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Magic Marker

Initially, the cinetrix meant to begin this post: "In his recent review of The Darjeeling Limited, Anthony Lane glibly begins by asking, Can you have a thriving movie culture in a country without enough trains?" And it's not a bad question, sort of Schivelbusch distilled for the New Yorker set. But then she realized, at this point in his career, one must perforce use "glibly" when describing a Lane review, and she got depressed. Seriously, the man's inches away from becoming a Tom Swifty. So, let's splice in a length of black leader and start again. At least you'll see the black, right?

The cinetrix has been thinking about trains this week because she exposed her hardy band of world cinema students to two exemplars of what Lopate and others call the "essay-film" [and I won't even go into how much that hyphen bugs me. An en-dash I could see....]: Alain Resnais' 1955 short film Night and Fog and Chris "Magic" Marker's 1982 feature Sans Soleil.

So, cattle cars and bullet trains. Also, both senses of the word "collaboration." The negative, which caused French censors to spike an image in Resnais' film of a French officer in a kepi because it served as a too-potent reminder of that nation's role in the Holocaust. And the positive: Resnais working with Jean Cayrol and Marker to make his film, and Chris. Marker later coupling the contributions of the fictive Krasna brothers to Mussorgsky and Hitchcock and Apocalypse Now, dying giraffes and prowling cats and occasional images of happiness.

Last week we watched The Marriage of Maria Braun, so I'm hoping for a wide-ranging, free-associating discussion about trains, history, and memory tomorrow. Fingers crossed....

Star of the day, who will it be?*

The cinetrix has survived a week that included a last-minute freelance assignment, writing and presenting a paper at an academic conference, jaunts to the coast and the mountains in a 36-hour span, a return trip on the Darjeeling Limited, and, oh, the World Series win by the Red Sox. Huzzah.

Now she just has to figure out which film to show the kiddies when we talk about star theory next week. Part of me wants to go old school and expose them to the flux that is Monroe [I was thinking Some Like It Hot] or the triptych of Hepburn, Grant, and Stewart in The Philadelphia Story. But another part of me wants to skew modern. The question is how, without screening, uh, Ocean's Eleven or something. Supplementary readings to the Dyer include excerpts from Johnny Depp Starts Here and Sarah Vowell's old Salon essay about Tom Cruise, but what should the film be?

*Special apologies to fellow New Englanders who are now cursing me because a song is stuck in their heads.

Posture picture

Today the cinetrix learned how to do screen captures. God help us all.

Passage to more than India

Fuck it. The cinetrix has decided not to hate Wes Anderson. And not just because some days it seems like the most radical and contrarian stance to take, although that aspect of it has its charms, I shan't lie. New Yorkers/critics may be over The Darjeeling Limited already and on to the next thing, but where I live, yearning young film fans are jealous that I've already seen the film and counting the days until it goes wide enough to reach them.

I spent the week rereading reviews of Darjeeling; rewatching Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums [and the making-of extras citing "Persona lighting" and post-Mexico Bunuel camera setups], The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and Hotel Chevalier; listening again to Armond White's impassioned defense of Anderson; thinking about Bazin on Renoir; trying to find time to watch The River; enjoying The Playlist's tripartite Wes Anderson soundtrack; revisiting the relevant Whitman and Forster; and remembering a beaming bride who processed down the aisle last Saturday to Mark Mothersbaugh's "Loquasto International Film Festival."

You may think this is about Anderson and pop music. Well, yeah, but give me the meticulous mise-en-scene, too. I even have some ideas about the damn suitcases.

Let us now praise famous men

OK, OK "...and our fathers that begat us." Fine.

So let's talk about famous men, shall we? The cinetrix is recovering from a recent road trip to hear a film-studies eminence grise speak. [Which one? Have you taken a film class? Ever? Then you've purchased at least one book by this person. In fact, I always imagined this prodigiously productive scholar's summer house expanding with each subsequent edition published and purchased. But I digress.]

Truth be told, the subject matter wasn't the draw as much as the promised opportunity to dine with said muckety-muck afterward and perhaps kiss his ring. Only the dinner failed to materialize, at least in a configuration that included me. Or the person who encouraged me to attend. Ooops.

The talk itself was fine, if not exactly a paradigm-shifting experience, but both the slides during and the Q&A after reminded the cinetrix of just why academic confabs can be as tedious as civilian film geek get-togethers: All the alpha male display. You could illustrate this point with a slide from another film, but choose to use one from Godard's Made in U.S.A., thus advertising your access to a film famously unavailable in the States. Similarly, never ever use one Sam Fuller example when you could use three. Favor flicks featuring Robert Ryan. Aver, in passing, to the tragic lack of a DVD version of Pete Kelly's Blues while you point out salient aspects in the frame grab from Webb's film. Name-check Anthony Mann. You get the idea.

During the Q&A, entertain questions from younger men whose queries advertise what they already know [which, if you believe Eliot and Bloom, is you and your work], and provide them with opportunities to use abbreviations like A.S.L. [think cinema studies as train-spotting, and you're on your way]. And so on.

It was so bad that the cinetrix was actually delighted when a random, mentally ill-seeming local character who'd wandered onto campus for the talk started asking the honored guest a host of slightly off questions, until he was gently but forcefully ssshhhed by the moderator. I guess Rainman-style monomania is permissible only when you refer obsessively to certain subjects in a certain way.

And starring Hizzoner as himself

This week, Ed Koch Owns A.O. Scott...

We Own the Night
I have a small part in this film, playing myself as mayor. So here I am evaluating a movie in which I have an interest – not a financial one since I was paid scale, but a cultural one. I hope everyone will see this picture, which is good but not great, and that it will be an enormous success.

The story concerns a New York City family affiliated with the NYPD. The father, Burt (Robert Duvall), is a deputy police chief reporting directly to the police commissioner. One of his sons, Joseph (Mark Wahlberg), is a police captain, and the other, Bobby (Joaquin Phoenix), runs a gambling operation and reports to a member of the Russian mafia. He ultimately ends up as an undercover on the force.

Amada (Eva Mendes), Bobby's Latin girlfriend, carries herself like and reminded me of Jenny from the Block, a.k.a. J.Lo. Their intimate scenes are hot and involve more lust than love. Vadim (Alex Veadov) is a Russian in charge of carrying out contracts to injure and mostly kill people. His actions are reminiscent of the Russian mobsters in "Eastern Promises," although the latter movie is more graphic and better scripted.

The acting of the principals is excellent. (I would be interested in your evaluation of my performance.) In his New York Times review, A.O. Scott wrote that the film has a "digitally enhanced cameo appearance by former Mayor Ed Koch." I was in three scenes with lines in one of them. I don't know what he means by enhanced. Is he suggesting Botox or additional hair? What you see is the real me. Should I demand a retraction, an error correction or just forget about it? [ed.--treat yourself and read that last bit again.] The story is adequate and will hold your interest, but it contains no real surprises which prevents it from being a blockbuster. "We Own the Night" is worth seeing, but it is also one of those non-memorable films, which most movies tend to be.

...feels Lust in his heart...

Lust, Caution
This movie is interesting in that it covers a period of the Japanese occupation of China and, in particular, the City of Shanghai in the early 1940s.

One of the lead characters is Wong Chia Chi (Tang Wei). A flashback shows her as a young Hong Kong college student. She joins a Chinese student cell organized to kill the Chinese collaborator, Mr. Yee (Tony Leung), who ran a Gestapo-like network intended to protect the Japanese occupiers. She reminded me of Mata Hari, the famous German spy during World War I.

Mr. Yee moves to Shanghai before the cell can assassinate him. The cell follows him and several years later they are able to implement their assassination plot aided by Wong, who is to seduce and ensnare him. The sex scenes demonstrate the many positions of the Kama Sutra with full frontal female nudity. Kuang Yu Min (Wang Leehom) is part of the assassination cell and knows to what lengths Wong is prepared to go sexually to carry out the plot. The performances of all three actors are excellent.

Seeing Shanghai as it was and watching a Japanese newsreel reporting the victories of the ongoing war against the western colonial powers and the United States adds to the film's uniqueness. The movie is based on a short story by Eileen Chang. The director is Ang Lee, who directed the award-winning movie "Brokeback Mountain," also based on a short story. Because "Lust, Caution" moves so slowly, it is occasionally tedious, but its interesting subject matter makes it worth seeing.  (In Mandarin, with English subtitles).

and gets Naked:

Naked Boys Singing
When I left the theater after seeing the show, a couple in line asked what I thought of it. I replied that it is very good and similar to a college musical.

Ten young men sing and dance displaying, as they say in the United Kingdom, the full monty. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing the naked men, I believe audiences will quickly forget the nudity, as I did, and be caught up in the show, which reminded me a lot of  "Chorus Line." In addition to full cast numbers, each of the performers sing individual songs which tell the stories of their lives.  None of the songs contain lewd lyrics. The cast, which is totally new, contains no superstars. Each performer sings and dances equally well.

The movie is not intended to be a romp in the hay.  It is more Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, only Judy isn't present.

Sing it with me! "Kiss today goodbye. And point me toward tomorrow. We did what we had to dooooo...."

This time tomorrow

The cinetrix is coming off a Wes Anderson kind of week. Read into that what you will. Right now it's mostly a Kinks song-scored slo-mo, a color scheme, and memories of Waris Ahluwalia's elegant, smoldering contempt. More tk once I sort it out.

Come out come out

In honor of National Coming Out Day, a little "love that dare not speak its name" eye candy from Another Country. British public school buggery! Soviet spies! So pretty! [Sorry, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit and Swoon clips are nowhere to be found on the YouTubes].

Oh, potentially NSFW, if you work with homophobes. In which case, maybe you need a new job.

Eat the document-ary

The cinetrix has had a tab open listing the International Documentary Association's top 25 nonfiction flicks for a few days now. See, she's in the midst of a two-week unit on documentary and a visiting doc filmmaker will be presenting her work on campus this evening, so it's been a nonfictional stretch all around.

Anyway, here's the list, annotated to indicate whether, when, and where the cinetrix first saw each film.

1. "Hoop Dreams" Definitely saw it on VHS or television, can't remember when.
2. "The Thin Blue Line" Rented on grainy VHS from Hollywood Express in 1995. I fell asleep.
3. "Bowling for Columbine" Saw this at the Landmark in Waltham the same night Jam Master Jay was shot to death.
4. "Spellbound" Rented it from Cinema Smith. So nervous-making!
5. "Harlan County USA" Still haven't seen it. I'm a bad person.
6. "An Inconvenient Truth" Famously, before sunrise. On a bus.
7. "Crumb" At a midnight screening with jmac and April at the Coolidge, I think. We had to get a cab at 2 a.m., all bummed out.
8. "Gimme Shelter" Many times at the Brattle. It's a bona fide cinetrix fave.
9. "The Fog of War" A serendipitous screening at the Harvard Film Archive.
10. "Roger and Me" With my mom, on VHS, back in the day.
11. "Super Size Me" At the Somerville, looks like.
12. "Don't Look Back" Seen it. Definitely home video. No idea when or where.
13. "Salesman" No, but I've seen Maysles out drinking cocktails at 1 a.m.
14. "Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance" On VHS, in the 80s. In suburbia. Didn't everyone?
15. "Sherman's March" Nope. Sorry, Ross McElwee. Skipped it at Full Frame this year, too. See #5.
16. "Grey Gardens" Another Hollywood Express VHS special, circa '95. I teach this next week. Wish me luck.
17. "Capturing the Friedmans" I. just. can't. I can't.
18. "Born into Brothels" At the Nickelodeon with Britopia, world's most persistent devil's advocate.
19. "Titicut Follies" Miraculously, at least part. Somewhere in Massachusetts. Maybe while the court case was raging. My friend's dad worked at Bridgewater.
20. "Buena Vista Social Club" I had to watch the trailer for weeks on end while working at the Brattle. I still haven't recovered enough to actually watch the film.
21. "Fahrenheit 9/11" Courtesy of Netflix, years after the hubbub.
22. "Winged Migration" Nope, but I recommend The Birdpeople
23. "Grizzly Man" Courtesy of Netflix in our old place. A hit with students when I've taught it.
24. "Night and Fog" Again, a grainy VHS from Hollywood Express. I'm screening this one later in the fall for my world cinema kids alongside Sans Soleil as exemplars of the essay film.
25. "Woodstock" No. Dirty fuckin' self-celebratory hippie boomers.

How many have you seen, and when and where? Share! Share!

He-man woman-hater's club

Oh, there's been hubbub a go-go since rumors surfaced that Warner Bros. is no longer doing movies with women in the lead. But is it news?

Salon seems to think so. Or it's leveraging the collision of corporate synergy and unhappy accidents, anyway. It's running an extended version of an Elle roundtable discussion on women in Hollywood [convened two months ago as is par for the course for a monthly's lead time] featuring many of the usual suspects for this sort of piece: Callie Khouri, about to give the world the Queen Latifah/Katie Holmes caper Mad Money; Lynda Obst, who last produced How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days; Nora Ephron, who thought a Bewitched remake was a good idea; Kimberley Peirce, who followed up 1999's Boys Don't Cry with...? You get the idea.

Actually, speaking of Peirce:

Kimberly Peirce: I think the indie world is actually great for women, and for gay people. Because if you have a story, you're going to be able to [tell it]. That's where a lot of women get their start. But you get into your second, your third movie, and you're building a career, and it's hitting smack up against those years when you want to have a child. I mean, you can't get bonded if you're pregnant.

Margaret Nagle: Really?

Peirce: Yeah. Is that shocking?

Oh, G-d, it's too fucking depressing, You can read the whole thing here, but it ain't news.