jamesbondguy
Posts: 6238
Joined: 6/1/2007
From: The Village Green
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Man, we do argue a lot don't we? We're a two-man debating society.  I hope you don't think this is some kind of personal hatred.
Sans Soleil
Director: Chris Marker
The other day, someone asked me who I thought the greatest living film-maker was. Without really thinking, the words ‘Chris Marker’ came out of my mouth. I hastily backtracked and gave the honour back to Jean-Luc Godard, but both seem comfortable in the position, no matter that I, obviously, prefer Jean-Luc. How many of the greats left are French, and part of the same time period? (Namely 1955-1969 or so.) Quite a number- Godard and Marker, as well as Jacques Rivette, Eric Rohmer, Claude Chabrol, Alain Resnais, Philippe Garrel, Agnes Varda. All responsible for masterpieces.
Sans Soleil is the culmination of a life-time of work and a life-time of travelling and contemplating. For a film so preoccupied with memory, it moves like a string of them- sudden bursts or drawn-out dwellings on certain events. It’s also oddly like a dream fused with recreated memories (and I would suggest Marker realised this as well), which is unique for a film so rooted in reality and the real world, and history and time. So many films nowadays try to fob us off with cheap, second-rate superficial emotional manipulation. They attempt to make us think, but only in the most conservative, comforting ways. Marker’s film moves us much more subtly- it’s poetic imagery and poetic commentary offer several new ways in which to penetrate and view the world, and the nature and trickery of human memory, and it’s massive impact on history, both broad and singular. But for all it’s universality, it’s also deeply personal- like a great perceptive poem, it’s as much a collection of personal experiences and thoughts as it is a way of suggesting a way of seeing to the masses. It’s message is a true one, and one which is delivered lucidly and with emotion. Perhaps the film tries to move in too many different directions at once- but then again, on the first viewing I saw it more chronologically, as if it was following a straight road, and allowing the sensuality of the image and the genius and all important Marker wit of the commentary from the outside, to seep into the car. This time it seemed more like a travelogue detailing many different things, all of them connected either clearly or obliquely, but all diverse and offering different experiences. This is one of the reasons it’s taken me so long to write properly about the film- this was the second time I’d seen it all the way through, but I have dipped into multiple times in the past. Each time it felt the same and it felt different. I think I prefer the first half of footage, mostly assembled from Marker’s filming in Tokyo. There’s something about that city, that country, that suits Marker’s eye perfectly, and intensifies his effect and his power on the audience. He is obviously fascinated by the country- The Mystery of Koumiko was an earlier film based entirely around the country and a young girl/guide, and then there was other projects like A.K. (about Kurosawa), Level Five etc. But there’s also the superb section of the film where Marker traces the route of Stewart in Vertigo- a film which Marker sums up so perfectly, and which fits so well with philosophy and musings of this movie. What else can I say? Films are perhaps perfect when they fulfil their promises, their expectations and transcend the limitations of other films similar or different. Sans Soleil is a perfect film. It’s the perfect cinematic musing, the perfect cinematic mounting of the process of memory, and the perfect sensual documentary- just witness the scene on the train, or the one where Marker films and comments on clips of Japanese TV, the dogs on the beach, the lighthouse in what appears to be a landlocked desert but is rather one which stretches out to sea, the dances on the streets of Japan, the footage in San Francisco. As Jonathan Rosenbaum put it, it’s like the film which one would expect to find in a time capsule. It’s complex message is treated simply and lucidly, and it’s utterly hypnotic. Perhaps there’s more here than you’ll ever truly get a handle on- unless you happen to be Chris Marker. But this mystery is just an addition to the film’s quality- each time you see it, your perception of it will be different, as will your response. But the best thing that can be said in it’s favour is that it makes one want to be Marker- to travel the world and film, to have his mind and his keen sense of perception, to have his memory and his vision, and to be able to communicate the thoughts which are lodged at the back of our head. As, I think, Godard put it, cinema should exist for the words stuck in the throat. Marker realises this. Most images certainly aren’t worth a thousand words- but Marker’s are. It’s influence on me, like all of Marker’s work which effectively builds into one huge portrait of the world and of philosophy, is big. At the same time, it seems to feel as if it’s on the outside of the cinema and of the world, but also at the heart and core of it. That’s special.
W (2008)
Director: Oliver Stone
A film needs to be made about Bush. A proper film, not this TV-drama style hack-job, another below-average film from a hardly valuable political film-maker. As in WTC, Stone’s direction and thinking is corny, predictable and empty of individuality, intelligence, or profundity. Bush was a disaster, of course, a purely ridiculous parody of a man, a venomous little prick, another Reagan brown-noser who thought it was God given right to rule not just a country, but the entire world. He was the neoconservative’s wet dream, and thus humanity suffered. Anti-Americanism has been growing, and I predict it will continue once Obama disappoints, which he probably will. America’s in a sticky mess, a grave dug by it’s own leaders, and a moderate also interested in imperialism will not change that enough . What can I say? I’m deeply pessimistic and cynical, and I won’t be happy until someone like Noam Chomsky is running America. Of course, since Bush is already parody, he was manipulated like a puppet by his advisors- the equally hateful and hate-worthy Dick Cheney, for one.
The latter is how Stone mostly views Bush, but the film at times comes close to a Frank Capra-esque tale of a good ol’ boy who miraculously came to power, but whom was corrupted by other forces. It’s an oddly sympathetic stance to take, and the simple fact and truth is that a fuckwit frat boy, born with the silver spoon in his mouth, and devoid of intelligence or the ability to think well politically, is dangerous if he’s allowed out of an extremely limited range of power. He should be allowed to vote and take part in the democratic process. That’s all. He shouldn’t be taking any kind of major power when he’s clearly not made out for it. Perhaps Stone feels this as well- but it almost feels like he sees Bush as a nice guy at heart. Anyone who can willingly go along with the Guantanamo Bay program is not a nice guy. He’s someone who deserves a war crimes trial.
Of course, people have always said one should laugh in order to heal, or help with our problems. But since Bush’s policies are so disastrous, abroad and at home, so anti-humanitarian, and are incredibly, infinitely important right here and right now, this kind of comedy isn’t needed. Satire is. But this isn’t satire- it’s something more like political Capra or Kramer. It’s bland, dull, rushed, badly structured, ham-fisted, and completely and utterly blunt. Stone has never been a penetrating thinker, but he’s embarrassed himself here more than ever.
Histoire(s) Du Cinema (1988-1998, Jean-Luc Godard)
Une Femme est Une Femme (1961, Jean-Luc Godard)
Une Partie Campagne (1936, Jean Renoir)
The Singing Detective (1986, Aimel) -
Dans Paris (2005, Honore)
The Roaring Twenties (1939, Walsh)
Sans Soleil (1982, Marker)
Chat Perches (2004, Marker)
Detour (1945, Ulmer)
Sweet Sixteen (Loach)
Paris Nous Appartient (1961, Rivette)
Radio On (1979, Petit)
Gun Crazy (1950, Lewis)
Happy-Go-Lucky (2008, Leigh)
Tickets (Olmi, Kiarostami, Loach)
The Filth and The Fury (2003, Temple)
Joy Division (Gee, 2007)
My Name is Joe (Loach, 2003)
Love Meetings (Pasolini, 1965)
Raining Stones (Loach, 1993)
Somers Town (2007, Meadows)
This is England (2006, Meadows)
The Girl Who Lept Through Time (2006)
Election (1999, Payne)
High Hopes (Leigh)
Barton Fink (1991, Coen)
Slumdog Millionaire (2008, Boyle)
Carrie (1976, De Palma)
King of Kong (2007)
Twilight Zone: The Movie (Spielberg, Landis, Dante, Miller)
Burn After Reading (2007, Coen)
W (2008, Stone)
Shorts:
Antoine et Colette (1962, Truffaut)
Blue Jeans (Jacques Rozier, 1958)
Meetin' WA (Godard, 1986)
Bread And Ally/Breaktime (1970-72, Kiarostami)
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Just like Geoffrey Ingram.
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Printable Version
RE: Top 100 Films I've Wathced This Year: 2009 - 
I take it Cafe Lumiere is worth a look? 
Still as hilarious as ever, and I'm still picking up on new jokes six viewings in (this time - among others, the woman who gets "Ni'd" by Arthur and Bedevere beating the cats against the wall during the "Bring out your dead!" scene, and I finally got the joke behind the names of the girls at Castle Anthrax). A timeless piece of comedy genius. 
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