A not so ordinary film

In 1980, yet another blockbuster Star Wars film was released. The hilarious comedy, Airplane!, helped kick off the postmodern age. And then there’s the neoclassical likes of Ordinary People (Robert Redford, 1980). A film that presented an alternative to big bangs and raunchy humor, it was also one that didn’t specifically target a young audience as was the more common tendency. There’s no surprise in the title; Ordinary People is about ordinary people. It tells the story of a not-so-Brady bunch family as they cope – or choose not to cope, perhaps the most correct description – with the death of their son Buck and subsequent suicide attempt of their second son Conrad. While from our current perspective we might giggle at the pointy collars, waist-high pants and big hair, the premise of this film bathes in its simplicity and realistic depiction. While the majority of viewers will not be able to relate to the death of a sibling or suicide, everyone will connect with the themes of insecurity, rocky parent-child relationships and guilt.

As I said, there aren’t any fireworks in this one, but it’s definitely a stick-out film of its time: 3.9/5

Rambo = America (yikes)

I find that one of the most interesting aspects of critical studies in film is the connection between its icons and reality. So when I ran across “Hard Bodies: The Reagan Heroes” by Susan Jeffords I was pretty darn thrilled. The entire piece is like one huge comparison of Ronald Reagan and his philosophies, economies and politics to the Sylvester Stallone’s character Rambo in the three part series (First Blood I, II and Rambo III). The titles just draw you right in, eh? Well you might laugh now, but this muscled, violent, invisible solder – an American soldier of course – was the collective symbol of America during the 80’s; not only did he stand for the nation’s character, but the nation in and of itself.

In her explanation of this argument, Jeffords constantly refers to the Carter administration as a platform of comparison, contrast and response for the Reagan administration. For example, Carter exemplified the errant or “soft” body symbolic of STD’s, immorality, drugs, indolence and endangered fetuses. Reagan on the other hand, exemplified the normative body, the “hard” body: strong, determined, courageous, loyal, and above all, white and male. Indeed as many other figures mention in this piece, Reagan was elected simply because he was not Jimmy Carter. It is thus that the use of the “hard body” in film is a direct parallel between Reagan’s own ideology and image, and the general social climate post-Carter.

In summary, this is an incredibly fascinating read for anyone fascinated by the intersection of culture, politics and media.

French film: making violence hotter every day

Based on positive Netflix and imdb reviews, I decided that this Friday night’s film would be one whose cover I have oft passed in the foreign film section of Hollywood Video, Le Reine Margot. No doubt an enticing cover with the likes of Vincent Perez and Isabelle Adjani covered by a blood red sheet (Think really hot lingerie models). They stare listlessly at each other as if in mutual agreement, that Yes my love, what a phenomenal eyebrow wax you’re sporting there. But this film doesn’t have as much waxing as it has waning…

 

Set in 1572 France in the backdrop of the Protestant and Catholic conflict, it kicks off with the marriage of Margot, promiscuous Catholic daughter of Catherine de Medici and brother to the king, to her distant Protestant relative Henri of Navarre. Despite their marriage, which was intended to create peace between the rivaling religious factions, feisty mother Catherine gets into plotting mode and starts a chain of events that concludes in the decision to wipe out all the Protestant folks who came ‘round for the wedding. Of these, we have La Mole (Vincent Perez). As he is persued by the murderous Catholic mob, he sustains a nasty musket wound in his arm and in his bloody delusioned state somehow wanders into Margot’s room in the palace. And naturally this is where love blossoms and the downfall of each character is solidified.

 

Honestly, I thought this film wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Pretty people, a lot of violence and dead naked bodies. On the other hand, it is a fairly interesting period piece and of course, it’s French. So let’s call it a 3/5.

Right up there with Anne Frank

As many others surely do, when it comes to choosing film rentals in a hurry I often keep my eyes peeled for certain bonafide stamps of approval. Such a thing might be an inordinate number of festival nominations or awards proudly displayed on a dvd cover. Or it may be the sight of a particularly good actor’s name. It may even be evidence of prohibition, as in the case of Xiu Xiu which was banned in China for sexual content. In the case of Saturday’s film choice, it was the shining endorsement of the Criterion Collection for the French film Au revoir, les infantes (Louis Malle, 1987).

 

Set during the Holocaust at a private Catholic school outside of Paris, this film reveals the blossoming friendship between young rebel Julien Quentin and the quiet dark-haired recent arrival Jean Bonnet. Though Julien initiates their interactions by telling Jean who’s boss, he is slowly drawn to Jean for his reserve, intellect and musical talent. Obscured by all these gifts however is a great secret that threatens to separate the two friends forever; Jean Bonnet is not actually Jean Bonnet, but Jean Kippelstein…

 

I haven’t seen every Holocaust film out there, but if there is a male equivalent to the quiet suffering of Anne Frank’s diaries, I nominate this film for its wonderful performances and unique perspective on an oft-scripted historical period. Criterion has yet to disappoint: 4/5.

Stuck on a tough film research paper?

Well if your anxiety doen’t make you weep, the Margaret Herrick Film Library surely will. Located on La Cienega Blvd in Beverly Hills, this private library is your Moses. The Herrick Library is a multi-media archive of hard-to-find film materials and texts, particularly those that pertain to American cinema. You can find books, posters, stills, newspaper and magazine clippings, scripts, production notes, special collections and much more in this gem of a research library. Indeed, when you first walk in to the two modestly-sized rooms that make up the entire visitor-accessible part of the library, its reknown seems doubtful. But don’t be fooled by size, as many of the most valuable resources are stored in hidden rooms and available by request only…

 

…Which brings me to the other distinguishing and delightful aspect of the Herrick Library: it’s employees. From the security guard downstairs to the reference desk assistants, everyone is polite and eager to serve. The last time I visited, the two reference desk employees spent a good five minutes answering my question regarding the disputed source of an article. Later, when one of them casually passed by me and inquired as to my subject of research (Zuckers and Abrahams 1980 feature, Airplane!), she lingered to give me some valuable input about the particular film’s marketing.

 

In summary, this is an amazing film resource that no film student or aspiring film student should ignore. Just be sure to carefully read the restrictions on bringing personal items and on copying, and I guarantee you will have both a unique and refreshing experience at the Margaret Herrick Library.

What’s in a title?

While interning at a film festival might not necessarily require a high level of creativity, I find that I am constantly exposed to the inventiveness of others. But where, amidst the mountain of mail, paperwork and electronic submissions can this possibly occur?

 

While trapped in the closet, of course.

The LAFF film submissions closet is a small L-shaped room with white shelves stretching almost from floor to ceiling on ever wall. Different columns hold films from different submission categories: American Narrative, Music Video, Narrative Feature, American Documentary, International, and finally the dismally popular Shorts. Not surprisingly, the Shorts pile of unalphabetized films was a sprawling mess filling a stack half a dozen crates high. Thus I was called to duty for operation shorten Shorts.

 

Over the next seven hours or so, the world of filmmakers illustrated ingenuity at its best in an array of Shorts titles. What does sex plus politics equal? Electile Dysfunction. What was the lesser known catch phrase for Superman? Faster than a Fax Machine. What does every wronged woman dream for? Manstruation. And finally my personal favorite, probably because it evokes the setting of Star Wars and the bods of The Blue Lagoon: Orion Slave Girls Must Die. I can’t say that all these films will stand the test of content, but if awards were based on titles alone, they’ve sure got my vote.

There’s nothing like a little Legend to warm the cockels of your heart…

It’s my general routine to relax on weekend nights with a movie and some cheap Fetzer. On occasion however, me-time my be sacrificed for the greater good, in this case a formal dance. Naturally the Beatles cover band, the cool one, was 10-11pm and I arrived closer to midnight. I don’t know how to describe the band de jour at this time. Imagine someone taking all the oldies that you love (and they’re not called golden for nothin) and techno-izing them. Yes. It sounded something like that.

 

Needless to say, I spent more time taking pictures with a cardboard elvis and a roman pillar than I did with the sacreligious tunes of aforementioned band. At the end of an unsuccessful night however, I generally take solace in my modest DVD collection, the pick-me-up pick of the night being Legend.

 In many ways Legend simply defies description. The short synopsis is this: young foxy elfish Tom Cruise and skinny pretty no-name actress-princess prance about in a forest with an uncanny amount of pollen in the air (which notaby does not seem to affect their health) until dark forces – the ultimate embodiment of which is Tim Curry (naturally) – threaten to destroy their paradise and matrimonial plans. Though I could not stand to watch more than twenty minutes of the director’s cut, the shiny shaven legs of Jack (Tom Cruise) managed to restore the right shade of outrageousness in life and enable me to enjoy a good night’s rest.

Do You Like Caramel? I Do

Anytime I am driving in Los Angeles (though this occurs infrequently, it always feels like forever…) I’m constantly searching for a local radio station that I can call my number one. A radio station where I can dial in like any of those crazy callers out there and exclaim that this station has saved my life from boredom.

Unfortunately, this is never the case and so I end up listening to the universal default, NPR. What rocks about National Public Radio? Minimal commercials, therapeutic voices and best of all, media recommendations. From books to cds to films they’ve done it all. On this particular drive, Ms. Soft Voice was discussing the recently released film Caramel with the director. Spurred on by the discussion, I decided to test the waters of edible waxing and make a 7:30pm date with the Laemmle Friday night.

 

The film revolves around four Lebanese women who run a beauty salon and a fifth older woman who, in addition to her trash-collecting mother, has frequent run-ins with the hairstylists across the street. Each woman is dealing with various touchy issues within their community that largely revolve around gender and sexuality. One woman is a closeted Lesbian, another having an affair with a married man, a third whose had premarital sex etc. Throughout the film we see how each woman deals with these challenges within their close-knit community.

 

Though it’s not one of those films where it makes a huge difference whether you see it on the big screen or see it at home, Caramel is definitely worth seeing. Bravo, 4/5.

Excess here, excess there, excess freakin everywhere

I recently read Jeffrey Sconce’s article ‘Trashing’ the Academy: Taste, Excess, and an Emerging Politics of Cinematic Style for my American Cinema class. The basic premise of the piece is the emergence of paracinema, a category of films which encompasses everything from downright bad to Elvis flicks, that has arisen as part of a counter culture to ‘elite’ film. One of the principal characteristics of paracinema is the use of excess. Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead is a perfect example of paracinema; people get axed to death, the bad guys continually spurt puscious white goo all over the protagonists, and of course there’s the trademark scene shouting “male director” as possessed forest vines “strategically” attack a fleeing woman.

 

While I thought Sconce’s discussion was all fine and dandy I was disappointed to see that he did not address excess in a context greater than that of film. In other words, there are many ways to counter so-called elite film – why is excess the primary characteristic? Could it possibly have to do with America as a whole being an excessive culture? Might it be connected to our status as the fattest country on Earth, as one of the biggest pollutors? Absolutely. It’s no surprise that this trashy cinema lashes out using excess, because its supporters have grown up in a culture where being noticed is determined by excess.

I hate to beat on you Jeff, but I was hoping for a word here or there about what strikes me as the most obvious motivation behind this approach to trashing the academy.

Do You Like Paradise?

If so, then Andrucha Waddington academy award nominated film Casa de Areia (House of Sand) will make you reconsider.

 

This film tells the story the pregnant Aurea, wife of a totally crazed husband who decides to up and leave the capital to live out in the deserted northern coastal desert of Brazil in 1910. He’s so wacked, he ends up killing himself – not with a gun, a noose or cyanide – but in a truly karma reinforcing demonstration: as he angrily hacks away at the house he insisted on building in the middle of sand, sand and s’more sand because his building crew decided to go on a permanent holiday, a wall falls and knocks him dead.

 

After this wonderful show of “what goes around comes around” (or at least comes down – heeheehee), Aurea is forced to stick around with her mother and child for another ten years. They have help from a distant neighbor Massu, who dwells close to an island of other runaway slaves. But the sand is always shifting, blowing and enveloping Aurea in more ways than one.

 

If you’re a nature buff, a sucker for environmental cinematography, and someone who doesn’t need explosions and grenades to stay interested (it’s a little on the slow side, even for my taste), then you might like this film. When all is said and done, I’m settling with a 3.8/5.