Cat People (1942)

Directed by Jacques Tourneur

“Let no one say, and say it to your shame / That all was beauty here, until you came.”

This week on Camera Coverage, after an unfortunate but necessary hiatus, we take a chance at yet another Horror Classic. This time we discuss one of RKO’s ultimate, but sadly forgotten classics, Jacques Tourneur’s Cat People. We often associate suspense films of this era with Alfred Hitchcock, and rightly so, but Tourneur is a French director that utilized the techniques of the afforementioned director to a new height in his Hollywood career. Despite being associated with B-movie fair, Cat People presents classic horror cinema at its best. There is a creature, there is melodrama, there is symbolism and there is masterful use of archaic techniques in order to portray (or not) all these cathartic elements.

The film plays with the character of Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon), a Serbian fashion designer working in New York. Right from the beginning of the film we are introduced to her future husband Oliver Reed (Kent Smith), who’s relationship with will be the main focus of the whole film. Irena has a unsettling past and is afraid that some legends from her village in Serbia are true and inside her. Stories of witches, kings, witchhunters and, of course, cat people, live within her as she expresses her anxieties of the possibility of all of it being true. This will lead to a troubled marriage, in which physical contact is inexistant, and the insistence of another woman inside the relationship dynamic will be the key factor for Irena to release the panther within her.

Alice as, in a genre bending role, The Other Woman, a New Yorker intruding a troubled marriage between a Serbian (Irena) and an American (Oliver).

All of this is quite literal. Irena seems to really release, or rather transform into, a panther by the third act of the film. So what makes the film so fascinating despite its somewhat cheesy premise? Well, what could have turned into a really awkward puppet and silicone fest is dealt with incredible subtilty. Tourneur’s cinema uses shadows as one of its foundational elements. This is essential to a film working with metamorphosis as is Cat People. The idea of transformation is never portrayed directly onto the screen, but suggested. I believe, as many others do, that Tourneur utilized heavy indexicality mainly because of the somewhat low budget of the film. That said, when working with abductive imagery he manages to elevate the film not only in terms of ambiguity, but also in relation to films that utilize top-notch special effects but sadly do not hold so well nowadays. It must be noted and observed that this technique is not reduced to editing and cutting the scene when transformations are due, but there is a work of suggestive imagery throughout the whole of the film. From images of Irena with paintings of menacing cats in the background, to juxstaposition of her body and a reproduction of a statue of Anubis, to the crossing of Irena’s figure and the shadow of an armchair giving her some sort of cat ears. One of the key scenes works with Irena’s footsteps quickly silencing as she is chasing Alice (Jane Randolph), as we must only assume that her feet transmorphed into the silent, deadly paws of a black panther. This film represents the use of cinema’s rhethorical means at its best, using not only the resource of image and visual representation, but going as far as utilizing sound to its most effective.

Another example of suggestion – in this case premonition – of a scene through shadows and objects. If you look closely you can observe the shadow of the bird and its cage projected onto the black panther image, predicting what would later happen in that scene regarding the bird’s death.

One can love a film by its technical prowess, but what does it all really mean? Well, Cat People does not shy away from ambiguity. This is not only due to the decisions behind the technical aspects of the film, but also due to the broad themes that the film is dealing with. Probably the most clear readings of the film lay on the problem of sexuality, femininity and relationships as a whole. There is a clear suggestion throughout the whole film of Irena’s fear of touch, even though she is already married and social or even religious judgements are not an issue. This woman is dynamic in the film, as she can transform into a menacing beast that is awaken by the overextension of male activity in the world that is her own – this is, sexual intercourse regarding her own body. But what about her Serbian identity? The reading of the film as a cultural collision is another interesting perspective by which we can approach Cat People.

Despite all these possible perspectives on the film, its ambiguity and blank spaces should be respected and perceived as such. This is a film that is simultaneously meant to be enjoyed and discussed, but never reduced to x or y perspective. By trying to limit the film’s readings (there is an immense focus by critics in accessing the film with the perspective on sexual anxieties), we tend to leave its essential element of identity that it is dealing with. More than a woman or a Serbian, Irene is an individual trying to defend her individuality when in necessity of interacting with other individuals. Whether Irene is a cat person or not we will never get to really see, but what we get to see is that Irene is as human as she can as she tries to survive in our inherently intrusive world.

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 Fire Within (1963)

(original title: Le Feu Follett)

Directed by Louis Malle

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“One day I realised I’d spent my life waiting. For women. Money. Action. So I drank myself stupid.”

Louis Malle is a French director that started his career amidst the Nouvelle Vague movement. Despite not being a full front figure like Jean Luc Godard, Alain Resnais or the recently late Agnes Varda, he has a personal style and sensibility that make him, in my opinion, an underrated director in the French scene. His first full feature is Ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958), a noir masterpiece, displaying a suffocating and almost despairing feel with the brilliance of his night Paris shots. This in alliance with a stellar original soundtrack by the jazz great Miles Davis make for an almost perfect debut as a director. Throughout his career he would tackle difficult and polemic themes like Nazi collaboration (Lacombe Lucien (1974) ) or incestuous relationships (Le souffle au cœur (1971) ). His own World War II experience would serve as the theme for Au revoir les enfants (1987), a powerful film about a catholic school that hides Jewish children from Nazi persecution.

With Le Feu Follett, Malle focuses once again in very sensitive topics, like depression, addiction and especially on suicide. The story follows Alain Leroy (Maurice Ronet), a 30-year-old writer with alcoholic problems as he leaves the rehabilitation clinic in Paris. This service was played by his ex-wife, who now lives away from him in New York. To verify the success of the treatment, she sends one of Alain’s old female acquaintances Lydia (Léna Skerla) to check up on him. His doctor (Jean-Paul Moulinot) assures him that he is completely cured, and all is good now. Despite all the positive feedback from the outside Alain cannot help but feel disenchanted with the prospects of his future. Though the film we see him visit some old friends and catching up with their current lives in the present. For instance, as his comrade Dubourg (Bernard Noël) now dedicates his life to Egyptology and marriage, Eva (Jeanne Moreau) wastes her time with drug users. In another scene we see Alain dine with Solange (Alexandra Stewart) and her wealthy and reactionary friends. There is a feeling of resentment by Alain against his friends as if they are no longer the same as they were in their youth. As if in some way, their juvenile ideals were betrayed and transformed exactly on what was promised to fight against.

“It’s not feelings of anxiety, it’s a single feeling of constant anxiety”

Despite the constant presence of friends and acquaintances, Alain feels more alone than ever. Deep inside he feels truly displaced in this world and questions the bourgeois life that his friends live. In his small room questions the meaning of his existence and if he should just end it. The addiction leaves him with constant questioning of his abilities as a writer and even his notions of manhood, mainly because of the power and dependence that his ex-wife still has on him.

Maurice Ronet, who worked with Malle before in Ascenseur pour l’échafaud (1958) does an astonishing job in this film. With a profound sense of calmness, he wanders through Paris narrating his thoughts in an eloquent manner. Malle use of handheld cameras give a more personal and closer feel as we feel as if we walk along with Alain. Along with the minimalistic notes of piano composed by Erik Satie there is a bittersweet tone to the relation between the viewer and the protagonist. In his head he made up his mind and he is tired of waiting for something that gives meaning to his life. Despite that, what may feel as a self-imposed fatalism is something very hard to understand to those not experienced with depression or addition problems. Alain seems like the kind of men that has nothing against him. With a good figure, intelligent and well-dressed what does he needs more? He has lots of friends and women that want to spend the night with him but regardless of that he is extremely unhappy with his life.

Malle, born into a wealthy industrialist family surely took a lot of his own thoughts and experiences into this work. Inspired by the writter Pierre Drieu la Rochelle (who ended up committing suicide) and his novel Will O’ the Wisp (1931), Malle gives an honest and well needed take on both mental issues and the problematics of contemporary society. Alain is in short, a profoundly alone person mainly because people lack the understanding of his real problems. Depression works not only on sadness and poor mood but especially the lack or misplacement of feelings. The true sadness of the film lies on not the decisions made by Alain but how poorly the others could view his problems. Maybe it was shame or pure hopelessness, but Alain seemed to others like a functional human being. If the viewer did not have access to his thoughts would them also view him as a man in the brink of suicide?

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

Diamantino (2019)

Directed by Gabriel Abrantes & Daniel Schmidt

“They call me the Michael Angelo of the pitch”

Diamantino marks the debut of Gabriel Abrantes (with the partnership of Daniel Schmidt) into the world of full featured films. Abrantes has a long list of short films in his bag, such as A Brief History of Princess X (2016) or A History of Mutual Respect (2010). In his films he tries to ally a philosophical and critical stance to thematic such as history, gender and sexuality politics and the power of Art. With this long feature, Abrantes and Schmidt try to ally all these themes with an absurdist and at the same time comedic approach to serious and problematic contemporary problems. Almost a year after its Cannes debut, it finally showed up on Portuguese cinemas.

The plot follows Diamantino Matamouros (Carloto Cotta), the biggest football star in the world, who resembles an uncanny similarity to Cristiano Ronaldo. Either by the physical appearance or his narration of the events with a Madeira island accent (subtitled even to Portuguese audiences, although he is speaking Portuguese, something that may only be appreciated by the native speakers of the language) the resemblance is something that clearly pops on the viewer. Despite that, it’s not a direct reference and the character serves mainly as a caricature for nowadays biggest stars. He is a revered figured, almost like a god, astonishingly rich and with a personality ingrained with vanity and at the same time a tremendous ignorance for the events of the world. The very first scene, where we see him play in a sold-out stadium in the World Cup alongside with giant puppies in a pink cloudy haze, marks the surrealistic tone of the film. This scenario created in his head is the mechanism necessary to make him excel in what does best. Diamantino’s vanity and obsession with image and performance is not critiqued but instead he is presented as a deeply naïve and almost childish character. With the unexpected appearance of a refugee boat near his yacht, he completely loses all his ability to enter in that mental state represented by the pink haze and loses all his football skills. He goes from hero to zero, in a statement of the vapid celebratory status that rules our society, where one mistake is enough to fall from grace.

The surreal place that Diamantino goes when he plays

Shocked by the migrant reality, he decides to adopt a Mozambican refugee boy, who is actually a female agent in disguise to discover possible financial frauds. Placed in an alternative timeline, Portugal is a neofascist country. One of the best aspects is the placement of small but very perspicuous clues that evoke the country’s forty-year dictatorship. It compares the creation of a glorious past with its big symbols with the new symbols created by today’s society in order to give a sense of national identity. The plot derives then into an almost espionage type of film. The despotic government convinces our lead character into a cloning process to make an entire football team full of skilful players like him in order to regain the glory lost in the World Cup final. This potentially deadly procedure would end up giving him breasts, something that deeply embarrasses him. The laughs of the audience to this scene maybe are a refection the director wants to make in relation to transphobia but unfortunately fails short to give any deep impact on the viewer.

The film’s first half results in an interesting critique of nowadays culture and politics. The long dictatorship (from 1926 to 1974) marked generations with a propaganda machine that created myths to justify a sense of identity. Despite a few decades passed since 1974, the mindset of the contemporary Portuguese people in some ways still rely in those myths of grandeur in a way of self-identity. Diamantino’s sisters (Anabela Moreira/ Margarida Moreira) also make an interesting point with their greed for their brothers’ money. With their sly personality, they are willing to sacrifice his own brother if needed. Alongside the positive points made before, Cotta’s performance is also a big highlight in the film, creating a deeply interesting character.

Diamantino and his “adoptive son”

The problem with the film relies essentially on pace. Past the first half of the film the repetition of the more poignant (or funny) aspects start to wear off and lose some of the charm. In a way, it reminds me of Capitão Falcão (2015) a Portuguese film that deals with similar political themes with also a comedic approach. The premises are smart and offer new ideas that deserve his praise, especially in dealing with ghosts of the past in a more cheerful that can help more easily engrain the audience in a political reflation without a more acute sense of guilt. The problem is that it is unable to deliver a more powerful second half without recycling most of the content used before. Worst than that, it finishes with a disappointing and cliché ending. Maybe Diamantino would be better if it was a short film, as it would be a more cohesive and well-rounded experience, instead of the constant repetition of tropes.

5 out of 10

Utvandrarna (1971) / Nybyggarna (1972)

(eng:The Emigrants / The New Land)

Directed by Jan Troell

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The construction of the modern United States was a long and laborious process that encompassed many hardships by the countless ethnic groups that help created. Millions of people from all around the world embarked on ships to the American continent with the hope for a better life, incited by the “American Dream” that would bring freedom and economic prosperity, something lacking in their place of origin. Unfortunately, the country was built with more than free labour, with slavery and other racist cruelties being imposed to certain ethnic groups.

“Many slaves have better dwellings, food, clothing and working conditions than most peasants in Europe”

In these films, the focus is given to a Swedish family in the mid-nineteenth-century. Sweden is represented far from the image of prosperity that we relate with today’s Nordic countries. It is primarily an agricultural economy, with an engrained protestant ethos. It’s a difficult life, with years of bad crops creating harsh conditions of life, allied with religious persecutions. The film takes focus on the couple made up of Karl Oskar (Max von Sydow) and Kristina (Liv Ullmann), inhabitants of Smalanda, a small farming town. Despite the economic difficulties their family grows, ending up with four offspring. The idea of emigrating to America is conveyed to Karl Oskar by his brother Robert (Eddie Axberg). Kristina refuses fearing for the safety of her children during a arduous transatlantic voyage. The death of their oldest daughter to overeating unfermented grain finally convinces the wife to abandon her hometown and embark on a perilous trip to United States. After selling everything they have, the trip begins, with some family friends and religious exiles.

One moment that is one of the biggest highlights of the film is without a doubt the farewell to their hometown. The director Jan Troell does a stellar job focusing the faces of the ones leaving that impoverish and grey land. The looks to the ones that stay, whether be family or old friends, are a sight that knows that is almost certain that they will not return to this place. It is a bittersweet feeling that almost makes the viewer a passenger in that old wagon that will take them to the boat. It’s without a doubt a very powerful scene that truly shows the experience of leaving one’s home country and all the contrast of feelings with that situation.

.The ones that stay behind

The boat trip that follows shows, in a unique kind of manner the horrendous way that travelling the Atlantic Ocean was for the lower economical classes. Unlike today, the trip lasted for weeks, in an overcrowded boat, with very few preoccupations with hygiene, food or the comfort of its passengers. This kind of conditions are perfect for the transmission of diseases, and even the death of some of the passengers. It’s a claustrophobic feeling inside the large ship, leaving the viewer almost as anxious for the end of the trip as the travellers.

This kind of hardships and the detail for realism depicted in the films certainly makes the viewer feel a certain compassion with the characters. These moments portrayed are not gratuitous displays of poverty and the horrors of it just to shock the viewer or to take cheap lessons of humbleness from it. They are a part of history that sometimes is either forgotten or romanced by the newer generations. The United States of America were formed by emigrants that went to great lengths to give themselves and their descendants opportunities of life impossible in their countries of origin. It is certainly ironic that some of the people that descended from these impoverish and in need migrants now display fearmongering views against ones in similar situations.

Clocking more than seven hours of time length, both the films show a crude and genuine view during this period. They are sometimes slow movies and that take time to develop. Sydow and Ullman have truly a remarkable and honest performances, marked by a deep complicity with each other, and are accompanied by a cast of interesting and sometimes quirky secondary characters.

Film poster for Nybyggarna (1972)

As a follow up for Utvandrarna we have Nybyggarna (1972) by the same director, where we can follow the journey of the Karl Oskar’s family as they settle in a terrain In Minnesota. Here we are introduced to new problematics that challenge the idea of the so called “American Dream”. The richness of the new land is not enough for his brother Robert so he decides to go West, chasing the California Gold Rush. The war against the Sioux, a Native-American tribe (in the Dakota War of 1862) leaves his family in peril, with some perishing to indigenous warriors. On top of that, his wife has several problems with miscarriages and ends up getting dangerously ill. Like mentioned above it was a very difficult life in Sweden, but the change to America doesn’t seem to make it that much better. It’s a dangerous and lawless land and it would take years to create a stable State and a better growing economy. For ones interested in the knowing how the United States came to be, both the films are unavoidable because they create without a doubt a mental picture of the time that cannot be comprehended only by reading history books. It gives a voice to these people that made the ultimate sacrifice for a better future for them despite terrible adversities.

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)

Us (2019)

Directed by Jordan Peele

“We’re Americans.”

After the massive hit that was Get Out (2017), Jordan Peele kept showing his love for horror and a will to keep on writing new material in the genre. The subtexts and politics of Get Out (2017) were clear and well transformed into a more or less consistent concept. The value of the film was deposited in the dynamic of this transaction of racial politics into the horror film discourse, and by provoking the viewer with suggestive and anarchic ideas (similar to the one’s by Spike Lee). It was a film that worked as a genre piece but utilized its strengths to reach the public and confront them with realities that while terrifying are enlightening. Daniel Kaluuya presented us one great performance, backed by an incredible supporting cast. That is the main thing that mirrors and is enhanced in Us. The performances are well-above average and the film owes its cast a lot for its dynamic between horror and comedy (presented even more extremely than in Peele’s previous).

Shadows and reflections are essential elements of the film

The game of mirrors presented in Us starts right of the bat with the name of the film. There is ‘Us’ and ‘US’, and with that information in mind we can expect the film to present certain political ideas. The problem with it is that most of the times the small scenes are full of certain meanings that contrast with the main concept of the film, creating a lot of room for interpretation, especially considering the film as an exercise in ideology. The best thing about the film (after Lupita Nyong’o’s mesmerizing performance) is arguably how vague its political readings can be. We are teased with the idea of it being a political film with the title alone, and yet the film challenges us to dig deeper to find any consistent concepts regarding its ideas. Despite touching on the subject of racism, Peele’s vision is now aiming at broader issues with Us.

Being a comercial film, it comes with its problems. Some of the scenes in the film are too predictable in its stereotypes. What helps the film to get over these scenes is its usage in an almost metalinguistic cinematic way. Peele knows his horror clichés and uses them in an ironic way briliantly, playing with our expectations and creating genuinely funny moments. As an European citizen it is hard to understand the realities of racism in America (mostly due to our racial prejudices being of a different nature and having a different expression), so probably these complaints at the end of the day are just conditioned by my personal life experience. Having this in mind, Us regards the subject of racism in a lighter way than what was expected, especially considering its main theme. This is not a negative criticism at all, because as I mentioned before, the vagueness of Us adds a lot to any reading of the film, including a reading inclined to the ideas of racism.”

Visually it is more interesting than Get Out (2017), despite being a completely different film. It is creative and intelligent in its visual style, enough to be noticeable when comparing it to other big horror blockbusters. However, it still ends up feeling a little bit flat, just like Peele’s previous did. The use of music is brilliantly funny, and the original soundtrack is really great as well, especially the anthemic track (that reminds me almost of The Omen‘s (1976) soundtrack). Technically it is satisfying enough, never being truly flabbergasting.

The already iconic shot from Us

By what I’ve said so far one would assume that Us is a brilliant film. But it is not. It is too vague and too self-conscious to be just a commercial film to watch at the mall, and too predictable in its techniques and paralells to be a really serious and innovative picture. One of the things that troubles me the most is that its vagueness translates a lot into meaninglessness, even though it is clear that there was a care in creating a well-rounded plot (in a Hitchockian way) and complete concept. The second thing that annoys me is the necessity to overexplain everything in the end. The “plot-twist” was rather predictable and despite the film having a lot of interesting buried plot points, it leaves a more experienced viewer feeling that the film is being condescending.

This text took into consideration spoilers and I decided to not discuss any of the plot, as it is very fun to watch without knowing what it is about. Gather some friends and go watch it. Probably every person will come out of the theater with a different reading of the film (I read somewhere that a guy thinks that the film is somehow anti-socialist. I highly doubt that though) and it is an enjoyable time in the cinema. Don’t expect too much out of it, but face it with enough seriousness to consider it, as it is clear that a lot of work and dedication went into it. Jordan Peele seems like he will be the new horror genre director to look out for, though.

6 out of 10

Alice (1988)

(original title: Něco z Alenky)

Directed by Jan Švankmajer

“Alice thought to herself: ‘Now you will see a film made for children… perhaps. But, I nearly forgot, you must close your eyes, otherwise you won’t see anything.’ “

Jan Švankmajer is one of those directors that is a legend to the lovers of animated films and sadly underappreciated by the general public. In a way it is a disappointing fact, but at the end of the day, stop-motion animation is still a very particular style, and when combined with surrealism and experimental imagery, there is not much left for the casual viewer to incline in its direction. Nevertheless, Švankmajer’s work is an influence to some of the most successful directors in Hollywood, such as Tim Burton for instance. Being a fan of puppeteering and stop-motion, it is hard not to include one of his films in our Classics category, as not only is he a master of the art of puppets and traditional surrealism, but also a great filmmaker that channels his very unique vision with full use of the medium.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Alice is a film adaptation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, the famous novel written by Lewis Carroll. Despite being very faithful to its original material (even comparing it to some other adaptations, that tend to mix up the novel with its sequel Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There), it does not depict all of the episodes in the book. However, every line in the film (not including the quote we selected above, that is at the very beginning of Alice) is taken directly from the novel. That said, it completely re-reads the novel, illustrating it in a creative and new way. Its style must have been described as truly unheimlich if Sigmund Freud had the chance to watch it. This is mostly because of Švankmajer’s obsession with everyday objects and things that are well-known to us, giving them a life that should not be. Dodgson’s novel is the perfect object to be narrated by Švankmajer, as it is an inheritly playful, ambiguous, psychadelic and metamorphic story. Other surrealists have taken a chance at this novel, but only the odd combination of interests in Švankmajer could result in such an interesting piece.

Alice shrinks into a doll.

By the end of the novel Alice wakes up in her sister’s lap, as she shouts (after growing spontaneously) that all those soldiers were just a “pack of cards”. And in fact we suppose by her sister’s description afterwards that all of her adventures in Wonderland were her background setting fantasized. Švankmajer takes these ideas to an absolute extreme, utilizing animation in everyday objects and artifacts instead of focusing on creating polished fantastical creatures. This creates an incredible textural feeling in the film, something that is common in his body of work. It seems that he knows of the many different readings of the story as well, as his semiotic game (combined with smart editing, framing and cinematic techniques that are not strictly related to the effect of the animation) shows knowledge about the different subtexts of Alice in Wonderland, with a special insistence on its sexual and psychoanalytical readings.

Probably the most unsettling scene in the film, the infamous tea party.

As in some of his other works (such as Conspirators of Pleasure (1996) and Little Otik (2000) ) we can observe in this work a presence of sexuality in childhood. It is a very subtle and delicate subject, but the honesty and tactility of the director allows these themes to flow in a poignant yet brutal way. The process of coming of age, clear in Dodgson’s original, is a prominent theme in the film overall. The brutal violence of growing in Švankmajer’s version is less evident than in the book, but it burns at a much more deeper level. This is mostly due to the use of the medium of cinema (images and time) combined with the animation and metamorphosis of inanimate objects (especially regarding things like meat and bones, that are a staple of Švankmajer’s, that when back to life create this uncanny feeling of seeing a sort of in-between of life and death).

“Off with their heads!”

Alice is a film to feel and not just watch. As the main character said, it is a children’s film, with the exception that it isn’t. It is, though, an incredible revisiting of a timeless classic. Focusing on the coming of age aspect of Alice, the cyclic nature of the story, the transformations and the perception of the real in human imagination, the film is definitely not for everyone. It is highly stylized, sometimes cryptic and ambiguous and it does not follow an easy narrative for the ones that are unfamiliar with the story. One can’t deny all these obstacles to the big audiences, but it is making it injustice when saying it is not a unique experience that will probably change the way you look at film as an art form and reconsider an old but dynamic and always fresh animation technique.

The Sisters Brothers (2019)

Directed by Jacques Audiard

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“I had to help him. He is my brother.”

The western genre has been a staple of the American cinema since its early beginnings in the turn of the twentieth century. It helped to create a romanticised image of USA’s growth as a powerful nation, from the lawless open deserts filled with bandits, to the fights against the native Americans. Sometimes problematic by today’s standards of justice and ethics (mainly because of unjust representations of non-whites) the western were a very successful category mainly until the end of the sixties when the Vietnam war and the civil rights movements shifted the attention to other more pending issues at hand.

The Sisters Brothers is the last main western release in line with the many that came out in the last years. This western revival has a different paradigm to what it was the purpose of old-time ones. It focuses on unusual themes for the genre (like the African-American struggle in Django Unchained (2012) or portrays the characters in a rather much more crude and realistic tone compared to the idealistic and clean aspect of the old westerns (for instance The Revenant (2015) or True Grit (2010)). The film we´re focusing on today takes a similar stand and pretends to use some of the western typical tropes to depict a deeper story than it appears on the first hand. As the two main protagonists we have Eli Sisters (John C. Reilly) and Charlie Sisters (Joaquin Phoenix). The two brothers and outlaws serve as hired guns of a mysterious wealthy man known only as the Commodore and accept a contract to kill a a man named Hermann Warm (Riz Ahmed), a chemist rumoured to have found a formula that makes the gold glow underwater. The film is set during the gold rush in the western part of the United States. It takes into thoughtful consideration the creation of a truthful atmosphere, displaying a effervescent growth of towns made up by people fascinated by this “easy” way to get rich. Another character named John Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal), also an employ of this Commodore, tries to find the same man as the Sisters. He is the first to encounter Warm, who after some initial struggle convinces him to join him in a partnership. Warm is an idealist kind of man, dreaming that the money raised with his invention could make way for an commune in Texas, where every man was equal and without social classes. The film takes place in 1851, three years after Marx and Engels’s Communist Manifesto was published and it sure had made a deep impression on Warm. Despite this hopefulness in his mind, his invention, as we can see in the end of the film, is of terrible physical harm to humans. Almost as if there is somewhere a metaphor associating creation of wealth and the suffering of millions of low-class citizens.

“You never thought about stopping?”

The focus of the film is primarily the relationship between the two brothers. Eli acts as the more responsible of the two, almost as a father figure to Charlie, always trying to protect him. Charlie, on the other hand, is a drunkard, with a somewhat nihilistic posture to life. In a scene we see the two discussion a future without being hired killers, with Charlie being deeply against any possible career change. Despite all the harsh times and difficulties, we can experience an honest brotherly love between the two. They only have each other and shared a severe childhood, mainly because of a drunk and violent father figure, something that can explain most of Charlie’s attitude towards alcohol and violence.

Director Jacques Audiard (responsible for films such as Un prophète (2009) or De rouille et d’os (2012)), makes its first English speaking feature with The Sisters Brothers. Like Sergio Leone and all the “Spaghetti western” genre, not being an American truly brings a fresh new approach to such a classic and almost a creator of an American identity. Despite being a violent film, with the protagonists being cold hard killers without remorse, the viewer cannot help but to empathize with them. The “Wild West” was truly a rough time to life and that is well represented in the film. In a scene we see a spider entering Eli’s mouth, making him very sick in the following day, in one of the most gruesome moments in the film. Everything surrounding the brothers seems to want to eliminate them, from other outlaws to Mother Nature itself. Despite all the euphoric feeling towards a growing economy, there is a deep loneliness in the men, completely tired of this extremely competitive world. The ending of the film truly reflects that, not obsessing, like old time westerns, in a sense of true justice, but in internal peace and fulfilment.

The Sister Brothers is a good film, with superb performances and a great care for the film’s ambience. It is not a perfect film, mainly because some of the sudden changes, from slapstick comedy to the more dramatic moments feel somewhat odd. It may also feel to more impatient viewers as if nothing much is going on many if the scenes. Despite that, is an different approach to the genre and definitely not to be missed.

7 out of 10