Week #12. This is the end, finally.

Aguirre: The Wrath of God (1972) dir. Werner Herzog
25/05/16
rewatch

Self explanatory. ★★★★½

My Best Fiend (1999) dir. Werner Herzog
25/05/16

Beginning to think I like Herzog more as a documentarian than a fiction filmmaker, though his success in documentary would be next to nothing if it wasn’t for the remainder of his oeuvre; more obviously in My Best Fiend, which explores his relationship with megalomaniac actor and friend Klaus Kinsi throughout their collaborative career, and more subtly in Grizzly Man, where the notion of man v nature which more or less plagues the majority of his works throughout the 70s-80s, is exploited in a non-fictional format with Herzog clearly holding the reins. Has a compositional knack for staging interviews (even when they, and mostly do, consist of himself retelling a story) and somehow channels a surrealist mood in such retellings. ★★★★★

Super 8 (2011) dir. J.J. Abrams
26/05/16
rewatch

Written for Letterboxd: 

Abrams wears his Spielbergian influence on his sleeve (obvious considering he produced too) and replicates much of the shell of his early works be it through the child-driven narrative or spectacularly alien finale, even down to his distinctive close-ups, but this characteristic referencing only doubles the impact of Super 8. He infuses the artificiality of it knowingly being a film (a highly self-aware one; known through lens flares and madly pivotal crane shots drawn again from his influences) into a somehow warm family drama which despite its gross explicitness towards the end (a balancing act of feel-good revelations and heavy handed symbolism) feels right. It knows Spielberg and Spielberg knows it.

It’s aware of its ethereality from the get go with the insanity of the initial train crash scene (amongst my favourite scenes probably ever) to the arrival of army forces in almost comic numbers and disposition. On a much smaller scale, Abrams demonstrates this when he has the kids go from filming a cutesy zombie home video to watching in disbelief as one of their teachers seemingly come back to life in the space of ~5 minutes (love it). It’s this symmetry of artificiality and sincerity that he channels through the body of his producer’s work, that he directs with such clarity and perspective that make it the dense masterwork that it is.

Undoubtedly a personal film for Abrams himself, I also find an odd homeliness for myself in the spectacle of the film, something warm and comforting and sweet like a reel of childhood imagery played out on the big screen. There’s something so poignant about the invincibility of youth (which never ceases to put a lump in my throat) that he portrays here, the childlike, authoritative feeling of closure and safety that rings true to me, a period in my life I’ve kinda come to miss. The first time I saw this was only around 18 months ago which doesn’t give it much of a nostalgic bearing to be tapped into on rewatch here, so I’ll attribute that to Abrams’ ability to hone in on raw Spielberg, a man whose films got their fair share of replays in my childhood.

There is truth in the moving image, whether it literally be the reels that reveal the alien’s true nature, or bigger; a compilation of the fleeting, youthful moments of innocence brought to life by Fanning and co. And that’s kinda nice. Aren’t we all a little Abrams at heart? ★★★★★

This is the end. It’s been nice knowing y’all. Now go look for someone who knows more about movies than me.