Wall-E (Andrew Stanton, 2008)

The other day I decided I needed to do something, rather than lying around and wasting away in my flat, so I went and watched Pixar’s latest attempt at capitalizing on our emotions. I’ve not seen a Pixar movie for quite some time, but I was genuinely interested in Wall-E, it seemed like a different type of animated feature than the others they make, and I thought the film would have some themes that would interest me, the poster alone sold me. All this turned out to be correct, to an extent.

First off, I want to congratulate Pixar on probably the most archaic dystopian future I’ve ever seen in an animated film. None of that “everything’s going to turn to shit” like Akira, still none of that happy future crap that The Jetsons rambled about, but a wonderful mix. Wall-E feels like a genuine attempt at innovating a much too stagnant genre, and the film does feel rewarding as such. The film also makes a brave attempt at no dialogue, but using visual communication instead. It does seem as the Pixar team wishes to challenge themselves, and they succeed at it. The first hour or so is probably the most wonderful I’ve ever seen of any animated films, the visual humour, the subtle touches, the wonderful art-design, it all comes together perfectly. The development of the relationship between Wall-E and Eve feels natural and actually does touch the audience, probably because all excess dialogue is not in place, and the emotions of the robots seem more reliable than most humans do on screen. The humour is also well placed and sweet, small gags are found everywhere, and at times it feels like an old Chaplin movie.

Sadly though, as the film progresses it falls into the all too familiar cliché’s of the cartoon genre, and while the first half is innovative and original, the second half does give me the feeling of seeing something in repeat. We’ve all seen this before, tenfold of times, the progression of the narrative couldn’t feel more formulaic. I won’t bother to list it here, if you’ve seen it or will see it, you will know what I’m talking about. It’s tragic, this film had so much going for it, but as it goes on the uniqueness falls away and lays the ground to familiarity. To me it feels like two completely different movies, it’s like the producer let the production team do whatever they wanted, and then in the middle of production noticed they were trying to be original, and handed them the list of do’s and don’ts in Disney animation. It’s unflatteringly apparent, this was a film about the loneliness and romantic illusions of a robot cleaning trash, and ended up as a “connect the dots” Disney romantic film, with the occasional action scene and unmotivated prick bad guy in the way.

I guess I’m a bit mean, the film still has many saving graces, like fantastic art design and inspired choice of music. The ruins and remains of earth have never looked better, and the design of the robots look great and realistic, the contrast between the design of Eve and Wall-E is good, the cinematography really adds to the story and emotion. Even though the film does take an unfortunate turn, you do feel emotionally connected to the robots throughout the film, and the end does give a slight feeling of satisfaction. I’m not really sure exactly what Wall-E has to say, but it does feel like the creators took their time to develop themes. I guess its life affirming, like everything else this damn production company puts out. As said, there isn’t much dialogue, but the major part of it is provided by Jeff Garlin, who I love and respect, so while I feel the dialogue isn’t very welcome, it couldn’t have been provided by a better person, so cheers for that.

In the end though, I would say Wall-E is a significantly successful film, and probably one of the best Disney/Pixar animations I’ve ever seen. It’s sad though, as it could have been so much better. At the end of the film I did feel slightly disappointed, I don’t know why though, the film turned out to be better than I expected. I guess because parts of this was absolutely fantastic, and I was wanting more, but kept being let down as the film progressed. Still, I would recommend this to anyone, although it does seem that someone in Pixar things doing things too differently will hurt our brains.

Le Notti bianche (Luchino Visconti, 1957)

This is the first film I’ve seen by Visconti, so you must excuse my lacking knowledge about his style and themes in general. I did however find a couple of things in common with other Italian neo-realistic films, so I do have some experience of this type of cinema. Regardless, there were also several aspects that were different from other classical neo-realist films, so I find it to be an interesting transitional film for this period. There are elements that are similar to contemporary and later films, particularly those of Fellini, especially Le Notti di Cabiria (1957) and La Dolce Vita (1960). I thought it had some interesting themes and dealt with them in a mature way. It’s a story of a man who meets a woman by chance in the streets, he looking for love and companionship, she waiting for her lover who’s been gone over a year. It deals with naïve love and disillusionment.

One of the things I loved most about this film was the dialogue. There are so many memorable lines, one in particular that I will probably remember and quote for a long time. I’ll not mention any of those here so not to spoil the film for those who haven’t seen it, but suffice to say, the screenplay was excellently developed. The two main characters interact in a fascinating way, swapping stories and are at all times directing each other in different ways. At times it seemed that the film was almost purely text. However, there are some wonderful visual moments without any dialogue that convey how the characters feel, particularly the opening and end are really great on this. Of course, the legend Marcello Mastroianni is great in this, you can never really get too familiar with him. The cinematography is crisp and clean, and gives a strong sense of the title (White Nights in English). It works as it should, and is at times gorgeous. Visconti also has a great sense for framing, and there are many memorable scenes because of this, highlighting the drama.

Like I mentioned when writing on The Bicycle Thieves, this films also has it fair bit of social criticism. It portrays a still war-torn city with poor people living on the streets. There is a wonderful moment where the two characters declare their love for each other, and it starts snowing, making them even happier. At the same time, we see some homeless lying in the street, who are probably not so happy about it snowing. It’s a good tool Visconti is using here, as the viewer cannot get attached to the romance of the characters due to the critical nature of the film. After a couple of minutes, it stops snowing and Marcello’s character says “It’s stopping already?” Visconti immediately pulls us back from the romantic fiction, and also purposes as a foreshadowing. It works as a great critique on classical romantic cinema, as the scene is at the same time very similar and still far removed from these types of movies. There’s a similar technique used in the excellent Letter from an Unknown Woman (Max Ophüls, 1948), which I recommend to anyone who are interested in similar themes.

Le Notti Bianche is probably not the best film I’ve seen by Italian filmmakers, and I hope it’s not the best I’ve seen by Visconti. However, it is a fine little gem that I have not heard too much about, so for anyone who is interested in this era of Italian filmmaking, I would say that this is a must-see.

Il Conformista (Bernardo Bertolucci, 1970)

This is the first film I've seen by Bertolucci, and it's quite a good start. The film has a very different feel and atmosphere from other films, due to its great cinematography and dazzling non-linear editing. The cinematography is put in the foreground here, purposing as a continuous theme and giving us insight into the main character. The film takes place in the 1930's, during the reign of Mussolini. The main character Marcello is a fascist working for the government. Conformist at that time in Italy meant the same as fascist. However Marcello's ideals and motivation is kept fairly ambivalent.




While many mention the great cinematography, I would like to mention the great editing in this film. It uses a mix of weird jump-cuts and flashback techniques, but remains very subtle and mysterious in the first half hour, letting the story unfold slowly. Other than letting the audience guess at the plot, this special editing also gives us a unique view of the protagonist, giving us several viewpoints in time of him. This works very well with the focused cinematography which effectively tells us what is past and present. The visuals are made to give us a view into the mind of Marcello, for example, in a scene where he meets his fiance who he is marrying just to seem "normal" is lit with very sharp and contrasting lights, looking like prison bars. Such a technique is used throughout, really creating a great character study.




However, at times the psychological exploration does seem a little weak, using a form of psychoanalysis to explain the protagonist's behavior. This, I feel, often works very weak in films, two good examples are Hitchcock's Spellbound and Marnie, where such explanations seem contrived and cheap. It's not as bad in The Conformist as other films, and the film does not suffer that much from it. While this analysis of his past is fairly weak, the study of him in the "present" of the film is excellent, the film creates its world around him, and there is always much to look out for to analyze the character. The film is very focused and always works towards creating a portrait of the protagonist. This makes you feel as though no time is wasted, every shot matters, and the film continues to work towards a grand scheme.




While the cinematography always works towards developing the character, it is unavoidable not to mention the sheer beauty of the shots in this film, probably what it is most celebrated for. The shots are meticulously composed, showing pictures of almost aching beauty. This together with the grand score should leave the audience transfixed, and at the same time unraveling a genuinely interesting plot and character. It's quite impressive how all the elements of this film, while great on their own, work towards a single purpose and goal, pushing this film quite above the average.




Despite one itching little flaw, this film is as close to a masterpiece as it could be. It's not the best film I've ever seen, it's not even the best Italian film I've seen, however, it stands out as a truly original piece of film making that has raised my standards of what a normal film should achieve to an absurd level.

Ladri di biciclette (Vittorio De Sica, 1948)

Sometimes late last year I watched Rome, Open City (Roberto Rossellini, 1945) and was quite disappointed, seeing as it was such a classic. The emotion and story just felt hollow, and it made me feel ambivalent towards Italian neo-realist films. One of the major problems was the lack of subtlety and documentary touch that instead of making it feel real made it fake. I'm not very familiar with these kind of films, although I did love Umberto D. (Vittorio De Sica, 1952). So, I decided to get The Bicycle Thieves by the same director, to see if this could sway my opinion again about these neo-realist films, and it certainly did. While leaning towards social-realism, the film is still cinematic and manages to convey emotions and subtle psychological drama. I don't really enjoy the idealistic aspects of neo-realism, preferring the more distanced and stylized approach of directors like Godard, although he admittedly was very influenced by neo-realism. I guess I just didn't like the approach of Rossellini, at least compared to De Sica, although I should probably continue to explore these directors and this tradition, to get a clearer view.


The story is a simple one, and since I like going to a film not knowing anything about the general story-line, I will not spoil it for the reader who hasn't seen Bicycle Thieves yet. Suffice to say, the film is great at conveying emotion and a slight touch of melodrama, portraying the difficult life of working class families in post-war Rome. One difference that I liked about De Sica's films is that they seem to focus on the individual's struggle, while Rome, Open City had a much more collective view, giving us a look at several different characters. De Sica gives us the story and troubles of one man and his family, and the film I feel is much more concise, and also an interesting psychological portrayal of the character, through some wonderful cinematic sequences. The film uses fairly usual cinematic techniques, but merges them with the down-to-earth everyday life of Rome, and while never becoming melodramatic, does have a fair bit of drama. The realism is gritty while at the same time the film has a fairly clean look to it, more than you would expect from a neo-realistic film. The craft is good, and I really feel De Sica already is an experienced filmmaker and storyteller.




You can also sense a bit of criticism and ideas on cinema in this film, as the poor main character hangs up posters of the latest Rita Hayworth film (Gilda I believe, quite a good film in it's own right), clearly condemning Hollywood, the film juxtapositions the impoverished Rome and the glamor of Hollywood. De Sica also seems to target the government and cynicism of Italy at the time, showing the suffering of normal people. What I liked about Bicycle Thieves though was that, unlike Rome, Open City, does not hammer us with it's moral, but rather leaves it in the background, there's no clear statement of intent, but rather a sigh at the state of Italy. The film has some wonderful ups and downs, but remains fairly bleak, leaving a big question mark at how the main characters are going to survive.


With the experience of Rome, Open City, I actually didn't expect this to be great, but it was. A wonderful film full of life, a compromise compared to Rome, Open City, but is genuinely downbeat and sad, while still retaining moments of happiness and hope. Wonderful.

A quick look at Mizoguchi's style

One director that continues to amaze and interest me is Kenji Mizoguchi. His films are not always great, although his best are, but they all contain his unique sense of directing which truly makes him an auteur. I'm writing about Mizoguchi for another web-page, but I thought it might be interesting to look into his styles, using a scene from one of his best films, The Life of O-Haru.



In this scene, O-Haru has given birth to the emperors son, however, the child will soon be taken from her. This is a fairly typical shot for Mizoguchi to do. A wide shot with the main character in the middle and supporting characters on the sides. Mizoguchi will most often use mid or wide shots. When using close-ups he often make them at a high angle and with a wide lens, I remember him doing this a couple of times during Ugetsu Monogatari and Shanshô Dayû.



I think this is a really good move by Mizoguchi. He doesn't often move the camera. Here though he has slightly panned to the left and made the shot somewhat lower. He's managed to empathize the power of the woman standing to the right (who is a rival of O-Haru of sorts). Another thing that Mizoguchi does well is moving his actors fluently on camera. When the main character in O-Haru feels stressed or threatened she will often be surrounded by other characters in the frame. We saw that in the last shot she was calm, and there was a lot of empty air around her. Here she is surrounded, and the picture has a whole other quality and feel to it.



Here he raises the camera as the baby is being taken away, but keeping the main focus and composition of the image, while keeping O-Haru's face obscured. As this takes place the camera pans towards the left following O-Haru as she asks for her child back.



We see the last shot as O-Haru asks for her child back, and this image is left pondering for a couple of seconds. I feel that Mizoguchi creates a great feeling of emptiness in this shot, with the blank spaces, in contrast to the previous setup where there are decorative backgrounds. It's quite common to see a character looking through a doorway or being framed in a doorway in a Mizoguchi film. This whole scene was done in one take and is a fairly typical scene by Mizoguchi, who likes to use these long takes a lot, and we saw several ways he likes to frame things. I really like the way he composed this scene, especially the subtle camera movements are interesting and really changes the emotion of the scene without cutting.

Well, hope you found that interesting, cheers.

Vampyr (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1932)

Vampyr is an early surreal horror-film by Dreyer. It's a particularly hypnotic film which borders on the real and imaginary, and the viewer is left with many riddles. This is achieved by some interesting cinematography and very peculiar camera-angles. The pace of the film is also relentless and leaves you in a state of always not quite knowing what's really happening and what is a dream. This gives the film a otherworldly quality that you rarely see in cinema, perhaps the best other example is Ugetsu Monogatari by Mizoguchi, which leans on some of the same quality. The film also, like many other of the 30's, have many traces of old silent-film techniques, mixed with overdubbed dialogue and sound effects. This also contributes to the films mythic quality.




The most interesting and unnerving part of the film is the sometimes skewed camera-angles that are very unique to this film and used to great effect, although they have somewhat become a cliché. Dreyer's unrelenting camera follows the action from a viewpoint that we quite can't trust, something always seems to be wrong or out of place, we are often asked the question what is reality and what is not. A particular scene which is phenomenal is when the lead-character explores the surrounding area and see several shadows dancing. These kind of scenes creates a feeling that a ghost world is always present, and makes the dangers linger in our mind throughout the film.




Some scenes seem to lead nowhere and serve no plot purposes. However, they do serve to create the atmosphere of the film, and further dazzles the audience. We are at the beginning informed that the lead character may fantasize about the presence of ghosts and vampires, so when the threat really do seem to arrive we are even then never sure of it. Was this film all a fantasy, or a mix of reality and a dream world? It's quite a fascinating picture, that I would recommend to anyone who is interested in such films that offers a startling kick to the senses. It's also a good look at the transition Dreyer made between silent and sound.

Welcome

I love cinema, and quite enjoy writing about it, so I decided creating this blog to share my thoughts with those few and far apart that might be interested. Enjoy.