga estilong ginamit ni Armando Lao para sa biyaheng ito. Di tulad ng kumbensyonal na mga pelikula na kung saan may bida at kontrabida, walang iisang tauhan na sinundan ang naratibo ng Biyaheng Lupa. Dahil walang pokus sa iisang tauhan, nagagawang idistansiya ng filmmaker ang mga manonood mula sa tauhan. Sa halip na lumikha ng mga indibidwal, ayon kay Joel David, ang nalilikha ng multiple character film format ay ang social milieu bilang karakter. Sa kaso ng Biyaheng Lupa, ang karakter na sinundan ng naratibo ay ang biyaheng Manila-Legazpi.

Sa sanaysay ni David tungkol sa multiple character film format, ginawa niyang halimbawa ang pelikula ni Robert Altman na Nashville. Sa pamamagitang ng 24 arketipong tauhan, nagawang isalarawan ni Robert Altman ang pulitika, ekonomiya at kultura sa Nashville noong dekada ’70 bilang sentro ng country music sa Estados Unidos. Hindi tulad ng Nashville, walang partikular na social milieu na nais isalarawan si Lao sa Biyaheng Lupa. Maaring itong naging biyaheng Baguio, o di naman kaya Cagayan, o kaya Baler. Basta ba mahabang biyahe sakay ng bus.

Ganunpaman, may partikular na sapul ang pelikula patungkol sa isang uri o sektor. Iyun ay ang mga mamamayang biyahero.Maaring lower-middle class o di naman kaya mas mababang uri na kayang magbayad ng pamasahe ng aircon na bus pa-Bikol. Pansin ang pagkamalay ni Lao sa uring kanyang tinatalakay nang marinig natin ang pagtataka ng ni Lilian (Angel Aquino) kung bakit nag-bus si Helen (Jaclyn Jose) kahit na may kotse ito. Gayundin, kalakhan ng mga agam-agam ng mga biyahero sa bus ay malimit na may kinalaman sa pera o kaya sa hirap ng buhay: ang lady driver sa Oman, ang anak na naghanap ng buhay sa ibang lugar, isang tumataya ng kapalaran sa networking business, isang nagahahanap ng mauutangan para magpundar ng negosyo at iba pa.

Syempre, nariyan din bilang mga tauhan ang mga naghahanap ng sarili, tumatakas sa problema, naghahanap ng solusyon sa problema, mga nagbabakasakali at mga nagbabagong buhay. Ang interseksyon ng mga biyahe, o ng mga buhay natin for that matter, ay mga “sana” at “baka.” Gayong metapora ang biyahe ng mismong buhay, sa Biyaheng Lupa, pansamantalang tumigil ang mga buhay ng mga tauhan sa naratibo ni Lao. Walang ibang kaganapan kundi iyong naganap na at magaganap pa lamang. Mas nakikilala natin ang mga tauhan hindi sa kanilang ikinikilos at/o anyo kundi sa kanilang iniisip. Bagay na imposible sa tunay na buhay, o kahit na sa pelikula. Ang tanging basehan natin sa pagkatao ng mga nakakasalamuha natin ay kung ano lamang ang ating nakikita, naririnig, napapansin at nadarama. Sa Biyaheng Lupa, binigyan tayo ng super power ni Lao para basahin ang iniisip ng kanyang mga tauhan. Bagay na ginagawa ng isang manunulat at hindi ng isang ordinaryong filmmaker.

Ang dilemma ni Obet: pagsilbihan ang pamilya o sundin ang pansariling pakikipagsapalaran?

Kung meron mang bago sa Biyaheng Lupa, iyon siguro ay ang paggamit ng voice over sa kalakhan ng pelikula. Imbes na marinig natin ang sinasabi ng bibig, pinaririnig sa atin ni Lao ang takbo ng utak ng kanyang mga tauhan.

Makikita sa subtitle ng Biyaheng Lupa na “Soliloquy” ang alusyon ni Lao sa literary form na ito na nangahalugan ng repleksyon, pagkausap sa sarili o monologo ng isang tauhan. Sa mga nobela at tula, maaari nating basahin ang mga iniisip at nadarama ng mga tauhan. Pero hindi sa pelikula na biswal ang pangunahing midyum. Kaya nga ang malimit na batas sa pagsusulat sa pelikula ay show don’t tell. Sa kasong ito, nilangkap ni Lao ang literary form sa film language.

Sa isang banda, mayroong pagtingin na naging convenient para kay Lao ang ganitong estilo para magawang bumuo ng maraming karakter sa espasyo ng biyaheng Manila-Legazpi. Mahirap nga naman kasi na bumuo ng mga karakter sa isang biyahe na minimal lamang ang maaring majita at gawin –manood ng ipinapalabas na pelikula, tumunganga, magmoment sa bintana, chumika sa katabi at maghilik.

Dito makikita ang kaibahan ng estilo ni Altman bilang direktor, at ni Lao bilang beteranong manunulat sa unang pagtatangkang maging direktor. Minaksimisa ni Altman ang film language.  Sa isang eksena, inialay ng isang palikerong bokalista (Keith Carradine) ang kanyang kanta sa isang babae. Gamit ang epektibong framing at editing, naipakita ni Altman kung paanong may apat na babaeng nag-iisip na baka sa kanila iniaalay ang kanta, habang ipinauubaya na ni Altman sa manonood na ang pag-imagine sa thought bubble ng bawat isa. Habang sa Biyaheng Lupa ni Lao, binigyan niya ang mga piling biyahero ng kani-kanilang moment para mapasok ng mga manonood ang kanilang pagmu-muni-muni.

Pero yun na nga, tama ang nauna nang rebyu ng pelikula. Ang Biyaheng Lupa ay isang “writer’s film.” Maaaring projection ito ni Lao sa maingay nyang isip bilang rayter. Gayong matagal na si Lao sa industriya ng pagpepelikula, ngayon lamang nabigyan siya ng pagkakataon na isapelikula ang sariling iskrip. Maaring bersyon niya ng Trip to Quiapo o manwal ng makabagong pagsusulat sa pelikula. O kaya isang writing exercise sa pagbuo ng mga arketipo.

Maihahalintulad ang pagtatangkang ito ni Lao sa pagdidirek sa directorial debut ng quirky scriptwriter na si Charlie Kaufmann sa Synecdoche, New York. Mahirap na isapelikula ang mga iskrip ni Kaufman laluna ang Synecdoche, New York dahil ginagawa niyang biswal ang mga dapat sa isip lamang ng tauhan nananahan gaya ng takot sa kamatayan, pagbura ng alaala at labis na lumbay. Tulad ng Biyaheng Lupa, mas matingkad pa rin ang pagiging rayter ni Kaufman kesa direktor. Marami sa mga batang rayter sa pelikula ngayon ay, kung hindi man lihim, hayag na ginagawang stepping stone ang pagiging scriptwriter para maging ganap na filmmaker (Pero marami naman talagang mga direktor na sila mismo ang nagsusulat ng kanilang iskrip). Ngunit iilan lamang ang mga tulad ni Lao, kahit na nabigyan ng pagkakataon na magdirek, na ang katapatan ay nasa propesyon niya bilang manunulat sa pelikula.#

Si Helen: Patagong pagbiyahe ng gitnang-uri.

At times Raymond Carver’s Short Cuts is more David Lynch than Robert Altman (co-writer and director of the film, Short Cuts).  Short Cuts shares the same setting (the Pacific Northwest) and many of the same images of Lynch’s films (a cross-dressing man, a severed ear) and even explores the bizarre side of a seemingly normal suburban life.  A bar scene in the piece “Vitamins” is eerily similar to the lurking horror in the background of Blue Velvet.  But the similarities don’t go much further.  Unlike Lynch, Carver writes about the mundane, the ordinary.  Occasionally out-of-the-ordinary things occur to these ordinary people but they are not fantastic or magical occurrences; they are coincidence.  The tragedy of luck.  The reality of living.

Carver sets his words down like a contemporary Hemingway; terse sentences, language that is not overly ornate or unbelievable.  Carver’s characters speak conversationally, as you would want them to.  The main characters stoically let their lives take form around them, often unable or unwilling to change the events that shape their lives.  In the early story “Will You Please be Quiet, Please?” Ralph, unable to cope with his wife’s infidelity, gets drunk, loses money and gets beaten up.  These things happen to him, he does not seem like an active participant in his fate.

I heard a piece on the radio the other day about posthumous publication of unfinished works.  Apparently, Carver’s widow, Tess, is trying to publish some of his unfinished works.  Apparently, it has come to light that Carver was much wordier that we would assume from reading his stories.  The austere, minimalist Carver may have been created in part by Carver’s editor, which is a fascinating concept.  It makes me wonder what kind of relationship Carver had with his editor… did he have one main editor?  Did it take these two people to create great, singular works?

By Jason Diamond
There is hardly any film director that I have tried to force myself to like as much as Robert Altman. I’ve seen MASH twice, and couldn’t get into it; fallen asleep attempting to get into Nashville, and honestly, basing a film off anything Garrison Keillor-related makes me cringe a little bit, so I skipped his final piece of work.  But then something changed when I saw his 1973 adaption of Raymond Chandler’s novel, The Long Goodbye.  It was so good, and Elliot Gould is such a fucking beast, that I reviewed the circumstances (MASH and Nashville were seen under the influence of cold medicine or drunk) under which I watched both MASH and Nashville, and realized that maybe, it wasn’t Altman, maybe it was me.

So now as winter fast approaches, and I begin to stock up my Netflix queue, I am giving serious consideration to locking myself away for a few nights, and giving Altman’s work another chance. I will of course skip A Prairie Home Companion, and maybe Popeye too, but I their place, I maybe picking up Robert Altman: The Oral Biography, since it might also be helpful in my quest to finally like/understand the work of one of the most acclaimed America directors ever.

As this review points out: “Some speakers deify Altman; some recall his mean streak; some attest to his endless ability to confound conventional Hollywood thinking.”  Add in the fact that Matthew has already given praise to film books put out by Robert Altman publisher Alfred A. Knopf, and I may have the a chance to make this the season I learned to love Robert Altman.

One of the best books that I’ve read in the last several years was Waiting by Ha Jin.  Something about the way that he writes has that beautiful quality I also admire in Sarah Orne Jewett or Wallace Stegner: stillness, silence, peace.  I think part of the reason I like those things in fiction is hereditary.  My mom introduced me to Jewett in high school or undergrad with a beautiful edition of Country of the Pointed Firs, which is prefaced by a collection of black and white images of coastal Maine.  Several years later she recommended Waiting (which we had both recently and separately picked up in thrift stores), while I introduced her to Stegner’s Crossing to Safety, still possibly my favorite novel, sometime in high school.

 This morning I finished reading Ocean of Words by Ha Jin.  It’s his first published book of non-poetry, from 1996, a collection of short stories about Chinese army life on the border with Russia in some tense years of the early 1970s.  I have long known that the majority of my knowledge of history (and plenty of other topics) comes from reading fiction, and it’s been proven once again by the fact that I had no idea that Russia and China were at the edge of war in 1970.  This certainly puts Nixon’s visit to China in a different light.  (The fact that we have traded with China and overlooked its human rights violations for decades begins to make sense, when trading with China is part of war with the USSR.)

 As regards Ocean of Words and history, I would guess that there is a lot of history to be derived, as the author actually served in the People’s Liberation Army of China for six years, beginning in 1969, and coming to the US in 1985.  Checking out his Wikipedia entry makes me realize how much of his work I have yet to read.

My hope now would be for a ridiculously good director to make a movie out of this book.  Too bad Altman’s dead.  Just to see, I did check out imdb for Ha Jin, and there is a movie version of Waiting being made (starring Ziyi Zhang!).

p.s. I added a new tab to the top of the page so you can see what I’m reading and recommending.

The Long Goodbye.

Director: Robert Altman.

Guión: Leigh Brackett en base a una novela de Raymond Chandler.

Intérpretes: Elliott Gould, Nina Van Pallandt, Sterling Hayden, Mark Rydell, Henry Gibson.

Música: John Williams.

Fotografía: Vilmos Zsigmond.

EEUU. 1973. 110 minutos.

Chandler y Altman

Robert Altman era un realizador cuya condición de iconoclasta tenía mucho que ver con un sentido de la narrativa en la que algo había de moroso, y que solía y suele causar ciertas reticencias entre el gran público. Así sucede con el grueso de sus mejores obras, que no son pocas, y entre las que se cuenta la presente The Long Good bye, traslación no sólo al cine sino a una forma distinta de hacer cine de los postulados de serie negra, en este caso los contenidos en la obra homónima de Raymond Chandler, protagonizada por su personaje más célebre, el detective Phillip Marlowe.

Chandler y Brackett

Ya digo, The Long Good bye remeda la historia a la ciudad de Los Angeles contemporánea a la realización del filme (el inicio de la década de los setenta), y, tratando de jugar con las cartas sin marcar, parte del guión de alguien tan poco discutible como Leigh Brackett (autor muchos años antes del guión cinematográfico del también chandleriano The Big Sleep), del que la trama extrae su mesura, su forma cartesiana en el desarrollo de una historia que no abandona la quintaesencia cínica de un personaje, y que describe con solvencia –y a menudo elegancia- los avatares del detective afrentado en uno de los peores ultrajes por su profesión concebibles: ser manipulado con fines criminales.

Invisibilidad

Las intenciones de Altman, empero, quedan bien lejos de revisitar unos códigos narrativos tan fructíferos en el pasado, antes bien se concentra en trasladar conceptos temáticos y dramáticos a otros cánones estéticos. Reveladora en ese sentido es la elección de un actor como Elliott Gould y la interpretación que nos ofrece de Marlowe, un hombre de tan indiscutible integridad como sutil sensibilidad, que es capaz de convivir amigablemente con un grupo de pseudo-hippies místicas que siempre se pasean desnudas ante sus narices, capaz de esperar una tortura casi segura de un gángster local con el sempiterno cigarrillo inmóvil en una sonrisa sarcástica, y a la vez capaz de recordar a su gato desaparecido antes de ajusticiar al culpable de sus tantos quebraderos de cabeza. Marlowe, como Altman tras la cámara, opta por una suerte de invisibilidad ante los acontecimientos que se van desgranando en su investigación (y al conocimiento del espectador), prefiere situarse en una segunda fila para dejar que los personajes y escenarios opulentos de la ciudad angelina y de Malibú vayan desmenuzando por sí mismos la turbiedad que anida bajo su impoluta apariencia.

Maestro

Las anotaciones líricas se dejan en el interesante subtexto propuesto con los diversos tonos a los que se recurre de una misma canción, la de idéntico título al filme compuesta por John Williams, que puntúa e incluso enriquece en puntos de vista los acontecimientos que las imágenes nos proponen, y que cuadraremos en el lacónico, genial desenlace de la función.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0070334/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Long_Goodbye_(novel)

http://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/1031440-long_goodbye/

http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/19730307/REVIEWS/301010320/1023

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

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

La cinéphilie compulsive et la référence sublimée ne sont pas néfastes à la formalisation de longs-métrages uniques, trouvant leur légitimité d’abord en eux-mêmes plutôt qu’à travers leurs influences disséminées, que celles-ci soient directes ou non. Les critiques souvent faites au cinéma de Tarantino ne sont à cet égard qu’une tartufferie rhétorique destinée à démolir en fin de compte le seul « défaut » que lui reprochent les empêcheurs de rassembler en salles : l’unanimité suscitée auprès du public et d’une large partie des chroniqueurs sous le charme de ses tours de force (esthétiques, narratifs, spectaculaires). Une filmographie qui, débarrassée de ses citations, n’en conserverait pas moins son entière qualité – sinon plus encore.
Dans un tout autre registre, sans confiner à l’exercice citationnel tel que pratiqué par l’ami Quentin, la réalisatrice Lucile Chaufour a truffé son premier long de ces fragments référentiels chers à la mémoire des passionnés du 7e art, tout en signant un vrai et beau film sur le rock n’ roll, les hommes, les femmes, l’amour / la dépendance bafoués et la lutte des classes. Une pellicule polysémique, émotionnelle, capable de véhiculer les vraies valeurs (perverties dans la production hexagonale sous perfusion comico-mongoloïde ou dépressive, et aussi par une certaine frange hollywoodienne, Michael Bay en tête) du divertissement populaire tout en se situant dans une mouvance artistique indépendante voire underground, seule contre tous les pré-formatages et les diktats du concept prétendument « grand public ». Violent Days parle du réel avec les atours d’une vraie fiction à l’ancienne et intemporelle à la fois ; Violent Days parle de vrais gens dans leur labeur, dans leur violence des samedis soirs où l’on sort entre potes, transmués en personnages de cinéma, toutes époques non pas confondues, mais fusionnées.
En attendant de lire dans VERSUS n° 17 notre critique / analyse détaillée de cette production salvatrice pour le cinéma « français, monsieur » – et qui disparaîtra sans doute trop tôt de la programmation des salles, alors hâtez-vous – brève rencontre, en forme de portrait / propos recueillis, avec la réalisatrice des ces jours violents forcément inoubliables.

Docu & fiction
« Déontologiquement, je ne peux pas dire que j’ai fait un documentaire ».
Violent Days est un film aux frontières du genre parfois, et qui utilise une matière documentaire, des lieux, des façons de filmer, des interviews mais ce que le spectateur voit est « une remise en scène », agrémentée de captations parcellaires, des paroles de travailleurs – de cariste par exemple –, ancrées dans la réalité de leur exploitation mais aussi de leur passion totale pour le rock n’ roll – une raison de vivre, de se décloisonner du quotidien ouvrier.

Le regard de classe
Quid du travail de représentation cinématographique des classes populaires, forcément délicat, d’un côté comme de l’autre ? « Je n’aime pas l’esthétique du malheur, cette instrumentalisation de l’autre ou cette complaisance qui explore et se repaît de ce qui ne résiste pas, de ce qui souffre », précise Lucile Chaufour, dont le langage, autant hors-champ que plein cadre, via les images ou les mots (ses notes de réalisation sont un trésor d’éclairage des concepts manipulés dans le film), se révèle d’une précision inouïe, moteurs d’une rhétorique inflexible, qui sait où elle va et ne se détourne pas du sens, premier, essentiel, du message – des effets ? – qu’elle produit. « Pour moi, les plus beaux films sur le milieu ouvrier sont ceux où les personnages ne sont pas systématiquement ramenés aux a priori de classe, déshumanisés par un traitement qui les rend exotiques ou affligeants, qui les limite et les contraint aux attendus de scénaristes non concernés et peu documentés. Et puis, même si le contexte social et personnel est parfois déceptif, je préfère m’intéresser aux personnages qui, malgré leurs limites, portent en eux un désir, parfois très ténu, parfois naïf, de changement, qui interrogent, qui refusent d’admettre la brutalité du monde. »

Événements et mouvements
L’histoire que raconte Lucile Chaufour est aussi humaine, émotionnelle. Une influence importante dans ses notes de réalisation, John Cassavetes : « Pour moi, le cinéma de Cassavetes a été une autorisation formidable à faire du cinéma, j’ai découvert ses films dans les années 80, c’était une l’époque où l’esthétique léchée des films du type La Lune dans le caniveau me glaçait… Il y avait une alternative avec quelques films comme Star Suburb (La Banlieue des étoiles, Stéphane Drouot) dont l’humanité, la fragilité, le bricolage, la féerie, le désespoir résonnaient plus justement pour moi, mais je n’y trouvais pas l’élan, la vitalité que je cherchais. Et puis un ami m’a dit de venir voir un film qu’il avait programmé dans un cinéma en banlieue, c’était Husbands, non sous-titré, je n’ai pas tout compris mais ça m’a fait un bien fou : participer à ces moments intenses, désespérés, amoureux, cette façon de chercher une vérité de l’instant au risque de l’”accident” formel… je me suis dit : c’est ça que je veux ressentir… et même Meurtre d’un bookmaker chinois, qui ne m’a pas autant plu que Minnie & Moskowitz, Une Femme sous influence, Opening night… a été une leçon pour moi : expérimenter la façon dont un plan peut transformer en soi la compréhension du cinéma, en l’occurence, ce plan dans les premières minutes du film, où l’on suit Ben Gazarra dans un café. D’abord surprise, un peu critique, puis perplexe de la durée que prenait ce long plan erratique et souvent sous-exposé, j’ai de façon de plus en plus précise ressenti l’ouverture, la liberté, la légèreté qu’il inscrivait en moi : on pouvait filmer comme ça, assumer un plan à ce point fragile dans la narration, et rendre par là même accessible au spectateur, d’abord perplexe et déstabilisé, une vérité du personnage et de la situation qu’aucun dialogue n’a besoin d’expliciter. Il y a d’ailleurs une référence au film dans Violent Days ; savez-vous quelle chanson chante Ben Gazzara avant le meurtre, quand il téléphone à son club ? Celle que chante, aussi, Mr Sophistication quand Gazzara monte sur scène à la toute fin du métrage… » [J’ai triché ami lecteur, j’ai revu le film depuis l’entretien : « I Can’t Give You Anything But Love ».]

Cinéma total
Si le film de Lucile Chaufour parle si bien au spectateur, c’est sans doute parce qu’elle-même parle brillamment du cinéma. Ses références sont pointues, nombreuses, intarissables, et l’amateur éclairé, pour ne pas dire plutôt l’expert, saura retrouver dans les séquences de Violent Days des hommages aux classiques. La Notte d’Antonioni, Psychose, Les Désaxés de John Huston, Samedi soir, dimanche matin de Karel Reisz, Nashville de Robert Altman… Il n’est pas important de les repérer pour apprécier le film. Mais l’amour que Lucile Chaufour porte à ces cinématographies signifiantes et esthétiques permet d’en mesurer la portée instinctive, de capter pour de bon l’énergie communicative de cette histoire de déjante du samedi soir avant / après un concert de rock au Havre.

Propos recueillis par Stéphane LEDIEN
Violent Days > sorti en salles le 16 septembre 2009

Violent Days – Bande Annonce 1

Violent Days – Bande Annonce 2

Shared via AddThis Talking Pictures: ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ — 4 stars

This looks so very cool  …

‘Where the Wild Things Are’ — 4 stars

by Michael Phillips

James Gandolfini as Carol and Max Records (Warner Bros.)

Truly, I am madly, deeply in love with the film version of “Where the Wild Things Are.” Not since Robert Altman took on “Popeye” a generation ago, and lost, has a major director addressed such a well-loved, all-ages title. This time everything works, from tip to tail, from the moment in the prologue at which director Spike Jonze freezes the action (Max, fork in hand, tearing after the family dog) to the final scene’s hard-won reconnection between Max and his mother at the kitchen table. Warner Bros. Pictures should be applauded for such a nervy and breathtaking achievement — the rare adaptation that goes deeper, not dumber, in its page-to-screen translation of a children’s classic.

Not everyone will share my feelings. I suspect kids will go for it more than their parents; in my experience, it’s parents who tend to get fussed up about material they perceive, often wrongly, as “too dark” or difficult. There’s a certain amount of pain in “Where the Wild Things Are,” but it’s completely earned. The movie fills you with all sorts of feelings, and I suspect children will recognize those feelings as their own.

A movie such as Disney/Pixar’s “Up” (which I also love — what are the odds of getting two such gems, different as they are, in the same year?) ensures mass-audience appeal of a certain economic impact, by dint of its own canny approach to blockbuster machinery and some inspired reconfigurations of hardy formulas. “Where the Wild Things Are” is a different sort of great. It’s take-it-or-leave-it great — scruffier, lower-key. Despite reports of nervous studio meddling, it offers the same wealth of dream-catcher, off-kilter magic as did Jonze’s earlier features, “Being John Malkovich” and “Adaptation.” The film engages Maurice Sendak’s 1963 storybook, all of 338 words long, in a cinematic conversation, striking minor chords and plaintive emotions where other directors would’ve gone for the throat.

On paper, the additions to Sendak’s skeletal story don’t sound so good. Max, played with a fine mixture of petulance and vulnerability by the very aptly named Max Records, is shown early on coping with life in a household unsteadied by divorce. A snowball fight with his older sister and her friends takes a sad turn (though the sister isn’t demonized or caricatured, the way such supporting characters usually are on-screen). A distraught Max turns violent with his mother (Catherine Keener, excellent). Instead of the jungle emerging from the magically changed confines of his bedroom, as in Sendak’s original, Max runs away, finds his boat and sets sail. He lands on an island where the Wild Things live, and fight, and wrestle with the same neighborhood-clique issues, rousing games and hurt feelings Max deals with back home.

How did Jonze and fellow screenwriter Dave Eggers do it? How did they manage to amplify such a simple story without falling into the expository traps sprung by the egregious live-action Dr. Seuss adaptations? Mainly, they have taste and wit and trust on their side. The movie understands Max and the complicated inner lives of all kids. James Gandolfini provides the voice of Max’s main Thing, named Carol, whose temper and insecurities mirror Max’s own. Actors as rangy as Catherine O’Hara, Forest Whitaker and Lauren Ambrose, voicing Carol’s fellow creatures, develop personalities of unusual detail and unexpected emotion. Jonze has cited the rough-hewn films of John Cassavetes as a key influence on this picture, and when you hear the muttered conversations between the Wild Things, or the breathless construction projects initiated by Max and Carol (“We’ll have a laboratory where we can build robots to do our work for us. … We’ll have our own detective agency …”) you know what he’s talking about.

Shot in and near Melbourne, Australia, against an array of rumpus-friendly landscapes, the film parallels Max’s two worlds, the one back home and the scarier one where anything goes. It’s never easy negotiating family or friends, as Max learns. Without a hint of didacticism Jonze and company teach their antihero in the wolf suit a lesson, but not the sort of lesson Hollywood usually throws at an audience. This one’s more elusive, and allusive, and magical. The magic can be as simple as the wet, shiny nose on Carol’s face, or as disarming as the monstrously large dog, seen in a single long shot, in a “Little Prince”-like desert sequence wherein Max and Carol discuss their kingdom and what’s to be done with it. The exuberant, childlike songs by Karen O of the band Yeah Yeah Yeahs fold neatly into Carter Burwell’s score. I suppose I wish Jonze had found a way to keep the bedroom-transformation conceit found in Sendak’s original. His movie won’t be everyone’s ideal “Wild Things.” Instead, it’s something more valuable — it’s his and his alone. Hats off to Warner Bros. Pictures for letting it happen.

To read original article and to watch Michael Phillips video review, go to:

http://featuresblogs.chicagotribune.com/talking_pictures/2009/10/where-the-wild-things-are-4-stars.html

• A candid interview with Jane Birkin in the Telegraph.
• Howard Hampton, at the Los Angeles Times, on the new collection of Manny Farber’s film writings.
• A few choice cuts over at the New York Times: Manohla Dargis visits Ken Jacobs at his loft, David Itzkoff talks with Garry Shandling about the forthcoming DVD release of It’s Garry Shandling’s Show, and Dave Kehr talks about the Dusan Makavejev box set released by the Criterion Collection.
• The NYFF  selection committee responds to criticism over this year’s films over at IndieWIRE.
• Tom Breihan, at his Dip Dip Dive blog, posts a new quarterly report of newly released albums.
• Jessica Hopper, at the Portland Mercury, on why we need The Raincoats.
• Simon Reynolds, at The Guardian, on the legacy of British synth-pop.
• A discussion of Antichrist, the new film by Lars Von Trier, at Film Quarterly’s website between Rob White and Nina Power.
• The video portraits of Robert Wilson.
• David Thomson, at The New Republic, reviews the new oral biography of Robert Altman.
• At Cargo, an interview with UbuWeb founder Kenneth Goldsmith.

The Player

Director: Robert Altman.

Guión: Michael Tolkin, basado en su propia novela.

Intérpretes: Tim Robbins, Greta Scacchi, Fred Ward, Whoopi Goldberg, Peter Gallagher, Vincent d’Onofrio, Sidney Pollack.

Música: Thomas Newman y otros.

Fotografía: Jean Lépine.

Género: Comedia/Drama/Thriller. EEUU. 1992.

Duración: 120 minutos.

Peleando a la contra

Aunque Robert Altman sabía de la existencia de su cáncer desde un año y medio antes de morir, la terapia que escogió para combatirlo no fue otra que la realización de la que se convierte en su obra póstuma, A Prairie Home Companion, y, por si fuera poco, inició la preproducción de un nuevo filme cuyo rodaje debía iniciarse en febrero de 2007. El epíteto de cineasta incansable, pues, debe otorgarse justamente a Mr. Altman, un caballero que, podemos decir utilizando una figura bukowskiana, peleó a la contra durante cinco décadas desde esa peculiar mirada radiográfica tras la cámara. Sus continuas trifulcas con los executives de Hollywood son legendarias (creo que fue Peter Biskind que dijo de él, en referencia a sus canales de colaboración con el establishment, que “quemó más puentes que la Luftwaffe”). A este contexto arroja ingentes cantidades de luz esta acerada película que dirigió en 1992. Su título original es The Player, que podría traducirse como “el jugador”, pero también como “el actor”, y en ambos casos se trata de una buena descripción de la realidad que esconde el oficio del protagonista Griffin Mill (magníficamente incorporado por Tim Robbins). Griffin es productor ejecutivo en una de las majors de Hollywood, y su trabajo consiste en seleccionar los guiones cuya realización pueda interesar al estudio (doce al año de una terna de 50.000 libretos, según sus palabras). Esa elección se basa evidentemente en su potencial comercial, en el contexto de los clichés que el público pueda tolerar mejor, y de los accesos taquilleros del star-system (son los años de mayor éxito de las carreras de Bruce Willis y Julia Roberts, que efectúan sendos cameos en el filme interpretándose a sí mismos en una de las sátiras más inflamables que efectúa la película).

Vivir (y morir) en Hollywood

A esa premisa de la rutina de la vida del ejecutivo, el filme adiciona una trama policiaca, relacionada con un asesinato diríase que accidental del cual Mill es responsable. Así que The Player nos propone, principalmente, un viaje en la ruleta rusa de la vida profesional y sentimental del ejecutivo, una introspección en su frialdad, en su capacidad de cálculo, en su despotismo, pero también en su debilidad: los momentos en los que bordea el fracaso o la desesperación. Y en este retrato, y en el modo en el que la cámara fisgonea en el entorno del personaje –ya desde el primer instante del filme, plano-secuencia, homenaje explícito al inicial de Touch of Evil-, The Player se convierte principalmente en un magnífico fresco de los cánones de conducta en el mundillo de la industria de Hollywood, su excentricidad, los subtextos de sus comidas y cocktails, sus galas de entregas de premios, las incendiarias conversaciones telefónicas, y, en fin, la mercantilización de absolutamente todo (personas y sentimientos) en aras al Dios de la taquilla. Un fresco subversivo y valiente, dosificado con tanta capacidad de sugerencia como mucho humor negro –a menudo tamizado por referencias cinéfilas diversas, como los pósters de viejas cintas de serie B, o las postales que el protagonista recibe del guionista iracundo-, y que a la postre se convierte en un cuento moral que, con prolijidad de líneas discursivas, termina por converger en un mismo todo.

Robert Altman, entre otros

Al que no conozca la obra de Altman, ésta es una magnífica puerta de entrada, muy reveladora de su atenta mirada y su inmensa capacidad, más mordaz que doliente, para el retrato de microcosmos. Pasen y vean: esto es Hollywood. Y sino, pregúntenselo a los diversos actores que se prestaron –por algo será- a interpretarse a sí mismos en el filme: Cher, James Coburn, John Cusack, Anjélica Huston, Andy McDowell, Burt Reynolds, Mimi Rogers, Susan Sarandon, Lily Tomlin, Patrick Swayze, Malcolm McDowell, Nick Nolte, Peter Falk, Dennis Franz, Louise Fletcher, Scott Glenn, Jeff Goldblum, Elliott Gould, Harry Belafonte, Gary Busey, Robert Carradine, Sally Kirkland y Jack Lemon, entre otros.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0105151/

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

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Player

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/longterm/movies/videos/theplayerrhinson_a0a761.htm

http://tech.mit.edu/V112/N22/player.22a.html

Todas las imágenes pertenecen a sus autores

El largo adiós (The long goodbye)

Director: Robert Altman

Año: 1973

País: Estados Unidos

108 min.

Fotografía: Vilmos Zsigmond

Música: John Williams + The Dave Grusin Trio

Guión: Leigh Brackett según la novela de Raymond Chandler “The long goodbye”, 1953

Reparto: Elliott Gould, Sterling Hayden, Nina Van Pallandt, Mark Rydell, Henry Gibson, David Arkin.

Apenas dos años antes Robert Altman, director más bien irregular y encantado de conocerse ya había dejado una apreciable relectura del western en “Los vividores” donde exponía de modo tan sagaz como cargante la labor del ferrocarril y de los prostíbulos como auténticos vertebradores del oeste americano (encima con música de Leonard Cohen) e inmediatamente después dejaría su sello en la corriente retro del “noir” setentero con “Thives like us” donde volvía adaptar la novela de Edward Anderson ya llevada al cine en el 1948 por Nicholas Ray como “They live by night” con su habitual romanticismo arrebatado, eso descontando su entrada en el cine con la cáustica comedía antibelicista “M.A.S.H.”.De tal modo y aplicando su frenesí desmitificador al “hard boiled”, logra la perfecta plasmación de la esencia misma del género; el héroe no puede vencer la podredumbre y la corrupción para reestablecer el “statu quo”, porque la corrupción es el “statu quo”, de ese modo solo puede aspirar a un mínimo triunfo moral y ni así, el detective hasta cuando gana, pierde

Altman entrega no solo la mejor traslación del universo “chandleriano” al cine sino una obra maestra del cine de los 70 que se aparta del exitoso “look” retro, que tantearía sin demasiada fortuna, como de cualquier intento de actualización/remozamiento a través de una idea genial que logra que la adaptación resulta un triunfo: transponer en bloque a Marlowe desde los 30 hasta los 70 potenciando así su carácter de “hombre fuera del tiempo“, de anacronismo viviente envuelto en un tiempo que ni comprende ni le gusta, un “outsider” total de maneras irónicas, elegancia destartalada y ética a prueba de bomba. Proponiendo así una alternativa con genuina personalidad, una joya sobre el fingimiento y el engaño, desarrollado en un Los Ángeles en el que hasta el color del aire es falso (en palabras del guionista de cómics Steven Grant) y donde el único que no se deja tomar el pelo es el gato. Elliot Gould, en lo que supone una elección clarividente y de perfecta coherencia con el discurso interno del film ¿quién mejor que un actor esencial de los nuevos modos del “star system”, una “anti-estrella” unida al nuevo cine americano para representar esta transmutación del pasado?, brilla como ese Philip Marlowe indiferente, despreocupado y falsamente cínico al que todo el mundo engaña y baquetea. Por su parte Altman usa a conciencia su estilo improvisatorio (apoyado en una fotografía atmosférica, naturalista y de luz filtrada absolutamente extraordinaria de Vilmos Zsigmond) y en apariencia desmañado que casa como un guante con el carácter del protagonista y los vaivenes del relato, escrito nada menos que por Leigh Brackett (“Rio Bravo” o “El sueño eterno” entre las muescas de esta autora), apropiadamente enrevesado y tremendamente fiel al original excepto en su celebérrimo giro final. Repleto de humor (¿no avanza ese “It’s okay with me” el no menos legendario “El Nota aguanta”?), diálogos (o más bien sentencias) antológicos escupidos como dardos de curare, sentido de la observación, personajes pintorescos con tremendas interpretaciones de Sterling Hayden como proteico escritor “a là Hemingway”, Henry Gibson de canijo psiquiatra de metodología sospechosa y del también director Mark Rydell de “gangster” hortera y peligroso que protagoniza un recordado y de los más bestial fogonazo de violencia (botella de Coca-Cola mediante y antológico discurso previo) y el remate, por supuesto de un final que en su día fue polémico, metáfora de la aceptación de los nuevos tiempos por parte de Marlowe.

Dave Grusin trio, The long goodbye, definiendo el “cool”

At first glance Jean-Luc Goddard’s 1985 drama Detective looks and feels like a Robert Altman film. You have pretty much four intertwining stories that feed off each other as they move along. Altman was famous for the multi-story narrative that would eventually have the stories collide into one theme. Many directors have been influenced by Altman and his focus on character.

Jean-Luc Goddard was one of the founding members of French New Wave cinema. Which showcased a departure from standard cinema and explored a deeper and often darker approach to conventional storytelling. Goddard’s two most famous films “Breathless” and “Alphaville” were famous because of how they pushed that boundary even though they were two decades a part. If you haven’t seen either, seek them out especially Breathless.

In Detective, Goddard mixes up the crime drama into a multi-story narrative like Altman. The whole movie takes place in a hotel. You have one story that involves two detectives investigating a murder. One that involves a couple going through the ups and downs of marriage. You have a young boxer preparing and dealing with the aftermath of a fight. And finally it is revealed that the couple is blackmailing the boxer’s promoter.

French New Wave auteur Jean-Luc Goddard

What is really off-the-wall about the film is that it certain places the story will stop and the movie will start quoting random things. Like you have Shakespeare’s The Tempest, John Milton’s Paradise Lost, etc. On top of the crazy “quote” pauses, you have some rather disturbing images and frank nudity.
One scene that made me scratch my head was when the couple is delivered a tea cart for breakfast. There is a wet dead mouse on the cart and when the man pours his coffee it is blood. What was the significance of that scene? What effect was it trying to convey? Does “new friend” echo the blackmail scheme? I still don’t get it. But it was a rather intense image.

My favorite scenes were always the quieter scenes between the boxer and his lover (Stephane Ferrera and Emmanuelle Seigner) and the tenderness they shared. It is not what you would expect. Detective was Seigner’s second film. Three years after the film, she became famous for becoming director Roman Polanski’s most significant muse and wife. She then starred alongside Harrison Ford in Frantic.

I also adored the performances from Nathalie Baye and Claude Brasseur who play the couple. They seemed to be the most genuine and examined characters in the film.

Side note, this is the fourth film of Julie Delpy, who was 14 when she made the movie.

I can’t say I thoroughly enjoyed Detective but really anything that pushes the envelope in cinema is good to see at least one. Easily Breathless is still my favorite Goddard film. Look for more Goddard films as the blog continues.

3 out of 5

So Says the Soothsayer.