Just watched...

…”The Mirror,” from 1975 by Andrei Tarkovsky.

After I watched this today, I was marveling that through my years of being a film major (among other majors) in college, and through my many, many hours of sitting in a darkened theater on campus watching films, I did not encounter the amazing work of Tarkovsky. The first time I came across Tarkovsky was a showing of “Solaris” on a local PBS station in the mid-90s. How could the film program at my college--and my professor--NOT have shown any Tarkovsky, or even spoken of him for that matter?

Well, thankfully, I discovered him that fateful evening while watching “Solaris” and I have given myself a class in his works over the years. (I often give myself classes in subjects. The first time was when I was a teenager and heard Woody Allen talk about the "Zelda Fitzgerald Emotional Maturity Award" in his 1979 fim “Manhattan.” I had heard of F. Scott Fitzgerald, but who was this Zelda and what was funny about her emotional maturity?)

“The Mirror” was made after “Solaris” but had been in the works since at least 1964 when Tarkovsky got the idea to make a film about the memories and dreams of a man without the man appearing in the film. Wiki sums up the structure of the film perfectly by noting that it “is discontinuous and non-chronological, without a conventional plot.” In this way, it is one of the most impressionistic films I have ever seen, although I do acknowledge that there are a handful of other films that use this technique and have done so successfully.

This gorgeous film is sort of like watching a snowglobe of the contents of a man’s head. It has been shaken and we watch the fragments swirl around. Episodes from direct experience, memory, imagination, and dreams exist side-by-side. We see his life in three time periods: childhood/ pre-war, war, and adulthood. And we begin to see patterns. There are links between past and present, cause and effect, sometimes rippling both directions. In what is surely some kind of Freudian admission, the same actress plays both our main character’s mother and wife. I want to stress that although this film may be layered, nuanced, and rich, and although it is an interpreted film, it is not confusing or incomprehensible, as some film essayists have claimed.

In “The Mirror,” we see Tarkovsky exhibit the same interest in setting up stunning yet simple tableaux, and lyrical or introspective imagery as in his other films, but compared to something like “Solaris,” the editing and pace feel not as languid, not as dreamy. A few moments and camera pans recall some of Fellini’s thrilling moments, the way the camera sweeps across a location, the way the wind blows. There is a purpose to this kaleidoscope of memories. Actual newsreel footage of the evacuation of Moscow, the Spanish Civil War, and Soviet-era events serves to ground this cognitive exploration. Tarkovsky’s screenplay is autobiographical to an extent and stars his actual wife, mother, and father, the famous Russian poet Arseny Tarkovsky. In sections of the film, the elder Tarkovsky reads his own poems over the soundtrack.

Trying to think of and write about this film is rather difficult because of the spell it casts. I like the simultaneous way the information was transmitted and depicted. I like how it left me feeling: a little spacey and ponderous. Although each scene is straight forward enough and is about what it is about, the effect is cumulative, hypnotizing, and lulling… possibly what it is to have one’s life “flash before one’s eyes” upon death. It is a magical film too, with the presence of imagination and dream given as much importance as actual events. Our brains cannot tell the difference between reality and active dreaming, after all. Mysterious moments come and go in this film, a strange localized wind sweeps over a field, a tea-drinking woman disappears from a room leaving behind a condensation ring from her tea cup, an oil lamp turns itself on and off, a bottle falls from a table for no reason with no one around it. It feels enigmatic, holy, and beyond “film,” beyond everyday comprehension. Like a dream (or a David Lynch film) "The Mirror" is best understood and appreciated through direct experience. One must sit and absorb it. Distilled to its essence, it is really about all of us, all who have had lives, memories, dreams…

Recommend? Absolutely. It is very special.

Just watched...

...Andrei Tarkovsky's 1979 epic "Stalker."


“Stalker,” by Soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky, and based on the novella “Roadside Picnic” by the Russian Strugatsky Brothers is a legendary cult film made in 1979. The story it came from is explicitly a science fiction story concerning itself with an extraterrestrial alien visitation and the objects the Visitors left behind. These objects carry special powers and the entire area of the Visitation, a once-industrial area now named The Zone and full of ruins, suffers from odd and often dangerous phenomena such as gravitational wells that can flatten anything within, sentient lightning and poisonous alien plants.

Billed as a science fiction film, “Stalker,” like Tarkovsky’s other legendary film “Solaris” (also a science fiction story), feels empty and cavernous. Several factors contribute to this feeling: like “Solairs,” “Stalker” features scenes with long, lingering shots on elements of nature such as a stream or tree leaves, very sparse dialogue, and an emptiness, and even a stillness, that seems to surround every character. Having said that, the film is in reality far from “empty.” There are no "sci-fi special effects" but there is a frightening, compelling story line to follow, visuals with arresting composition to see, and a fascinating music score and sound design to hear. And of course there are some large, all-too-human ideas going on. The Stalker of the title is a man who leads expeditions to The Zone, much like a Sherpa. Stalkers are knowledgeable about and expert in the dangers of The Zone. But why would one want to travel to the The Zone, you ask? In the heart of the area is a room that, when entered, grants wishes. But not the wish you say out loud or fool yourself into thinking you want… the wish that is secretly in the seed of your soul, your unspoken wish.

Tarkovsky’s version of this story, despite the fact that the authors of the original novella worked on the screenplay, is a much more enigmatic and oblique tale… especially the magical, crushing, puzzling ending. It is good to know about the source material for the film before sitting down to watch “Stalker.”

Recommend? At nearly three hours, I will recommend this only to true cinephiles (and I know you're out there). If the prospect of watching a long, slow moving film in Russian with English subtitles does not scare you (and good for you!), dive right in!

"Life, Life" by Ryuichi Sakamoto and David Sylvian

Earlier this year, legendary musician-composer-producer-actor-activist Ryuichi Sakamoto released "async," a new collection of music. The lushly spiritual "Life, Life" is from that collection, and it features a delicate spoken word performance by equally legendary musician and prior collaborator David Sylvian of a poem by the Russian poet Arseny Tarkovsky, father of the filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky (previously here). This is transcendent work.

And this I dreamt, and this I dream,
And some time this I will dream again,
And all will be repeated, all be re-embodied.
You will dream everything I have seen in dream.

To one side from ourselves, to one side from the world,
Wave follows wave to break on the shore.
On each wave is a star, a person, a bird,
Dreams, reality, death - on wave after wave.

No need for a date: I was, I am, and I will be.
Life is a wonder of wonders, and to wonder
I dedicate myself, on my knees, like an orphan,
Alone - among mirrors - fenced in by reflections:
Cities and seas, iridescent, intensified.
A mother in tears takes a child on her lap.

http://www.sitesakamoto.com
http://www.davidsylvian.com

Just watched...

...Terrence Malick's 2011 masterpiece "The Tree Of Life."

I had been meaning to see Malick’s “The Tree Of Life” ever since it came out in 2011 and won the Palme d’Or at Cannes. I love Malick’s films, and I have “The Thin Red Line” listed on my All-Time Favorite Films List to the right on this page. But after hearing a lot of general grousing about this film, I was a little anxious. I had hoped it was not “incomprehensible” as many critics claimed. Even the word “pretentious” was leveled at it. But that actually gave me a clue as to what to expect. I have noticed, after my many years of being here on this planet, that when people sneer slightly and use the word “pretentious” to describe a piece of art—film, painting, sculpture, dance, etc.—they might as well be saying “I’m too stupid to understand what that was about. I suspect as much and that threatens me because I don’t want to appear stupid. So I am going to attack it and set myself higher.” I am not saying that a piece of art can’t fail, can’t lack for anything, or can’t fall short of its aim. If that is the case, it is better to be specific… as specific as possible. Calling something “pretentious” just does not cut it. What about it made you think it was pretentious? Was the story convoluted? In what way? Did you feel pieces of the narrative were left out or not alluded to? Were there leaps in logic that did not make sense? Did you feel the theme was unfulfilled because of costume choices, lighting choices, music choices? Was the acting flat or unbelievable? Was the melody based on something else or uninspired altogether? Did it fail to engender emotion in you? WHY? Just saying that something is “pretentious” is not enough. If you make a sweeping dismissive comment without anything to back it up, then you look like the fool you are trying not to be. And if you automatically label anything that is trying to say something profound as “pretentious,” that is proof that you can’t grasp larger concepts. To make a large-concept piece of art, the artist, whether novelist or director or composer, must reach, must take the risk and work on a grand scale. Profundity is not automatic grounds for criticism or penalty but there are many who are threatened by such vision. I don't think I have ever earnestly used the word "pretentious" in my life. It is a meaningless, hollow word for me.

Terrence Malick was a philosophy major under Stanley Cavell at Harvard University and graduated summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa so it is only natural that he would involve very large concepts in his original screenplays and films. As I mentioned above, “The Thin Red Line” is one of my favorite films and considering his background, it is clear to see in that film existential ideas translated into poetry… cleverly disguised as a war film (at the end of the day, it is anything but). When an artist makes a large-concept statement, I like to pay attention. It is rare to begin with that someone dares to make a large-concept statement and it shouldn’t be dismissed with an easy wave of the hand as “pretentious.” And “The Tree Of Life” is one of the largest artistic statements I have ever seen on film. The scope, the intent, the vastness of what Malick conveys in it is breathtaking, heart-stopping, mind boggling. I don’t want to give away too much detail. As I have said here on “Oh, By The Way” in past film reviews, I don’t want to take away the special experience of seeing a film for the first time, seeing a film the way the director intended, for everything to come at you fresh. I will say that on the surface, and really, it is only the surface, the film is a study of a rather dysfunctional family in Texas in the 1950s and 60s. Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain are stunning as Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien. Having said that, I assure you the point of this film is not the family themselves, and I have not given anything away in this magical film. No, not magical...magical is diminutive. That word makes it sounds like something for children. It is… it is holy. And I absolutely do not mean that in an “organized religion” way. It is holy in the sense of "transcendent." Malick has dared to tell a story that transcends itself. It references a reality and truth that renders the story into its own context, and by extension, does so for all of our lives. We all exist in our own context but belong to something much, much, much larger; something we cannot hold in our minds for long without losing hold of where we are, who we are, what we do, what we wish for and live for. But there it is. That is the truth. The film encompasses and is a survey of this duel nature of the universe itself ("grace" and "nature"), of creation and destruction and the very human, mistaken way of seeing those two things as separate entities. Remember: transcendence. Despite the fact that characters in the film are religious and talk to “God,” the film is decidedly anti-religion with the juxtaposition of individual lives and situations against the beginning and end of our solar system. How ridiculous to talk to a pretend man in the sky and ask questions about "why" things do or don't happen when all around us screams and reels the workings of the cosmos itself through the birth of stars in stellar nurseries, the evolution of life, and the eventual entropy and collapse of all. There is an enormous difference between "religion" and "spirit"... they are separated by light years.

The impressionistic, non-linear narrative of "The Tree Of Life" reminds me somewhat of Tarkovsky’s “The Mirror” in that it is an assortment, a mélange, a kaleidoscope of experiences, memories, thoughts, fantasies. And not just of one person, as in the case of "The Mirror," but of a group of people. Just like “The Mirror,” telling a story this way is very dream-like and creates a direct path to the pre-conscious. And in this way, “The Tree Of Life” is one of the few films in the history of cinema that are actually purely cinematic, just like dreams. Film is a visual medium and Malick uses it to his full advantage, giving us a vast expanse of information and ideas visually, without much dialogue. When people speak in the film, or more commonly when we hear their whispered thoughts and inner monologue, it is as if someone has called your name while you are asleep. Dreams can only convey a narrative or an idea to us in one way: it shows us pictures. A dream can’t—and indeed does not need to—tell us what it wants us to know, it shows us. That is the language of signifiers. That is the primordial, pre-conscious language of our psyches, our souls. That is our first, original language before words. Watch. Look. See. Understand. We are given everything Malick wants us to grasp, but not in a way that matters on this physical plane. While the visuals are gorgeous and pristinely filmed—the film is a miraculous, true study of present moments (the way Tarkovsky studied rain hitting a tree leaf, for example)— and the special effects are some of the best I have ever seen, one must interpret and feel “The Tree Of Life” for it to work.

Recommend? If any of this review resonates with you, if any of what I have said strikes a chord with you, then please, by all means, partake of this transcendent artistic experience. Invest in it.
Watch. Look. See. Understand.

http://www.twowaysthroughlife.com/
http://www.foxsearchlight.com/thetreeoflife/

Just watched...

..."I Am Love" starring Tilda Swinton.

Years in the making (eleven, according to star Swinton), this 2009 collaboration between director Luca Guadagnino and Tilda is something of a marvelous enigma. At once a melodramatic soap opera/ love story and a political treatise about class distinction and freedom, "I Am Love" is multi-layered, complex. Nothing is explained; the film infers. And thus it depends upon the interpretive powers of the viewer, something I truly appreciate in a cinematic experience.

We follow Emma Recchi, wife of Tancredi Recchi, a very wealthy heir to a textile empire in Milan. They have three children: emotional and idealistic Edoardo, inexperienced Gianluca, and budding lesbian Elisabetta. But Emma is not her real name: she can no longer recall what her real name was, before her rich husband plucked her out of Russia and brought her back to Italy, where she apparently let go of everything in her old life to “become Italian” (Swinton miraculously speaks Italian with a Russian accent!). Their home is a Fascistic Art Deco wonder (the real-life Villa Necchi Campiglio, an architecturally important home in Milan, now a museum open to the public) full of a mix of early twentieth-century and Beaux Arts furnishings and art. Emma herself is polished to a translucent gleam, coiffed, and outfitted in the most sleek, classic clothing (by Raf Simons at Jil Sander) which quietly asserts her wealth and position.

But as she begins an affair with a young chef, we see her and her world fall apart, presumably to be replaced with her old self and a world she once knew but forfeited. Synchronistically, the family textile empire is under scrutiny, pressured to change or sell to accommodate a new global economy. The old class and wealth no longer matter—it is seen for what it was all along: an illusion that can crumble at any moment.

The film itself is gorgeous. As mentioned above, the Recchi home is stunning, everyone is lovely (including Marisa Berenson, as Emma’s mother-in-law, dignified and gorgeous as she ages without having any “work” done to mar herself), and the San Remo countryside is vivid and organic. Even the magnificent dishes created by Antonio the chef are lovingly presented and captured. The film’s pace is deliberate and in places, reminds me a bit of Tarkovsky’s work, with the camera lingering on a weed or an insect on a stalk. At times the camera work (a specific pan here or pull there) also reminded me of Fellini… although there is nothing surreal about "I Am Love." The soundtrack is culled mostly from pre-existing pieces by the contemporary composer John Adams ("Nixon In China"). There were times when the grand sound of Adams seemed to fit well with the story and there were scenes where the assertive sound of Adams seemed a bit out of place. That is a small quibble though.

I have read some criticisms that the film is too pretentious, too histrionic. I say that is a bit of projection and an inability to understand that the film is stylized, and references things that are larger than what is being shown.

Recommend? Yes. The usual caveats apply though: this is an Italian-language film with subtitles, it moves slower than whatever is playing at your local multiplex, and it requires attention and some deconstruction after viewing. If you’re not up for any of that, don’t do it. Otherwise, dig in and enjoy.

Trailer at the official website:
http://www.iamlovemovie.com/

Just watched...

...the beautiful, mysterious "Cemetery of Splendor."

When I saw Thai director Apichatpong Weerasethakul's gloriously magical film "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" (previously here) I was smitten. It is a languid, ravishingly beautiful meditation on nature, mortality, and metaphysics. So when I saw in 2015 that he released another film called "Cemetery of Splendor" which debuted in the Un Certain Regard section of that year's Cannes Film Festival, I was already on board. And I finally cycled through the Netflix queue to get to it.

After a group of soldiers who have fallen ill with a strange sleeping sickness get set up in a makeshift hospital, a middle-aged housewife volunteers her services and time to care for them. But the hospital turns out to be in what was once her grade school, triggering long-forgotten memories. She is drawn to one soldier in particluar and in tending to him in his sleep, she begins to have a series of unexplained experiences. As with "Uncle Boonmee," mysterious, otherworldly phenomena exist comfortably alongside our physical world. Everything in "Cemetery of Splendor" is eventually attached to and supported by an unseen layer below. It is an approach to storytellling and film making that is natural to Weerasethakul who grew up in the small village shown in the film. This area of Thailand is heavily influenced by myths, stories, legends, and animism all of which make their way into this film.

Visually stunning, "Cemetery" takes its time with the narrative, pausing to contemplate a ceiling fan or a view out of a window, the way one's mind does when one is daydreaming. In this way, Weerasethakul reminds me of the great Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky (previously here and here) whose camera lingered on rain falling on a tree leaf...there is beauty to be found in simple, static elements. Weerasethakul's Director of Photography Diego Garcia makes the most of natural light both day and night and comes up with a crystal clear sense to the film that is all the more startling given the murky, enigmatic happenings. The director has said that this film "can be a dream of being awake or a reality that is seemingly like a dream."

And I must say that Jenjira Pongpas as the volunteer at the hospital is just a miracle of subtlety and restraint in acting. Her performance is a master class in naturalism and not being aware of the camera, at all. She has only ever worked with Weerasethakul having appeared in nearly every film he's made and they have a special relationship...so much so that he wrote her part based on her real life.

Recommend? Oh yes, absolutely. It is a lovely film, magical, and full of humanity and understanding.

http://www.kickthemachine.com/page80/page24/page26/

Happy National Poetry Month 2024!

April is National Poetry Month, sponsored by the Academy of American Poets since 1996. And this year marks the celebration's 28th anniversary! Over the years, it has become the largest literary celebration in the world with schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets celebrating poetry’s vital place in our culture.

How to celebrate?
- Read your favorite poet again.
- Read some new poetry.
- Find a new favorite poet.
- Write some poetry.
- Leave poems for people to find in public places.
- Read poetry out loud to family and friends.
- Dream a poem.

Throughout April, I'll be posting poems, some by me, some by others, as well as a series of lyrics to popular songs that double as exquisite poetry.

And this year, Poem in Your Pocket Day is April 27th! Every April, on Poem in Your Pocket Day, people celebrate by selecting a poem, carrying it with them, and sharing it with others throughout the day at schools, bookstores, libraries, parks, workplaces, and on social media using the hashtag #pocketpoem.

Poem in Your Pocket Day was originally initiated in 2002 by the Office of the Mayor, in partnership with the New York City Departments of Cultural Affairs and Education, as part of the city’s National Poetry Month celebration. In 2008, the Academy of American Poets took the initiative to all fifty United States, encouraging individuals around the country to join in and channel their inner bard. In 2016, the League of Canadian Poets extended Poem in Your Pocket Day to Canada.

Happy National Poetry Month!

To kick off the month, here is an incredibly inspiring quote from Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky.

"When I speak of poetry I am not thinking of it as a genre. Poetry is an awareness of the world, a particular way of relating to reality. So poetry becomes a philosophy to guide a man throughout his life."

Amen to that.

https://poets.org/

BEAUTY: Painting--Lukasz Pazera

Polish artist, painter, and animator Lukasz Pazera has created a series of paintings based on both the concept of The Zone from the Russian science fiction novel "Roadside Picnic" by the Strugatsky Brothers (and made into a highly atmospheric film by Andrei Tarkovsky called "Stalker" which I reviewed here), and the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl. He captures the empty, disquieting landscapes of the abandoned alien visitation site from the novel, as well as the ruins of the city of Prypiat and the surrounding environs.


Top to bottom: Postcard From The Zone III; Postcard From The Zone IV; Carriage; Smell of Rain I; Forest

http://lukaszpazera.com/
http://postcardsfromthezone.com/
http://lukpazera.blogspot.com/

If you'd like to preview and then order a book of all the prints from this series, visit:
http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1290773

The Floating Stage of Bregenz

Every summer, on the shore of Lake Constance in Austria, the Bregenzer Festspiele takes place on the world's largest floating stage. Operas from the popular repertoire are presented to an audience of 7,000 on absolutely mind-boggling sets. The scale of these stage elements are epic and monumental.

And this year, they premiered "Solaris," an opera based on the novel by Polish author Stanislaw Lem (which was also turned into a film by the Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky).

Above: two views from a production of A MASKED BALL

Above: a view of a production of ANDRÉ CHÉNIER

Above: two views of a production of IL TROVATORE

Above: two views of a production of TOSCA

Above: two views of a production of WEST SIDE STORY

http://www.bregenzerfestspiele.com/en/

Just watched...

..."Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" written and directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul.

This magical, original film won the Palme d'Or at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival for good reason. It is unlike most anything else that has been put on film; there might be only a handful of creations like this in cinema history but I am hard pressed to name them.

The film follows the story of a man, Uncle Boonmee, who is dying of kidney failure in the wild jungle area of northeast Thailand. Relatives arrive to visit, to comfort, to try to help. But so do a few other non-corporeal and non-human visitors. As usual, I do not want to say too much since I believe in seeing a film for the first time as the director intended: the story and events should come at you fresh. I will say though, that we do get some glimpses of Boonmee's past lives, as well as a glimpse--possibly--of how life is perceived after death.

The pace of the film is meditative and quite deliberate, reminding me of the work of the great Russian filmmaker Tarkovsky (previously here and here). This affords us the time for our minds to wander into the film, to contemplate with the characters and director, and it increases the psychological space around the story. It is an expansive, transcendent film that, while rooted in a physical place that has its own history (culturally, politically, socially), ultimately moves beyond the physical aspects of the story. There are some puzzling events that happen without any explanation; mysterious, otherworldly phenomena exist comfortably alongside our physical world.

"But that's life, no?" said writer and director Weerasethakul. "Sometimes you don't need to understand everything to appreciate a certain beauty. And I think the film operates in the same way. It's like tapping into someone's mind. The thinking pattern is quite random, jumping here and there like a monkey."

Recommend? Yes. It is, as I said, something quite unique. If you are a fan of cinema, (you don't have to be a fan of world cinema to appreciate this), this certainly deserves to be experienced.

http://strandreleasing.com/films/uncle-boonmee-can-recall-past-lives/