Histoire(s) du cinéma {Chapter 1(b): Une Histoire seule} [1989]

“And Gauguin, he buggered off, man, and went all tropical.”

Sang Nick Cave.

On the brilliant song “There She Goes, My Beautiful World”.

And our world is going to shit.

Fast.

So let’s get some answers, shall we?

Event 201.

10/10/19.

Coronavirus.

Bats.

http://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/scenario.html

“The pathogen and the disease it causes are modeled largely on SARS, but it is more transmissible in the community setting by people with mild symptoms.”

Sound familiar?

Players.

War gaming.

Avril Haines.

Former Deputy Director of the CIA.

haines.html

Instead of CNN, Event 201 came up with a fake news channel called GNN which supplemented the reality of its war game.

Go to 1’17” in video.

Correlation does not necessarily imply causation, but consider the following:

A.  The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation helps put on the Event 201 coronavirus simulation on October 10, 2019

B.  Bill Gates leaves the boards of directors of Berkshire Hathaway [Warren Buffett] and Microsoft on March 13, 2020

C.  94 of the 154 coronavirus deaths in the U.S. as of March 20, 2020 were in Washington State [specifically in the King County (Seattle) area]:  Bill Gates’ home

Bill Gates’ father was the former head of Planned Parenthood.

The Gates Foundation gave $82 million to Planned Parenthood organizations over the years 2009-2015.

Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation

The Event 201 bat coronavirus simulation in NYC on 10/19/19 was cosponsored by the World Economic Forum.

Among its board members is Al Gore.

https://www.weforum.org/about/leadership-and-governance

Also among its board members is Queen Rania of Jordan.

If you look at the Twitter account of John Podesta (Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign chairman), you will find that the first person he followed on Twitter was Queen Rania.

Why?

Also on the World Economic Forum board is David M. Rubenstein of the Carlyle Group.

The Carlyle Group has a close connection to the Bush family.

On the morning of 9/11/01, the Carlyle Group was meeting in Washington, D.C.

Who was at that meeting?

Dig!

“Event 201 was supported by funding from the Open Philanthropy Project.”

http://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/event201/about

What is the Open Philanthropy Project?

Who runs it?

One of the founders of Facebook (and his wife).

Dustin Moskovitz (the person in question) donated $20 million to Hillary Clinton’s campaign.  He was the third-largest donor in the 2016 campaigns.

http://www.cnn.com/2016/09/09/politics/facebook-cofounder-gift-democrats

Melinda Gates is on the board of The Washington Post.

melinda-french-gates-elected-director-washington-post-company

Bill Gates has attended the Bilderberg Meetings.

bilderberg-group-conspiracy-theories-secret-societies-new-world-order-alex-jones-a8377171.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/is-bilderberg-a-conference-on-world-affairs-or-a-powerful-global-cabal-depends-on-who-you-ask/2012/06/01/gJQA5uqx7U_story.html

Both Bill and Melinda Gates were considered by Hillary Clinton staffers as possible running mates for her 2016 run.

https://time.com/4534899/hillary-clinton-wikileaks-running-mates/

Are you seeing a theme here?

This amazingly prescient Event 201 which had a scenario (see above link) that mirrors the present coronavirus outbreak almost exactly (transmission of a coronavirus from bats to humans…misunderstanding of community spread dynamics owing to mistaken comparison to SARS) was headed and funded almost entirely by left-wing, globalist people who support the Democratic Party in the United States.  The only “foil” might be the Carlyle Group presence on WEF’s board (a connection to the equally-globalist, anti-Trump Bush family).

The Clintons and the Bushes.  Lots of money.  Unequivocally anti-Trump.  And they just happen to run a coronavirus simulation a few months BEFORE the current outbreak even began in China.

Cui bono?

Bill Gates has plenty of money.

He can withstand the shock to his personal bank account.

The Democrats (and Marxist globalists) were unable to impeach Trump.  Before that, they were unable to have Robert Mueller (former FBI Director) bring down Trump for “colluding” with Russia in the 2016 election.

So what did they have left in their effort to unseat the populist Trump?

Were they backed into a corner?

Was their collective corruption about to come to light?

Perhaps they played their last card:  attempt to destroy the U.S. economy with a pandemic PSYOP.

An average of 25,000 American die every year from the flu, but we don’t close the whole country down.

In 2017-2018, the CDC estimates that 61,000 Americans died from the flu.

past-seasons.html

Finally, how did a Johns Hopkins website become the end-all/be-all source for global and American coronavirus statistics?  Why was Johns Hopkins working with the Gates Foundation for the 10/19/19 bat coronavirus simulation Event 201 in NYC?  Has the simulation now become “real”?

Which brings us back to Gauguin…and Godard.

And part two of the greatest film ever made (in my opinion).

Histoire(s) du cinéma.

Godard contends in this 42 minute segment that cinema (the movie industry) is really a part of the cosmetics industry.

Everything is masked (and anonymous).

All is façade.

Godard further excoriates Hollywood by calling it a minor branch of the industry of lies.

Quite a humorous and pithy insult.

And self-deprecating.

It is true that Godard was an avowed Marxist.

A Leninist.

And even a Maoist.

And so it’s no surprise that he references Bertolt Brecht.

But Godard was, at this point in his career, becoming less of a radical (politically) and more of a humanist.

He was mellowing as a political firebrand.

But he was hitting his apex of creative experimentation.

I must admit.

This section is not the strongest of his eight-part masterpiece.

Section one Toutes les histoires is a tour de force.

But section two, Une Histoire seule, is a bit of a sophomore slump.

Or a lull.

A composer cannot maintain a fever-pitch indefinitely.

The great auteur got our attention in the first section.

And then he eases up.

He played the “head” (as in jazz).

And now he is beginning to improvise.

At first, he loosely pounds out the melody à la Thelonious Monk.

It sounds like more of the same.

And it is.

But it’s subtle.

It is a creator pondering his own creation.

“What have I just created?”

He turns it over and surveys it.

He feels its dimensions.

He tosses it and catches it like a baseball.

He estimates its weight.

The greatest movie ever made, Histoire(s) du cinéma, is not a movie in the strictest sense of the word.

It is not a narrative film per se.

There is very little NEW footage within.

Just like James Joyce’s magnum opus Finnegans Wake, it is not a novel.

It is much closer to poetry.

But it is novel (adj.).

This is a film review.

 

-PD

Histoire(s) du cinéma {Chapter 1(a): Toutes les histoires} [1988]

Times seem apocalyptic.

So here is the greatest movie ever made.

But it is not available on iTunes.

You may have a hard time finding it.

And an even harder time playing it.

I did.

Back in the day.

I had to acquire a region-free DVD player.

And I did.

Solely to watch this film.

It is in four parts.

Each of which is divided in two.

So, therefore, eight parts.

This much-féted masterwork was not only released on television (which is to say, it was not a “theatrical” film per se), but it was accompanied by a soundtrack on the very erudite German record label ECM and further augmented by a book (text and screenshots) published by the most famous French publishing house Gallimard.

The soundtrack is very difficult to find on CD, but it is becoming less-difficult to find in the digital realm (unlike the film itself).

You can at least “listen to the movie” on Spotify.

And so for this film review, we will only be considering (to start with) the first section (which runs 51 minutes).

It is the section with which I am most familiar.

It is my personal favorite.

But it is important to note that the entire 266 minute film is essential to the “weight” of this creation (even if this first part is the most finely-crafted).

But we will reconsider as we go along.

The first section of the film (that which is under consideration) dates from 1988.

The book was not released till 1998 (when the film was completed).

So we have a sort of serial composition here (in the sense of Finnegans Wake).

It came out in parts.

It dribbled out.

Like QAnon.

And its influence spread.

Like COVID-19.

We remember William S. Burroughs and his concept of the “word virus”.

That is certainly germane here.

But I return, again, to Finnegans Wake.

No film creation in the history of cinema is more like James Joyce’s aforementioned masterpiece than Histoire(s) du cinéma.

Indeed, the only other creation I know of which enters into this same sui generis realm is Walter Benjamin’s Passagenwerk (translated in English as Arcades Project).

These are DENSE works…these three masterpieces.

One (Joyce) a “novel”.

One (Godard) a “movie”.

And one (Benjamin) a philosophical book.

Two books and a movie.

And the movie eventually became a book (Godard’s Gallimard creation).

The reverse of the usual.

Here, book doesn’t become film.

And there is not “more” in the book than there is in the film in Godard’s case.

If anything, there is certainly less.

Which doesn’t make it any less poignant.

So, what Godard has created for us with the book is a perfect guide to REMEMBERING WHAT WE SAW.

Which is a big theme of Histoire(s) du cinéma.

Film preserves the holiness of real life (to paraphrase).

Film (and video…of which this movie makes extensive use) preserves a moment.

Film can be (and is, always) a document.

Godard outlines a very French dichotomy here.

Film can be either predominantly of the Lumière brothers’ tradition (what we might call “documentary”).

Or of the Méliès tradition (a doctored reality…a “staged” document…what we might call “drama” [and its various subgenres such as “comedy”]).

But this dichotomy is not strictly “mutually exclusive”.

And here Godard brings us the example of Robert Flaherty.

Known as a director of documentaries, Godard points out that Flaherty “staged” his documentaries (which blurs the lines between the Lumière/Méliès dichotomy).

And what of Histoire(s) du cinéma?

Is it a documentary?

In many ways, yes.

It is a history of film.

But it is also a history of the filmmaker who is MAKING that very same history of film (namely, Godard himself).

To add further layers of surreality, Godard must address his own contribution to the history of cinema (which is considerable by even the most unbiased estimation).

Which is to say…

Godard is important to the history of film.

Very important.

Whether you like him and his films or not, he cannot be ignored.

And so we have here a very curious and “loaded” document indeed.

It is a matter of historiography.

Godard cannot (and indeed, does not even try) to remove his own opinion from this exercise of surveying the history of cinema.

That may be, ultimately, because Jean-Luc Godard never stopped being a film critic.

It was as a lowly film critic that he started…and it is as a film critic with his caméra-stylo (“camera pen”) that he continues to create today.

All of his films are, in and of themselves, film criticism.

From Breathless to The Image Book, he is always making a statement.

Pointing out how vapid Hollywood can be.

Pointing out what doesn’t exist in the marketplace.

Perhaps he is creating that which he would most like to watch…as a film lover.

His favorite film didn’t exist (except in his head–except as a vague concept).

No one had made it.

So, in order to watch it, he had to create it himself.

Then he could (theoretically) “enjoy” it.

I imagine he does this with each new film he makes.

It is always an attempt (“essay”…from French etymology…”to try”) to materialize what he would like to watch.

No director has his cutting wit.

No director’s mind pivots so nimbly.

So he must become his own favorite director…over and over and over and over again.

But this film is indeed a special case.

Ten years of creation.

Joyce spent 17 years on Finnegans Wake.

Benjamin spent 13 years on his Arcades Project.

And all of this which I have written is merely a preface.

That is how IMMENSE and pithy(!) Histoire(s) du cinéma truly is.

To be a creator is tiresome.

It makes one weary.

To always dream.

To imagine.

And to sweat in pursuance of crystalizing ones inspiration.

Jean-Luc Godard has always been a bitter sort of chap.

Bitter about Hollywood.

A love/hate relationship (LOVE/HATE…Robert Mitchum…knuckle tats).

And it is true.

Godard delves very early on into the parallel birth and adolescence of cinema and the Holocaust.

Cinema and the Holocaust.

Cinema was still young.

Cinema had a responsibility to document.

The Germans were very technologically advanced (particularly in sound and video recording).

They kept records of everything.

Even when they went astray during the Third Reich.

Germany had already produced great directors by the time of the Holocaust.

At the top of the list would be F.W. Murnau and Fritz Lang.

But they were not alone.

Wiene, Pabst…

There were others.

UFA (which still exists till this day) was a giant.

Think Metropolis.

So where is the documentation of the Holocaust?

[you can see what a “dangerous” question Godard is asking]

Is he “denying” the Holocaust happened?

I don’t think so.

But he’s asking a relatively simple and (I think) sincere question.

Where is the video record?

All that has been passed down to us of the concentration camps (and “death” camps) is the record made by American directors like George Stevens AFTER the camps had been liberated.

So what really went on there?

Are we to really believe the Germans shot no footage whatsoever in these camps?

And if so, why can’t we see it?

Wouldn’t it truly help us to “never forget” and “never again” and stuff etc. etc.???

It is a very inconvenient fact that, as far as the general public has been made aware, there are NO (and I repeat NO) films (NO FOOTAGE) shot by the Nazis in the concentration camps during WWII.

Surely it exists, right?

But where is it?

Who has it?

What does it show?

Godard is the ultimate enfant terrible here (and elsewhere).

He wants to know.

He’s curious.

Because he’s a film lover.

And he ultimately blames Hollywood (which had, by WWII, become the global center of the film industry) for not truly DOCUMENTING what happened in the concentration camps (neither while the camps were active nor anytime afterwards).

But here Godard branches off into an aesthetic direction.

Godard flatly rejects the talentless Spielberg evocation of Schindler’s List.

For Godard, a directer as mediocre as Steven Spielberg has no business trying to tackle humanity’s darkest hour.

This is the conundrum at the heart of Histoire(s) du cinéma.

What Godard (I think) is saying is this:  there is no way to “write” a history of cinema…because a large portion of contemporaneous history (1939-1945) was not addressed in any true way by the BUSINESS (ironically represented heavily by Jews) of Hollywood.

Godard seems to be saying that Hollywood’s Jews (which is to say, Hollywood) let down world jewry during the years 1939-1945…all for a buck (as it were).

It is a persuasive argument in many ways.

But let’s back up a step.

To reiterate, a history of cinema cannot be told…because there is a portion of that history which is MISSING.

This is a very important word here (and a very important term).

There are films which SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE, but weren’t (by Hollywood).

And there are films which may have be made (by the Nazis), but as far as we know (factually) were not made.  They do not exist (officially).

Two kinds of films missing.

Hollywood was responsible for the Méliès portion.

Hollywood should have used its immense power (and magic) to save the Jews of Europe.

EVERY FUCKING FILM should have been about the plight of the Jews in Europe who had been rounded up.

But we know very well that that’s not what Hollywood did.

The Nazis were responsible for the Lumière portion.

As twisted as the Nazis were, there is no way in hell those sick fucks did not film (with their Agfa technology, etc.) what was going on in the camps.

No fucking way.

Of course they filmed.

Like a goddamned serial killer.

And it was of pristine quality.

So where the fuck are those films?

But, sadly, Godard is called an “anti-Semite” for asking about these films.

Very sad.

He is coming from a “pure film” stance.

He wants to see the films.

He wants the world to see them.

And so the history of cinema is incomplete.

There is a gap.

Irving Thalberg.  Howard Hughes.  CIA.  RKO.  Starlets.

Film directors have been projecting their fantasies onto the screen since the beginning.

Their perfect women.

Their dream lovers.

But you can’t approach film history without approaching Hitler.

Film was at such an important point in its development.

And along came Adolph.

Chaplin and Hitler overlap.

They have the same mustache.

The Great Dictator was a comedy…more or less.

But it was also an attempt (“essay”) to address Hitler’s presence on the world stage.

An attempt to repudiate Hitler.

And yet, Chaplin could not quite hit the right tones.

It is maudlin.

As a comedy, The Great Dictator is pretty superb.

But it hasn’t aged that well as a piece of poetic philosophy.

Not really.

In that moment, the great Chaplin was powerless.

But at least he tried.

He tried.

But something was missing.

The camps.

Direct reference to the camps.

Addressing the problem with no beating around the bush.

No horseshit.

We need to see the bodies rotting.

We have seen that.

But we need to see the gas chambers.

We need to see the German efficiency and precision.

We need to see their documents.

Their film documents.

No Hollywood recreation can convey what those mythical reels contain.

No backlot will suffice.

We have the propaganda films.

Leni Riefenstahl.

I think what Godard is saying is this…

Hollywood has, since WWII, had to live with the guilt of NOT DOING ENOUGH during the Holocaust.

At the time (while it was happening), it was not kosher (no pun intended) to address the camps.

The public needed uplifting fare.

And Hollywood provided.

Hollywood provided a service.

Entertainment.

But Hollywood (as an entity) was permanently cheapened by not addressing the deep philosophical issue of mass death…mass murder.

Hollywood could have yelled, “Fire!” in a crowded theater.

And, indeed, the theater WAS on fire.

But Hollywood said nothing.

Hollywood told jokes.

No medium is perfect.

Hollywood is people.

But as an institution, Hollywood was exposed as being essentially artless and vacuous.

There were exceptions.

Hitchcock (British…but part of Hollywood).  Chaplin (British…but part of Hollywood).

Nicholas Ray.  Erich von Stroheim (Germanic…but part of Hollywood).  D.W. Griffith.  Howard Hawks.  Orson Welles.

But WWII was also the death of European cinema.

This is a very important concept that Godard conveys.

Not only were European Jews liquidated by the Nazis, but European cinema was effectively liquidated by Hollywood.

Europe would never be the same.

Fritz Lang.  Jean Renoir.  Abel Gance.  Jean Vigo.  Jean Cocteau.  Roberto Rossellini.  Max Ophüls.

America won the war.

The Soviet Union also won the war.

Germany lost.

France was “liberated”.

Italy lost.

And as Europe was subsequently split in half (the capitalist West and the communist East), the hegemony of American film [Hollywood] spread.

At the end of the Cold War, that hegemony became complete.

And so Godard is lamenting the death of his national film industry.

Godard is Swiss.

But he is, in many ways, also French.

He is a French speaker.

His years of highest-visibility were spent in Paris.

And there is not really a Swiss film industry of which to speak.

French film died (“liberated”/occupied).

Italian film died (lost war…occupied).

German film died (lost war…occupied).

Scandinavian film died.

Everything was pushed out by Hollywood.

Europe was relegated to the the realm of “art film”.

European cinema was put in a corner.

The wrecked economies of Europe could not compete with the war-machine-rich studios of America.

America had the magic–the fantasy–the special effects–the Technicolor.

Weary Europeans wanted happiness.

And they bought into the American idea of happiness.

To the detriment of their own unique cultures and philosophies.

Europe became Americanized (at least in the realm of the cinema).

To be continued…

 

-PD

This Beautiful Fantastic [2016)

I must admit, I didn’t expect this film to be good.

At all.

Indeed, the thumbnail seemed to indicate that Elizabeth Hurley was the star.

And so this makes two recent movies for which the adverts capitalized on the similarity of their leading ladies to actresses more famous than themselves.

But I am thankful.

Because Elizabeth Hurley could never have pulled this off (though she be a completely competent actress).

No.

This Beautiful Fantastic needed a magic beyond its worldly resources.

And Jessica Brown Findlay brought that magic.

Which is not to say that Simon Aboud did not do a fine job directing our film.

He most certainly did.

One might say this film is about gardens and gardening.

And in a way, it is.

But it is much more about love.

Loss.

Awkwardness.

Work.

Bad luck.

Innocence.

Purity.

Friendship.

OCD.

Introversion.

Jerks.

Coping.

So many strands.

Tom Wilkinson is fantastic here.

But Andrew Scott is equally good.

Wilkinson grounds this production.

Scott is perhaps the prodigy.

Brown Findlay is some pure substance which elevates everything.

She needs these two actors.

But they need her as much if not more.

Jeremy Irvine also has flashes of brilliance here.

I quite enjoyed this movie.

I’m thankful it exists.

So we must delve deeper.

We must admit that Brown Findlay’s lips are to this film as J. Lo’s ass is to Ali G.

Which is to say, Brown Findlay’s lips are almost an additional actor here.

They have a life of their own.

You might call this poor fetishism, but it needs must be said.

These are on par with those of Angelina Jolie.

But there’s a difference.

Brown Findlay’s lips are not freakishly large.

And yet, they draw the eyes.

One cannot look away.

They are always the quivering point of focus in this gossamer production.

Which is also to say, Brown Findlay is really really beautiful.

That is a factor in and of itself.

I seldom say this about any actress.

But it almost goes without saying here.

She is freakishly beautiful.

By which, we mean, breathtaking.

Natural.

Astounding.

And a damn fine actress!

 

-PD

Medianeras [2011)

Here is as close to perfect as I can imagine.

When I clicked on this film on Hulu (translated as Sidewalls), I just expected it to be another film that I would stop watching after 30 seconds.

It vaguely looked like it had Eva Green in it.

Or Natalie Portman.

Thank God it doesn’t.

Instead, it stars Pilar López de Ayala as Mariana and Javier Drolas as Martin.

Indeed, this is the second Argentine film I’ve found which borders on sheer perfection.

The other is El Crítico (which followed two years later in 2013).

It’s true.

Both these films are introspective and self-reflective.

In Medianeras, this is more subtle.

Martin carries around three Tati films in his backpack (the topmost [visible] one being Playtime).

But all of this is academic.

What is important to say is that Medianeras is a cosmic, transcendent romance for the 21st century.

The composition is taut.

The cinematography is deft.

The montage is formidable.

But equally, the writing by director Gustavo Taretto is pristine.

You can look him up.

He’s a big, bushy-bearded 53-year-old.

But I highly admire the mind which came up with this film.

And the eye which brought it to life.

Pilar López de Ayala is magical here.

So many beautiful touches of storytelling.

Sure.

Taretto owes a small debt to Jeunet’s Amélie, but it is ever so small.

Indeed, it is mostly the music (the precious, tick-tock minimalism of the harp) and a pair of sequences involving humorous litanies.

The latter is achieved through copious edits of visual images to match the speaker’s rather cumbersome list(s).

It makes sense.

Amélie was a huge hit on the international stage just ten years prior to Medianeras.

And it too was an excellent film.

So Taretto has borrowed from a source which also indicates his good taste.

But our director has gone much further than merely borrowing.

He has created his own coherent language.

There are amazing sequences with Pilar López de Ayala in her apartment as her next-door neighbor wades through Beethoven and Chopin on a hoisted piano.

It is such that Mariana’s isolated life becomes a sort of postmodern ballet.

Sans dancing.

More brooding than anything.

Playing.

But, above all, being lonely.

And that is what drives this home.

We have a lonely man.

And a lonely woman (Ornette).

And paths which cross.

It’s not just sexual tension, but philosophical tension.

We really don’t know if these two perfect lovers will ever meet.

They are so dangerously close to colliding.

Like electrons.

We want these characters to live forever.

And they do.

In that they are composed of real life foibles.

As both watch Woody Allen in the dark.

And cry.

[as I cry watching them]

And both turn up Daniel Johnston singing “True Love Will Find You in the End”.

As I live with my parents.

[as the late-Daniel Johnston lived with his]

I think.

But I do know this.

That the sidewall in Austin has said, “Hi, how are you?” for so long.

And I am stuck in San Antonio.

Probably a much shittier city than Buenos Aires.

No doubt.

But so achingly-close to my old haunts in Austin.

And I don’t know if I will ever see them again.

Because life is hard.

And my life is generally shit.

“Working” at Starbucks.

Soon enough.

Again.

Not sure.

If my fiancée is dying.

And I am weeping.

Because I can relate to Martin and Mariana.

I can’t sleep.

It is 5 a.m. and I am writing a movie review which probably no one will read.

But I am happy in a strange way.

Because I found a film that reflects my life and makes me feel like all of my romantic longings and eccentricities are not for nothing.

So thank you, Gustavo.

Amazing film!!!

 

-PD

High Noon [1952)

What’s the point?

Says the old lawman who refuses.

Disillusioned.

I hear you, old lawman.

What is the point?

No one here but me.

What did I do wrong?

I could have been perfect, but I wasn’t.

But we all have little High Noons.

Where we can run, or do the right thing.

There’s a lot more left to the night.

And though my heart is hurting, I have stood fast.

In my own little way.

Sure, I feel pathetic.

But in my own way, a hero.

There was an easier path for me tonight.

And last night too.

But tonight was so seductive.

Mind games.

Of right and wrong.

Here I sit.

With no one to talk to.

I’m really not sure what’s happening.

I feel like Gary Cooper at the table with the bullets.

Just me and the bullets.

I have tried really hard.

Maybe not hard enough.

But I can look back and have pride in some of what I’ve done.

When I mess up, I try to rectify the situation.

And so on and so forth…into infinity.

Dimitri Tiomkin’s strings outline the ticking clock.

What’s the point?

Sure, Grace Kelly looks nice…but a little young.

She doesn’t have that same allure she would have later.

But she does the right thing too.

In the end.

We can despise her, but when the guns start firing, she makes up for it all.

Gary Cooper.

On his wedding day.

Kind of an MS-13 trip.

When we see Lee Van Cleef at the very beginning.

And we realize he’s way down the credits.

It’s then that we know this is gonna be good.

Do the right thing.

You might sense Trump here.

Good.

Gets really complex.

At “high noon”, Kane (Cooper) will be either dead or single.

Which is why he has to dig deep.

What is it that makes him stay?

Perhaps the same thing which makes Kelly eventually turn back?

Katy Jurado is good here.

Married to Ernest Borgnine for four years.

This film is a big metaphor.

No one does a damn thing.

Because it’s too hard.

Lloyd Bridges definitely picked the wrong day to stop sniffing glue.

Bridges plays the quid pro quo sack of shit that tries to unnerve Gary Cooper.

Hell, Harry Morgan is even in this!

You know, Colonel Potter from MASH!

But it’s pretty much just up to Gary Cooper.

Cooper’s mannerisms would later be carried on by Kevin Costner (to name just one).

But here Cooper was all alone.

Sweating.

Sweat as a motif.

Supposed to be in New Mexico.

Would you have the courage to write a will just before your judgement hour?

That’s a lot of temerity.

Maybe this film really revolves around the uncredited role by Jack Elam.

I don’t know.

But this is a film not to be missed!!!

 

-PD

Saturday Night Fever [1977)

Shitty night.

Sickness.

Hard.

Lonely.

Engaged.

Up all night.

No one.

Misery.

Travolta is magnificent here.

Great direction by John Badham.

With very few caveats.

Badham went on to direct another great film:  WarGames.

Donna Pescow was way hotter than Karen Lynn Gorney.

Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge.

Stephanie says.

Good acting by Martin Shakar as Frank Jr.

His odd blandness inside the 2001 Odyssey discotheque.

Weird dichotomy of the religious life and the nightclub scene.

And of course West Side Story.

Robert Stigwood and rock music.

Here disco.

Fantastic Bee Gees!

Real shit.

Weak ending.

But this is an excellent film.

It is, in its own way, of a fabric that includes grit like Dirty Harry and Death Wish.

This is an essential film.

 

-PD

Get Shorty [1995)

A watchable film.

Not a great film.

I gotta admit…John Travolta is a pretty fucking good actor.

Sure, it’s a standard type (the mobster), but he does it really well here.

The story here is pretty convoluted.

Elmore Leonard.

Having a job proves you’re employable.

Makes it easier to get another job.

Rene Russo looks pretty good here.

She is, by the way, now 65.

Kinda like Henry Miller.

Thinly-veiled biography.

Delroy Lindo is good here.

A nice glimpse of Hollywood…with Gene Hackman driving his Mercedes convertible.

Tough guys communicating to tough guys.

I don’t know why, but I can’t really get into Danny DeVito.

He’s not horrible.

He just doesn’t do anything for me.

In anything he’s been in.

Dennis Farina is really good in this.

Bette Midler looks good in this.

Too bad she’s a moron.

Funny that James Gandolfini plays a redneck in a mobster movie.

Really hard to believe!

Again, worth watching.

But not by much.

 

-PD

The Matrix [1999)

I tried to make her understand.

I tried to tell her what she needed to hear.

I am still waiting.

Waiting for a sea change.

Assange is the superstar hacker.

Mendax.

QAnon lifted “follow the white rabbit” from this film.

Unless this film and the QAnon op stem from the same source.

Smith of 1984.

Turned.

Red-pill me on Tylenol.

LSD implications of Alice.

Mirror from Cocteau.

Keanu Reeves dips his fingers into Orphée (1950).

The Wachowski brothers have both now become trans women.

How fitting.

They are both (incidentally) married to women (Karin and Alisa).

From Walter Carlos to Wendy Carlos.

In which Neo wakes up in the “warm liquid goo” phase.

Brave New Fahrenheit 1984.

Baby farms of dystopia.

Elon Musk has been worried about the very premise of The Matrix.

Worried that his buddies at Google are creating for us the very hell foretold in this movie.

Really.

AI.

Pacified with free porn.

Zion of Joel Silver (producer).

With the “desert of the real”, we get Slavoj Žižek a few years later.

And one of my favorites:  Baudrillard.

Or vice versa.

Oracle like Oprah.

With cookies and everything.

Great acting by Gloria Foster who died in September 2001.

After 9/11.

And this film predates flying machines being swallowed by skyscrapers.

And mass shootings.

Indeed, Columbine kicked off a new era…a mere three weeks after The Matrix was released.

Hmmm…

Many kung fu rips.

It would be four more years before Tarantino began ripping kung fu with the first Kill Bill.

So The Matrix was first here.

A new Star Wars.

Luke Skywalker of Neo.

And the Holocaust chic costumes.

Schindler’s List set this up six years previous in 1993.

Kiss of life.

Great romance.

Sparks.

Channeling Bruce Lee the whole way through.

Great drum and bass tracks.

Cool soundtrack.

I can imagine Thom Yorke really getting into this shit.

The next Radiohead album after this film was the start of a new bleep bloop era.

Kid A.

And Carrie-Anne Moss is really pretty.

Good movie!

 

-PD

택시운전사 [2017)

[A Taxi Driver (2017)]

Wow.

I was unfamiliar.

With this amazing film by Jang Hoon.

Not a perfect film, but very close!

A very moving picture.

Very much due to he extraordinary performance of Song Kang-ho.

And me.

I am learning Korean.

And seven other languages.

But I am lagging behind.

So we dive in further.

Kim Man-seob (Song Kang-ho) has a daughter in the film.

She is very important.

Played by Yoo Eun-mi.

But the big story is that of Gwangju.

South Korea’s sixth-largest city.

1980.

80.

Something about “hope”.

The “official story” is that “civilians raided armories and armed themselves”.

That’s what Wikipedia says.

So still you see that this movie is (whether true or untrue) at odds with mainline history.

None of the protesters are seen with guns.

Not one.

Indeed, no protester in this film does anything but peacefully protest.

So we are looking at (perhaps beautiful) propaganda.

Or, on the other side, FAKE NEWS.

Which is it?

I don’t know.

I am rather new to the subject at hand.

Modern Korean history.

But it begs a further question.

Why is an entire film dedicated to showing how bad the South Korean military coup government was in 1980 when the regime across the border (North Korea) is extraordinarily famous for their ruthlessness?

It is weird.

Who’s funding this?

It wasn’t the United States.

This is not American propaganda.

So who, then?

The most likely culprit is China.

Means, motive, and opportunity.

The idea would be to show the South Korean government as corrupt and (by extension) the American military as grotesque occupiers.

Funny enough.

In 1982 (two years after this incident took place), Gwangju was made a sister city with my hometown:  San Antonio.

Military city.

Hmmm…

Bringing it all back home, said Bob Dylan.

But, as Godard said (and I paraphrase), all propaganda can be beautiful.

i.e., it doesn’t matter if it’s true…it’s still a good story.

Jürgen “Peter” Hinzpeter is framed to make us unquestionably worship reporters.

That is the propaganda showing through.

Excellent story.

About the politeness and honor of Koreans.

Honor a favor.

Bow.

Multiple times.

Quickly.

And do not bring shame on your country by being greedy.

Stand up for your fellow countrymen.

Yes, of course.

Ahhh, those great balls of dough (?) in Honam.

Jeolla food.

I love Korean food!

Ugh!

Bibimbap.

So fucking good!!!

Before cell phones.

Left his 11-year-old daughter home alone in Seoul.

Because he’s a widower.

And now he can’t call to tell her he’s alright.

Because the military has cut all the phone lines to Gwangju.

All she has is him.

All he has is her.

Heartbreaking.

Nice acting by Yoo Hae-jin.

Taxi drivers.

Unite!

Like the ice factory workers in that Bruce Lee film.

The best Bruce Lee movie (probably).

The Big Boss.

Uprising.

Like in Hong Kong.

People take to the streets.

Very real threat of bodily harm.

Up against an immensely powerful military.

That doesn’t want to be embarrassed.

In a precarious position.

CIA uprising in Hong Kong.

This film goes a little overboard with the schmaltz.

A few too many string swells (and lifted Mussorgsky licks).

Sometime around this point we enter the world of BATHOS.

Like a Schindler’s List remake done in Korean.

Out to Suncheon.

Shoes.

Heartbreaking.

Food.

This really is a fine film.

Even with its excesses.

A LONG film.

It almost comes apart.

But hangs together like a Bruckner symphony.

The dramatic arc is there.

The film just gets wobbly for a bit.

Threatening to collapse beneath its own weight.

Some genuinely great cinematography here and there.

Thanks to Go Nak-seon.

Definitely a cautionary tale here.

Certainly a danger that military might can be abused.

When military becomes police.

Gets a little “buddy film” with a strange Fast and Furious meets Thelma & Louise sequence.

As ridiculous as “Gangnam Style”.

Yes, there may be some things lost in translation here.

I know not ALL South Korean films are like this, but are some of these mannerisms normal?

Put plainly, there are some CHEESY film gestures which cheapen this movie unnecessarily.

I’d like to find them endearing (and I kinda do), but they are mostly annoying when encountered.

The Gwangju Uprising.

Minjung.

Heartwarming story.

That a mere taxi driver (a humble rung of society) could make a huge difference.

Very inspiring!!!

 

-PD

The Spy Who Dumped Me [2018)

Texts.

Lessons.

Spying.

Why does our world persist?

Spy spoof in the mode of The Brothers Grimsby.

And while this film is nowhere near as good as Sacha Baron Cohen’s underrated triumph, it is still quite a good film.

There are some really great action sequences here which rival the Bond franchise.

Which brings up a point.

As there are very few Bond movies, these spoofs must be what the top talent do when they’re not making a legit Bond film.

Justin Theroux is good when he punches into a wall.

He’s also good at the jukebox.

But he’s not Mulholland Drive good.

More importantly, Mila Kunis apparently works at Trader Joe’s.

Which gets to tiki root strata.

And she’s Ukrainian.

Which is doubly or triply weird.

Interesting van work.

Like WarGames.

Biden.

Similar shootout to Tosca.

Great car sequence with Kunis and Kate McKinnon.

And the methed-up driver.

One of the highlights.

An actual “what if” of spy films invading on the real world.

More actual gagging.

The difficulty of hiding a thumb drive.

Suffused with Ukrainian connections.

Ivanna Sakhno is truly excellent in this film.

Funny as fuck…trying to find two dumb American girls in Europe.

Great scene through scope.

I’m really tired of seeing Gillian Anderson in these kind of roles.

What the fuck.

Johnny English Reborn (good film…bad role) and How To Lose Friends & Alienate People.

The bit with Snowden is pretty genius.

Ska!

McKinnon in Cirque du Soleil is a little retarded.

Scene in Tokyo also excessive (literally) and pointless (likewise).

But I really enjoyed this film.

Sam Heughan is decent.

The writing is good.

Good job by director Susanna Fogel.

 

-PD