The Earrings of Madame de... - 1953 - Film

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

Better late than never...

The Fourth of July was spent, appropriately enough for a film nerd, inside of a cool movie theater watching Max Ophuls's classic, and probably most famous film, The Earrings of Madame de... The highly regarded opening shot swoops through Louise's (Danielle Darrieux) dressing room where she picks over her wardrobe of expensive furs, jewelry and dresses--with not a single camera cut to interrupt the action--finally settling upon a pair of earrings, which she will sell to pay debt. No ordinary dangles, these bejeweled beauties were a gift from her husband, the unlovable and possessive Général André (Charles Boyer), who learns of her betrayal though never confronts her about it. Fatefully, the earrings pass among owners until they fall into the hands of Louise's lover, Baron Fabrizio Donati (Vittorio De Sica), and Louise is gifted with the jewels once again. Her husband who has always been suspicious of her affair now, finally has proof.

The real beauty of the film emerges at this point, when the rather spoiled Louise becomes tragically sympathetic as she is forbidden contact with her true love; Général André has her locked in a room under close watch and with full knowledge that Louise no longer loves him. He is a man so jealously insecure that he has caged himself into a relationship that will always hold a void of tenderness and care. In the most profound show of affection, in silence and long-distance, Louise and Fabrizio are bound together in love--even if they can't physically be together.

Up/Down/Fragile - 1995 - Film

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Private Fears in Public Places - 2007 - Film

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Out 1: Spectre - 1972 - Film

Saturday, June 9, 2007

"I don't get it" is the tip of the iceberg, though I'm not beating myself up for it. Apparently, for the folks who had seen the full 750 minute version of Jacque Rivette's Out 1, the measly 4 1/4 hours of his 1972 Out 1: Spectre was "just blowing by." At least that's what I overheard at the Gene Siskel Film Center during the intermission. Not having seen the former version of the film (and indeed its own separate masterpiece, I am sure) I watched Spectre with bouts of awe, unavoidable weariness, and indulgence.

Mostly I am fascinated by a filmmaker who has the audacity to create a film that's originally 12-and-a-half hours in length, then, not yet giving it up, reforming it into a new piece of art—that is, the 4+ hours I witnessed a few weeks ago. Then, and with just as much pride, the movie nearly filled the theater, making me question what kind of person it takes to willingly subject oneself to hour after hour of images in the dark—passing up meals, sunshine, and necessary bathroom breaks—to watch this filmmaker's 12 or 4-hour creation?

Well, I am one of those spectators, though I don’t have an answer. To describe it best (like any film that, in my opinion, runs over 3 hours) Out 1: Spectre is an experience. It is all at once baffling, beautiful, philosophical, and yes, cathartic. The first couple hours of the film bounce among different sets of characters abruptly; the transitions are raw, making the various groups' connections indecipherable; it's a puzzle. Intermission comes and goes, and according to Rosenbaum a few minutes ahead of schedule, as per the original screening in Paris thirty-five years ago. Though, renewed with caffeine and a good stretch, the latter half of the movie read differently, more relaxed. The characters intermingle, some semblance of a narrative emerges, and you've otherwise become comfortable with the fact that you're not quite sure what's going on, so you just watch.

And therein lies the indulgence. In retrospect the movie is a colorful barrage of movement, acting, speaking; with no defined form it is life emerging from long and short intervals of time. I can't think of anything more delightful that escapes my understanding.

The Page Turner - 2007 - DVD

Sunday, March 25, 2007

New! Read my review of The Page Turner in Four Magazine.

Comedy of Power - 2007 - DVD

Thursday, March 1, 2007



Check out my swank new review of Claude Chabrol's latest film in Four Magazine! It's up now, peeps, so read it!

The Rules of the Game - 1939 - Film

Tuesday, January 2, 2007



This is my third or fourth time seeing Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game, and my first time seeing it on 35mm film. A famous Chicago film historian was in attendance, and I heard a rumor that he was underwhelmed by the print, noting that it was practically unchanged since its last release in 1961. That could be true, and he would certainly know better than I, though, the print was sparkly-clean and I saw it as a lovely opportunity to see what is perhaps the best film ever made on the format which it was intended to be seen. It was gorgeous.

Each time I see Rules it is new to me, which could be attributed to the fact that it is usually years between screenings (it was in fact at least two years since I had last seen it this time around), but I still keep the basic outline intact in my memory. As I watched this time I was awestruck once more by the choreography. Not dancing per se, but the synchronized movement among the characters and camera, and how they both manipulated the layout of the house they occupied. Servants and attendants scurry up and down stairs; doors slam and one person exits while another one enters from some point off screen. Oftentimes the camera is in a continual pan that meets the character as he crosses paths with another one; almost like a relay one character will pass the camera's attention on to the next, and so it continues for roughly the entire duration of the film.

Everything happens so fast, and people move fast in Renoir's film. Christine (Nora Gregor) manages to have three different men fall in love with her in the course of a night, all of whom give up on her (or get shot and killed) in the same length of time. That's what's so fantastic about Rules for me, the amount of action (and compelling action) that is compressed into a matter of minutes. It's a life cycle that runs the gamut of emotions, from love to hate, all the while keeping us conscious of class and social divide. Of course, watching the rabbit die in the famous hunting scene is enough to make you quake or even cry, and in fact I think I heard soft sniffles from the woman sitting next to me as that bunny stretched out his last ounce of life.