Sympathy for the Devil (Jean-Luc Godard, 1968)

As I talked about when writing on Performance (Donald Cammell; Nicholas Roeg, 1970) I am a big fan of the Rolling Stones. So this felt like a bit of a treat, one of my favourite filmmakers covering the making of The Stones classic song Sympathy for the Devil. Other than that I did not know what sort of film this would be, but I expected some sort of documentary. However, what I got was something quite different, something that I think that I and many others who see it will be confused by. However, I will try to discern exactly what I saw.

First off, there is the documentary footage of The Rolling Stones recording their song. What first is puzzling about this is the way it is presented. Every single scene is a long take, and there doesn’t seem to be any particular idea of the presentation. They are very straight forward, long runs of The Stones trying out different stuff to improve and build their song. Recordings start, then stop, and then start again. Usually in conventional filmmaking the director would cut in between these moments, but as we are to expect, Godard is not a conventional filmmaker. This creates a certain feeling of reality; nothing seems to be left out, but for what purpose? I’ve seen quite a few Godard films, but this is on so many levels impenetrable. While a lot of the scenes with The Stones are enjoyable, you are left wondering what it is all in purpose of. I guess we have to look fairly deeply into what Godard is doing, because on the surface nothing seems to be for any purpose, but I know Godard too well, and know that he would rather hide it really well than make his films about nothing. The idea of truth is always prevalent in Godard’s films, so I would say that there certainly is an element of this in these blocks of footage of The Stones. The film in many ways redefines the long take, because they are at times painfully long and would make Tarkovsky shy away. But where Tarkovsky creates meaning within his images, there seems like there is a certain emptiness in these shots, which obviously comes from not being staged. The camera pans and tilts across the different Stones members, observing them with true patience. I really loved the observances of Brian Jones, playing acoustic guitar, but the guitar cannot be heard on the track. Quite a stark foreshadowing, I don’t even think Godard was quite aware of, but he certainly found something interesting in some of these shots. Another great moment is where Mick Jagger and some backup singers sing the vocals, but there is no instrumentation. Again, an interesting way of showing the process, but also building on the themes of sound/visuals that Godard developed in his earlier works.

I’ve talked a lot about the footage of The Stones, but there is also something else in this film. In between the shoots of The Stones, there are scenes that are in fact fiction, or at least set up. The shots of The Stones connect the film together and give it a certain feel of linearity, while these other pieces are observations and ideas presented by Godard. These scenes are like the Rolling Stones shoots shot in one take, and long takes at that. One of the segments shows us a group of black resistance fighters who load up on guns and kill young white women. Another segment depicts a young woman being berated with questions by an interviewer and his camera crew. What all these individual segments have in common is their depiction of the counter-culture movement of the 60’s. Godard himself was very political, and so we can see why he is interested in this movement and the new arising culture. In fact, he wanted to make a film with The Beatles, but for some reason it didn’t come through. With these segments the film does start to take some sort of structure, they are his examples of the new movement that is moving towards social change, while at the same time juxtaposing these with The Stones, who together with the likes of The Beatles, Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix symbolized these changes. I believe that Godard was commissioned to just make a documentary about The Stones, but then in his usual matter turned this into his own personal agenda. Some of these segments on their own are quite interesting though, particularly one in a fascist magazine shop where two revolutionary students are held and slapped by all the customers. The shop sells sleazy magazines, most of questionable pornography. This reminds me of Godard’s Week End (1967), a similar film where Godard takes these kinds of satirical viewpoints and hammer it over our heads. But like most things Godard do, they are done with glee; there is something indefinable novel about them.

So how does all these elements connect together to create a coherent film? With this kind of film, I think it is important that we drop all previous ideas of what a film should be, and just focus on what this film is in of itself. It is an encapsulation and look at the 60’s counter-culture, as well as prominently voicing Godard’s Marxist opinion of the world. It is fairly known that his later films of the 60’s became increasingly political, and this Stones “documentary” is no exception. But as with most Godard films, it is also a statement about reality and truth in cinema. Although this is not an idea I particularly care for, many connect the long take to reality, claiming editing obscures reality. Interesting that a filmmaker like Godard would go this way, particularly considering he popularized the jump-cut. There is an interesting duality of reality/fiction in this film. On one hand, there is the “real” recording of The Stones, but then there are the “fictitious” staged sequences. Yet these two opposites are filmed in a very similar manner, the same panning long take. Although the scenes with the black resistance fighters is staged, the performer themselves are not actors, but real members of the resistance group depicted. This is one of the films strongest points, creating this duality of fiction and reality, a theme that Godard seems to be constantly concerned with. The idea is prominently brought up in his films, but to a certain level of success in this film. Sometimes the performers or actors are aware of the camera, sometimes not. Some of the staged scenes the actors seem more aware of the camera than The Stones, again in many defying usual convention and playing with the idea of what reality is.

Although I’ve discussed the film to a certain level of depth, I still feel I haven’t unravelled it completely, although I doubt I ever will. Like with most Godard films, it probably rewards repeated viewings. The film is as fascinating as it is frustrating, but there are some themes that come clearly through, particularly Godard’s more satirizing moments. It is a film that I wouldn’t quickly recommend, but it is sure interesting, and if watched with the right mindset can be rewarding. The film feels like a progression of his career, and people who though Godard’s early films are too unconventional will probably be alienated by this. The same could be said for the average Rolling Stones fan, who I would not recommend this to. Essentially, you will know in yourself whether or not you wish to watch this film.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (George Roy Hill, 1969)

I watched The Sting (1973) quite a few years ago. It was directed by the same director of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and I remember liking it quite a lot, the chemistry between Newman and Redford was very enjoyable, the whole film had a very lean mood to it, it was great but didn’t take itself to seriously, and allowed itself to play around a bit with the medium. That said, it’s a while since I saw it, and my memory is still a little fuzzy. But again, like The Hustler, I wanted to watch more classics featuring Paul Newman, and this was another of those famous films that I for some reason hadn’t seen so far.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is a hard film to categorize. The opening is beautifully shot and the atmosphere reminded me of something by Andrei Tarkovsky. However, the film is literally a rollercoaster ride. The film visits so many styles and moods it’s quite dazzling. Some moments are fun and sweet, others are sad and contemplative. But always at its heart there is a lot of humour, funny lines, little observation, and the playful acting between Newman and Redford. There is a strange intangible sense of joy in this film, even in its harsher moments. One of the defining moments in the film is when Paul Newman as Butch Cassidy rides around on a bicycle to the song “Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head”, shot in a wonderful montage style. The scene is in many ways a diversion from some of the seriousness of the film, and is the first true sign of the film leaning more towards a humorous tone rather than a serious one. But that’s fine; I loved the films less edgy mood, the film itself is just a joy to watch. There is this consensus that a film of this type should be serious and gritty. I admit, in my younger adolescent years I also only loved gritty and dark depressing films, but now I love these kinds of films. I don’t care for all out silly films, but in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid it’s done with class and subtly, and makes the film something else compared to most of these types of films.

When I saw the credits, I noticed that Conrad C. Hall was the cinematographer, and immediately I knew I was in for a treat. And yes, the cinematography is beautiful; it varies in form and style throughout the film, which only makes it more impressive. This goes well with the themes of the film, as I said, a rollercoaster ride. It is strange how lovable the two scoundrels that are Robert Redford and Paul Newman can be so lovable, but this is also added to by the humorous tone of the film. If the film had been much more dark and grittier then they might not have worked so well, and would have mirrored Alex from A Clockwork Orange (Stanley Kubrick, 1971). They are never prone to direct violent action, not a lot anyway, and when they are, we are always rooting for them to succeed. While I’ve empathised that this film is quite humorous and silly at times, there is in fact a couple of really serious and thoughtful sequences, scattered around the film. The fact that they come in bits and pieces make them even more powerful and poignant, something like a crystallizing effect. Films that are too serious and too dark quickly become bland and the audience might lose their engagement, but in this the serious moments create wonderful points which hold the film together as a whole.

I loved Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I thought it would be a gritty and serious western, but it turned out to be a joyride that has so many outstretching qualities it is hard to examine at times. What kind of movie is this really? This is what I like to think of as a cinema’s movie, a film that so much encapsulates the joy of filmmaking and the art-form, a film that captures the chemistry between Newman and Redford, and will stand as a wonderful exercise in filmmaking, that I will be sure to re-watch time and time again.

The Hustler (Robert Rossen, 1961)

Not too long ago one of cinema’s biggest legends, Paul Newman, passed way. I’ve seen him in a couple of films, The Verdict (Sidney Lumet, 1982), The Sting (George Roy Hill, 1973). He was also one of the few good things in Road to Perdition (Sam Mendes, 2002), along with Conrad Hall’s cinematography. But I had still missed out on several of his classics, so I thought it would be about time to catch up on some of the films I’ve wanted to see for some time. First up was The Hustler, a film I’ve wanted to see for a long time, but always put off.

At first glance it seems like a typical Hollywood film of the era. However, it differs in some good ways. It is much more direct about its subject matter, while still being a fairly deep psychological drama. The film is literally drowned in alcohol and cigarettes, the two main characters are for the majority of the first half drunk, but it is not just those two either. During the pool matches a huge amount of alcohol is consumed, and this works well in defining the characters, as well as creating tension. This is accompanied by beautiful and crisp black & white cinematography, which while not being beautiful on the spot, creates the perfect mood and empathises the grittiness of the characters lives. I asked myself before watching this; can I really enjoy a film about men playing pool? The answer is simply yes. The sequences are so well shot and directed, the tension is constantly built up, and the camera angles always add something to the sequences. Obviously, it’s not just about pool. It’s about sportsmanship, greed, and an unusual romance. But at the core of the film is the pool, and most important of all; the bar room atmosphere, supported by a great jazzy soundtrack.

The cast is great. I refuse to let my emotions of Newman recently passing away blur my judgement, but he was truly great in this. Just he looking across a room gives a shot significant meaning, and he is quite unusual from most Hollywood stars. There is a reason why Fast Eddie Felson has become such a legendary character, he is created through Newman. But he’s not alone though, and doesn’t steal the show completely. George C. Scott is in this, and is as always fantastic and charismatic; I loved his character, even though he was an outright bastard. I guess it is a bit of an insult to Scott, but this feels like the character he was born to play. Actually, I think he would be happy with that statement. Jackie Gleason is also great as Minnesota Fats, a great character that at times stands tall in front of Eddie Felson, and their relationship is one of the best I’ve seen in Classical Cinema. They are rivals, yet they love and respect each other. This range of characters makes sure that the film stays interesting and twists and turns at every corner, they are more than well enough examined. This is one of the things I’ve felt that Hollywood at its best always did better than anyone, great psychological examinations of its characters; I’ll certainly be looking out for more of this.

It was nice to see this finally, I read about it probably three or four years ago, but always had something else to watch. I finally got the DVD, the Cinema Reserve edition, which I’ve already raved about, it is the superior edition, no faults in picture or sound quality, plus a audio commentary by Newman himself, which I am surely going to listen to, a great last stand from a legend.

The Day the Earth Stood Still (Robert Wise, 1951)

We’ve always been fascinated with aliens, both intelligent and malevolent, although the latter is what usually is depicted. I know a lot of people, myself included, had a fascination with the extraterrestrial in our childhood. One of the things we constantly experiment with in films is imagining what the aliens might look like, like in the Alien series, Star Trek, Star Wars, ect. That’s why it is both strange and interesting that the film The Day the Earth Stood Still chooses to have the alien look exactly like humans.

The alien in the film look just like humans do on earth, although he is superior in intelligence and the health of his body. He even speaks English, in a pleasant New-England accent. Obviously, at that time the technology wouldn’t allow them to create the type of space-freaks we do today, but at first this choice puzzled me. Indeed, there were still a lot of films in those times that did portray weird bug-like aliens, but why did they choose to go this way with this film? What makes this film more interesting than most science-fiction like this is that it is a parody and critique of the starting cold-war, as well as a comment of the impending nuclear age. It works, although I’m not sure I’ll ever be clear on why this is remembered as such a huge classic, sure it works, but on a fairly superficial level. One easy way to make the audience think you are right is having someone who is dumb say the opposite of what you believe, and this strategy is used throughout this film. It does though to a better level explore how easy it is for us humans to reach rapid conclusions and the only way we have of answering something we don’t know is by violence.

It’s not just a science-fiction spaceman film though; it uses quite a few other genre elements, like the noir or thriller, the lighting in several scenes and pacing points towards this. And at that it is a fairly successful genre blend. The film goes through the motions though, and except for the slightly unique plot there is a lot that we will see from other films. Not to say that it is completely unoriginal, it is quite original in fact. The problem is that the originality of the film doesn’t always transcend the elements that are taken from other sources, and I was left with a bit of mixed feelings. I didn’t feel the film worked well enough as a parable to the cold war, basically because it wasn’t subtle enough; it hit us over the head. I also detected some Jesus parable in the film, but I’m not going to bother to go there. All that said, this film did grab me, the protagonist – the alien – I managed to connect with, and was kept interested to the very last minute, but I guess this has been one of the things Hollywood always has been good at (or at least until these recent years).

For what it’s worth, The Day the Earth Stood Still is an interesting film on the cold-war and aliens, bringing up themes about peace and whatnot. The film as a whole didn’t do it for me, and I’m still not sure why it is praised as one of the greats. There are some interesting ideas, but the execution wasn’t that great. Oh, and by the way, later this year there will be a remake released, staring Keanu Reeves as the alien, and I’m sure it will be terrible.

All About Eve (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1950)

Although I doubt anyone is actually reading this, if you are reading this, I will assume that you are a fairly big fan of films. I will also assume that you, like many other film-lovers, put a great deal of importance to different DVD releases of films. Sure, the golden treasure for all film-lovers it the Criterion Collection, but since they only release a limited amount of films, and are Region 1 coded, European film-lovers are always looking out for good Region 2 releases. This is not always easy; as there are plentiful of average releases out there, perhaps most prominent are the Artificial Eye series. While it is commendable that they release art-house films and fairly rare films, the point is that they don’t always give the films they release the proper treatment, Dersu Uzala (Akira Kurosawa, 1975) being a good example of this.

That is why my discovery of Cinema Reserve is such a great one. They only release films by 20th Century Fox, but these treatments are genuinely good, and you really get a sense that the people who worked on the DVD really cared about the film. The first one I acquired was The Fly, and although I didn’t mention this in that review, I’m going to mention it now. Compared to some other DVD releases of Cronenberg films, the Cinema Reserve release is superior, with great restoration of the picture quality, really bringing forth the vivid colours of the cinematography which might have been less prominent in a weaker release. The audio is also great, not to mention the hours of extra content, such as an interesting 2-hour documentary and audio commentary by Cronenberg himself. Now what does this all have to do with All About Eve? Well, this is the second release I’ve bought by Cinema Reserve, and again I am impressed by the quality of the transfer. I know it is unusual to rant so much in a review of a film, but I am always delighted by discovering new companies who release good versions of films, and especially considering that all Cinema Reserve releases contain 2 DVD’s with tons of extra material, and at the same time are quite cheap (I haven’t found one on Amazon costing over 10£), it is a really genuine treat, and requires mention.

Watching and writing about tons of foreign films, art-house films and such, one can at some point forget about American films. Hollywood is receiving quite a bit of criticism today, particularly from film-lovers who do watch all these foreign films. It’s easy to forget that in the golden era of Hollywood, they actually made some of the best films around, some of my personal favourites being The Apartment (Billy Wilder, 1960), Letter from an Unknown Woman (Max Ophüls, 1948), Notorious (Alfred Hitchcock, 1946), In a Lonely Place (Nicholas Ray, 1950) and Sunset Blvd (Billy Wilder, 1950). But I still feel that the classic Hollywood era is fairly unexplored by myself, so my first attempt at filling the gaps was watching the classic All About Eve, and I have to say, it will stand as one of my all time favourites among classic Hollywood movies.

One thing that’s so special about All About Eve is that it is so unlike most other Hollywood films. I initially thought it was going to be a drama, but in fact it turned out to contain very little drama. It is in essence a truly chilling dark comedy, with some of the slyest humour I’ve ever seen in any film. This is supported by the wonderfully self-conscious screenplay. It’s an observation of the theatre culture, but it can easily be mirrored to the film industry. What makes it for me though, is the dialogue. The characters are almost aware of the fact that they are in a film, and constantly dramatise their dialogue. At first I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but as the film went on, I started to understand the writer’s intention, and from there on the dialogue was pure joy. The humour is subtle, but very funny, and there is also a then unknown Marilyn Monroe as a dim blonde actress, but is very funny. Again, this is a very untypical Hollywood film; there is no linear love story, although there are elements. We are never quite sure exactly who the protagonist is, and the story is structured in a manner rarely seen in Hollywood. It is hard to categorize this film, I know some are reluctant to mark it a dark comedy, but that’s the way I see it. The film is quite devoid of any classical drama, although there are moments that are sad and in no way funny. But still, the way the film and screenplay chooses to approach the characters and the narrative, makes it hard to seem like a drama.

I was very surprised and delighted, and will continue to watch Classical Hollywood films for some time, as they hide so many gems. This is one of the true classics though, one of the giants of the golden era of Hollywood, and in its own right a masterpiece.

Performance (Donald Cammell; Nicholas Roeg, 1970)

About a year ago, I had a period where I was obsessed with the 60’s. The clothes, the music, the changing culture and politics. Now, about a year later, I have fairly left that period behind, although I still listen to The Beatles, Bob Dylan, other sorts of 60’s bands and artists, and not least of all, the Stones. Now I watched Shine a Light this summer and loved it, the Rolling Stones are still one of the best Rock ’n’ Rollers around. So I went into this film with slightly ambivalent feelings, I’m sure I would have loved it no matter what a year ago, and I still love Mick Jagger, but I was still unsure how I was going to approach this film.

The cover of the film strategically forgets to mention the actor playing the main character, James Fox. He has much more screen time than Mick Jagger, and still isn’t even mentioned on the cover. This is one thing that often irritates me, but I understand why it was done. When the film was released, The Stones were at the height of their popularity, so it makes sense in advertisement, but a release, now thirty years later you would think we would be slightly less jaded, particularly considering James Fox I great in this movie and extremely important to the narrative. This is though a fairly daring film, especially back in the days. It’s a twisted mix of violence, sex, drugs and rock. But this is not a glorified version of the 60’s, this is almost like a look back at an era already over, the Mick Jagger character is isolated and weary. It’s gritty, and this is further shown by the very interesting film techniques used throughout the film, as well as the sometimes beautiful and sometimes ugly cinematography. But it works all the way, the film balances between the realistic, the hypnotic and the psychedelic. It doesn’t cover from showing the dark sides of the hippie culture, but doesn’t condemn it either. What I like is the juxtaposition of the violence of James Fox’s character and the drug addled life of Mick Jagger’s character. When the protagonist is forced into living the world of Mick Jagger, his world slowly clashes with the psychedelic carpet of drug abuse, and I felt that as the film progressed, this result became more and more spectacular.

It’s interesting to note that the filmmakers who made this film were at the time amateurs, they had never made a film before. This impressive considering the highly experimentation with the form, but also the parts which seem fairly classical are executed very well. It’s also cut together in a fast paced and interesting way, although this technique has become way overused these days, but as the film stands it makes it better. There is a certain progression in the film, the techniques and style used changes over the course of the film, mirroring the psychological state of the protagonist. One of the slightly depressing things about the film is the way it shows how the hippie era has failed and deteriorated, already in 1968 (the year the film was actually made) they could see where this period was going, and the film encapsulates every aspect of the 60’s. The film and its meaning though might be a bit too ambiguous for some people, but I like the ambiguity, particularly towards the end. There’s also even a musical number, in which Mick Jagger sings, and I think it is probably one of the very first musical videos; it certainly looks a lot like music videos that are made today, which I found quite interesting. One thing that adds to the whole feel of the film is the architecture of the house the film takes place in for most of the time. The rooms are big, but are all designed in a very psychotic way, chaotic but beautiful at the same time, much like the film.

I liked it a lot, and if you’re interested in the 60’s, then you should absolutely check it out. Not always as a whole does it come together, but the mix of the entire psychedelic atmosphere and the unique editing and filming techniques should make it interesting for film buffs as well.

Le Diable probablement (Robert Bresson, 1977)

Interestingly, last time I discussed Bresson I compared how he was the opposite of Hollywood like Antonioni, but with a different approach to filmmaking. I now watched Le Diable probablement, which actually is very similar to Bresson’s films, not just in a formal approach, but also in a narrative approach. Bresson, obviously, will always remain extremely unique, but it was quite interesting to see the similarities between this film and the two films L’Avventura (1960) and L’Eclisse (1962) by Antonioni. I think I will look at the differences and similarities in these works, because I think it is worthy of mention.

In his famous films, Antonioni dealt with existentialism and a detached touch with the modern world. Le Diable probablement does exactly the same thing. There are also several thematic links between these films, and how it approaches existentialism. The protagonist in Le Diable probablement is disconnected to society; he walks around trying to find a meaning with his existence, but finds only emptiness in the world and people around him. Several attempts are made to find meaning, through church, helping others, and psychoanalysis. In the end, he decides to take his own life. This might seem like a huge spoiler for people who haven’t seen the film, but this fact is actually revealed in the very first minute of the film, which makes his journey throughout the film seem even more desperate. The only area he finds some peace is his sexual relationship to women, quite similar to the Monica Vitti characters in Antonioni’s films. However, he never manages to fully connect to these people, or his friends, and is constantly alienated to other people, particularly when one he is trying to help double-crosses him. This is one of the strong points of the film; the world depicted here by Bresson is probably one of the coldest and harshest I’ve seen in a film, and do give the audience a strong feeling of why the character feels so alienated towards it. This is something Bresson often does, but this is probably the time it has had its most significant role, and he also uses this to take a look at the developing modern society.

This idea of the modern world is an area we can both contrast and compare to Antonioni. It’s true that much of what is depicted in his films is his take on the modern world, the growing use of machinery and the cold use of architecture. But in Bresson’s film it is taken to a new level I feel. Many of the characters are quite negative, materialistic and cold towards the problems of the protagonist. The ending itself is quite stark, and really brings forth how Bresson feels about humans. This is of course achieved with Bresson’s familiar technique, which even though it has gone to colour, is still very recognizable. His spare style exposes the world in a very different way than most other filmmakers, and this works very well with the ideas of the films. The protagonist’s face is void of expression, which makes his perception of the world even more powerful to the audience. The feel of the world is mechanic, which I think is fairly similar to Antonioni’s films, however, I always felt his black and white cinematography supported this in a better way. Then again, Le Diable probablement isn’t particularly beautifully shot as Antonioni’s films, much of this due to the spare style of Bresson, which I preferred in black and white.

This was an interesting film to watch, but then again, so are most Bresson films. It’s not his best, but far from his worst, and will stand as a strong film on alienation and detachment. I still to some degree prefer Antonioni’s films, but this is an interesting different look at it.