vineri, 14 noiembrie 2008
joi, 13 noiembrie 2008
sâmbătă, 13 septembrie 2008
sâmbătă, 9 august 2008
Film review: Elizabeth reloaded
Elizabeth: The golden age (2007):
The poster announced very good artists and a visual feast. At the end of the screening I liked more the poster than the film itself. Blanchett was good, Jeoffrey Rush as good as always, Clive Owen only good looks. In his case it could be the director’s fault, who diluted his character in such a way that Sir Walter Raleigh ends up being just an exotic adventurer inducing escapist moods rather than discovery drives; he doesn’t conquer the Queen through the power of words or a charming personality; he is not her companion or pseudo-lover, but an ephemeral character, showing off in history.
This time Shekhar Kapur comes with a fake& kitsch view upon a historic character whom he cinematographically ‘exploited’ in a much more interesting manner the first tine (Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, 1998).
I saw Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007) as a melodrama getting closer to a soap-opera and a telenovella. The film begins with some witty lines, but then it drops out this style completely, offering in exchange a fake vision of the Queen: o rather kitsch combination of the warrior Jeanne D’Arc and an illuminated saint.
The dance episode between Bess Throckmorton and Walter Raleigh announced itself interesting from a psychological point of view, but it was treated without insight and finesse. As a result to this, Elizabeth emerged more like a Queen inclined towards vicarious experiences rather than wise introspection and dignified dedication.
When trying to explore Elizabeth’s humanity and femininity (‘dictated’ both by historical circumstances and her own free will), the director uses Hollywood clichés and transforms a historical figure full of personality into an unconvincing, incoherent character.
The images shot from above (from the ceiling of the cathedral, from behind arcades) come as an embodiment of the idea that Elizabeth is watched by a domineering presence (history, divinity) whose victim she is. But the process of transforming Elizabeth into a victim doesn’t stop here.
The Queen’s outburst when she finds out about Bess carrying Walter Raleigh’s child is s scene pertaining to a telenovella: we witness an Elizabeth without self-control, so much un-British in this respect. Raleigh’s line was definitely written for a different kind of film, one with macho men and hysterical women: “you’re not the Queen I want to serve” is a line without any trace of (not even the intention of) psychological depth.
Kate Blanchett with her hair at the back or with short hair does remind one of the femmes fatales of the 30s-40s; it seems to be an image of woman from another time, not one belonging to the 16th century. If the intention was to suggest Elizabeth’s modernity, the outcome is a superimposition of images of Elizabeth that only manage to make the film incoherent and without substance.
The image of the horse jumping from the ship and later swimming underwater, (a spectacular image, indeed) comes in rather unnatural; it is obviously placed there to bring some sort of depth and vision (a la Tarkovsky) into the movie and this makes it artificial; especially since it is inserted in a battle imagery reminding us of adventure movies for credulous pre-teenagers. The following scenes reinforce the same naïve atmosphere and cardboard-made settings: Clive Owen, hanging on the ship and then jumping valiantly into the water; Elizabeth with her hair undone, posted at the edge of the land (the view over the sea and the Spanish Armada is part of the décor).
On the whole, this is a movie that makes neither cinema nor history: the kitsch surfaces behind the flamboyant costumes and setting. You’re left not with a portrait of a powerful Queen, but with the image of her impeccable wig.
The poster announced very good artists and a visual feast. At the end of the screening I liked more the poster than the film itself. Blanchett was good, Jeoffrey Rush as good as always, Clive Owen only good looks. In his case it could be the director’s fault, who diluted his character in such a way that Sir Walter Raleigh ends up being just an exotic adventurer inducing escapist moods rather than discovery drives; he doesn’t conquer the Queen through the power of words or a charming personality; he is not her companion or pseudo-lover, but an ephemeral character, showing off in history.
This time Shekhar Kapur comes with a fake& kitsch view upon a historic character whom he cinematographically ‘exploited’ in a much more interesting manner the first tine (Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen, 1998).
I saw Elizabeth: The Golden Age (2007) as a melodrama getting closer to a soap-opera and a telenovella. The film begins with some witty lines, but then it drops out this style completely, offering in exchange a fake vision of the Queen: o rather kitsch combination of the warrior Jeanne D’Arc and an illuminated saint.
The dance episode between Bess Throckmorton and Walter Raleigh announced itself interesting from a psychological point of view, but it was treated without insight and finesse. As a result to this, Elizabeth emerged more like a Queen inclined towards vicarious experiences rather than wise introspection and dignified dedication.
When trying to explore Elizabeth’s humanity and femininity (‘dictated’ both by historical circumstances and her own free will), the director uses Hollywood clichés and transforms a historical figure full of personality into an unconvincing, incoherent character.
The images shot from above (from the ceiling of the cathedral, from behind arcades) come as an embodiment of the idea that Elizabeth is watched by a domineering presence (history, divinity) whose victim she is. But the process of transforming Elizabeth into a victim doesn’t stop here.
The Queen’s outburst when she finds out about Bess carrying Walter Raleigh’s child is s scene pertaining to a telenovella: we witness an Elizabeth without self-control, so much un-British in this respect. Raleigh’s line was definitely written for a different kind of film, one with macho men and hysterical women: “you’re not the Queen I want to serve” is a line without any trace of (not even the intention of) psychological depth.
Kate Blanchett with her hair at the back or with short hair does remind one of the femmes fatales of the 30s-40s; it seems to be an image of woman from another time, not one belonging to the 16th century. If the intention was to suggest Elizabeth’s modernity, the outcome is a superimposition of images of Elizabeth that only manage to make the film incoherent and without substance.
The image of the horse jumping from the ship and later swimming underwater, (a spectacular image, indeed) comes in rather unnatural; it is obviously placed there to bring some sort of depth and vision (a la Tarkovsky) into the movie and this makes it artificial; especially since it is inserted in a battle imagery reminding us of adventure movies for credulous pre-teenagers. The following scenes reinforce the same naïve atmosphere and cardboard-made settings: Clive Owen, hanging on the ship and then jumping valiantly into the water; Elizabeth with her hair undone, posted at the edge of the land (the view over the sea and the Spanish Armada is part of the décor).
On the whole, this is a movie that makes neither cinema nor history: the kitsch surfaces behind the flamboyant costumes and setting. You’re left not with a portrait of a powerful Queen, but with the image of her impeccable wig.
Film review: Moliere
Moliere (by Laurent Tirard, 2007) is a film about passion: the passion to play theatre, the passion to make people laugh, the passion to love, to create.
This film tries to cover, with the instruments of the imagination, a period left undocumented in the life of the French playwright Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, named Moliere.
The director is not interested in Moliere’s biography, but in his becoming, in his apprenticeship with/ initiation in life and the discovery of his talent. This might explain the poster of the film, which presents a young man in motion in a field of poppies: it is Moliere, touring through France and life.
The director is interested in the relationship between Moliere’s personal experience and his creation, so that we won’t be taken by surprise to discover that the figures met by Moliere would later on become characters in his comedies: the widow Celimene, Tartuffe, Jourdain, of course.
Laurent Tirard created a film about youth and love, the latter being the most powerful of the muses. From this perspective, Moliere and Shakespeare in Love are related: both films are based on a love story that would trigger a literary work. Both Romain Duris and Joseph Finnes interpret an artist/ creator in his youth, when he is striving to make a name for himself, walking on wire in trying to keep his balance between a sponsored commission (Monsieur’s Jourdain’s, in this film) and his own talent. How to establish yourself by creating your way, not the others’?
Like Shakespeare in Love, Moliere has a love story at its core, disguised in a comedy: an irresistible, juicy, energetic comedy. Both young Shakespeare and Moliere turn love into a story, put it on paper& on stage, thus prolonging its life.
How is our hero like? Adventurous, histrionic, energetic, proud, charming. Both Will and Moliere seem, at first sight, to belong more to the Don Juan type rather than to that of a talented writer. Madame Jourdain in Moliere and Viola de Lesseps in Shakespeare in Love are the muses (charming and intelligent ones) of the two artists. “A comedy that speaks about the human soul? Such a thing doesn’t exist, says Moliere. If it doesn’t exist, invent it, replies Madame Jourdain.
The film is excellent both in terms of imagery and the actors’ interpretations. There is a memorable scene: after M. Jourdain’s failed trials of interpreting a horse, Moliere gives him a true acting lesson: “acting means feeling, not pretending”, says young Moliere.
Talking about the montage: the parallel filming of the two lovers (Moliere and Mme Jourdain), each practicing his/ her speech in a mirror, is a very beautiful scene that has a powerful effect on the viewer.
Situational and language humour, unexpected situations, this film is a feast in terms of intelligent scenario, with seductive, witty lines. It is difficult to talk about a film as charming as Moliere is in many respects: visually, in terms of interpretation and scenario.
The film is both first class entertainment and meditation on comedy: how to tell serious things while making people laugh. This film gives you an impulse to grab a play by Moliere and devour it.
This film tries to cover, with the instruments of the imagination, a period left undocumented in the life of the French playwright Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, named Moliere.
The director is not interested in Moliere’s biography, but in his becoming, in his apprenticeship with/ initiation in life and the discovery of his talent. This might explain the poster of the film, which presents a young man in motion in a field of poppies: it is Moliere, touring through France and life.
The director is interested in the relationship between Moliere’s personal experience and his creation, so that we won’t be taken by surprise to discover that the figures met by Moliere would later on become characters in his comedies: the widow Celimene, Tartuffe, Jourdain, of course.
Laurent Tirard created a film about youth and love, the latter being the most powerful of the muses. From this perspective, Moliere and Shakespeare in Love are related: both films are based on a love story that would trigger a literary work. Both Romain Duris and Joseph Finnes interpret an artist/ creator in his youth, when he is striving to make a name for himself, walking on wire in trying to keep his balance between a sponsored commission (Monsieur’s Jourdain’s, in this film) and his own talent. How to establish yourself by creating your way, not the others’?
Like Shakespeare in Love, Moliere has a love story at its core, disguised in a comedy: an irresistible, juicy, energetic comedy. Both young Shakespeare and Moliere turn love into a story, put it on paper& on stage, thus prolonging its life.
How is our hero like? Adventurous, histrionic, energetic, proud, charming. Both Will and Moliere seem, at first sight, to belong more to the Don Juan type rather than to that of a talented writer. Madame Jourdain in Moliere and Viola de Lesseps in Shakespeare in Love are the muses (charming and intelligent ones) of the two artists. “A comedy that speaks about the human soul? Such a thing doesn’t exist, says Moliere. If it doesn’t exist, invent it, replies Madame Jourdain.
The film is excellent both in terms of imagery and the actors’ interpretations. There is a memorable scene: after M. Jourdain’s failed trials of interpreting a horse, Moliere gives him a true acting lesson: “acting means feeling, not pretending”, says young Moliere.
Talking about the montage: the parallel filming of the two lovers (Moliere and Mme Jourdain), each practicing his/ her speech in a mirror, is a very beautiful scene that has a powerful effect on the viewer.
Situational and language humour, unexpected situations, this film is a feast in terms of intelligent scenario, with seductive, witty lines. It is difficult to talk about a film as charming as Moliere is in many respects: visually, in terms of interpretation and scenario.
The film is both first class entertainment and meditation on comedy: how to tell serious things while making people laugh. This film gives you an impulse to grab a play by Moliere and devour it.
FIlm review: How to Steal a Million (William Wyler, 1966). Frivolous& irresistible
Some critics labeled it as a film about frivolous things. Well, if this is a frivolous film, then it is irresistibly frivolous: Givenchy outfits, a sport red car, fakes of the first hand, a spoiled and chic Parisian lady who reads Hitchcock before going to bed, a specialist in fake paintings who tricks a system by handling/ maneuvering a boomerang… For its irresistible character we have to ‘blame’ the Peter O’Toole& Audrey Hepburn couple. A mixture of childishness, chic elegance and playfulness, this is Audrey’s look and style which we also recognize in Breakfast at Tiffany’s or Roman Holiday. Audrey& O’Toole exhibit a luxury of witty lines and charming glances. With such a frivolous arsenal (also remember Audrey in nightgown and boots) the characters become disarmingly charming.
How to Steal a Million can also be interpreted as a parody of serious/ un-frivolous heist movies, like Jules Dassin’s Rififi si Topkapi. One first clue would be the Hitchcock Nicole is reading before discovering the intruder Simon Dermott. The suspense in the book sets the atmosphere for the circumstances in which the two characters make acquaintance with each other: Simon appears to be a burglar. But the suspense a la Hitchcock doesn’t belong to Wyler’s funny film; here, the meeting of the two is not guided by mystery or danger, but by funny accidents, eccentric behaviour and witty lines.
The parody-like character of the film also emerges from the apparitions of the night guard at the museum, embodied by the French actor Moustache: a round, lazy man, who manages to trick the system himself by taking a gulp of wine during the working hours.
The night theft inside the museum is also a parody of the heist movies known for their intricate plots. How to Steal a Million is almost hard to believe many times: a creator of fake paintings who looks like a fake faker himself, a boomerang playing tricks on a sophisticated security system, a specialist in fraud quickly re-orienting himself towards a faked statue’s theft (the Cellini Venus).
The music (composed by Johnny Williams) plays a catchy role in the film: the sparkling of the engagement ring is suggested by the sound of a Glockenspiel; the flight of the boomerang by a whirling piano sound and many times the light& witty atmosphere of the film is supported by a sound effect suggestive of cartoons.
Simon: “Why must it be this particular work of art?”
Nicole: “You don't think I'd steal something that didn't belong to me, do you?”
Simon: “Excuse me, I spoke without thinking.”
How to steal a million? But how to steal somebody’s heart? Simon and Nicole are artists of aristocratic theft. Nicole comes up with the provocative idea and with a style and smile hard to resist. When it comes to Peter O’Toole character, it is charm, ingeniosity, blue eyes, lord-like allure, (“Well, it was pitch dark and there he was. Tall, blue eyes, slim, quite good-looking... in a brutal, mean way, Papa. A terrible man!”), irony, “a knock-out car” and a restrictive closet in which to unfold/ exhibit one’s talent that turn the theft (of both statue and woman) into a success.
And Nicole’s melting glance towards her lover leaves room for no more comments: “You’re a genius…” We love the cinema, this frivolous art that creates characters you fall in love with.
How to Steal a Million can also be interpreted as a parody of serious/ un-frivolous heist movies, like Jules Dassin’s Rififi si Topkapi. One first clue would be the Hitchcock Nicole is reading before discovering the intruder Simon Dermott. The suspense in the book sets the atmosphere for the circumstances in which the two characters make acquaintance with each other: Simon appears to be a burglar. But the suspense a la Hitchcock doesn’t belong to Wyler’s funny film; here, the meeting of the two is not guided by mystery or danger, but by funny accidents, eccentric behaviour and witty lines.
The parody-like character of the film also emerges from the apparitions of the night guard at the museum, embodied by the French actor Moustache: a round, lazy man, who manages to trick the system himself by taking a gulp of wine during the working hours.
The night theft inside the museum is also a parody of the heist movies known for their intricate plots. How to Steal a Million is almost hard to believe many times: a creator of fake paintings who looks like a fake faker himself, a boomerang playing tricks on a sophisticated security system, a specialist in fraud quickly re-orienting himself towards a faked statue’s theft (the Cellini Venus).
The music (composed by Johnny Williams) plays a catchy role in the film: the sparkling of the engagement ring is suggested by the sound of a Glockenspiel; the flight of the boomerang by a whirling piano sound and many times the light& witty atmosphere of the film is supported by a sound effect suggestive of cartoons.
Simon: “Why must it be this particular work of art?”
Nicole: “You don't think I'd steal something that didn't belong to me, do you?”
Simon: “Excuse me, I spoke without thinking.”
How to steal a million? But how to steal somebody’s heart? Simon and Nicole are artists of aristocratic theft. Nicole comes up with the provocative idea and with a style and smile hard to resist. When it comes to Peter O’Toole character, it is charm, ingeniosity, blue eyes, lord-like allure, (“Well, it was pitch dark and there he was. Tall, blue eyes, slim, quite good-looking... in a brutal, mean way, Papa. A terrible man!”), irony, “a knock-out car” and a restrictive closet in which to unfold/ exhibit one’s talent that turn the theft (of both statue and woman) into a success.
And Nicole’s melting glance towards her lover leaves room for no more comments: “You’re a genius…” We love the cinema, this frivolous art that creates characters you fall in love with.
Film review: Zorba, my man
Michael Cacoyannis’s film won the Oscar in 1964 for best scenography (Vassillis Fotopoulos) and the best image (Walter Lassally). And indeed, the value of the film resides in the actors’ unforgettable playing, in the black& white imagery which belongs to a world of contrasts, of alternations between drama and joy, playfulness and desire. Filmed in black and white, the film has the precision and elegance of a chess game.
From the beginning, the village in which Zorba and the Englishman ‘descend’ displays strong contrasts: generous sun and poverty, strong willed men and lonely women, gossip and secret, obsessive love, a sense of community and a look down upon strangers (Zorba himself, Mme Hortense, the widow). But this film is made up of a wide range of hues of/ between shadow and light: suicide out of love, vengeful crime, jealousy, friendship, spirit of invention. The transition from one hue to the other is the game of life…
The director also cultivates contrasts in building his characters: the exuberant Zorba (Anthony Quinn) versus the restrained Englishman (Alan Bates), the somber widow (Irene Papas) and the childish, sentimental Bubulina (Lila Kedrova – Oscar for secondary part). The film also owes his power to the strongly individualized couples, with characters shedding light on each other: one example would be Bubulina’s heart felt fragility and the widow’s strong willed silence and revealed fragility, too.
Contrast is at the core of the human being: in Cacoyannis’ view, Zorba himself is sometimes devilish (him getting out of the mine with a dark charcoaled face), sometimes a guiding angel; he can be both imposing, like a Greek god (the image with Zorba drinking wine, filmed in a spiral, from down up), and childlike, tender (his drawing for Bubulina); vanity doesn’t elude him either (his blackened hair stands as witness). All these features make a human being out of Zorba/ stand for Zorba’s humanity.
Zorba embodies Dionysus’ exuberant, protean spirit: he plays the santuri, dances, makes devilish business with the monks, descends underground, paints his hair black and overflows with love of life.
The contrast between his overflow and the Englishman’s bookish limitation is expressed in the multiple names Zorba has (Molima, California) and the single word designating the Englishman (boss). But soon this word becomes more of an ironic name, since the Englishman proves himself to be the uninitiated, the one without a name (like for the Indians, a name is won through deeds and actions), the stranger (xenos) not only in the small village he reaches, but also in life.
In Nikos Kazantzakis’ book Zorba was the stranger (the Macedonian), while in the film he embodies the enlightened (and naughty) Greek spirit, an irresistible combination of energy, imagination and passion. In the book Zorba is the stranger, an outsider and this is precisely what makes him become so tolerant and loving of people. In the film, he is helping the Englishman rediscover his Greek roots… Zorba’s paradoxe: a Macedonian becomes the embodiment of the Greek genius and… genie!
The boss is more of a spectator, while Zorba is both a director and an actor in life. Do you remember how he makes friends with the monks, how he spoils and soothes Bubulina, how he cancels failure through contagious laughter? “Have you seen them? Especially the monks... they were running down the hill...” Zorba celebrates life and friendship through dance.
The couple Zorba& boss also makes possible a meeting between cultures: the Greek one standing under the sign of vitality and the British one, embodying shyness and introversion.
The montage, backed up by the black and white imagery, alternates the boss’ moments of initiations with the Greek’s lessons of life. The apprenticeship in loving one’s brother begins on the boat: “what kind of man are you? you don't even like dolphins”, Zorba reproaches his boss, who keeps close to his books. When the Englishman hesitates in ‘courting’ the widow, Zorba talks to him as with a son: “I'm not young any more, boss, but you are. Go to her!”
When Zorba himslef experiences a moment of uncertainty doubled by a funny, disarming sincerity (“Boss, I might ruin you, my brain is not the right size”), it is the Englishman’s turn to support his friend: “Boss, give me courage”.
The dance of the two friends in the end of the film is a manifesto of the joy of living, of vitality and… the spectacle of life: “Have you seen them? Especially the monks... they were running down the hill”. For Zorba it’s not success that matters, but the dance of life: the generous waste of energy, the intensity of the experience. And the freedom to start all over again! Zorba is a man who radiates, enjoying the richness of feelings inspired by life. Alexis Zorba enjoys the spectacle of life, this is why his dance embraces the world.
From the beginning, the village in which Zorba and the Englishman ‘descend’ displays strong contrasts: generous sun and poverty, strong willed men and lonely women, gossip and secret, obsessive love, a sense of community and a look down upon strangers (Zorba himself, Mme Hortense, the widow). But this film is made up of a wide range of hues of/ between shadow and light: suicide out of love, vengeful crime, jealousy, friendship, spirit of invention. The transition from one hue to the other is the game of life…
The director also cultivates contrasts in building his characters: the exuberant Zorba (Anthony Quinn) versus the restrained Englishman (Alan Bates), the somber widow (Irene Papas) and the childish, sentimental Bubulina (Lila Kedrova – Oscar for secondary part). The film also owes his power to the strongly individualized couples, with characters shedding light on each other: one example would be Bubulina’s heart felt fragility and the widow’s strong willed silence and revealed fragility, too.
Contrast is at the core of the human being: in Cacoyannis’ view, Zorba himself is sometimes devilish (him getting out of the mine with a dark charcoaled face), sometimes a guiding angel; he can be both imposing, like a Greek god (the image with Zorba drinking wine, filmed in a spiral, from down up), and childlike, tender (his drawing for Bubulina); vanity doesn’t elude him either (his blackened hair stands as witness). All these features make a human being out of Zorba/ stand for Zorba’s humanity.
Zorba embodies Dionysus’ exuberant, protean spirit: he plays the santuri, dances, makes devilish business with the monks, descends underground, paints his hair black and overflows with love of life.
The contrast between his overflow and the Englishman’s bookish limitation is expressed in the multiple names Zorba has (Molima, California) and the single word designating the Englishman (boss). But soon this word becomes more of an ironic name, since the Englishman proves himself to be the uninitiated, the one without a name (like for the Indians, a name is won through deeds and actions), the stranger (xenos) not only in the small village he reaches, but also in life.
In Nikos Kazantzakis’ book Zorba was the stranger (the Macedonian), while in the film he embodies the enlightened (and naughty) Greek spirit, an irresistible combination of energy, imagination and passion. In the book Zorba is the stranger, an outsider and this is precisely what makes him become so tolerant and loving of people. In the film, he is helping the Englishman rediscover his Greek roots… Zorba’s paradoxe: a Macedonian becomes the embodiment of the Greek genius and… genie!
The boss is more of a spectator, while Zorba is both a director and an actor in life. Do you remember how he makes friends with the monks, how he spoils and soothes Bubulina, how he cancels failure through contagious laughter? “Have you seen them? Especially the monks... they were running down the hill...” Zorba celebrates life and friendship through dance.
The couple Zorba& boss also makes possible a meeting between cultures: the Greek one standing under the sign of vitality and the British one, embodying shyness and introversion.
The montage, backed up by the black and white imagery, alternates the boss’ moments of initiations with the Greek’s lessons of life. The apprenticeship in loving one’s brother begins on the boat: “what kind of man are you? you don't even like dolphins”, Zorba reproaches his boss, who keeps close to his books. When the Englishman hesitates in ‘courting’ the widow, Zorba talks to him as with a son: “I'm not young any more, boss, but you are. Go to her!”
When Zorba himslef experiences a moment of uncertainty doubled by a funny, disarming sincerity (“Boss, I might ruin you, my brain is not the right size”), it is the Englishman’s turn to support his friend: “Boss, give me courage”.
The dance of the two friends in the end of the film is a manifesto of the joy of living, of vitality and… the spectacle of life: “Have you seen them? Especially the monks... they were running down the hill”. For Zorba it’s not success that matters, but the dance of life: the generous waste of energy, the intensity of the experience. And the freedom to start all over again! Zorba is a man who radiates, enjoying the richness of feelings inspired by life. Alexis Zorba enjoys the spectacle of life, this is why his dance embraces the world.
miercuri, 6 august 2008
5 o'clock: NotTea time for les connaiseurs
E 5 si ceva dimineata, mi s-a facut pofta de-o poza, de-o cafea, si de muza mea... Neata', whenever this may be!
joi, 19 iunie 2008
Metropotam. The Collection
I've just received this link that takes you to all my articles on http://www.metropotam.ro/ in chronological order. It's like seeing a shortfilm of my life... What I saw, read, listened to, watched, liked or criticized, discovered and revisited. People and animated things that inspired me...
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