Bibi Andersson || Persona (1966)

[Directed by Ingmar Bergman]

Earlier this week we have been braced with the devastating news of the death of the legendary actress Bibi Andersson. She is best known for her long collaboration with director Ingmar Bergman with whom she had made approximately twelve films. Andersson is responsible to the introduction of Liv Ullmann to Bergman, and therefore responsible for what is one of the most legendary collaborations in the history of cinema. Even though the spotlight is often on Ullmann, Bibi Andersson is the original muse of the director, and works as a strong homogenous figure in Bergman’s early work, only later her figure being noticeable as a “lighthearted” contrast to what was the “severity” of Liv Ullmann, especially on the masterpiece that is Persona.

Every film lover knows Persona. But it is also true that no one can truly deconstruct and interpret the film in what may be considered a “right way”. This is a film that is meant to work on a level that differs from our usual cinematic experiences. Most of this is due to the way both characters interact and the work of metamorphosis between the two. While, as mentioned before, Liv Ullmann plays the patient, an actress that is both austere and troubled, Bibi Andersson plays a deeply humane but also troubled nurse. While both performances are incredibly layered and dynamic, we are mostly guided by the eyes of nurse Alma in her quest to heal Elizabeth Vogler, that quickly turns into a therapy for her own troubles. The humanity and sincerity of Andersson’s performance brings to the film something for the viewer to relate to, something that is essential for Bergman’s work to function correctly in order to not transform into something completely obtuse and abstract. She is the perfect counterpart that bridges the complex states of mind and the complex artistic pretensions of the film into our everyday lives, creating in the end one of the most unheimlich experiences one can have with a film.

Bibi Andersson is the light of our everyday lives fading in the world of Bergman’s cinema. She brought reality and sensibility to films that would feel too cold and distant to be as relevant as they are today. This week we lost one of the big faces of Swedish cinema, and she will surely be remembered as one of the absolute icons of the history of film. We leave a list below of our favourite films she made part of. Bibi Andersson will not be forgotten.

The List:

Sommarnattens leende [Smiles of a Summer Night] (1955)
Det sjunde inseglet [The Seventh Seal] (1957)
Smultronstället [Wild Strawberries] (1957)
Djävulens öga [The Devil's Eye] (1960)
Syskonbädd 1782 [My Sister, My Love] (1966)
Persona (1966)
Flickorna [The Girls] (1968)
En passion [A Passion] (1969)
Scener ur ett äktenskap [Scenes from a Marriage] (1974)
An Enemy of the People (1978)
Quintet (1979)

The Wild Pear Tree (2019)

(original title: Ahlat Agaci)

Directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan

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“Everyone has their own temperament. The thing is being able to accept and like it.”

The “new” (premiered in 2018’s Cannes Film Festival) film by the critically acclaimed Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan is again a huge work in size. And again, Ceylan presents us a massive picture that feels even more entrancing than his previous film Winter Sleep (2014). The similarities between both films are obvious, as they both tell stories of writers. However, The Wild Pear Tree is way more accessible than Winter Sleep (2014) and more irreverent at the same time. Sadly, it does not quite hold up against the director’s best (most notably Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2008) and Distant (2002) ), following some of the same small issues present in the 2014 film. This is, however, not a reason to dismiss the film, because even a lesser Nuri Bilge Ceylan film is still a way more interesting experience than most.

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The filmography of the director is notorious for having two specific characteristics: he is one of the big names associated with the so called “Slow Cinema”, and his films are incredibly wordy and verborraic at the same time. In The Wild Pear Tree this last characteristic is even more noticeable, with the “slow” and transcendental aspect feeling that it was put to side, and, when exercised, feeling a bit forced and out of tone. The film follows Sinan (Dogu Demirkol), a young writer that has finished his education to be a primary school teacher like his father. He is also working on publishing a book he wrote, and most of the first part of the film follows his struggle in finding money to be able to do it. This is the main situation we are presented with the main character, but the film, since the beginning, has an intense focus on the relationship between Sinan and his father Idris (Murat Cemcir), who is a man caught in a downward spiral of gambling and unmesurable debt.

Despite the film mainly following Sinan and his interactions with many of the townsfolk, and even a famous writer, it is on the father-son dynamic presented that the film truly shines. The character development of Sinan, while honest and relatable, is never biased in trying to depict him as a truly well-meant individual at all. His father is depicted with some really harsh situations as well. However, their personalities are completely different. The evolution of the story is one that is settled on the idea that both these characters are antagonistic, and ends with the most incredible note of transcendental family bonding energy that completely disrupts all the insistence on creating such opposite characters.

Idris, a truly incredible performance by Murat Cemcir

The problem with The Wild Pear Tree when comparing it with other Ceylan films is that this time Ceylan feels that is touching on much more coloquial and generic themes, and unsuccesfully trying to elevate them all at the same time. It is a weirdly paced film, with scenes that range from the themes of death and religion to relationships and love, sometimes presenting them with no apparent connection to each other. Sadly, it also doesn’t always succeed on being truly poignant in the portrayal of a lot of these themes, with the noticeable exception being the depicted problems regarding family dynamics. The film being dialogue driven does not help it in achieving the poetic intensity of his previous films as well, despite turning the film into a more enjoyable and quickly relatable experience to the viewer. It makes some of its scenes feel like they are too predictable, and some of the “funny moments” in the film feel odd in the overall picture. The idea of quickly cutting scenes that are supposedly happening in the characters minds or in dreams do not always work as well, and do not go well at all with the also stylistic and expected “slow” style of the director.

“Someone once called time a silent saw. You never know what it’ll do to us.”

That said, the conclusion of the film will leave you with unforgiving anxiety. Ceylan shows us with scenes like these why he is one of the most lyrical filmmakers out there, despite sadly going off the rails in The Wild Pear Tree. The odd pacing of the film is distracting and almost unforgivable to a director that already made so many great things. The visual aspect of the film is top notch, especially the scenes in winter time, but even regarding this, sometimes the digital camera seems to not be able to capture as well some of the scenes as it should. The soundtrack is unnexpectedly great and one of the best yet in his filmography. However, while not being as problematic in some of the aforementioned aspects as Winter Sleep (2014) was, The Wild Pear Tree is still not the hyper comeback we were expecting, despite having one of the most cathartic closures in any of Ceylan’s films. It is a frustatingly imperfect film with a lot of incredible singular scenes. But for some of those scenes alone and the incredible depiction of the relationship between Sinan and Idris, The Wild Pear Tree is still a film to look out for.

7 out of 10

Agnès Varda || Les plages d’Agnès (2008)

[Directed by Agnès Varda]

The past 29th of March braced us with the sour news of Agnès Varda passing away. A woman that changed the world of cinema so much should not go away dismissed by Camera Coverage. With that in mind I decided to write a small text on how much she meant to us cinema lovers and art lovers based on her autobiographical film The Beaches of Agnès.

In this documentary we see exposed the soul and will behind an incredible individual in the world of the French New Wave, something which we hope to find a lot more in her upcoming picture Varda par Agnès. By going through some of her past films and experiences in the world of art, we are able to go a step deeper in understanding the artist behind them, and never forget that the power moving those pictures was coming from a deep love for the emotions of art. Despite it being an autobiographical film, it is surely full with nods at experimentation. Any fan identifies the personal touches of the director and her whimsical idiosyncrasies. Varda is as expressionistic as ever, with her infamous atittude of being intoxicated with the mere act of living, with poetry and with the romantism in everyday life is as strong as in any of her later films. It is not necessarly the best film to start if you are not familiar with the director and the French New Wave movement, but it is tear inducing if you are an experienced viewer and lover of the excentricities of the its directors.

Varda is the joy of French cinema impersonated. Her last films had the incredible quality of the first, leaving the viewer enchanted by a woman full of life and full of will to live. A truly inspiring artist. In a world where the severity of Goddard and the ‘filmism’ of Truffaut are (wrongly) on top, she finds a perfect spot in the heart and soul of men. Innovative, magical and artsy in the best way possible, all of us want to be a little bit like Agnès, and are grateful to be blessed with so much work from her. The cinema and photography of her work shine bright enough in our world for her to never really fade away. We leave a list below of Camera Coverage’s favourite’s from this great director. May she rest her joyous soul.

The List:

Cléo de cinq à sept [Cléo from 5 to 7] (1962)
Le Bonheur (1965)
Oncle Yanco [Uncle Yanco] (1967)
Documenteur (1981)
Sans toit ni loi [Vagabond] (1985)
Les cent et une nuits de Simon Cinéma [One Hundred and One Nights] (1995)
Les Glaneurs et la Glaneuse [The Gleaners & I] (2000)
Les plages d'Agnès [The Beaches of Agnès] (2008)
Visages, villages [Faces Places] (2017)

Vice (2019)

Directed by Adam McKay

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‘If you have power, people will always try to take it from you. Always’ – Lynne Cheney

Adam Mckay gives another try on directing a political commentary film with Vice, three years after his last production. His career is filled with comedy directing credits, from SNL sketches to Hollywood hits like Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004) or Step Brothers (2008). In The Big Short (2015), McKay tried to ally the seriousness of the 2007’s mortgage housing crisis in the US with a combination of humorous characters that work as a comic relief on such a severe topic. On Vice, the recipe is taken up a notch with an even more extreme approach to the theme of the film.

Vice works, on a primary level, as a biopic of the Vice President of the USA during the George W. Bush era (2001-2009), Dick Cheney (Christian Bale). From his troubled Yale years to the personal ascension inside the power dynamics of the White House, the film is never clear on what are his real goals. A scene on the first half if the movie shows his wife Lynne Cheney (Amy Adams) giving him an ultimatum implying she would abandon him in case he didn’t amend his behaviour. In all the motion picture, the figure of Lynne is a potent influence on the action of Cheney. Throughout the film, a clear connection between Cheney and his family is shown, as a way of not only trying to give an alternative and more positive view of him, but also serve as a motivation as to why he is acting as the way he is. The family is painted as a close clan whose protection and ascension are the primary goal for him.

McKay tries to paint an image of a man whose obsession for power makes him look like an introverted sociopath without any ethics, except for his own personal gain, with the leverage of a kind family man to balance it all out. But even his close ones suffer from the thirst for power, especially his daughter Mary (Alison Pill). Although he always accepted her choices, her sexuality is the appointed reason by Cheney for not running for President, as it is something that would diminish his chances. Later when his other daughter Liz (Lily Rabe) decides to run for Senate, he approves her decision to not support gay marriage, as it would hurt her chances with the more conservative Republican voters. After the crumbling of his political career, the family cohesion is also shattered, leaving the viewer confused on what were his real motivations after all.

Christian Bale, who also worked with McKay on The Big Short (2015), goes again to extreme measures in an effort to give the closest portrayal of Cheney. His method acting made him gain almost 20 kilos and shave his hair. Besides the work on physical aspect, the voice and mannerisms are also not missed, making Bale a strong contender for the Best Actor award on the upcoming Academy Awards. The rest of the cast also delivers strong performances. Amy Adams incarnates a strong wife that, in a way, feels that she is the one truly in charge. Sam Rockwell does what he is best at: after winning the Oscar for best supporting actor last year, he displays here an eerie similarity with George W. Bush, especially with both the accent and tone of his voice. Despite this, the viewer cannot help but feel that he is spared of much of the guilt, by displaying Bush one sided only as an ignorant fool. Steve Carrell (playing Donald Rumsfeld) distances himself even more from the comedy actor typecast, showing once again that he is capable of doing more serious types of characters.

Despite the powerful performances, it feels somewhat exaggerated at times, mainly because of McKay’s editing quirks and misplaced satire. It works, for instance, on the Macbeth reenactment by the Cheney couple, establishing, like the original Shakespeare work, the importance of the wife in the way the lead behavior. But on the other hand, the constant uses of documentary footage make the film lose focus as on what it is trying to be. The “credit roll” on the middle of the film doesn’t really work and appears a little bit forced, especially because the second half doesn’t fit that narrative (and being the second fake ending I watched recently after Gaspar Noe’s Climax (2018), let’s hope it doesn’t become a trend). The narrator (Jesse Plemons) is also a character that shows up in the film without much reason and the plot twist feels a tad forced (especially on the light of the trope of Cheney’s almost humorous heart attacks).

“I believe we can make this work.”

It’s a film of the Trump era, clearly making a lot of connections between Cheney and the current US President. The rage that McKay tries to impulse on the viewer by Cheney’s actions serve as a warning for the present American administration. After the final credits roll there’s an extra scene that disperses any doubt that this is a movie for the current times. One of the mechanisms used by the Bush administration were the creation of focus groups which helped justify the war to the American people. But in this after credit scene it is the movie itself that is being discussed. The same focus group reappears where a stereotypical white Trump supporter denounces a liberal bias throughout the film, starting a fiery discussion in the room. As it erupts, one disinterested member remarks that she is looking forward to the new installment of the Fast and Furious franchise. It’s a cheap shot to audience as it tries to tell them that the fault is also theirs. Nonetheless, despite the lack of interest in politics which usually results in abuses in power, it’s not impossible to enjoy popular culture and take political stands. A populist conclusion on a movie that supposedly criticizes the same evil.

6 out of 10

At Eternity’s Gate (2019)

Directed by Julian Schnabel

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“Maybe God made me a painter for people who aren’t born yet”

On At Eternity’s Gate Julian Schnabel, director of the critically acclaimed Le scaphandre et le papillon (2007) turns again to the art world for inspiration. 23 years after Basquiat (1996), inspired by the troubled life of street artist Jean Michel Basquiat, it’s now time for an exploration of the later days of Vincent van Gogh. Despite the many decades that separate the life and death of the two artists, both were misinterpreted visionaries whose works came to be known as revolutionary after their deaths.

Biopics and homages of van Gogh are too many to describe in this review. From Vincent Minelli´s Lust for Life (1956), to the Akira Kurosawa´s marvellous tribute in Dreams (1990) where the painting Wheatfield with Crows (1890) is referenced in one of the shots. In 2017 came out Loving Vincent, an animation film using 65,000 frames of oil painting on canvas, inspired by the painting technique of van Gogh.

This film focuses approximately on the last 2 and half years of the Dutch artist. It begins with van Gogh (William Dafoe) meeting the also acclaimed French painter Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac) and their stay in the French small town of Arles. All the known episodes about the artists life, from the breaking apart with Gauguin, the cutting of his own ear as well his stay in a mental asylum and controversial death are represented in this film.

One of the great things about At Eternity’s Gate is the great performance of William Dafoe in this picture. Although having almost twice the age of van Gogh at the time of his death, Dafoe establishes a believable portrayal of the anguish and pure joy the painter experienced during this period of his life. The director focused with great care at the expressions in the faces of the actors, with the constant use of close-ups. Like Dreyer in The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), the close-up on someone’s face does an astonishing job of making the spectator feel the pain as well the joy the character must be feeling at the time. The scenes where van Gogh paints, the switch between the focus on the quick brushstrokes and the emotions manifested by his face truly transports the viewer to the pure bliss of painting. These few scenes are when the film really outshines itself, together with a warm but at the same time gloomy solo piano soundtrack.

Schnabel experiments a lot with the camera work. Besides the above-mentioned close ups, which work quite well and give texture to the film experience, the overemphasis on a half-blurred lens in some scenes starts to get a little bit tiring after a while. The sound experimentation works better. In the church scene, where Gauguin announces his departure to Paris, leaving van Gogh completely shattered inside is a great example of this. The lines spoken by Gauguin repeat in van Gogh’s head at the same time he is hearing more information from the French painter. It helps to represent better the pure exasperation that van Gogh was surely feeling at the time.

The echoes of Gauguin’s voice inside van Gogh’s head

Van Gogh is represented as a fragile man where the only person who appears to comprehend him is his own brother. A powerful bond which is well represented in this film, especially in a scene where the two lie down in an hospital bed, after one of van Gogh’s breakdowns. He feels that the world doesn’t comprehend him, and laments when he says, “I have a menacing spirit around me.” The connection between mental illness and acts of pure genius is sometimes hailed as logic and unavoidable. As if madness is the only way of achieving greatness and that every genius has a little bit of a madman inside him. This image of a deranged gift is unjust, and a lot of times given to artists like van Gogh. In one of his many marvellous letters to his brother Theo he refers that a “grain of madness that is the best of art”. He knows his limitations and how deeply they affect him. The film tries to explain, with all its flaws, that the mental problems were an issue that incapacitated him to do even more, and not the source of all his brilliance.

The painting where the title was drawn from represents a figure of an old man with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, in a clear sense of despair. In a way, Schnabel tries to make van Gogh a martyr of his own geniality. The last scenes of the film almost try to glue the image of saint-like to the painter. The forgiveness of his alleged killers (his suicide it’s still an unsolved mystery to this day) give him a Christ in the cross kind of aura.

Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity’s Gate) (1890) by Vincent Van Gogh; oil in canvas; Kröller-Müller Museum,Otterlo

At Eternity’s Gate tries to transport the viewer closer to the experience of the Dutch painter using every tool possible. It’s not a perfect film but tries to give a fair representation of van Gogh away from the mad genius stereotype. It shows all his brilliance as a painter and his difficulties as a man. The experience of painting on cinema at its best.

7 out of 10