The cinetrix has had one of those weeks. After giving the kiddies an extension from Friday to Monday on their papers, she was confronted with the unpleasant and unenviable task of trying to explain the politique des auteurs and Sarris-stizz auteur theory to a roomful of people who clearly hadn't done the reading.
Oh, yeah, and then screen Citizen Kane. Jealous?
That said, one of these days I should post a picture of my now near-patented schematic of Kane's plot. It's a thing of beauty, really, how the various characters' accounts of CFK nestle together like Matryoshka dolls. So tidy.
Borges, as Laura Mulvey reminds us in the opening sentence of her BFI monograph on Welles' debut, described Citizen Kane as a labyrinth without a center. Having managed to survive this hellish teaching week, is it any wonder, then, that the cinetrix slipped off to the dollar theater yesterday afternoon to reward herself with a screening of Pan's Labyrinth?
What a gorgeous fucking movie. I am so glad I saw it projected, even if they had the wrong lens on for the first few minutes, squashing sedans and Spanish soldiers alike along the horizontal plane.
Manmade labyrinths are plenty scary, but since I saw this fearsome fairy tale, I've been thinking more about films' forests primeval. And, you know, fascists. Pan's opening trek through the forest to the mill reminded me of the site of Children of Men's tracking ambush and even the grim chase at the end of Il Conformista.
What about you? What are some of your favorite film fairy tales to get lost in?