Death in Venice, Thomas Mann

Thus, in his infatuation, he wanted simply to pursue uninterrupted the object that aroused him, to dream of it when it was not there, and, after the fashion of lovers, to speak softly to its mere outline. Loneliness, strangeness, and the joy of deep belated intoxication encouraged him and prompted him to accept even the remotest things without reserve or shame–with the result that as he returned late in the evening from Venice, he stopped on the second floor of the hotel before the door of the boy's room, laid his head in utter drunkenness against the hinge of the door, and for a long time could not drag himself away despite the danger of being caught and embarrassed in such a mad situation.

The treat.

I treated myself last night and ordered a Pedro Almodóvar set (with two films: 1983's Dark Habits and 1984's What Have I Done to Deserve This?) and The Fiery Furnaces' 2004 LP Blueberry Boat. I had trouble choosing which album to purchase. I hope the shipment arrives sooner rather than later.

Adios, you who watched the sun go down, at the rail, by my side, smiling –

The New York Film Festival screenings completely took the life out of me. The ball smashing and clitoris cutting of Antichrist, the child abuse of The White Ribbon, the beauty of Penélope Cruz in Broken Embraces... it was thrilling. Still I think the Film Society of Lincoln Center needs to reboot the festival in a way, attendance seemed to be at almost at an all time low. I was so exhausted yesterday when I went to see Spike Jonze speak at the Apple Store in SoHo. Catherine Keener was there, but the sound system was very poor so it was difficult to make out what Jonze, Keener, and the crew of Where the Wild Things Are were saying. Neon Indian's Psychic Chasms was released today by Lefse Records. Pitchfork named it "Best New Music" and I love "Deadbeat Summer" so I believe there is a good chance I'd really enjoy it. I attempted to make scrambled eggs with a Mexican blend of cheeses and feta today, but when it finished cooking it had the consistency of risotto. At least the coffee I made in my French press was good. I finished Kerouac's Visions of Cody, finally. I think I'm going to go back to Pynchon's Gravity Rainbow now. I'm coming home this upcoming weekend, and hopefully seeing Where the Wild Things Are sometime soon. I wanted to see New York, I Love You, but now my interest has gone down for some strange reason. Oh well, until next time...

NYFF 2009: Broken Embraces

A film noir, suspense thriller that quickly descends into melodrama, Pedro Almodóvar’s latest, Broken Embraces, exists as both a vehicle for Penélope Cruz and homage to cinema itself

Pedro Almodóvar / Spain / 2009 / 128m

Less emotionally intact than 2006’s Volver, Broken Embraces is more concerned with creating a lasting impression. Pedro Almodóvar structures his film through frequent flashbacks and casts the classically beautiful Penélope Cruz as the love interest of both a wealthy businessman and a film director. She has a screen presence that is eerily similar to Audrey Hepburn in Billy Wilder’s Sabrina, exuding splendor and confidence. Almodóvar has not lost his sense for color, giving the film a kaleidoscopic quality – easily his most visually ravishing. The film is also his longest; the third act is when the viewers’ interests begin to wane, as it is bogged down by melodrama of the tedious sort. Broken Embraces is obsessed with image and cinema, the power of both and how they shape and affect people, but it also turns out to be Almodóvar’s least emotionally resonant.

Harry Caine is a screenwriter who was in an accident that left him blind, an accident that left his original self dead. Mateo Blanco, is original self, was a film director. Magdalena “Lena” Rivero’s dream is to become an actress, but she settles as being a secretary and sometimes call girl when she realizes her dreams will never be realized. Ernesto Martel, a rich financier, is her boss. One night, in an attempt for find work at her call girl job, she receives a phone call from him. He falls in love with her, and they live together for two years. At this time, Mateo has written a script called “Girls and Suitcases” (a near replication of his Almodóvar’s own 1988 masterpiece Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown) and is looking to cast the part of Pina. Enter Lena, who is introduced to Mateo by Ernesto’s homosexual son Ernesto Martel Junio. She auditions for him; he falls in love with her. The story of the film is told by Caine, who finds out that Ernesto Martel has died in the first scene and then is visited by his son, Ernesto Martel Jr., who now calls himself Ray X and wants to make a film about him and his father’s life.

The third act crumbles when Judit, Mateo’s production manager and now Harry’s personal assistant, reveals the truth about what happened when Lena and he ran away to Lanzarote so she could escape the wrath of Ernesto, who had already injured her in previous instances. The only positive aspect of the end of the film is that it provides the audience with one evocative image, which is almost directly lifted from Godard’s Prénom Carmen. Harry, now going by the name Mateo since he decided to re-edit Girls and Suitcases, tells Diego, Judit’s son, to put on Elevator to the Gallows, only to find out that the making-of documentary that Ernesto Jr. was told to make by his father is in the DVD player already. Mateo asks Diego what is happening onscreen. Diego tells him that he and Lena are sharing a kiss as they are stopped at a roundabout. Mateo puts his hands up on the screen. The camera closes in to one on the blue, static television screen. It’s the clearest image of the film, Almodóvar being able to convey exactly what he wants to successfully – that of a blind man attempting to grasp an image that is forever lost.

The scene in which Mateo and Lena go away to Lanzarote recalls the Pompeii scene in Rossellini’s Voyage to Italy. The sea and mountains are gorgeously shot by cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto, as Cat Power plays softly in the background. José Salcedo’s editing ties the narrative of the film together quite well. Alberto Iglesias’ score matches the texture of the story, bringing to mind a few Hitchcock classics. Visually splendid, Broken Embraces is another colorful tapestry by Almodóvar that just doesn’t match up to his other works.

NYFF 2009: Life During Wartime

In a quasi-sequel to Happiness, Todd Solondz ponders what it means to forgive with his typical downbeat worldview

Todd Solondz / USA / 2009 / 96m

Life During Wartime basically picks up where Happiness left off, but this time around Todd Solondz has chosen to switch it up, ala 2004’s Palindromes, by selecting different actors to play the original roles. Make no mistake, this choice is a gimmick, but it also allows for different portrayals of certain characters, although they are still the same deep down inside and no physicality will change that.

The film opens with a scene in which Joy, now played by the frail and aggravating Shirley Henderson, and Allen, delicately played by The Wire’s African-American Michael K. Williams, are out to dinner for their anniversary. The waitress knows Allen from his voice and then Joy finally figures out that Allen will never be able to stop Allen’s perverted ways. She leaves him and goes to Florida, first visiting her mother, and then her sister Trish, whose pedophile husband Bill just got released from jail, and then her other successful, but unhappy sister Helen. All the while, little Timmy, whose repeated line “But I’m almost a man” becomes a mantra for the film, is about to have his Bar Mitzvah, but not before he finds out his father’s tendency to touch little boys which landed him in jail and his mother is dating a “normal” man who gets her wet.

There are only a few moments that truly resonate, although the film’s sense of humor will appeal to Solondz’s fans. These moments include an encounter between Bill and a woman at a hotel bar, wonderfully played by Charlotte Rampling, and an encounter between Bill and his college-bound, druggy son Billy. Ciarán Hinds conveys much through minimal dialogue. Life During Wartime is Solondz’s best looking film yet, meticulously shot by Ed Lachman, but it also shows him as a filmmaker that is in a creative and artistic rut thematically.

NYFF 2009: Bluebeard

Composing her images like a painter, Catherine Breillat infuses a fairy tale with her notorious interest in sexual politics

Catherine Breillat / France / 2009 / 78m

A tame entry by Catherine Breillat, known for subversive depictions of sexuality, Bluebeard is still filled with more ideas of gender and sexual curiosity than most films today. Images measured to the inch, it still cannot escape the fact that it looks like a BBC rip-off.

Adapting the Charles Perrault’s tale Bluebeard has been done before, many times, as early as 1901 when George Méliès made it into a short. The story hasn’t changed. Marie-Catherine and her sister Anne have recently lost their father, and their family is poor. She turns to wealthy Lord Bluebeard, who she sees as kind and soft while everyone sees him as an ogre and monstrous. They get married. Marie-Catherine asks to sleep in a different room from him, smaller to fit her size. She has power over him with the fact that she is a virgin and she’s not ready to give it up just yet.

Breillat frames her story with two sisters reading the story in an attic in the 20^th century, the 1950s to be specific. The younger, more provocative sister seems to be a stand in for Breillat herself, while the older, more fragile sister seems to be stand in for Breillat’s actual sister. These two girls keep the film entertaining, as the younger sister reads the story and they both add their own commentary along the way.

Bluebeard shifts between the magically enchanted and the socially-aware, sometimes merging the two. In this sense, Breillat is successful, but the film just isn’t that powerful. There is a scene in the middle, after Marie-Catherine and Bluebeard get married, where he is getting undressed and she is seen spying on him. She watches, with the expectation of seeing some kind of beast, only to find out that Bluebeard is just a hunk of human flesh, vulnerable and yielding like any other man. If Breillat continues on this fairy tale path, she better get new costume and set designers. As it is, Bluebeard is a minor inoffensive film in a European provocateur’s filmography.

NYFF 2009: White Material

Less elliptical and more firmly rooted in plot and structure, Claire Denis’ White Material is still an impressive piece of filmmaking and a welcome addition to her film canon

Claire Denis / France / 2009 / 100m

Tackling a story about an unspecified war torn African country and its people, it might seem like Claire Denis is treading unusual terrain. Her previous films include Beau travail, L’intrus, and 35 Shots of Rum, and are clear cut masterworks of international cinema. They are ethereal and provocative, and have staying power. White Material, on the other hand, has a story that is far more rigid than her other films. Its aesthetic composition is nothing short of a usual Denis affair, beautifully evocative images that transcend time in a way. She effectively conveys the breakdown of Maria, a divorced French woman who doesn’t even know she’s experiencing one, through scenes showing the rebellion of her own son and parallels between herself and a conflicted, crumbling postcolonial region.

Maria, played by the stunning but rough-looking Isabelle Huppert, works at her family’s coffee plantation. She is seen actively engaging in the harvesting of coffee beans. Denis shows this with intense scrutiny, and creates a sort of rhythmic thrill in the process. Her ex-husband is scheming behind her back to sell the plantation, as he and many others from the area deem it unsafe to continue living in the area. Her father-in-law lounges around the house in kimonos, and her son stays in bed all day. The local army is battling with the rebels, who include children of both sexes, while the French military urges everyone to evacuate. Maria decides not to follow these orders, and when her workers leave she goes and finds more. She is headstrong, but to the point where it could cost her and her family their lives.

Not shot by Denis regular Agnès Godard, Yves Cape takes over and cleverly uses handheld cameras to create a fluidity within turmoil. When a rebel known as “the Boxer” is found dead in one of the first scene of the film, Cape composes the image so that the only light the viewer can see is the frantic light of a flashlight. The film is told through a series of flashbacks that tie together the opening scenes of the Boxer being found and a white male stuck in a burning house while militia watches him slowly die. There a particularly unsettling scene in which one character is killed by someone who wouldn’t seem to have any motivation to kill them. But that’s not the point, to question the motivation of the character is of no concern to Denis, as she stated during the Q&A. Although White Material is conventional, it is Denis’ most exhilarating film to date – and her visual sense doesn’t seem like it’ll be weakening anytime soon.