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.

Week #11. Hip hip hooray. Big week.  Continue reading →

Tonight the Cinematheque hosted their weekly screening this week in the small cinema at ACMI which unfortunately was the night where their filmmaker in focus was actually at the screening. Margot Nash introduced her new film The Silences and answered the crowd’s various inquiries; an enlightening, and unconventionally New Zealand (if not partly Australian) experience. Right on.

Week #10. It’s been 2 weeks since I’ve been to Cinematheque and I’m having withdrawals.

Scooby-Doo (2002) dir. Raja Gosnell
07/05/16
rewatch

How James Gunn managed to maintain an even moderately successful career after penning this is truly a modern marvel. Truly defines the genre of weird cinema. Was an odd viewing with my 8-year-old sister, revisiting something from my childhood only to have it resonate into hers. The freaky dog-demons that plague Mystery Inc are substantially less spookier than I remember (I was ready to relive my childhood spooks) and the film as a whole acted as a reminder why I hate Rowan Atkinson. The recurring allusions to stoner culture in small excerpts from Shaggy and Scooby’s lives are the greatest thing about this. ★★½

Dogs in Space (1986) dir. Richard Lowenstein
07/05/16

Continuing the completely unintentional dog trend for the night (I do love dogs though) came possibly the greatest hidden gem in Australian cinema. Lowenstein’s Dogs in Space serves itself up as an unconventional Australian mid-point between Altman’s Nashville (1975) and Linklater’s Dazed and Confused (1993) (a triple bill to die for), and as he navigates the trashy crevasses of late-70s suburban Melbourne he manufactures the mood of youth in ways I’ve seen no other Aussie drama do (we’ll leave Snowtown out of this). The late Michael Hutchence (a very torn and sultry Michael Hutchence at that) is faaaaaantastic here, and makes me a little sad he didn’t further pursue a little acting on the side. ★★★★

The Master (2012) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
09/05/16
rewatch

Was inspired to revisit this following the release of Radiohead’s latest record due to Jonny Greenwood’s contribution to the film’s score, who, continuing his sonic collaboration with the latter portion of PTA’s filmography, strikes out some uneven, fiery and disconnected strings which scold the film in an unnerving fashion. The blu of this look unreal on my brand new Samsung. ★★★★½

Grizzly Man (2005) dir. Werner Herzog
10/05/16

An absolutely phenomenal work of art curated by Herzog, not only a tragic tale of human arrogance but a frightening insight into a man’s utter obsession with the natural world; Herzog’s voiceover is divine, a fitting narrator to a horrifically haunting battle between these two entities. Straight to the top of my favourite docos list. Shook me to my core. “I believe the common denominator of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder. ★★★★★

Inception (2010) dir. Christopher Nolan
11/05/16
rewatch

Written for Letterboxd: 

A film I can’t help but renew my infatuation with despite all of Nolan’s inherent flaws; exposition layering exposition layering exposition and the safeness of his directorial approach are among the plenitude of annoyances that struck me this revisit, but those the almost perfect rounding of Cobb’s plot (I feel completely indifferent towards Cillian Murphy’s whole bit) and those fleeting moments of heightened drama in the midst of the film’s final, veneered act always seem to pull on my reluctant heartstrings. The backing characters just kinda do things–the star studded ensemble undoubtedly helps boost what would’ve been a stale series of supporting characters otherwise–and although they are just there to serve as pawns in Cobb’s big game they occasionally have their moments of unrestricted joy. This once sat at the top of my favourite films list (it has been yeeeeears since I last watched), and in so many ways remains a most important film to me, a staple in my cinematic love-life, something of a precursor to my now engulfing cinephilia. It’s cheesy, it’s ridiculous, it’s laughable at times and it steps out on its mythology a tad too often but it’s a film that I cherish right now and probably always will–bleh. No rating

Week #9. This week, I passed up the opportunity to see Salo, The Grand Illusion, and Foolish Wives all in 35mm and chose to go see a 70-minute long jazz session and a drunken screening of American Psycho played on a projected through a laptop in the backyard of a bar. I don’t regret it.

The Secret of Nimh (1982) dir. Don Bluth
02/05/16
rewatch

Written for Letterboxd: 

A film which by name alone reminds me so much of my time at primary school; I vividly remember my teacher reading the original book to us as we lazed on the classroom floor in the afternoons. It seems I took a particular interest in it, and somehow convinced mum or dad to rent this out (more than likely on VHS). My childhood was no short of haunting, animated tales of the animal kingdom’s underbelly (I’m looking at you, Watership Down). As a kid, I remember this differing greatly from the book, and oddly enough now I barely have any recollection of the majority of events that unfold here (I saw scenes in my head that don’t even happen; I guess I’ll take that as a testament O’Brien’s original writing). Moments that struck me with that sweet, sweet nostalgia tended to surround Jeremy the Crow and his jerky, almost dance-like animation (“If I was anywhere near a cat, I’d be sneezing my brains out” and his subsequent sneezing fit is permanently imprinted in my mind) and the rat’s transformation sequence. I think I can attribute my first knowledge of pneumonia to Timmy’s case of it too, this plot point stays lodged in my brain. Radiating confidence from its very first frame, throughout its well-rounded ~80 minute runtime, and keeps this light on until its very last. ★★★★

Jazz ’34 (1997) dir. Robert Altman
02/05/16

Written for Letterboxd:

In one of my previous Altman reviews, I likened his films to a live concert:

a profound sensory experience, loud and unforgiving, and always inhabited by some of the most absurd people you’ve ever seen–and you can’t help but savour every moment

and here, the film literally is just that. 70 minutes of unstoppable, unshakable, foot-tapping, free-flowing jazz deliciousness interspersed with fleeting anecdotal jazzy (for lack of a better word) voiceover so silky smooth it could melt your ears right off the sides of your face. When a director has the power to house a ~100-person strong cinema with a film like this, it can truly be said that he is a maverick and master of American cinema. Bless you, Robert Altman. ★★★★★, I don’t give a damn.

The Age of Innocence (1993) dir. Martin Scorsese
03/05/16

Written for Letterboxd:

Cinema of the voice, where dialogue is constant, always veiled in lies and irises, and clouded head to toe in elaborately layered attires in a film which feels at once the most and least Scorsese-y. Moves at a pace which burns so swiftly though its runtime that I can’t help but harbour an eternal appreciation for long-time Scorsese collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker whose editing and pacing truly shines right here and now. Rapid, successive dissolves add to the film’s flourishing visual tone which is so obviously (and not particularly detrimentally) a 90s rendition of late 19th century America. More cinematic than its illusory poster would suggest.

Written for my blog, now: 

I was the only person in my cinema class who ‘liked’ this? I’ve read criticisms that say that this film is just 3 blocks of wood talking, which is a great laugh, and I can totally understand why people would struggle to find enjoyment in this. I’m still confused as to why it appealed to me so much; I had to wake myself up for the 8:30am screening, breakfast-less, totally not in the mood for a 140-minute period piece drama (my least favourite genre) and I loooooooooooved it. They’re screening this in about a month’s time at ACMI in 35mm, so you’ll be seeing me there. ★★★★

American Psycho (2000) dir. Mary Harron 
04/05/16

Shoutout to Nighthawks Open Air Cinema in Collingwood for delivering the goods; attended this free, cutesy little screening in the back garden/patio area of the bar with some mates and had a ball. You’ll be seeing me in a fortnight’s time, Nighthawks. I kinda love American Psycho. For a fleeting period it sat as my all time favourite, and while my tastes have definitely expanded tenfold it still holds a little sweet spot in my heart. And it’s hilarious; the effect that watching something with an eager crowd has on your enjoyment is revolutionary. Marry me, Christian Bale, you handsome psycho you. ★★★★★