I missed, the first time I watched Gone Girl, the fairly important detail that Amy's diary is completely made up (thought it was just the final pages and that Nick really beat her up). I was so giddy by the mid-film reveal - set up as a crime procedural, the film just straight up reveals its mystery barely an hour into the plot - that I couldn't concentrate on all the details. But those details only make the film better, bolder and cheekier. It's essentially a wish-fulfillment fantasy about a woman getting away with lying about being abused, making us root for her in the process. It's a testament to its greatness that it has not become a rallying cry for men's rights activists, incels and other assorted internet trash.
It is also a testament to its great thorniness that it has been embraced by many feminists. In another world it could have been the first entry in an Amazing Amy superhero franchise in which Amy manipulates mediocre men into matching her greatness. It's also a rare contemporary Hollwyood film that explores the fantasy of escaping an unhappy marriage from a female perspective without patronizingly victimizing her. And, there would be no film without women. Everything that happens in the film is a direct or indirect consequence of a woman's act, including Amy herself getting robbed. (and including the fact that it's based on Gillian Flynn's book, who has also adapted the screenplay) But despite all that, the film has very little actual sympathy for Amy (or for Nick). If there is any female hero, it's detective Boney. I don't know Kim Dickens very much, but she may well give the most unfairly overlooked performance of the decade.
I'd argue that Fincher views both Amy and Nick here in the same way he views the Winklevoss brothers in The Social Network. They are entitled assholes who know how to sound smart to climb the social ladder in New York and who mistake that for sophistication and having high standards. Of course they see the Missourians as a bunch of dumb rubes who will never reach their heights. And of course Fincher absolutely revels in their downfall, directing these scenes with the same cheery cynicism as the rowing boat sequence in The Social Network. It is quite relevant that Amy outsmarts both Nick and the filthy rich Desi, but finds her betters in the 'hicks' renting her a home. Despite the fact that Fight Club has indeed (and wrongly) become a rallying cry for the aforementioned internet trash, Fincher has always been on the side of the little guy and deeply critical of those with power and (unearned) wealth. Even at his most frustrating - obsessively shooting close-ups of electric appliances - that has always remained true.
Few recent movies have presented American popular media with such contempt, arguing they exploit sex, murder and crime for no other reason than to sell themselves as righteous gatekeepers of moral values. In the process they also create impossible standards for good behavior, making authentic experiences almost impossible. Nobody in the film, again apart from detective Boney and to a lesser extent Go, is truly interested in morality and justice. All everyone is doing, all the time, is obsess and think about their appearance, or obsess and think about how other people appear. And so the ultimate joke of the film - it is very funny - is that Nick and Amy save their marriage by accepting the fake versions of themselves. All of this makes Gone Girl not just Fincher's best film (by a mile as far as I'm concerned) but perhaps also the best film Paul Verhoeven never made. At least he has never managed anything as subversively perverse as the final 15 minutes of this film. God knows he's tried.
Load up on guns Bring your friends It's fun to lose and to pretend She's overboard, self assured Oh no I know, a dirty word
Hello, hello, hello, how low [x3] Hello, hello, hello
With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us A mulatto, an Albino A mosquito, my libido, yeah
Hey, yay
I'm worse at what I do best And for this gift, I feel blessed Our little group has always been And always will until the end
Hello, hello, hello, how low [x3] Hello, hello, hello
With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us A mulatto, an Albino A mosquito, my libido, yeah
Hey, yay
And I forget just why I taste Oh yeah,
In the final year of elementary school, the teacher allowed us to choose what kind of music we wanted to hear during lunch break. As we were 12 years old, this naturally descended into chaos, and our teacher was forced to create a music roster. Each day someone else was allowed to be responsible for the music. Of course, we cared more about fighting about the music than for the music itself. Fortunately we soon found a new subject of debate: Who listens to the best music, boys or girls? Less fortunately this did not lead to much music diversity. The boys exclusively put on either Carlos Santana or Eminem, while the girls played either Cristina Aguilera or Britney Spears. One dude didn't care about these conventions, but we all thought he was kind of a weird outcast anyway. When it was his turn, we listened to Dutch band Doe Maar and Nirvana. I did not care about Nirvana and still don't. But I have forgotten the names of most off my classmates. I do remember that the Nirvana-fan was called Jeroen.
The Movie: Singles (Cameron Crowe, 1992)
It's a pity Bridget Fonda seems to have stopped acting in 2002. I find her a very sympathetic, and really good actress. She is fantastic here (like in It Could Happen to You) playing a realistically insecure, but generally nice, intelligent girl from Seattle. Yet she can also convincingly play a dim junkie (Jackie Brown) or a poor wife verging on a nervous breakdown(A Simple Plan). Moreover, she does not seem to emulate her more famous family members. I have not seen enough films with Henry and Jane Fonda to confidently make this statement, but I think they tend to present their characters as larger than life. Bridget Fonda is a much more modest actress (which is simply a descriptive statement. I don't think actors must necessarily be modest, and I very much enjoy over the top acting) who never seems to call attention to herself. She acts, especially in Singles, without any hint of self-awareness.
Fonda's 'modesty' is here perhaps emphasized even more because she shares a lot of scenes with Matt Dillon. He plays Cliff Poncier. That kind of name can only belong to a douchey, pretentious dude who thinks he is the next great rock star and that's exactly who Cliff Poncier is. Cliff is the lead singer of a grunge band in Seattle that 'has blown up in Belgium', but has trouble ascending to the top in Seattle. That's mostly Cliff's fault, as he is an awful singer, and even worse lyricist. At least, so the music journalists say. Dillon of course play these kinds of characters in his sleep, but he does not. Yet he has a lot of fun playing Cliff, who of course becomes way more sympathetic as the film progresses and even really starts to care for his sorta girlfriend Janet (Fonda's character).
Fonda and Dillon are unfortunately not the main actors in the film. That are Campbell Scott and Kyra Sedgwick, playing Linda and Steve. They are fairly standard characters going through a fairly standard romance. It works, because while Cameron Crowe may not always be the greatest director (and here he is sometimes rather embarrassingly clunky) he is always one of the most warmhearted. He really does care to make these characters nice and sympathetic. He makes it feel like it would be pleasant to be in their company. Nevertheless this is far from one of his best films, partly because he makes too little use of its setting around the grunge scene in early 90's Seattle. He paints it in too broad strokes. Too often you have the feeling the film could be set in any time or place.
(She was
sleeping, when I asked her yesterday evening)
Wacht op mij
(To wait for
me)
Misschien ben ik vanavond, vroeger vrij
(Tonight I
might be home early)
Ze knikte wel van ja, maar zij kent mij
(She did
nod, but she knows)
Nu sta ik voor je, ik ben weer blijven hangen in de kroeg
(Now I stand
here before you, I've stayed up in the bar again)
Zo'n nacht ze weet t, heb ik nooit genoeg,
(She knows
I'll never get enough of a night like this)
Hoe was het,
(How was it)
Dat was alles wat ze vroeg (wat ze vroeg)
(That was all she asked)
Want zij
gelooft in mij, zij ziet toekomst in ons allebei
(Because she
believes in me, she sees a future in the both of us),
Zij vraagt nooit maak je voor mij eens vrij,
(She never
asks free yourself for me)
Want ze weet, dit gaat voorbij,
(Because she
knows, this will end)
Ik schrijf mijn eigen lied tot dat iemand mij ontdekt en ziet,
(I write my
own song until someone finds me and sees)
Dat een ieder van mijn songs geniet, ze vertrouwd op mij
(That everyone enjoys my songs, she trusts in me)
Ze gelooft in mij
(She
believes in me)
Ik zou
wachten,
(I'd wait)
Tot dat de
tijd dat ieder mij herkent
(For the
times when everyone recognizes me),
En dat je trots kan zijn op je eigen vent,
(And that
you can be proud of your own guy)
Op straat zullen ze zeggen die Hazes is bekend
(On the
streets they'll say that Hazes guy is famous),
Zolang we dromen, van geluk
(As long as
we dreem about happiness)
Dat ergens op ons wacht,
(Waitiing
for us somewhere)
Dan vergeet je snel weer deze nacht
(You'll
forget this night soon then)
Zij vertrouwd op mij, dat is mijn kracht, oh mijn kracht
(She trusts
in me, that is my strength, og my strength)
Want zij gelooft in mij, zij ziet toekomst in ons allebei
(Because she
believes in me, she sees a future in the both of us),
Zij vraagt nooit maak je voor mij eens vrij,
(She never
asks free yourself for me)
Want ze weet, dit gaat voorbij,
(Because she
knows, this will end)
Ik schrijf mijn eigen lied tot dat iemand mij ontdekt en ziet,
(I write my
own song until someone finds me and sees)
Dat een ieder van mijn songs geniet, ze vertrouwd op mij
(That everyone enjoys my songs, she trusts in me)
Ze gelooft in mij
(She
believes in me)
Just last year here in The Netherlands an Andre Hazes biopic was released. I would have probably never watched it if it wasn't for this post. Surprisingly it was quite good, and made me respect Hazes a bit more.
The Movie: Blood, Sweat and Tears (Bloed, Zweet en Tranen) (Diederick Koopal, 2015)
Amsterdam is my favorite city in the Netherlands, especially because it's the most international city in the Netherlands. Its citizens too often complain that the city is being overrun by tourists and that its losing its authenticity. Yet the tourists and foreigners are what makes Amsterdam special. Sure there are old-fashioned streets, hidden bars, and historical buildings, but you can find these in other Dutch cities as well. On the other hand, there is no other Dutch city where you'll find such an international atmosphere where all kinds of diverse backgrounds blend together. That's not necessarily inauthentic by the way. Amsterdam may not be anymore an authentic Dutch city, but it is most certainly an authentic modern global metropolis, characterized by its multiculturalism. I hope, and think, that in the future more and more cities in the Netherlands, and the rest of the world will look like it. I think that's an unambiguously fantastic development and I think that the idea that there is a national identity/culture that should be defended should be squashed as soon as possible. So yeah, I guess I won't become Wilders' friend anytime soon.
I have always seen Amsterdam hero Andre Hazes as the antithesis of these ideas, and as a symbol of small-minded Dutch nationalism. I think his success is in no small part attributable to the same forces that led to the Brexit-referendum, and the rise of Trump and other nationalistic movements. His songs partly work because they evoke past times when life wasn't so complicated (life is hard in many Hazes' songs, but the problems are very directly stated and immediately recognizable), and the singer was an approachable guy from the bar next door you could make politically incorrect jokes and drink beer with. It's not a coincidence that one of the first scenes in Bloed, Zweet en Tranen, is of a 1950's kid stealing a pack of cigars at the market, and getting away with it, but not before getting a stern lecture from a gruff salesman. Moreover Hazes' music is distinctly Dutch. He is basically the king of the Levenslied-subgenre, levenslied meaning song of life. The Levensilied was invented in 1908 by two Dutch folk artists who were looking for a Dutch alternative to the French chanson. The genre lost popularity in the 1980's but was kept alive by Hazes. Thus there is I think a nationalistic aspect to Hazes' popularity. It's not a coincidence that in 2005 Hazes' widow Rachel was chosen as Dutch person of the year in a newspaper poll, after right wing blog GeenStijl urged its voters to vote for either Rachel Hazes, Geert Wilders or model Silvie Meis.
Now, I am aware that I am making a rather classist argument full of stereotypes, that's also deeply unfair to Hazes and his fans. As far as I know he did not have any ultra-nationalistic ideas, and his songs are beloved by many immigrants (which is interesting in itself. When immigrants, especially of Moroccan descent, are prized for how well they have integrated into Dutch society, you often read that they are fans of Hazes) and lefty liberals. Also in the previous post I was writing about how there should be working class artists whose art discusses working class themes. Hazes definitely was such an artist, and his songs were/are genuinely meaningful to a lot of people.
What makes Bloed, Zweet en Tranen so good is that it is completely aware of all these issues surrounding Hazes, and that it interrogates them. It understands full well that Hazes (Martijn Fischer) is a genuine underdog and that he was often viewed through an elitist lens, and that this is something folk music in general suffers from. There is a wonderful scene where Hazes is at the doctor, and the doctor makes it a point to show that he doesn't know anything about Hazes' life. He even makes it seem as if he has no idea who his patient is. But the class issue is most obvious in the rather beautifully realized friendship between Hazes and his producer Tim Griek (Fedja van Huet). It's a rather moving subplot of two opposite people who try to understand and adjust to each other, not simply because they have to work together, but because they genuinely care for each other. The film shows the stereotypes both men harbor about each other, where these stereotypes come from, and how Hazes and Griek work through them. It never takes sides in doing so, and never condescends in doing so. It's both honest about Griek's pretentiousness and Hazes' boorishness, and never excuses either. The contrast between them is immediately clear; When the bespectacled, orderly groomed Griek enters Hazes' bar it's immediately clear this is a foreign world to him. He is there to sign Hazes for his label, but he'd rather be rejected by Hazes. That feeling is mutual; Hazes calls him the professor. Director Koopal also contrasts their working spaces. Hazes' is the bar where there is constant chaos and people. Griek's is a slick, modern, 'elitist' office.
The film also makes good use of a fractured narrative connecting three different time periods show us Hazes. We see him as a child of poor family and abusive father in the 1950's, as an artist at the start of his career in the 1980's, and as a cultural icon at the end of his career (and life) in 2004. The film does not tell these stories chronologically, but constantly moves around to make connections between different events in Hazes' life. In doing so it shows what a tragic figure he was. It's clear that the trauma's of his childhood affected him up until the end of his life, making it hard for him to be as good a husband and father as he'd like to be. More interestingly, it becomes clear how misunderstood he sometimes was by his own fans, and how much trouble he had finding a self-identity.
Hazes' dream was to be a soul singer. As a child he was snuggled into 'Het Concertgebouw', probably the most prestigious concert hall in The Netherlands, to hear Muddy Waters perform (and yeah the film makes it a point to show the diversity of the audience during the Waters' concert, while Hazes' performances are almost exclusively attended by white Dutch people. This stands out even more as Waters' concert was in the 1950's when the Netherlands was much less diverse than in the 1980's and 2000's when we see Hazes' concerts). The film presents this as one of the pivotal events of Hazes' life. Waters is his inspiration and he can't stop talking abut having seen him live. Thus it's not surprising that the highlight of his career comes when he gets to perform in Het Concertgebouw himself. When he sees his father in the audience, who had denounced a long time ago, he performs a song that's very much about his hatred towards his father. It becomes a battle of wills, and the best scene of the film by far. Hazes sings aggressively, anguish, willing his father to leave; his father strains himself, he does not want to lose and keeps sitting, only to eventually give in. At the same time we are constantly aware of the audience who seems completely unaware of the emotionalize of the song. They sing along happily, waving their hands around in the sky in unison, behaving as if it is a celebration of happy, joyous times. These kinds of things happen to Hazes throughout the film; the audience completely missing Hazes' despair visible in his behavior or his lyrics and just having an utterly good time regardless.The film constantly shows that there is a bit of a discord between the content of Hazes' songs and their reception.
And at the end of his life there is also a discord between Hazes' own life and his songs. His songs of life discuss the hardships of life in the city, and are very specific and personal. Yet as the film shows, by 2004 Hazes was a generic rich icon. He lived in an enormous, but utterly unremarkable house in Woerden. Woerden itself is also visually represented here as a rather anonymous city without any special characteristics. It could be anywhere in the Netherlands.
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)
Lord what you're doing to me (yeah yeah)
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
I work hard (he works hard) every day of my
life
I work till I ache in my bones
At the end (at the end of the day)
I take home my hard earned pay all on my own
I get down (down) on my knees (knees)
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord somebody (somebody), ooh somebody
(Please) can anybody find me somebody to love?
Everyday (everyday) I try and I try and I try
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm going crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Ah, got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe in
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Oh Lord
Ooh somebody, ooh somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
(Can anybody find me someone to love)
Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat (you just keep losing and losing)
I'm OK, I'm alright (he's alright, he's alright)
I ain't gonna face no defeat (yeah yeah)
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
One day (someday) I'm gonna be free, Lord!
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love love love
Find me somebody to love
Find me somebody to love
Somebody somebody somebody somebody
Somebody find me
Somebody find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
(Find me somebody to love)
Ooh
(Find me somebody to love)
Find me somebody, somebody (find me somebody to love) somebody, somebody to
love
Find me, find me, find me, find me, find me
Ooh, somebody to love (Find me somebody to love)
Ooh (find me somebody to love)
Find me, find me, find me somebody to love (find me somebody to love)
Anybody, anywhere, anybody find me somebody to love love love! Somebody find me, find me love
I read an article recently, talking about how benefit cuts and increasing education costs are making it much harder for people from the working class to pursue artistic careers. This means that working class themes in pop music are disappearing. Now Queen weren't working class. Both Freddie Mercury and Brian May went to rather prestigious schools. Yet I do think they were very influenced by working class themes. This song may be the best example of it. And it is indeed quite rare to hear a song these days dealing so directly with the toil of working. I chose a quite obvious film to link it to.
The Movie: The Apartment (Billy Wilder, 1960)
"Shut up and deal" is a way better final line than "Nobody's perfect". That's how I feel about the films as well. I am no fan at all of Some Like It Hot, or of Sunset Boulevard. Witness for the Prosecution and The Seven Year Itch are both fine. You see, I am not really a fan of Billy Wilder films. There is no real reason for that, I just have never responded to them, certainly not to Some Like It Hot, which I find completely unfunny. The Apartment though is really very good. During the first half it reminded me a bit of The Wolf of Wall Street, and during its second half it is just a superior sweet romance.
Jack Lemmon's C.C. Baxter is a really interesting character. His neighbor Dr. Dreyfuss (Jack Kruschen) calls him a 'nebbish' and is surprised Baxter has so many girls over in his apartment. Of course it are Baxter's colleagues from work who bring their mistresses to his apartment. Baxter lends them their key, and in return they talk him up to their superiors. Consequently Baxter gets promoted, yet remains a fairly lonely guy, looking for somebody to love.When Dr. Dreyfus chides him telling him to become a responsible 'mensch' and stop womanizing, it's supposed to be an obvious joke about how much the doctor is mistaken and clueless. Yet, part of what makes the film so good, is that the doctor is not completely wrong either. Throughout the film Wilder underlines that there is a meanness behind Baxter's niceness and that he has some sociopathic tendencies.
I did not compare the film to The Wolf of Wall Street for nothing, but Baxter is no Jordan Belfort. Rather, he is played and written as a follower of the likes of Belfort, and as someone who believes in the hierarchy imposed by the Belforts of the world. Of course The Apartment is much more restrained and much more lighthearted and 'polite' than The Wolf of Wall Street, but it's all there. This is very much a film about entitlement. Look at the way the men talk to/about the women, and how they treat them. Baxter submits to the wishes of his colleagues because he believes they are right to act the way the do. They are after all the men in power, and power allows them to flaunt their confidence and their masculinity. It's interesting to see how Baxter's behavior changes once he gets promoted. At the beginning of the film he treats Fran (Shirley MacLaine) as his equal. After his promotion there is a brilliantly written and performed party scene, set during Christmas, where Baxter in the interactions with Fran makes very clear that he is now above her, that she should be honored to be in his company.
Eventually of course Baxter learns and becomes a better person. Even then though the film does not shy away from his sometimes oblivious selfishness. When he takes care of Fran they play a game of cards. It's clear that Fran is not interested, and moreover does not know the rules of the game. Yet Baxter doesn't seem to care. He proceeds to basically play against himself, with Fran slowly falling asleep. What helps the film even more is that Fran is herself no angel. She is never glorified, she can't write, she is allowed to be both depressed and independent, a woman who can outjoke Baxter, using sarcasm and irony. MacLaine is fantastic in the role showing both Fran's vulnerability and her sheer chutzpah. I haven't seen enough films from that period to make this statement, but I think in the characterization of Fran The Apartment was far ahead of its time. Fran's character would not be out of place in any modern American indie.
The
heart is a bloom Shoots up
through the stony ground There's
no room No space
to rent in this town
You're
out of luck And the
reason that you had to care The
traffic is stuck And
you're not moving anywhere
You
thought you'd found a friend To take
you out of this place Someone
you could lend a hand In return
for grace
It's a
beautiful day Sky
falls, you feel like It's a
beautiful day Don't let
it get away
You're on
the road But
you've got no destination You're in
the mud In the
maze of her imagination
You're
lovin' this town Even if
that doesn't ring true You've
been all over And it's
been all over you
It's a
beautiful day Don't let
it get away It's a
beautiful day
Touch me Take me
to that other place Teach me I know
I'm not a hopeless case
See the
world in green and blue See China
right in front of you See the
canyons broken by cloud See the
tuna fleets clearing the sea out See the
Bedouin fires at night See the
oil fields at first light And see
the bird with a leaf in her mouth After the
flood all the colors came out
It was a
beautiful day Don't let
it get away Beautiful
day
Touch me Take me
to that other place Reach me I know
I'm not a hopeless case
What you
don't have you don't need it now What you
don't know you can feel it somehow What you
don't have you don't need it now Don't
need it now Was a
beautiful day
The most annoying thing about U2 may be that their best music is informed by Bono's pretensions/white savior complex. This song is nearly completely devoid of that, and it's awful, It's also quite amazing they made this song in 2000, when U2 was a long established institution. It feels like the work of some mediocre up and coming band that has yet to find its own sound and vision. Even the accompanying clip is bland and ugly as hell. Luckily Bono cannot help but add some seemingly meaningful lyrics signifying nothing but his awareness that there is some stuff happening in Asia, possibly Iran. After all, China is in front of it, and it has oil fields. So I linked the song to a movie about driving around Iran.
The Movie: Taste of Cherry (Ta'm e guilass) (Abbas Kiarostami, 1997)
Taste of Cherry won the Golden Palm in 1997. The Cannes jury that year was presided by French actress Isabelle Adjani, but Kiarostami may have profited most from Mike Leigh's presence. Leigh is of course famous for not really writing screenplays but, coming up with a broad outline/idea and fleshing it out with his actors while making the film. After seeing Taste of Cherry I wasn't surprised to learn Kiarostami works in a very similar way. I think Leigh is more successful; his approach does produce coherent, engaging stories. Kiarostami's does not (at least not here, I have not seen his other films), and many critics, most famously Roger Ebert, took issue with all the praise this film has gotten. In Cannes Taste of Cherry competed with, among others, L.A. Confidential and The Sweet Hereafter, two films that are unquestionably better than it. Nevertheless I think there is a lot of value to be found in this film, an I do not think it's at all bad.
It's nice to see a film about an existentially depressed Iranian. We are getting more and more nuanced portrayals of the Middle East. Hollywood is slowly learning to present the region in less stereotypical way, and more importantly films made in the region are increasingly reaching the west. Even so, most of the characters we meet in these films are entirely presented in the context of the turmoil in the region, or even defined by it. Moreover, the characters/plots are often used to teach us something about the historical, religious and/or political complexities in the region, and to make us understand these societies better. This approach certainly can produce some great films, look at Marjane Satrapi, but it doesn't always allow room for much individuality. Watching Taste of Cherry, you will not learn anything very significant about Iran. It's merely about Mr. Badii (Homayoun Ershadi) battling his own personal demons. He is depressed and wants to commit suicide. He has already dug a grave, and now he is looking for someone to bury him. I would have preferred if Mr. Badii was provided with even a little bit of a backstory, but I can see why Kiarostami decided not to do this. Mr. Badii is now free from any burden of representation.
I also wish the film was more dynamic. This is very much a slow art film. It mostly consists of Mr. Badii driving around a large construction site in Teheran, and having philosophical conversations with the people he picks up. It reminded me to some extent of Richard Linklater's Slacker, but there the conversations were both 'deeper' and more playful. Mr. Badii's co-passengers try to dissuade him from suicide and sometimes do so with rather cliche arguments. 'Won't you miss the taste of cherries'? I did find it interesting that none of the people he meets are ethnic Iranians. The first is a Kurd, the second is from Afghanistan, and the third is from Turkey. Moreover I really liked the way this film is shot. For example, when we follow the conversations in the car, we hardly ever see passengers in the same shot, The camera always focuses on one side of the car, showing us not only the person inside, but also the outer world the car is passing. As the car is driving around a construction site, we are constantly aware of people moving around, trucks delivering goods, work being done, etc. This allows for some really wonderful, fantastically choreographed, shots. It's also an effective way to visualize Mr. Badii's issues. Mr. Badii is stuck in a monotonous loop, while outside life goes on. Lastly, I don't know why Kiarostami choose to end this film the way he did and I think any interpretation of it is irrelevant and would give Kiarostami too much credit. Nevertheless it was my favorite part of the film, and I found it oddly moving.
Lyrics Radiate simply the candle is burning so low for me Generate me limply can't seem to place your name cherie To rearrange all these thoughts in a moment is suicide Come to a strange place we'll talk over old times we never smile
Sebastian Somebody called me Sebastian Work out a rhyme - toss me the time - lay me you're mine We all know, oh yeah
Your Persian eyes sparkle your lips ruby blue never speak a sound And you oh so gay with Parisian demands you can run around Your view of society screws up my mind like you'll never know Lead me away come inside see my mind in kaleidoscope Somebody called me Sebastian Somebody called me Sebastian Dance on my heart - laugh swoop and dart - la-di-di-da Now we all know you, yeah La-di-di-da .
It's been a long time since I've seen Cruel Intentions. I liked it enough to remember that Ryan Phillippe's character was called Sebastian Valmont. As Cruel Intentions is based on the novel/play Les liaisons dangereux I thought Valmont's name in there really was Sebastian. It turns out that's not the case. Nevertheless connecting Cockney Rebel's song to a story about sex, power and manipulation in Parisian aristocracy isn't that far-fetched. As for the song itself, I don't actually remember hearing it before and I am mostly amused that this is not at all the kind of song you'd expect to hear from a band called Cockney Rebel. The Movie: Dangerous Liaisons (Stephen Frears, 1988) I wish all actors could enjoy their job half as much as John Malkovich enjoys playing Vicomte de Valmont here. In the space of two years both Stephen Frears and Milos Forman made a film based on this story. I have not seen Forman's film, Valmont, but there the 'vicomte' is played by Colin Firth. I think Firth is a very good actor, but I cannot imagine him being as convincing in the role as Malkovich is. Even if Forman's intentions are different from Frears' it seems to me it's hard to escape Valmont's sleazy intelligence. Valmont is a master manipulator, because he is both ruthless and more intelligent than anyone else in the film, at least until a certain point. These characteristics don't seem to play to Firth's strengths as an actor, at least not as I know him. I haven't seen any Firth film from before Bridget Jones' Diary. Valmont's characteristics of course do play to Malkovich's strengths as an actor.. Watching this film, I though playing Valmont fits Malkovich better than even playing himself in Being John Malkovich. It also helps that he clearly loves the dialogue he's been given. There are moments when you can see Malkovich gleefully anticipating his next line, and knowing that he will absolutely nail it. As Valmont is an arrogantly confident man, who is aware of, and takes pleasure, in his arrogant confidence, this may be the best way to portray him. Glenn Close should not be discounted though. As Valmont's lover/rival Marquise de Merteuil she is every bit Malkovich's equal. Unfortunately that cannot be said about Michelle Pfeiffer, playing Madame de Tourvel, the latest victim of Valmont's manipulations. Pfeiffer should not play fragile, prudish damsels in distress, but the opposite of that. She is not bad, but it kind of feels like a waste of her talent. I wouldn't say Dangerous Liaisons is a great film, but I enjoyed every second of it, not just because of Malkovich and Close. I like that its screenplay (earning Christopher Hampton an Oscar) doesn't feel the need to conceal anything from the audience. Too often a film like this will start out by presenting Valmont and de Merteuil as virtuous characters, only to 'surprise' the audience by revealing their depravity later on. Here these characters are right away presented as shameless manipulators, who manipulate not so much for material, but for emotional gain. Their games are basically an expression of their love and respect for each other. The performative aspects of these games are very much foregrounded, right from the opening scene, which crosscuts between Valmont and de Merteuil dressing up, and putting on wigs and make-up. It reminds a bit of the way sports films present their heroes preparing for the game. Only Dangerous Liaisons is not actually interested in the outcome of the game, just in the way it's played. At least until, near the end of the film, Valmont does actually fall in love with Madame de Tourvel.
(Ten to one, I'll keep
my mouth shut) als ik je
weer zie
(When I see you again) ik ken
mezelf zo onderhand
(I know myself by now) een
prater ben ik niet
(I am not a talker) hoe was
het hier
(How was het here) zal je
vragen
(You'll ask) en ik zal
zeggen
(And I'l say) goed
(Fine) maar ik
zeg je niet wat ik nu denk
(But I don't tell you
what I am thinking now) dat ik je
eigenlijk zeggen moet
(That what I actually
should tell you)
een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he's missing) maar als
ze er niet is
(But only when she's not there) als ze er
niet is
(Only when she's not
there) weet een
man pas wat hij mist
(Does a man know what he's missing)
jij praat
honderduit over hoe het was
(You talk nineteen to
the dozen) over hoe
je het hebt gehad
(About how you were
doing) en
misschien als ik op dreef ben
(And maybe, when I am
on a roll) zeg ik
een keertje schat
(I say darling once) dan vraag
je mij
(Then you'll ask me) hoe was
het bij jou
(How was your life) hooguit
zeg ik dan
(At the most I'll say) stil
(Quiet) en ik zeg
je weer niet wat ik nu denk
(And again, I don't tell you what I am thinking right
now) dat ik je
eindelijk zeggen wil
(That what I actually want to say to you)
een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he's missing) maar als
ze er niet is
(But only when she's
not there) als ze er
niet is
(Only when she's not
there) weet een
man pas wat hij mist
(Does a man know what he's missing)
pas nu je
hier niet bent
(Only now, when you are
not here) nu voel
ik het in mij
(Now do I feel it
inside me) nu je mij
niet hoort
(Now you don't hear me) voel ik
het woord voor woord
(I feel it word for word) voor
woord
(For word)
een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) weet niet
wat hij mist
(Doesn't know what he
is missing) een man
weet niet wat hij mist
(A man doesn't know
what he's missing) maar als
ze er niet is
(But only when she's
not there) als ze er
niet is
(Only when she's not
there) weet een
man pas wat hij mist
(Does a man know what he's missing)
This is a fine song, though I don't like the sudden switch into present tense at the end of the first and third verse. I don't think it's poetic freedom, just sloppy writing. In any case I've linked this song to one of my favorite films, about a man regretfully looking back at his failed relationship. Although not being able to talk has never been a problem for Woody Allen.
The Movie: Annie Hall (Woody Allen, 1977)
Well, the timing of this just couldn't have been better. Woody Allen just had another of his, let's say, unfortunate interviews in which he credits himself in an incredibly chauvinistic and Orientalist way for the education and empowerment of his wife. In that same interviews he claims to admire what is happening in television, but has not seen either Mad Men or Breaking Bad. He has seen, and likes, Hannah Montana though, which is at the very least not a smart thing to admit if you are Woody Allen. It's quite easy to understand why Woody Allen is increasingly disliked, and why people are finding it harder and harder watch his films as they can't separate the art from the artist.
I was going to address this even before the interview was published, but I do think Woody Allen's art can be separated from the man. And I think Annie Hall makes a good case for this. I think Woody Allen's real life persona is utter bullshit. He presents himself as this insecure, existentially pessimistic, uncool, old-fashioned man, who doesn't really care about all the attention. In short, he presents himself as a character from his films. I have read quite a lot of interviews with Woody Allen, and never believed there is much truth in that self-characterization. He has a set of cliches which he knows exactly how to deploy to pander to journalists, and dodge questions he finds uncomfortable or boring. I think he is a much more well-adjusted, (self)confident person than he presents himself, who knows exactly what he is doing. Of course, this makes his behavior and statements such as those in the aforementioned interview even more inexcusable.
I genuinely think few things make this more clear than Annie Hall. Alvy Singer (Woody Allen's character here) would not be able to make this film. For him Anjelica Huston and Jack Nicholson are unattainable gods, only accessible if you belong to the fancy, flashy crowd of record producer Tony Lacey. Tony Lacey, by the way, is portrayed here by Paul Simon. Apart from him, Annie Hall has cameos by Jeff Goldblum, Shelley Duvall, Christopher Walken, Truman Capote, and, of course, Marshall McLuhan. Diane Keaton is so fantastic and so convincing as Annie Hall, you forget she was not some plucky upstart in 1977. She had played Al Pacino's/Michael Corleone's lover in The Godfather films. So yeah, Annie Hall does not make a very convincing argument for the fact that Woody Allen an insecure outsider, or felt like one. He was as much as Jack Nicholson part of the in crowd.
Apart from that, Annie Hall is quite simply one of the coolest films ever made. Sure, it is filled with references to high culture and existentialist philosophy, and there is indeed a great underlying sadness to the story. The film is as much fantasy of the perfect romance, as it is a deconstruction of that fantasy. That's all true, and adds to the film's greatness. But before all that, Annie Hall (both the film and the character) is cool as hell. And it's at all times clear that this is a film made by an extremely confident filmmaker who is putting on a show, knows it, and wants us to know it. Woody Allen is here dropping the mic in every other scene. When I first saw it I hardly knew who Fellini was, and I knew even less about McLuhan. Nevertheless, I was in awe by the sheer chutzpah of that theater scene. It's utterly clear that it is filmed by a man who doesn't give a damn about film conventions, who feels completely free to do whatever he wants.
There are countless other similar scenes in Annie Hall. The scenes where past and present collide, allowing Annie, Rob (Tony Roberts) and Alvy to have a conversation through time with Alvy's aunt; The scene where Allen uses split-screen to allow Annie's family and Alvy's family to interact with each other despite being in completely different places; Allen's flashback to his school days, giving children the chance to speak as adults; Christopher Walken's absurd monologue, probably one of the first times someone discovered that just letting Walken go off on a tangent is a sound strategy for your film;The first scene between Tony and Alvy where we hear them talk, but initially have no idea where the sound is coming from. We merely see an outstretched street, with far away two people standing beneath a tree. We assume these are Tony and Alvy, until we see them walking and talking down the street; The scene in which Alvy and Annie's real thoughts are subtitled while they are talking to each other, and falling in love in the process; Annie's spirit literally leaving her body during sex; Annie's deadpan monologue about her dead uncle.
There are more, but that's enough. For now, let's end by noting that this is not merely Woody Allen's film. Diane Keaton here gives one of the best performances in film history, I think. Apart from the fact that her comic timing is perfect, this may be the most convincing portrayal ever of a shy, slightly naive person, becoming more confident, without changing their personality. And although Allen sometimes adopts the same chauvinistic attitude as in the aforementioned interview, Keaton never lets Annie Hall lose her agency. She makes clear that she is always in charge of her life, and that she is only with Alvy, because she likes him.
