A brief summary of recent work...and as noted before, I am now located in Los Angeles! If you are here too and would like to meet up, shoot me an email sometime!
The Toronto Film Festival is well underway, and I am sadly not there. Luckily I was at Cannes, so my coverage of that covers many of the major titles. I did write about two Locarno premiers, however: Matias Pineiro's The Princess of France, a beguilingly wonderful chapter in his continuing Shakespeare series (I wrote about Pineiro's other films here). And Songs From The North, an interesting if limited essay film from Soon-Mi Yoo examining life in North Korea.
Approaching The End, my first book, is now available for pre-order. BUY BUY BUY! (You can also buy off Amazon, but it'll ship slower and for what its worth, the giant corporation inhales over half the profits. I note this not for my own royalties, which don't change, but the press is blooming and could use your help!)
For its new Criterion Blu-Ray, I wrote about Bresson's Pickpocket and its more technical aspects, attempting to put it in conversation with Warners Gangster films and less with ideas of "transcendent" cinema.
Three more episodes of The Cinephiliacs, and all fantastic ones: Former Chicago Reader critic and MoMA curator Dave Kehr on Columbia crime films and The Whistler series, critic and Double Play director Gabe Klinger on Raoul Walsh's The Bowery, and Village Voice critic Stephanie Zacherek on The Dave Clark Five in John Boorman's Having A Wild Weekend.
New Letterboxd Updates:,
The Contemporary Cinema: Boyhood (Linklater), Lucy (Besson), Ida (Pawlikowski), Venus In Fur (Polanski), 22 Jump Street (Lord/Miller), Policeman (Lapid)
The Canonical Cinema: 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick), The Abyss (Cameron)
The Silent Cinema: Why Be Good?, The Eternal Grind, Travelin' On, Lilac Time
Orson Welles!: Too Much Johnson
Auteurist Cinema: Our Man In Havana (Reed), Eva (Losey), Nothing Sacred (Wellman), Escape in the Fog (Boetticher), Panelstory (Chytilová), Niagara (Hathaway), Crooklyn (Lee), Tale of Cinema (Hong)
Showing posts with label stanley kubrick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stanley kubrick. Show all posts
Monday, September 08, 2014
Friday, October 19, 2012
NYFF: Assayas's Summer of Marx and Moon Landing Theories
While NYFF is over, I've got a couple pieces left to file, including this one on Olivier Assayas's Something in the Air, which was my favorite of the festival. I look at the film as a spiritual sequel to Carlos, his 5.5 hour epic from 2010. The piece is pretty good, but I actually had a couple more notes I should have included after chatting with Adam Kempenaar from Filmspotting the other night. Here's what I wrote to him:
"[Assayas] kind of was this remedy for the French New Wave in a lot of ways that decided to foreground emotion in every frame. I think those dolly shots rising up into the air are totally subjective in a lot of ways ("Don't watch me leave" and the camera totally does), and so the fire during that sequence in the middle is like the emotions are so angry and so furious that instead of appearing via people screaming at each other, they conjure themselves visually as physical elements such as fire. And I love that element to this film."
So you can read that piece here.
UPDATE: Here's my final piece from NYFF, a consideration of Room 237, in which I try and parse through some of the criticisms remarked by two legendary critics, Jonathan Rosenbaum and Girish Shambu. Their pieces are better (and are linked in there), so read those, as well as mine here.
"[Assayas] kind of was this remedy for the French New Wave in a lot of ways that decided to foreground emotion in every frame. I think those dolly shots rising up into the air are totally subjective in a lot of ways ("Don't watch me leave" and the camera totally does), and so the fire during that sequence in the middle is like the emotions are so angry and so furious that instead of appearing via people screaming at each other, they conjure themselves visually as physical elements such as fire. And I love that element to this film."
So you can read that piece here.
UPDATE: Here's my final piece from NYFF, a consideration of Room 237, in which I try and parse through some of the criticisms remarked by two legendary critics, Jonathan Rosenbaum and Girish Shambu. Their pieces are better (and are linked in there), so read those, as well as mine here.
Monday, September 03, 2012
Screening Log: France Was Right Edition
Small
note of fun this week. As part of my Masters program, I’ll be digging through a
lot of archival materials, and one of the best parts of Columbia is their Oral
History archives, which are not available online. Here’s a quote I pulled from
Fritz Lang, that I think explains a lot of the nihilism in his noir films: “Today,
I’m convinced that mythical fate doesn’t exist. That you never make fate for
yourself.” I wish I had more time with it, because Lang also talks a lot of who
slept with who stuff.
-Hollywood or Bust,
1956. Directed by Frank Tashlain. 35mm projection at Brooklyn Academy of Music.
-Artists and Models,
1955. Directed by Frank Tashalin. 35mm projection at Brooklyn Academy of Music.
-/Barry Lyndon/,
1975. Directed by Stanley Kubrick. DVD.
-New Guy, 2003.
Directed by Bilge Ebiri, Streaming via Fandor.
Tuesday, May 01, 2012
Interlude: Sight & Sound
Following the take from some friends...no commentary, just a list of films I can't live without. This list will be out of date in about five minutes.
1. Vertigo (Hitchcock, USA,
1958)
2. Raging Bull (Scorsese, USA,
1980)
3. Do The Right Thing (Lee,
USA, 1989)
4. High and Low (Kurosawa,
Japan, 1962)
5. Rio Bravo (Hawks, USA,
1959)
6. 2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick,
UK, 1968)
7. The Passion of Joan of Arc
(Dreyer, France, 1928)
8. Sunset Blvd. (Wilder, USA, 1950)
9. Days of Heaven (Malick, USA, 1978)
10. The Searchers (Ford, USA, 1956)
Not included: Psycho, The Godfather, Close-Up, Pulp Fiction, Chinatown, Annie Hall, The Apartment, Sweet Smell of Success, Chungking Express, The Godfather: Part II, and a whole lot more...
Monday, March 12, 2012
Screening Log: Ima Let You Finish Tarkovsky Edition
This week’s
screening log is not only late, but also shorter than ever. It’s been one of
those weeks. I was all set to write it yesterday and then I couldn’t get into
the headspace cause of some non-film things. I’m not really in the headspace now, but perhaps I can take
that as a challenge. Of note, the three repertory films (and two current films)
marks the first week in which everything was screening in digital. This is sad.
If you haven’t, read my piece on the troubling aspects of the North By Northwest DCP.
-2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968:
Directed by Stanley Kubrick. Digital 2K Projection at Film Forum.
-North By Northwest, 1959.
Directed by Alfred Hitchcock. Digital 2K Projection at the Museum of the Moving
Image.
-Stalker, 1979. Directed
By Andrei Tarkovsky. Projected DVD at the New School.
This was the third
time I had seen Stalker, which was
part of an event called Tarkovsky Interrupts, in which the film was intermittently
paused for discussion by a series of six panelists, organized around Geoff
Dyer, who just wrote a book on the film called Zona. I won’t give a full overview—someone more astute than me already did that much better than I can—but here are a few of the notes I took and my own
thoughts on this film, which remains my favorite Tarkovsky. I was actually
expecting them to stop the movie a couple more times or at least speak longer,
but the screening went over length anyways (four hours were allotted).
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Imperfections in a "Perfect" Transfer: Digital Cinema Complaints Part Two
Last week, I wrote about the coming age of “Digital Cinema Projection,” and the issues that still had to be worked out if we were to
accept it as the replacement for 35mm. I noted that Dr. Strangelove, which showed at Film Forum, had chosen an odd
technique of displaying film grain throughout, an often distracting but
eventually adjustable choice by the Sony Pictures restoration group. Now I want
to report on some of the work Warner Bros. has done.
Of
the six major studios, Warner Bros. has been the worst about allowing 35mm of
their prints to be shown. They refuse to send film from their archives if they
have a DCP available, and I’m afraid that only those with private collections
or other archival access may be able to show 35mm for many of their greatest
works.
This
week, I was able to see two different DCPs Warners has worked on, both
projected in 2K. The first, Kubrick’s 2001:
A Space Odyssey. I haven’t seen the film in 35mm before, only on a poor
quality DVD that might be over ten years old. Seeing the DCP though was a
marvel. Ever color stood out perfectly. The lights aboard the spaceship shined
like they had been captured on film. There was no grain to speak of. Part of
this, is that 2001 is a film in which every color and composition is literally
perfect. It’s a pristine, essentially immaculate film, and the DCP reflected
this (though this inspired a few tweets by Richard Brody about films that deserve less than stellar transfers).
I
really, really wish I could say the
same things about North By Northwest,
the Alfred Hitchcock classic, which I saw as part of the "See it Big!" series at the Museum of the Moving Image. In fact, I can say that about 90% of the DCP
looked amazing, better than I’ve ever seen the film. But we need to talk about
that last 10%. The problem is that North
By Northwest uses a lot of rear projections, which are difficult for
restorers to figure out what to do when audiences seeing it in 35mm in 1959
probably would have been aware of the illusion. But whatever Warners did with
it, they didn’t do it in every scene. The first problem I noted was in the shot
below, as Cary enters the UN Embassy:
You can’t see the issue in the pictures, but what happened was the restorers
seemed to try and create the flickering image of film. The result was that the area of
the frame where the stairs are on the right appeared to have a mirage effect going on while the rest of the frame didn't. The colors seemed unstable, and I'm not an expert on this, but it did not look right and was frankly embarrassing. This happened in a few shots during the film, such as Grant and Marie Saint’s
meeting in the woods, and in one of the finale sequences where one of the bad
guys is in the area of Mount Rushmore with the room with a light underneath one of the faces (which appeared to be
going haywire).
There
is nothing wrong with flickering, but when it only happens in some selective
shots, and not in the entirety of the frame, I found myself distracted and confused
what Warners was trying to do with these shots. I don’t own a DVD or Blu-Ray
copy of the film, but if anyone can look specifically at the shot posted above
and let me know if it has the same problem, that would be great (Update: See Glenn Kenny's comment below, which doesn't have the problem at all, making this issue even more absurd). And if you
work at Warners in the restoration archive, please upload the DCP immediately and take a look at,
and email me as to what you were trying to do.
Sunday, March 04, 2012
Screening Log: Laughing at the Apocalypse Edition
One
note before the screening log; for those of you who don’t follow every word
about Russian art house cinema, you may not know that Geoff Dyer has published
a book on Tarkovsky’s Stalker called Zona. I look forward to reading it soon,
especially after J. Hoberman’s review this week. I am particularly excited that
next week the New York Institute for the Humanities will be holding a special 4-hour
event on Stalker. The film will be
played in its entirety, but stopped every half hour for discussion. The panel
not only includes Dyer, but the great film critic and essayist Phillip Lopate
(a former professor of mine), and Walter Murch, one of the best film editors in
the business (best known for his work with Francis Ford Coppola on he Godfather films and Apocalypse Now). There are some others
as well, so it should be a unique and interesting event (despite the Twitter ramblings of Glenn Kenny on the inclusion of Dana Stevens). Onto the show:
-The Iron Curtain,
1948: Directed by William Wellman. 35mm Screening at Film Forum.
-The President
Vanishes, 1934. Directed by William Wellman. 35mm Screening at Film Forum.
-Dr. Strangelove: Or
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, 1964. Directed by Stanley
Kubrick. Digital 2K Projection at Film Forum.
-Some Like it Hot,
1959. Directed by Billy Wilder. Viewed in HD on Turner Classic Movies.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
But Is This Good? Film Forum’s "This Is DCP"
![]() |
Not shown in the 4K Restoration, or anywhere for that matter. |
Last
night, I had the pleasure of attending Film Forum’s “This is DCP,” their first
ever repertory programming of films, all shown in digital. As I spoke about
briefly last week in my screening log, digital projection for repertory isn’t
just a warning, it’s pretty much here. Film Forum’s goal with this series is
clear: prove to those who love 35mm that digital can look better than 35mm. So
last night, they carted out Grover Crisp, who runs the restoration program for
Sony Pictures to do a side-by-side comparison of their most recent work,
Kubirck’s Dr. Strangelove: Or How I
Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.
Because
I’m a man of the people, and Film Forum’s small theater is too small for the
number of people who probably would’ve liked to see this, I recorded all of
Crisp’s talk, which you can listen to below. Sadly, I can’t provide video, but
I think a number of people should find Crisp’s discussion worth debating.
While you can hear the audience gasping a few times at how
much better the digital print looks than the 35mm, I had one major quibble
myself. This was Sony’s attempt to recreate film grain. It may have been simply
the job they did on Dr. Strangelove,
but I found this extremely distracting. In any sequence where there was a large
flat surface (an envelope, the sky, even some of the faces), I couldn’t help
but watch the emulated film grain instead of the actual film. It’s not that
35mm doesn’t have film grain—the new print of Wellman’s The Iron Curtain I saw earlier in the week certainly did—but it
seems that Crisp and Sony went overboard. Watching the first thirty minutes of
the film, I found myself distracted. I kept watching the grain instead of the
objects, the negative space instead of the positive.
That being said, I believe this is only a minor hiccup in
the process of making digital look just as wondrous as 35mm (The small clip
from their upcoming Lawrence of Arabia
4K restoration did not have this issue, which makes me think this will only be
an issue for black and white films). Although the film was projected in 2K
instead of 4K (your standard Blu-Ray player runs in about 1K), the images were
certainly clearer and more distinct, and as Crisp talks about, you can now see
certain details that wouldn’t be possible in any of the current prints of 35mm.
And yet, I remain skeptic, because this process remains
expensive and thus limits access only to film companies like Sony, Warner
Bros., and so on. And do you think those companies plan to spend the money for
their more obscure works to be restored in 4K? This Village Voice article from earlier this week addresses some of these concerns.
To be continued. If you felt nary about the film grain, or
had any thoughts on the DCP series Film Forum is doing, please sound off in the
comments.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Cheating of the Mind: Parallels of Metaphysical Infidelity in Kubrick's Eyes Wide Shut
Much has been written about Eyes Wide Shut since the film’s release in July 1999. The film has polarized critics, fans, film buffs, really everyone who has ever watched the film in its entirety (as it probably should). More than the other works of Stanley Kubrick, which have led to their own debates, Eyes Wide Shut has perhaps created so much diversity of opinion because on top of the film's cryptic narrative, Kubrick's passing before the film's release meant there would never be any interviews in which he could explain, or at least hint at, the meaning of his film.
But on the surface, as all Kubrick films are cryptic puzzles, just waiting for us to explore.
After re-watching Eyes Wide Shut, and reading some material on it, I’m certain on its place as Kubrick’s most daring films in terms of its cinematic elements Unlike Kubrick’s other films, which deal with science fiction, war, or horror, Eyes Wide Shut comforts itself right in the middle of a very human theme: infidelity. But Kubrick makes it about more, specifically the metaphysics of infidelity (bear with me here). Like all of Kubrick’s works, he centers us in this theme through a distancing of the characters, where we are attuned to, but never involved emotionally, in the central relationship. However, the relationship is crucial to the story—we need to believe in the relationship of Bill and Alice (played by then married couple Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman) in order to take a ride on this story.
This is not new territory for Kubrick—the attack on Kubrick for lacking sympathy toward his characters has been happening since his earliest films. Jonathan Rossenbaum, in his excellent text Essential Cinema: On the Necessity of Film Canons, writes on Eyes Wide Shut and Kubrick’s work as a whole. He defends, “They’re full of emotions, though most of them are so convoluted and elusive that you have to follow them as if through a maze…He so strongly resists sentimentality that cynicism and derision often seem close at hand” (264-265). Rossenbaum is correct—the only reason we follow Bill’s journey into the night is because we feel that Alice has wronged him, even if it was just telling him a story. Most of Kubrick’s films are about characters driven by emotions, and often the most primal: Lust in A Clockwork Orange, kealousy in Full Metal Jacket, and here, Bill is driven by revenge. The emotions Kubrick pulls with are not as happy-go-lucky as those that his contemporaries could often bring (and a good reason why he turned over A.I. to Steven Spielberg, who bring the sentimentality needed to make the film's metatextual climax even more chilling).
On the side of the narrative though, Eyes Wide Shut pulls us into its world through its narrative structure, which heads in and out through the rabbit's hole. . As I mentioned before, the film’s theme is metaphysical infidelity, and can be boiled down into one essential question—who has cheated worse, Bill or Alice?
“But neither has cheated, and Alice did not even leave the home!” you may protest. The film begins at the party, with both Bill and Alice flirts with members of the opposite sex: Bill with the two women, and Alice with the Hungarian. Both are propositioned, but both turn it down, turning to each other at the end of the night. However, when Bill confronts her while the two are high, Alice begins her story about the sailor. One of the simple visual tricks that Kubrick does here is to separate the two actors, never using them in the same frame. In earlier sequences, we often see them together within the frame—close, standing side by side. During Alice’s monologue, she literally pulls away from Bill.
This is where the fun begins. Alice’s infidelity is based on a thought she had, and one she did not act on. However, as Kubrick brings the camera closer and closer into Bill, the anger on his face slowly registers (very slowly). As the next night continues, and Bill comes closer and closer to his own infidelity, Kubrick intensifies Bill’s vision of Alice and the sailor. He makes it worse in his own mind in order to justify his own actions.
In similar way, we have to track Bill’s own adventures as a series of more intensified infidelities, even if he rejects them. We start with the widow who wants to cheat on her boyfriend, the prostitute looking for a customer, the daughter of the costume shop owner who hints at a chance at pedophilia, and of course, the secret society that uses sex as a religious catharsis. Much has been tackled about the last of those stops, but it is not possible without seeing each one that precedes it as trying to “top” the situation. Bill needs to assert himself by taking revenge—his manhood is literally put at stake, and the small scene in which the street kids call him a fagot only reinforces the possibilities.
If Bill fails physically, he does not fail metaphysically. Eyes Wide Shut is all about the thought of doing something, and because the film has us identify with Bill, our thoughts are no less different than his, meaning anything we consider, he certainly considers. So he does commit metaphysical infidelity through the thoughts of the audience. This is Kubrick at his most complex, using the audience as a surrogate for his character. Bill’s own infidelity rest on our shoulders to have thought that he should have sex with one or all of these women, even just for a moment (this is of course is created by the shots and editing that Kubrick so slyly creates).
There is the side of the reality to Bill’s adventure, which is, even if he see some quite strange stuff, quite tame compared to the dreams of Alice, especially her second dream, in which she has sex with multiple men while Bill watches. Alice’s dream is that most vile infidelity one could imagine, but again, it is only a dream. Bill has created a reality for himself, which is what the second half of the film is about—dealing with the physical repercussions of his attempts at infidelity. Even when he has not actually done anything, Bill is forced to see the actions of what little he has done, or could have done.
The irony of it all is in the title Eyes Wide Shut. It’s a contradiction. So is the metaphysical aspects of physical lust. Yet Kubrick’s final film has taken on the bold subject, and brought it together in a strange and mysterious way. I have just started to crack open the themes on this film, and there is so much more that I have to understand (to be honest, the entire religious sexual cult is a mystery to me, but I am fascinated by it every time, not for the frank sex, but for the production design and how specific it looks, making me feel that each piece has a specific meaning). We don’t know if there was more to what the film could have been, that may have made it more accepted by those who despise the film. Again, Rossenbaum: “Kubrick recut both 2001 and The Shining after they opened commercially…Undoubtedly, he would have made a few slight adjustments in Eyes Wide Shut had he lived longer” (269-270).
However, I think Kubrick went out on a film that for him was in a way one that he would have been most proud of, because of the debate. The director’s films are impenetrable by nature, forcing us to dive deep into our own conscious and consider our own morals to understand his view. The film’s eerie lighting throughout feels like a Lynchian nightmare, and which everything is either a little to bright or a little too dark. Kubrick refused to see the world in a straightforward manner—and when the lights finally going off, whether in space, the battlefield, or as in Eyes Wide Shut, the bedroom, that’s when our true emotions are revealed.
A good deal of research for this essay is in debt to the amazing website “Film Studies for Free,” which provided me with not only a copy of the original script but four highly critical examinations of the film, which I read in preparation for writing this. Here are links to the essays here:
Labels:
criticism,
eyes wide shut,
film studies,
nicole kidman,
stanley kubrick,
theory,
tom cruise
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