Showing posts with label Andrei Tarkovsky. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Andrei Tarkovsky. Show all posts

Film Viewing Log: Aug. 1- Aug. 15

...Chris Eriz here



Oxhide
(Liu Jiayin, 2005, China)- 5/5
I was almost fooled by its documentary-like approach, when I realized by the second half of the film that it must be scripted, considering the carefully planned choices of long, static, cramped-up shots for each scene. And my sympathies all go to the father and his dilemma of either sticking it out for his craft, his passion, or giving in to what the public wants. There is also something ambiguously profound in the ending, where they give no answer or response to what the father says in the end.

The Sacrifice (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1975, Soviet Union)- 3.5/5
Utterly beautiful, if not entirely moving, in the way the whole thing is filmed. Because of Tarkovsky’s ease in filming natural elements-- the gentle movements of the curtains, the steps through the mud, the cloth as it starts to catch fire-- and attention to minutiae detail, the way the story unfolds seems to be not that important, considering how we can already guess quite a lot on what will eventually happen from the film’s title.

Egg (Semih Kaplanoğlu, 2007, Turkey)- 3.5/5
It is perhaps not as great as Kaplanoğlu’s later film, Honey, that just perfectly captures the beauty of the rural landscapes through image and sound and the pains and melancholy of childhood. But, perhaps, I’ve just never experienced adulthood yet in order to fully relate with and understand the hero’s brooding over the past and going back to his roots in this film.



La Perle
(Henri d'Ursel, 1929, Belgium)- 4/5
Deliciously fun and erotic. After seeing this, I felt like slickly sauntering around high-class apartments and stealing jewelleries from all the tenants in those tight outfits, just like what I had felt before, subsequent to watching Maggie Cheung portray Irma Vep.

Un Lac (Philippe Grandrieux, 2008, France)- 4/5
Truth be told, while watching it, I kept psychoanalyzing every human relations and interactions in the film even with the father, with his anti-climactic arrival, noticing suggestions of incest between the older brother and sister, and psychological complexes in almost each and every one of them, especially Alexi. But, perhaps, I was using the wrong approach. The filmmaker seems more interested in creating an atmosphere of bleakness living in isolation and capturing the stillness of the scenic snowy landscapes, with his use of non-patterned and uncalculated array of film techniques.

The Ball at the Anjo House (Kozaburo Yoshimura, 1947, Japan)- 4.5/5
Oh, Masayuki Mori was so dreamy then, or maybe I do really have a thing for badass boys. Oh, those smoke rings. Swoon. I don’t think there is anything juicier, for me at least, than the crumbling of an upper-class family, troubled by the loss of all their wealth. Yet in this film, one can’t somehow help but feel for the family and their plight. This is great, juicy family drama stuff, the kind I’ve always expected out of old Hollywood melodrama films that mostly just stooped down to either playing it safe or going way over-the-top. But here, prepare for some drama dealing, with class relations, some “Old money” and “New Money” conflict, and both familial and romantic tensions, all done in a sincere manner. I got my eyes all glued to the screen during the grand finale to the ball.



Nostalgia for the Light
(Patricio Guzmán, 2010, Chile)- 4.5/5
Going into this, I was expecting the film to be an existential search for truth and to have a sense of wonderment about this whole bigger world up there in space. Although it does mention a thing or two about those things, this is not a film wholly interested in and dedicated to the greater scope of things. It is mostly about memory and the past. Society is keen on finding about the origins of us, humankind, our past thousands of years ago, but it would do anything to forget our immediate past, especially ones that reflect badly on what humans are capable of. Once again, Patricio Guzman does an effective documentary film about his country's continuous agony and suffering that may seem minuscule and insignificant when measured up to the vastness of our universe but that are hugely important to those who have experienced it in the past, these people who also make up the cosmos’ intricate thread of the past, present and future.



Bitter Rice
(Giuseppe De Santis, 1949, Italy)- 4/5
Oh, Silvana, Silvana. Her dilemmas, confusion and pain over what she is doing towards her fellow countrywomen, both her conflicting feelings of fascination for wealth and luxury and empathy for her fellow rice workers, and her unpredictable behaviour. And, don’t pretend you didn’t notice her sensuality and beautiful and curvaceous body (and I am not even into women!). These are really what got me engrossed to the whole film, as I wait for her next unpredictable move even though, by the second half, we can sadly guess what her fate will be. That, and the depiction of the minor characters too, the genuine working-class women who work their asses off for this seasonal work and who only occasionally have their moments of triumph and joy.

The Party and the Guests (Jan Němec, 1966, Czechoslovakia)- 4/5
It’s hard not to think of the whole film as a political allegory, considering how the party occurs in a forest, isolated away from any real resemblance of a regime or government. And it’s horrifying to think how charismatic the birthday man and his son were, how they charmingly convinced the guests that the son abducting them was just a mere game of tomfoolery, his own idea of a game.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 (David Yates, 2010, U.K.)- 2/5
I cried, a few shots even before the moment of Dobby’s death. It was not because of the film’s execution of the scene but because of how I remembered his death in the book. The film made Dobby’s last words to his old masters way too melodramatic when I don’t think there was any real emphasis to it in the book. There really is going to be a problem when you try to just swiftly execute vital scenes such as their visit to Godric’s Hollow. The quick pace of the film also does not capture the slow pace of countless moments of inactivity, of trying to figure out stuff, and of not finding anything at all, the trio kept having in the book. The eureka moments didn’t just go, like, bang, bang, bang, you know.


*****

TOP 100 FILMS - 56 - 60

Nostalghia's (1983) dream scape is vast and eternal. Like many of Takovsky works, the film ascribes to numerous religious and philosophical elements. Its core is an extended series of memories of the main character, Andrei Gorchakov, played by Oleg Yankovsky. The film is an oneiric journey into the spiritual world of the past and into the psychology of two alienated characters, Andrei himself and madman named Domenico. Domenico claims that the end of the world is near. To save the world, one must cross a famous mineral pool in the village while holding a candle. Near the end of the film, as Dominic retells the story of final judgment to his fellow city people, Andrei walks inside the mineral pool. Domenico died after putting himself on fire, while Andrei died of heart attack after crossing the pool after many tries. Tarkovsky masters in situating his characters as pillars for humanity's change. In Andrei Rublev (1967), he holds the key to humanity's salvation. In Solaris (1972), the characters both holds spiritual and cosmic functions. In Nostalghia, Dominico and Andrei carries 'eschatological' functions. At such level of generalization, Tarkovsky asks difficult questions at the highest zenith of human understanding: existence, origin of the cosmos, memories, philosophical truth. He tackles each of these concepts in the most extraordinary cinematography, I call it, eternally sweeping and moving-to-infinity cinematography. Such a gem of a film!

Pierrot le Fou (1965) is a Godard film I really like at first viewing. Its poppy, adventurous both in narrative form and style and it has most elements of the mid 1960s popular scene. The color arrangement of Godard is so striking, it is reminiscent of Une Femme est Une Femme (1961). The assimilation of the fourth wall will later be used in great depth in Godard's La Chinoise (1967). Some says Pierrot le Fou is a postmodern film. The case of postmodernism in Godard's cinema is very evident in most of Godard's work, however, one can approach this film more adroitly by analyzing its parametric form. The parametric form of Pierrot le Fou comes from its stylistic use of costume and color, being both integral to its mise-en-scene and cinematography. Godard's images are conceptual attacks to many aspects of 60s cinema and the world. The film can also be seen as a critique to the French bourgeoisie and the political thoughts emerging in 1960s. This somewhat preempts the succeeding political films of Godard and bids farewell to his stylistic experiments from 1960 to 1964. A must-see Godard film!

Le Mepris (1963) is the most minimalist of what I've seen in Godard so far. With deep-space staging and lenghty camera shots, this vibrant and melancholic film about love and infidelity is one of Godard's best. It tells a story about Paul Javal played by Michel Piccoli and the sudden alienation of his wife, Camille Javal, from their relationship after meeting a rich American film producer named Jeremy Prokosch played by Jack Palance. Godard reflects through the film his personal relationship with cinema. With allusions from as far as Homer's Odysseus, each character also alludes to the personal relationship between Anna Karina, Godard wife that time and Godard himself. The film also harbors issues about cinema in general. With quotations from many iconic movie scenes to the cameo role of director Fritz Lang, the film dissects the film making process and also the emotional turmoil the couple, Godard and Karina, was experiencing. The film was based on the novel of the same title by Alberto Moravia. What is so striking formally in the film is the amount of restraint Godard has put for himself. His previous feature, Une Femme est Une Femme (1961), surprises the audience with visual overload. However, Le Mepris (1963) the slow moving, observant camera and low contrast image-color choices blends in melancholic and minimalist overtone. It is Godard's personal film. It is considered as one of 1960s greatest film.

Talk to Her (2002) is a story of two women: Alicia, in a comatose state, and Lydia, a female bull fighter. They never met in the film and the only one that connects them is that both of them we're comatose at the same hospital during the time Lydia was badly hurt in a bull fight. The film is also about two men close to the two women: Benigno Martin, played by the talented Javier Camara, Alicia's caregiver in the hospital, and Marco Zuluaga, Lydia's lover. Like many of Almodovar's films, the film has a melodramatic core. Like his previous films, it talks about human relationships. With an idiosyncratic premise, Almodovar shapes the narrative with the character's emotional complexities through extended phantasmagorical visions of Benigno to the tonal adjustments in both mise-en-scene and cinematographic color based on character's mood. This is what makes Talk to Her Almodovar's richest work: the fine balance of form and emotions, a unique film in every sense of the word.

Jane Campion, in her highly elegant state of art, delivers her most unbreakable and controlled cinematic beauty, Bright Star (2009). I must admit I am very much impressed with its photography as much as I am impressed with its writing. Bright Star is created not upon whim but upon heavy study, with great precision and grace, on the art of mise-en-scene, cinematography and of course, writing. How rich, one could say, a cinema artist could be on staging a piece of tale like a painting in a film or to place the subject of poetry at its heart! Filmmakers today are gifted with so many options for their craft, enlarged by the spectrum of technology they can choose from. Yet we see Jane Campion, faithfully using the same techniques for lighting, but carefully bending it for naturalistic cause to deliver not only atmosphere but beauty to the characters she was always in love with since The Piano (1993). The color gradient she used for Bright Star ranged from the bright ones (in the beginning) to the dark ones (in the end). However, this spectrum of visible light is dynamic throughout the film and it still remained the film's most salient style, much like that of Almodovar's but less vibrant and sharp. The diffuse quality of the lighting infused with the shade reminds me of the other Renoir. It is painting-film.



Ciao!
****

Tarkovsky on Art

cinema is cinema


Part 1


Part 2

His films.


Ciao!
***

What I'm Watching...

...
I got the new version in Blu-Ray a couple of days ago.


The DVD cover says: "What Godard movies were once like; fast, handheld, funny and very, very catchy." Hmmmm... I kinda feel the same way, the "Nouvelle Vague"Godard somehow reflects Wong Kar-Wai's style. I miiissss the old Godard, where is he now? Is Socialisme (2010) already done? Maybe he has been growing some white hair. A retro on Wong Kar-Wai during Finals week is the best way to keep me up from sleeping, because, this week, is a helluva non-sleeping, all-day everyday exam. T.T

-----
Jacques Tati.

Playtime = Complex Mise-en-scene.

I have been watching some of Jacques Tati's comedies. Playtime (1967) is a gem. I have never seen quite like it. Everything is mise-en-scene, mise-en-scene, mise-en-scene. I think Andre Bazin would be very impress with this piece of art. He died 1958, nine years before Playtime was made.


Andre Bazin (1918 - 1958)
-------
On Andrei Rublev (1966)





The Bell Casting - my favorite Scene from Andrei Rublev (1966)

Ciao!
****

Andrei Tarkovsky at The Walter Reade Theater: July 7 - 14, '09

i wanna go there... now na!

[videos cued from here]


Films of Andrei Tarkovsky, an Exploding Poetry:
watch it right here, right now!



I wish, and only wish, I live in Upper West Side, Manhattan preferably at 165 West 65th Street, upper level between Broadway and Amsterdam Ave. I wanted to go there so badly but i am stuck here in this pseudo-neurotic cityscape of Manila, consumed by 'the mechanics of materials' and plagued by the sound of the night sighing how life directly translates to 'here and now.' Because i never had a chance to download a 1.70 GB Andrei Rublev (1966) and Mirror (1975), i just sulked on a corner and dried my tears. Yet, I am filled with thoughts about how one cinephile should grow from all this nurturing experiences, that if one is serious about film, one must watch any Andrei Tarkovsky's because he is
'one of the greatest, the one who invented a new language, true to the nature of film, as it captures life as a reflection, life as a dream' --- Ingmar Bergman.


I am filled with hope and enthusiasm of gaining my wings, stretching it from the skin of my back the flowing ivory white feather, so that i would fly and come to Manhattan to join The Film Society of Lincoln Center's revisiting of Tarkovsky.

On the contrary, i am very much surprised on the cost of the tickets. From their website:
"Walter Reade Theater General Admission:
$11 public ......... [P530.09] (exchange rate)
$8 senior (62+) ........ [P385.52]

$7 Film Society member & student (w/ID), child (6-­12, accompanied by adult) ........ [P337.53]

Online service charge: $1.25 per ticket. Cash only transactions at the box office and concession stand. ....... [+P60.24]


Series Pass:
$40 public ......... [P 1927.60]

$30 Film Society member ........ [P 1445.70]

Admits one person to five titles in a series. Purchase in person at the box office (cash only); may not be combined with any other ticket offer. Individual screening tickets and series passes subject to availability." (link here)

I thought i died there. I cannot think of a cinema that costs that much in my life. I watch movies on local theaters at an average rate of P110.00 [$2.28] per ticket and this is a week after the opening of a blockbuster movie. Perhaps maybe because this one is a special screening and also because it offers a high selectivity on the audience catering to those who have realized cinema's big elephant in the room or maybe to those who have realized solitude and contemplation as their form of happiness. Either way, movie viewing costs an ample amount of fortune. If one would choose, let us say a sensible young man of ripe age and maturity with a high level of tolerance and patience, filled with curiosity and wondering, between a box-office summer movie (i.e. Harry Potter 5th sequel) and Film Society's screening of Andrei Tarkovsky's masterworks, it is in a manner of personal taste that permits him to choose the better experience from the two. But to say that Andrei Tarkovsky's works are preferable than Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (2009) is incredibly dull and pretentious. They are totally different from one another and they do not resemble one another except that, of course, they use cinematic tools to deploy narrative and produce effects, and the certainty of a cut or a duration of a shot is highly dependable on the genre, conventions, and historical manifestation of the films. To produce evaluation on both filmic experience, judging one to be subordinate from another, is a matter of economy for the mass viewers something that i cannot stomach.

Ignorance in cinema is symptomatic of one's faithlessness to the medium.

Ciao!

****

FREE DOWNLOAD Andrei Rublev [1966] and The Mirror [1975]

super quick post...

[photos from here, here, here, and here]



A smile often leads to contemplation. (whatever Adrian!)


Because I am intensely connected with Andrei Tarkovsky oeuvre, I found out recently that Andrei Rublev, probably Tarkovsky's masterpiece, and The Mirror are viewable on YouTube through birubirFilms's Channel. They also provide download links to a Russian website for the full length film:


Andrei Rublev (download link)


The Mirror (download link)

Ciao for now!

***

I am busy with:


(i made it b&w to add contemplation, after all
university work is much of a contemplation than
entertainment.)


Ciaofck!

***

ANDREI TARKOVSKY: My Weekly Contemplation

snapshot post

[images from here, here and here]


Andrei Tarkovsky.

By reading an auteur study on Tarkovsky, it is, in a way, my method of opening my heart to contemplative cinema. The breadth of Tarkovsky's work is as absorbing as the book entitled Films by Andrei Tarkovsky: A Visual Fugue by Vida T. Johnson and Graham Petrie. I borrowed it from the library and i am much willing to make an effort to read it this week with enough enthusiasm to give honor to a director of contemplative cinema.

When one speak of an artist from Russia, i often think of my obsession with Russian writers (see ABOUT ME). Russians, a realization from reading Brothers Karamazov, are fond of contemplation, it seemed as though it is their fundamental way of life, their breather. Though Sergei Eisenstein may not be into long takes, still has contemplative tendencies especially in Battleship Potemkin (1925) due to the startling imagery Eisenstein employed.

Andrei Takovsky has a different approach to contemplation. His images are poetically charge, contrary to other contemplative artists who are obsessed with minimalism and the deconstruction of one's subject into mundane reality. One can look Tarkovsky similar to Kiarostami and Ozu: some few artists whose views in cinema are not only limited to the tenets of filmmaking but also to the concepts beyond this provocative regime. They often have a tendency to employ metaphysical overtones. Such is Kiarostami on The Wind will Carry Us (1999).

Kiarostami and Tarkovsky both has a unique eye for framing. Most of their frames are like visual paintings. In my previous post, Kiarostami identified Five (2003) much like painting. Some other directors have attempted to approach framing as a way of painting. No one cannot deny how the mise-en-scene of Wong Kar-Wai's Happy Together (1997) looked much like a painting, or maybe because it appealed that way.


Rembrandt's The Return of the Prodigal Son.


In the last scene at Tarkovsky's Solaris, at exactly 3:55 of the video clip below, one can say that this is Rembrandt. This is also observed by a certain youtube commentator mbmsv. Tarkovsky made a tangential appeal, almost a comparative analogy, to The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt. The video below manifests some of the most unforgetable and unique cinematographic techniques in cinema.



Last scene of Solaris.

***

I will visit the local videoteque tomorrow if i have time. I'm adjusting my blogging schedule, trying to fit it in between my hardcore chemical engineering studies, my PSYSC org work, and my UP Sorgogueños officer work (well, i'm glad to announce that i am the incumbent FINANCE OFFICER of the organization, wohoooo! Money come to me!)

***


Penelope waiting for ULYSSES.

I stopped reading ULYSSES! Too bad, i was at Episode 16. I will get back to it when i feel the urge.

***

Ciao!