The Philosophy of Histoire(s) Du Cinema

About two hours into Histoire(s) Du Cinema, I finally had a small epiphany moment with Late Godard, a period that begins with this mammoth work and continues into what I’ve seen from the 90s and up to Socialisme. Late Godard isn’t popular with most folks who fondly remember his 60s films because he largely abandoned narrative. He’s not an avant-garde artist either, or at least in a way that where his work isn't a complete breakdown of form (See: Brakhage, Snow, Dorsky). Instead, it’s now clear to me that Godard is trying to write philosophy in the same way that Kant or Hegel or Hume write philosophy. But instead of the pen, his choice of means is cinema, where he can use the image and the juxtaposition of image to create his dialectics stronger than words could do—perhaps the closest thing to the hopes of an intellectual montage as theorized by Eisenstein. Some would call this thus an essay film—a term I must admit I still don’t have a strong hold on, so I will avoid it (Andrew Tracy provides some fantastic thoughts here on the essay film).

Thinking of Godard as philosophy gives us some easier access points into Late Godard and specifically Histoire(s) Du Cinema. Firstly, it makes me more forgiving in how inaccessible the film can sometimes be, whether by its references to events, films, and people we might not understand (Kant’s Third Critique makes numerous references to his contemporaries, and yet we can still understand his view of judgement without reading those works). Perhaps it also makes more palatable the fact that not everything—heck, at least a third of the film—remains untranslated from French. Plenty of philosophical texts I’ve read will quote Latin or Italian or what not and expect that the person reading such a work is familiar with these languages. Godard does that too—it’s frustrating to someone as naïve in other languages as me (I wrote down about 10 oft-repeated words from the film in my notebook to translate after), or that I have no idea who some of these people who appear in the frame with Godard are, but it has its justification.

The “Godard as philosophy” tenet also means reserving judgment of the work in ways that I think we might approach other cinema, whether narrative or avant-garde. During the beginning to part 4A, Godard goes on a long rant about the tyranny of governments, who justify murder but are no different than the anarchic man who murders. Godard has his reasons, as all political philosophers do, and I strongly disagree with his view of government. But I also feel the same way about reading some of the more tenuous views of Plato or Machiavelli. What I’m more interested in while watching Histoire(s) is that it’s central problem: did cinema ultimately fail the 20^th century? Did we fail to properly answer the question of “what is cinema”? Although for some reason many had told me this work essentially came down to that essential famous quote from Godard about the failure to record the images of the Holocaust, I think there’s much more going on here that cinema’s failure to record. 

Image and Quote of the Day 4/26/13

A.I.: Artificial Intelligence (Steven Spielberg, USA, 2001)

Memories have huge staying power, but like dreams, they thrive in the dark, surviving for decades in the deep waters of our minds like shipwrecks on the sea bed. Hauling them into the daylight can be risky. Within a few hours, a precious trophy of childhood or a first romance can crumble into rust.

—J.G. Ballard, Looking back at Empire of the Sun, The Guardian (March 3rd, 2006)

Radical Democracy: Mythos and Politics in Saving Private Ryan

“A compass points to true north, but it gives no indication of the swamps and marshes along the way.  If you just use the compass you will get stuck, and what use is knowing true north if you are drowned in a swamp?”

—Abraham Lincoln, Lincoln

            I had the immense pleasure of revisiting Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan for the first time in at what must be at least over half a decade if not longer. It appears, since its release, the film has been attacked more and more for essentially being a piece of propaganda—well made and beautifully shot propaganda, but propaganda nonetheless. I'm told that Saving Private Ryan valorizes the soldiers of World War II while slyly attacking the generation of both soldiers and films of the Vietnam Era.

            Certainly Saving Private Ryan asks us the memorialize all those who fought in the Greatest Generation, but what the film doesn’t do is ask us to see their heroics in the same way American culture often does. Saving Private Ryan is essentially a response to the Norman Rockwell way of life, often using his iconography to question what the good society is. In the end, Spielberg proposes a radical social democracy that mirrors Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life, where democracy and our relationship to it is not built on the principles of the state, but a series of small intimate relationships built around living the good life.

The Filmic Discoveries of 2012 (Part II)

This is the second part of my list of films I watched for the first time in 2012. Read an explanation and the first 25 choices here.

25. Duck, You Sucker!, Directed by Sergio Leone (Seen on 35mm at Film Forum; June 19^th) 

An explosive film that lives up to the amount of dynamite it delivers, Duck, You Sucker! seen completely cold. But since you’re hear reading this capsule, just know that it’s both Leone’s most fun film (the closest to a screwball comedy he ever made) and his most political. The fact the film “accidentally” switches genres and stakes forty-five minutes into the film is a complete Coup d'état of Leone, leading to the brilliant sequence where Rod Stieger leads a daring heist but instead becomes a revolutionary leader. It’s a bitter film to swallow, suggesting the lack of agency of any individual in a political battle, but it’s also pure visual pleasure, and now my favorite Leone. 

24. Show People, Directed by King Vidor (Seen on 35mm at Film Forum; January 23^rd) 

The good people at Film Forum could not have chosen a better time to show this great silent comedy than the height of last year’s Oscar season, as Show People is essentially The Artist made by the people The Artist was portraying. It’s also 1000 times better (fact). Instead of the divide between sound and silents, Vidor’s film shows the movements of a young Marion Davies from slapstick comedian to serious drama actor, while her love interest William Haines remains at the bottom. Vidor captures with authenticity the difference between stars and actors with a jibing sensibility, and peppers his film with plenty of cameos that make for a number of gags that rival the best of the screwballs. Vidor’s work with actors makes this a timeless classic about the importance of termite art.

Talking Lincoln

I'm quite late to the party, but Steven Spielberg's Lincoln is easily one of the most fascinating texts I've encountered this year. It's an extremely layered political drama that has three auteurs - Speilberg, Tony Kushner, and Daniel-Day Lewis - transforming what could have been an odd history lesson into a vividly gorgeous work of cinema. 

While I don't have a full review, I was glad that Josh Spiegel invited on his podcast, Mousterpiece Cinema, to discuss the film (which is being co-released by Touchstone, which owns Disney, thus the inclusion). It's a long one, with Josh, his co-host Michael Ryan, and I batting around different ideas and perspectives on the film throughout. You can listen to it here, but since it's a bit long and some people are averse to the podcast form, I also posted the notes I worked from in our conversation below. But do take a listen.

The Cinephiliac Moment: Jaws

            Inspired by my post last week, I’ve decided to make The Cinephiliac Moment a weekly series in which I choose a moment in a film where cinema reaches transcendence. This moment may be inspired by anything – the composition, the score, the edit, the narrative – but it is a moment in which cinema becomes something more than entertainment and possibly more than art. Read more about the original inspiration to the project here.

The Magic of the Monster – Jaws

Jaws is considered one of the great horror movies of cinema, as it features an unstoppable horrifying monster that seems unstoppable, even if it is not on screen until the final act of the film. But Steven Spielberg does not treat this creature as a monster necessarily. He seems both in shock and awe of the titular animal. No moment represents this more than just after the shark has been blown to smithereens. As the carcass sinks to the bottom of the ocean, blood pouring out, there’s a sense of wonder to the majesty of this creature. John Williams’s score, full of light notes trickling down a harp (and perhaps my spine) suggests not relief, but magic. Where did this creature come from? Should we fear the unknown, or should we confront it? As Kevin B. Lee described in his video essay on the “Spielberg Face,” the director is fascinated by the spectator’s ability to comprehend awe. And for a film that has made us to terrified of the water, Jaws also suggests the magic of monsters. We may want to scream, but we also stand powerless to comprehend their magnificence.

Watch the clip below:

Land Passion War of the Dead Christ Worlds: Cruise Is Our Savior, Jesus is a Zombie

Land Passion War of the Dead Christ Worlds

An Arrangement by J. Hoberman

            What do Tom Cruise, the beating of Jesus, and the zombie apocalypse have to do with each other? Apparently a lot, or enough to justify a screening by the famous film critic J. Hoberman. Part of Film Comment Selects as Film Society at Lincoln Center was a special late screening of the curiously titled Land Passion War of the Dead Christ Worlds.

            If that title sounds a little insane, pulling it apart actually gives you a sense of what you’re actually watching: Land of the Dead, Passion of the Christ, and War of the Worlds. The idea for the screening is something Hoberman, who covered experimental cinema for over forty years at the Village Voice before being laid off earlier this year, has done in classes at Cooper Union and New York University for years. Instead of forcing students to sit through “bad” movies (his pejorative, not mine), why not choose similarly linked films and project them at the same time?

            And thus, Land Passion War of the Dead Christ Worlds is a bizarre experiment in examining three unique works of post 9/11 cinema. The film isn’t so to say a film—Hoberman called himself more of an arranger than a director, as his work was done less on the screen than signaling the cues up in the projection booth at Walter Reade. The film began even before we entered the cinema, as classic country and Bernard Hermann scores filled the airwaves, and the screen filled with an ominous blue picture of a house and a title card reading “Today” (actually an early still from George A. Romero’s Land of the Dead). It remains on screen as Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ began to play (silently, though the subtitles for the film’s Aramaic dialogue) meant we could still follow it. Eventually, another projector began playing the first tripod sequence from Steven Spielberg’s War of the Worlds, which some may remember as an intense thrill ride filled with 9/11 imagery. And then the sequence played again. And two more times.

War Horse: Bonds Beyond the Trenches

War Horse

Directed By: Steven Spielberg

Written By: Lee Hall and Richard Curtis, based on the novel by Michael Morpurgo

Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Peter Mullan, Emily Watson, Niels Arestrup, David Thewlis, Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Celine Bickens, and Eddie Marsan

Director of Photography: Janusz Kaminski, Editor: Michael Khan, Production Designer: Rick Carter, Original Music: John Williams

Rated: PG-13 for war-related and horse-related violence.

            The usual argument that someone will come across when discussing the work of Hollywood blockbuster and box office king Steven Spielberg is that he’s a sentimentalist. His success, whether in terms of gigantic spectacle (Close Encounters, Jurassic Park) or serious drama (Schindler’s List, Munich) is that in the end, he’s somewhat of a pushover when it comes to trying to break through to our emotions, often going right for the artery in trying to activate our tear ducts.

            Certainly one can simplify what Mr. Spielberg does by that word, but I’ve always read it as something more complex. Instead, the filmmaker believes in the power that good can sometimes triumph over cynicism, often in the darkest of times. That if we believe, than realism need not matter, and the bonds we hold—between family, friends, or perhaps even strangers—are all we need.

            These themes run throughout the veins of War Horse, Mr. Spielberg’s second feature this holiday season (after his animated Adventures of Tintin). Adapted from the novel by Michael Morpurgo, though perhaps sent into production after the runaway success of the London stage adaptation now playing on Broadway, Mr. Spielberg’s narrative follows a titular horse from its trials with a poor family in the United Kingdom, before weaving through a number of stories during the First World War.

The Adventures of Tintin: The Tingles for Adventure, Drunkard and Canine in Tow

The Adventures of Tintin

Directed By: Steven Spielberg

Written By: Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, and Joe Cornish, based on the comics by Hergé

Starring: Jamie Bell, Andy Serkis, Daniel Craig, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, and Toby Jones

Editor: Michael Kahn, Art Direction: Andrew Jones and Jeff Wisniewski, Original Music: John Williams

Rated: PG for comic book violence and fun.

            There’s one man you can’t keep your eyes off of in The Adventures of Tintin, and he’s not even on screen, and this time not even behind it. I’m of course referring to the film’s director, Hollywood wonder-boy Steven Spielberg. His presence looms large in this adaptation of the comic books by Hergé, who, while world-famous, remains mostly anonymous to American viewers, myself included. But its Mr. Spielberg’s camera—how he uses it and how he constantly reinvents the rules of modern cinema (many of which, he wrote)—that remains the constant thrill of Tintin. It’s also the downfall of his film.

            Mr. Spielberg is no stranger to adventures, and Indiana Jones seems to be in the town over from wherever globetrotting Tintin, a young and peppy journalist with an ache for adventure, must be. But here the craftsman takes on new challenges; not just the added dimension of 3D (something I really only noticed in the weight of my wallet), but going for full-scale animation. The Adventures of Tintin isn’t a classically animated world—Mr. Spielberg used the aide of Avatar director James Cameron, as well as producer Peter Jackson, to use the WETA studios and shoot the whole film in a digital landscape with actors carefully monitored to bring their performances to the cartoonish caricatures. But there’s something lifeless in Tintin, and its not just the odd uncanny valley look of the film’s characters, but its lack of a true adventure spirit, which instead feels calculated and often standard, that the reveals and boyhood adventure that has marked so much of Mr. Spielberg’s career remains absent.

Cowboys & Aliens: A Close Encounter Showdown at Sunrise

Cowboys & Aliens

Directed By: Jon Faverau

Written By: Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, Damon Lindelof, Mark Fergus, and Hawk Ostby, from a story by Fergus, Ostby, and Steve Oederkerk. Based on the comic book by Scott Rosenberg.

Starring: Daniel Craig, Harrison Ford, Olivia Wilde, Sam Rockwell, Adam Beach, Paul Dano, and Keith Carradine.

Director of Photography: Matthew Libatique, Editors: Dan Lebental and Jim May, Production Designer: Scott Chambliss, Original Music: Harry Gregson-Williams

Rated: PG-13 for cowboy action and alien action, often in the same shot!

            While the West was won over a century ago, and the Western was lost at the end of Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven, the last decade or so has been sprinkled with films revisiting the lost genre of American can-do-ism and outlaw values. It’s probably the most American of American film types (though recent examples from countries like Australia and even South Korea have challenged that dominance), and yet it is one that is now a place of brooding melancholy in The Assassination of Jesse James, uncontrollable violence in No Country for Old Men, or soulless capitalism in There Will Be Blood. What can we possibly do to revive the great part of the West—the part of lore and myth?

            If you’re a big Hollywood studio with producers like Steven Spielberg and Ron Howard behind you, the only answer could possibly be aliens (perhaps Transformers, though that’ll be another day). And thus here comes Cowboys & Aliens, which is exactly what you would expect, a Western mashed together with a science fiction action flick that unapologetically borrows tropes from the two genres when needed to make for an entertaining flick. This material is hardly groundbreaking, but it’s more or less inoffensive under the care of Iron Man director Jon Faverau. If anything, Cowboys & Aliens is a case of perfected haggling—you get exactly what you paid for.

Super 8: Dreams of a Bygone Monster Movie Era

Super 8

Written and Directed By: J.J. Abrams

Starring: Joel Courtney, Elle Fanning, Riley Griffiths, Ryan Lee, Kyle Chandler, Ron Eldard, and Noah Emmerich

Director of Photography: Larry Fong, Editors: Maryann Brandon and Mary Joe Markey, Production Designer: Martin Whist, Original Music: Michael Giacchino

Rated: PG-13 for a scary monster and explosions

            Growing up anywhere outside of the big metropolis, a child’s imagination can truly grow wild. Mine certainly did, and I spend plenty of days in a sandbox where I would be flying spaceships, searching for hidden treasures, or fighting gigantic monsters. This of course was aided by the films of Steven Spielberg, who knew how to make the fantastic seem rather personal. In films like E.T. and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, the extraordinary was not just spectacle. It was a way to illuminate the ordinary as well.

            It also gave birth to a wave of filmmakers—some who understood his craft, others who just liked the aliens—that wanted to capture that same spirit of ambition, freedom, and innocence. The latest filmmaker to jump into that land is the notorious J.J. Abrams, best known for producing Lost and directing 2009’s reboot of Star Trek. Mr. Abrams certainly has the kinetics of Mr. Spielberg in bringing together spectacular special effects, but the question is does he have a heart as well? With Mr. Spielberg serving as a producer, Super 8 attempts to grab that nostalgic magic of the young ambition of children who see the sky at the only the beginning, and Mr. Abrams has attempted to collide his mystery-box world into that. It’s not an entirely successful film, and won’t sit on the cannon with E.T. or my personal favorite, The Goonies, but it shows a lot more heart than any blockbuster will this summer.