la collectionneuse

La collectionneuse
d. Eric Rohmer, 1967

Though not as completely engaging as My Night at Maud's (1969) or Claire's Knee (1970), La collectionneuse is still a throughoughly enjoyable film. Most of the movie's pleasures lie in Nestor Almendors's beautiful cinematography, along with Rohmer's perfectly crafted shots. The script of La collectionneuse also seems more relaxed than in the other Rohmers I've seen, probably because the three main actors--Haydee Politoff, Patrick Bachau, and Daniel Pommereulle--worked on the dialogue with him. Overall just really great, organic material. Not a transcendental masterpiece or anything, but any movie that takes place in a seventeenth-century villa on the Riviera is okay by me. I think.

metropolitan

Metropolitan
d. Whit Stillman, 1990

I was uneasy through the first couple of sequences of Whit Stillman's Metropolitan. Bear in mind, I've just seen two Rohmer films (My Night at Maud's and Claire's Knee--loved them both), and now here I am watching an American version of the same kind of 90 minute observation of privileged and articulate people. This kind of blows over once the audience discovers the main character, Tom (Edward Clements), is as much an outsider to the New York debutante lifestyle as the rest of us. Chris Eigeman plays the kind of character I would imagine Jason in Gilmore Girls to have been in his early twenties; Clements and the rest of the cast (which includes Carolyn Farina as the terribly attractive Audrey Roget) is quite superb, as is Stillman's writing and direction. Metropolitan turns out to be a charming, funny, and sad portrayal of what it means to grow up and leave friends behind, even if most of us don't live like the characters in the film.

the pervert's guide to cinema

The Pervert's Guide to Cinema
d. Sophie Fiennes, 2006

Not the outwardly provocative film the title suggests, The Pervert's Guide to Cinema is instead a rather fascinating psychoanalytical look at a wide variety of movies, all guided by pop philosopher Slavoj Zizek. Really, this type of movie only works for people interested in the works being discussed, and considering a lot of my favorite films take up Zizek's time, I was bound to be taken by it. The film discusses films by Alfred Hitchcock, David Lynch, Andrei Tarkovsky, Lars Von Trier, Charlie Chaplin, Michael Powell, Fritz Lang, et cetera. Despite the notoriety of the films*, I can't help but feel the film isn't complete. For instance, there's not a single mention of Luis Buñuel, Jean Cocteau, Nicholas Ray, Jean-Luc Godard, Eric Rohmer. Hopefully there's a sequel.

*Complete list of films:

Alice in Wonderland

Alien

Alien Resurrection

The Birds

Blue Velvet

City Lights

The Conversation

Dead of Night

Dr. Strangelove

Dogville

Duck Soup

Dune

The Exorcist

Eyes Wide Shut

Fight Club

Frankenstein

The Great Dictator

Ivan the Terrible: Part 2

Kubanskie Kazaki

Lost Highway

The Matrix

Monkey Business

Mulholland Dr.

North By Northwest

Persona

The Piano Teacher

Pluto’s Judgment Day

Possessed

Psycho

Rear Window

The Red Shoes

Saboteur

Solaris

Stalker

Star Wars: Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

The Ten Commandments

The Testament of Dr. Mabuse

Three Colors: Blue

To Catch a Thief

Vertigo

Wild at Heart

The Wizard of Oz

claire's knee

Claire's Knee
d. Eric Rohmer, 1970

Not quite as amazing as My Night at Maud's (1969), but I guess it doesn't have to be. This time around the "hero" of the story is Jerome, a 35-year-old who spends the summer at the villa where he grew up; his old friend Aurora, a writer, is also spending the summer there. Aurora convinces him to flirt with her landlady's daughter, Laura. Jerome goes along with the experiment for a while, until he discovers Laura's step-sister Claire (whose knee gives the film its title). Anywho, the two films I've seen by Rohmer have clearly won me over, but I still don't really know what to make of them, but I guess that's not too important. Claire's Knee is pretty amazing and all, but I just have to ask: Do people really live this? Because that is just too cool.

my night at maud's

My Night at Maud's
d. Eric Rohmer, 1969

Eric Rohmer's My Night at Maud's is as close to perfect a film as I've seen in a long time; its sidelong beauty is apparent as soon as the film opens. For a film so notable for its dialogue, the first couple of sequences My Night at Maud's are filled with silence. We watch as Rohmer films Jean-Louis, his anti-hero of sorts, go to church an spot a girl that he likes, soon thereafter (while he follows her) he vows to marry her. The rest of the film plays out like a series of some of the greatest scenes in all movies. While watching the film, everything falls into place; after it was over, however, I found a lot of what went on to be much more ambiguous, only more reason to rewatch this wonderful film. Rohmer's direction here is almost invisible and completely unobstrusive; his most radical stylistic choice is the way he sometimes focuses on one character in a conversation instead of framing both of the participants. Not since I first came to Truffaut's Jules and Jim have I felt this way about a movie.

mutual appreciation

Mutual Appreciation
d. Andrew Bujalski, 2005

Taking what he started with Funny Ha Ha (2003), director Andrew Bujalski expands on his kind of low key style of filmmaking with the brilliant and thoroughly engrossing sophomore effort Mutual Appreciation. It's really hard to write about a film that so completely achieves what it tries to do. Basically, Mutual Appreciation is a collection of really great scenes connected not so much by plot or story as with an overall mood. Alan (Justin Rice) is an aspiring rock star who just moved to New York City. He hangs out with his friends, Lawrence (Bujalski) and his girlfriend Ellie (Rachel Clift), and just kind of drifts in and out of very organic--though very well written and improvised--situations. Mutual Appreciation is also the kind of movie that people either fall in love with or utterly despise. I obviously belong to the former as I dont think I've seen many American independent films that are as meticulously composed and expertly crafted as this one. Bujalski's 16mm black-and-white compositions are some of the film's best assets, as is his masterful avant-garde influenced editing. Many have compared his filmmaking to that of John Cassavetes, and not without reason. It's hard to watch certain scenes of this film without automatically recalling Shadows (1959) or even later stuff like The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976). With Mutual Appreciation, Bujalski emerges as the arguably the most talented director of his generation.

Note: People have also compared Bujalski's style to that of Eric Rohmer's, a director whose films I've unforgivably yet to discover. That ends today; I'm pretty sure I'll be watching My Night at Maud's (1969) later and a review will follow thereafter.

fear eats the soul

Fear Eats the Soul
d. Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1974

Fassbinder at his best. Though that's a pointless statement since I've yet to to dislike a film of his. Fear Eats the Soul is a loose remake of Douglas Sirk's 1955 masterpiece All That Heaven Allows, though on the surface Fassbinder's style borrows little from Sirk's glossy features. Through a series of carefully composed shots--much like those he uses in The Bitter Tears, though not as overbearingly rigorous-- Fassbinder creates a complex picture of the way societal prejudice can affect the personal lives of honest people. Emmi, an older German woman, falls in love with Ali, a Moroccan that's 20 or so years younger than her. They move in, get married, and become the ridicule of their neighbors. Not even Emmi's kids understand their relationship; one of them goes so far as smashing her TV set when first hearing the news. Unafraid of melodrama and using rethorical shifts, Fassbinder creates a film that is both intimate and all-encompassing; Fear Eats the Soul should be required viewing.

the wild blue yonder

The Wild Blue Yonder
d. Werner Herzog, 2005

Werner Herzog's fascinating mockumentary The Wild Blue Yonder is the kind of film I would watch repeatedly if it ever opened in theatres. However, this wasn't as widely distributed as Herzog's other 2005 film, Grizzly Man, which I myself have not seen. The Wide Blue Yonder catalogues the fictional mission to find a new hospitable planet beyond the milky way. Narrated by a grumpy space alien (Brad Dourif), Herzog structures his film into different chapters--much like what he did in Lessons of Darkness--and cuts between Dourif's interviews and footage borrowed from NASA (thanked for its "sense of poetry" in the closing credits). Anywho, films this exciting don't come along very often; it may be the definitive sci-fi film of the decade.

the brown bunny, band of outsiders

The Brown Bunny
d. Vincent Gallo, 2003

Vincent Gallo's tone poem The Brown Bunny is easily one of the most underrated American films of the past couple of years. By this point--only two years after its commercial release--it has become synonymous with bad movies and notorious only for its final, sexually explicit scene between Gallo and Chloe Sevigny. Though these judgements keep a lot of people from looking at the film seriously, it's hard to not be blown away by its sidelong beauty once you actually give it a chance. Filled with tender exchanges and sad glances, not to mention glorious shots of the road (with songs like Jackson C. Frank's "Milk and Honey" playing), The Brown Bunny is as honest and human a film as I've seen in a long time.

Band of Outsiders
d. Jean-Luc Godard, 1964

Still my favorite Godard movie, a third viewing of Band of Outsiders really highlights some of the sadness in the film. Though not as wholly misogynist as some of Godard's other films of the time--particularly 1966's Masculine Feminine--there does seem to be a kind of underlying lack of respect for Anna Karina's character here. As far as the love triangle in the film goes, her character isn't similar to Jeanne Moreau's Catherine in Jules and Jim (a film Godard seems to be borrowing from). Other than that, this is an amazing movie all around. Raoul Coutard's cinematography here is vastly different than the more polished look of Godard's previous film, Contempt. Michel Legrand's uplifting and unspeakably cool musical score stands amongst his best and it even recalls some of his work with Jaques Demy. Godard's direction, free-form screenplay, and narration are the icing on the cake in this magnificent slice of 60's cinema.