paris qui dort

Paris qui dort
d. Rene Clair, 1925

As further proof of how uneducated I am, this is the first Clair film I've seen, but I do believe it's a good introduction to his work. Clocking in at 35 minutes, Paris qui dort has to be one of the earliest and most enjoyable science fiction films. The premise is simple: the watchman of the Eiffel tower wakes up to find the world has fallen asleep. Over the course of the film, he and some of his friends--who managed to avoid the sleep spell because they were flying over Paris--go around the city wreaking havoc. They drink, steal, and gamble. The film works both as a critique of modern life, mostly in the way we see the characters taking valuable possessions from the immobile civilians, when it's clear material goods will hardly matter when everyone else is dead. And on another level, it's also a very spiritual film, arguing that however fun it may be to always keep to oneself; in the end, no man is an island. Paris qui dort may not be as poetic as the work of Jean Cocteau, but it's a predecessor to films like Wenders' Wings of Desire (1987) and Ramis' Groundhog Day (1993). Most importantly, Paris qui dort is a gorgeous love letter to the city of Paris.

fat city, the dead

Fat City
d. John Huston, 1972

John Huston's Fat City makes Scorsese's Raging Bull (1980) look like complete nonsense. I'm tempted to call this gritty slice of American poetry the best boxing film ever made (yes, better than The Set Up [1959]), though it's clearly much more than that. I'm not particularly interested in the sport, nor am I the same race or age as either of its main characters, but there's something entirely human about Huston's endeavor. As has been pointed out by many, this is like the flip side of the American dream, it's humanity at its most wretched, and terrifying to watch.

The Dead
d. John Huston, 1987

This is only the second Huston I've seen (see above), but it's clear that he's one of the great American directors. The Dead (1987), an adaptation of Joyce's short story of the same name, may not be as downright amazing as Fat City, but it's obviously a gorgeous piece of filmmaking. Taking one of Joyce's most accessible passages--certainly more so than anything in A Portrait of the Artist or Ulysses--Huston fashions one of the great literary adaptations of our time. In its brief 70 minute-long running time, The Dead encompasses a great deal of knowledge about humans, finally culminating in one of the most beautiful meditations on mortality ever filmed.

army of shadows

Army of Shadows
d. Jean-Pierre Melville, 1969

Like the existential fiction of Albert Camus and Jean-Paul Sartre—two writers whose metaphysical discomfort hovers over this film—Army of Shadows is as familiar as it is terrifying; it’s less a dull history lesson than an unsettling, present tense account of WWII’s psychological toll. To discover the film for the first time 38 years after it was made is not only a testament to its brilliance, but also to the staggering amount of valuable films made in the late 60s.

music list

Haven't seen a movie since Saturday, so there's really no reason for me to be writing here. Nevertheless, I've been thinking about maybe incorporating more music-related material here; something like a weekly article about a new album I discover. To kick this off, I'll list my ten favorite albums of all time. There's no surprises here, but you know...


01. Blonde on Blonde (Bob Dylan, 1966)


02. Astral Weeks (Van Morrison, 1968)


03. Highway 61 Revisited (Bob Dylan, 1965)


04. The Velvet Underground (The Velvet Underground, 1968)


05. Pet Sounds (The Beach Boys, 1965)


06. The Velvet Underground & Nico (The Velvet Underground, 1967)


07. Rubber Soul (The Beatles, 1965)


08. The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady (Charles Mingus, 1963)


09. John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band (John Lennon, 1970)


10. Revolver (The Beatles, 1966)

the royal tenenbaums

The Royal Tenenbaums
d. Wes Anderson, 2001

Whether or not you enjoy The Royal Tenenbaums has a lot to do with how your own sensibilities respond to the idiosyncrasies of the film. In my case, Wes Anderson's life-changing masterpiece is as close to perfect a film as I've seen in a long time. It's an achingly beautiful, unbelievably hilarious, and ultimately heartbreaking portrayal of a group of wounded people.

The Royal Tenenbaums would be a major work if only for its carefully-crafted frames. Rarely has there been a film--I'm thinking Werckmeister Harmonies--where every single shot is a notable entity, something to be taken out and studied.

The film is the story of the Tenenbaum family; Royal, played by Gene Hackman, is the patriarch that's been away for many years, after the separation from his wife, Etheline, the wonderful Angelica Huston. The three children, Chas (Ben Stiller), Richie (Luke Wilson), and Margot (Gwyneth Paltrow), each have come to an uncomfortable place in their life, and soon after the film begins they find themselves under the same roof once again. What gets the film starting is Royal's claim that he will be dead in six weeks as a result of stomach cancer.

The rest of The Royal Tenenbaums plays out a series of low-key scenes culminating in one of the most moving final acts the cinema has ever given us. I wish I could say more, but this is the sort of film with images so unforgettable that to talk about them would only diminish their beauty.

miami vice

Miami Vice
d. Michael Mann, 2006

It took me a while to finally get around to watching Michael Mann's latest film Miami Vice; having never encountered any of the Mann's work, I really had to idea what to expect. Also, I have never in my life seen an episode of the TV show that this movie's title comes from, though I imagine the show could not be this beautiful.

Despite my lack of knowledge about Mann and the movie's "source," I can say without question that this is easily one of the best and most underrated films of 2006. The actual cop-story of the film is still a little hazy in my mind, particularly because of how breathtaking the cinematography is, and I'm the kind of person that cares more about how a scene looks than how a drug deal is going down.

However, even if the narrative of the film were complete nonsense--which it isn't, it's a high-power drama that doesn't take itself seriously, adding a certain camp value--it would still be a landmark of modern cinema because of its digital photography. I'm still not entirely sure if the movie looks this good because of really smart location shooting or some other type of digital adjustments, but I don't really care.

I already admired Colin Farrel from his role in Malick's The New World, and it was Jamie Foxx that I was unsure about, but he does a fine job here, though his character pales in comparison to Farrel's and Gong Li's.

Digital filmmaking may be radically different than the use of traditional celluloid, but Miami Vice gives us a glimpse into a lush and crisp new world of its own.