Fassbinder's strange remake of an American melodrama about inter-racial love

Rainer Werner Fassbinder's Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974) was one of his first melodramas and is closely modeled on the Douglas Sirk tearjerker All that Heaven Allows (which I know only through its Todd Haynes remake, Far From Heaven). Fassbinder's remake is, like all of his films that I know of, odd and strange in many ways. Both the original and RWF's Ali are about a white woman who falls in love with a black man and suffers from social ostracism as a result. In the original, as far as I know or recall, the black man w/ whom the woman falls in love is her gardener; though not of the same social set as she, he's a serious and dignified man (with an interest in the arts) and is of about her age; also, she's reeling from the pain of her unsuccessful marriage, as her husband leads a not-so-secret double life. RWF's Ali differs in many regards, most notably that Ali is a good 20 years younger than the woman (Emmi), she is widowed, and she is not particularly attractive nor is she well off (perhaps a little more so than Ali, but she's no obvious mark or catch). So right from the start this movie feels odd: Why would an older (i.e., at least 50, parent of three adult children) woman walk into a seedy bar to take shelter from the rain, and, if she did so, why would she agree to let one of the men drinking there walk her home, then invite him to her apartment, encourage him to spend the night in he spare room, which leads to sex and, surprisingly, to an enduring relationship? It makes no sense - nor does it make sense to others in the movie. Ali is a tall, handsome guy, an immigrant from Morocco who speaks a childishly awkward German - we can see what draws her to him, though, but not the reverse. In any event, the world turns against Emmi: he neighbors, her co-workers, and especially her children - and she endures social ostracism and harassment on every front. She stands by her man, and he by her, up to a point. But over time, the hostility diminishes - RWF doesn't really attempt to explain or account for this softening; he never makes Ali more than a helpful stud - but as the social ostracism eases Ali begins to play the field, resurrecting an affair he'd been having with the barmaid (the bar in which much of the movie takes place is a hangout for Ali and other Moroccan immigrants), so RWF pulls our sympathy away from Ali as well as from Emmi: Perhaps he'd been playing her all along? In some ways, this movie feels really contemporary, as we today are far more aware than we were in the 70s of the plight and acceptance (or not) of African immigrants in Europe and the U.S.; in other ways, the movie feels quite old-school, w/ it's almost cliched portrayal of a Town Without Pity star-crossed romance: It's all too obvious which are the good guys and which are the oafs, but what does keep our interest is the edginess of the film: What's in it for Emmi? For Ali? Why do their family members and friends turn against them? What brings them around, in the end?

The Farewell, full of culture clashes and great segments, strangely overlooked by the Academy

Lulu Wang's The Farewell (2019), with a great lead performance by rising star Awkwafina as a 20-something Chinese-American would-be writer (Billi) in NYC, is a movie full of multiple culture-clashes and generational clashes, family dramas and mini-dramas, and some hilarious and riotous segments. The plot in short: Billi learns that her beloved grandmother, Nai Nai, has received a diagnosis of terminal lung cancer; the catch, her parents - well-established Chinese-Americans living in the NY suburbs - tell her is that the family has agreed not to tell Nai Nai of the diagnosis; apparently this is a key element in Chinese culture: people die from the fear, not the cancer, they say. The family is to travel to China for the wedding of a nephew; against orders, so to speak, Billi follows, and throughout the movie there are clashes between her desire or need to tell grandma the truth and the efforts of the family members to shield her from her fate. That said, the movie is anything but morbid: It's full of humor and contains many great set pieces, often centered on food and on talk. The highlights come w/ the wedding of the nephew - his bride is Japanese, which gives yet another version of culture clash or shock; the wedding celebration - the songs, the karaoke, the tearful toasts, the drinking games - will seem riotous and unusual to most American viewers- but there is no question about the strength of family ties and the love these sibs and cousins have for one another and for their deceased forebears (the visit to the cemetery and grandfather's grave is another highlight) - though we do have to wonder about the likely fate of the marrying couple, who seem incredibly shy and immature. Throughout the film, there is much discussion and innuendo about the family members who have moved abroad, to the US or Japan, and their guilt about leaving their elderly mother/grandmother to the care and comfort of others - although the grandmother is totally supportive of her children and grandchildren who have emigrated and found prosperity abroad. The film has a bit of a kick at the ending as well; all told, a movie strangely overlooked by the Academy of Motion Pictures, but a promising career step for Wang and Awkwafina.

The Alec Guinness vehicle Kind Hearts and Coronets is an exceptional example of British social comedy

The Alec Guinness vehicle - he plays the role(s) of 8 (I think) members of the same titled lineage - Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949) is a classic British comedy in all senses, funny, well-writtten, well acted, smart-looking, and perhaps most of all a serious take on the idiocy of the British caste system, still in place (sadly). The film - directed by Robert Hamer (about whom I know nothing - this was anti-auteur territory, part of the old-guard era in which studio (Ealing in this case) and star meant more than the director. In essence, thefilm is about a young man who learns from his soon-to-die mother that he's 10th in line for a Dukedom. As he starts out his life as a sales clerk in a women's wear store, he begins to plot a path by which he could attain his title as Duke and embarks on a hilarious course in which he murders each of the 8 or so ahead of him in the lineage (one dies w/out his assistance). Of course the film is just a romp - if it were in any way remotely possible it would stand as the greatest indictment of all time of Scotland Yard - but beneath the comedy lies a social critique, which we see right from the outset (the first scene involves the executioner, on the eve of the scheduled hanging of the newly entitled Duke, worrying about the proper form of address to a man of his station). Some of the dialog is sharp in the way that only the British have mastered: For ex., in a courting scene the young man's love interest complains about her husband, who on their honeymoon insisted on visiting museums: He wants to expand his mind. Response: There's certainly room. Guinness is funny throughout, in particular as a doddering Anglican minister (the young man posits that the family follows the familiar course of sending it's idiotic son to a career in the Church). All told, a crisp social comedy typical (though exceptionally good) for its era, and a forerunner of the urbane social comedies of such lights as the now-disgraced Woody Allen.

Some great acting but not much drama per se in Fassbinder's Petra van Kant

Rainer Werner Fassbinder's 1972 film, The Bitter Tears of Petra van Kant, feels much like an intense psychodrama - and in fact I was not surprised to see in a note that it was initially a play - as it has a tight cast of characters (6 think, but only three play major roles and one of the three has a silent omnipresence) - but it's amazing how much topical variety and abundance RWF accomplishes in this film. Although there's only one setting - Petra's studio apartment - the decor is so odd and rich that we're constantly getting new and different perspectives on the characters and the (limited) action; especially notable is the wall-sized blowup of a baroque painting that seemingly depicts a male orgy (also notable, the various female nude figurines used as bodies for fashion shoots). The plot such as it is involves the eponymous Petra (Margit Carstensen, in the performance of a lifetime) who is middle-aged, divorced or widowed, desperately trying to look younger (several wigs throughout), trying to break into the fashion industry (with some success, as it happens), seriously alcoholic, who begins a lesbian relationship with a young woman (Karin) of tragic background (parents dead in murder suicide), played well by Hanna Schygulla, and the maidservant, a silent Irm Herman in some kind of love-triangle. From the start, we dislike Petra, in particular as we see her rail at her hapless servant - whom we also does a lot of the technical fashion-display work (painting images, draping clothing) for Petra, while receiving no credit and being verbally abused and humiliated. Over the course of the film, Petra's relationship w/ Karin breaks apart - Karin tosses Petra aside as soon as a better option becomes available; we hate her - but we hate Petra even more. There's a long tradition of "Petras" in opera and drama, middle-aged women involved with a much younger love and tragically aware that time is not in their favor (see for ex. Die Rosenkavalier) - but usually the older woman is the one with whom we sympathize; not here. I was surprised to learn that RWF was inspired by the melodramatic films of Sirk as he composed this (and some other) films; I see the lavish 50s look of Sirk throughout the film for sure, but I don't at all see the melodrama. In fact, there's no drama per se: The characters to not evolve, there is no collision of forces, no dramatic turnaround, just a gradual dissolution into drink and invective and violence, foreshadowed from the outset and leading to the inevitable (though I won't divulge the specifics) conclusion.

Derry Girls: One of the funniest and most endearing of all streaming comedy series

Lisa McGee's series Derry Girls (Seasons 1 and 2, on Netflix) has no profound message and is hardly cutting edge but it stands simply as one of the funniest and most endearing comedies on streaming or TV. Too bad it's almost completely under the radar; perhaps that's because the series, set in Derry (Northern Ireland) in the mid-1990s, is so heavily accented and mull of local slang that it absolutely requires closed-caption subtitles, at least for American viewers. That said, almost every episode of the series is laugh-out-loud funny. The setting: a group of 4 girls and 1 guy (he's the English cousin of one of the girls and the only guy enrolled in the otherwise all-female Catholic day school in Derry), each of whom exemplifies a comic "type": The Type A leader, the hysterical worry wort, the rule-breaker, and the dimwit, and the interactions of the girls in the group (plus the guy, forever trying to prove that he's "not gay") keep the show moving along. The real scene-stealer however is the dour and cynical head of the school, Sister Michael - and there's also plenty of hilarious interplay among the adults, in particular the father and grandfather of the "leader" (Erin) - the grandfather blaming everything on the timid son-in-law (a little bit like Oliver Hardy, blaming every "mess" on his counterpart). The second season ends with what seems to be a wrap, President Clinton's visit to Derry after the IRA ceasefire - and it's really one of the funniest episodes (along with the attempt to organize a family camping trip), but seems to put a close to this excellent show. By and large, there's not much of a through-story - each episode is more or less independent of the others - but all of them are funny and concise, with great dialog - even if you have to read most of it.

The film was a failure but still worth watching for a few Orson Welles touches

Despite its many flaws and shortcomings, it's still worth watching Orson Welles's Mr. Arkadin (1955) for a few glimpses of what Welles could do at his best. Of course he was a colossal egotist, and he's all over this film: director, writers of screenplay, writer of the original story, star in title role, and producer and who knows probably caterer and driver, too? But that's why we watch his films, in part - to see the great struggle of the individual v the colossus. The colossus usually wins, of course, as it did in this case; it's not clear to me (I will look around a little more) whether the film was actually released, and it exists today in at least three versions (I watched the version that Criterion considers the most complete and accurate - though it still leaves some strange gaps in the narrative). In essence, the story is a quest: A guy doing some smuggling on the docks in Italy comes to the aid of a man who was stabbed in the back, and man utters a few dying words - including "Arkadin" - which lead the man on a world-wide chase after the elusive Mr. Arkadin, who eventually hires the man allegedly to find out about A's own early life, which A claims to have forgotten in a bout of amnesia. So we get lots of globehopping, entanglements w/ 2 women - the female sidekick who'll sacrifice so much in aid of this quest and A's daughter, the dangerous woman/love interest. Ultimately the plot is ridiculous and collapses of its own weight (it doesn't help that Welles gets such poor performances from most of the other main characters - it's all about him, of course), but it's always entertaining to see the weird Welles touches at various points in the film, especially the huge party in A's Spanish mansion with various celebrators and a parade of barefoot penitents, the creepy junk shop in Amsterdam (a scene not helped by Michael Redgrave's over-the-top comic acting), the attic scenes and the surprising demise of Herr Zuk, the beautifully staged dinner-dance party in A's Paris mansion. Who knows how many scenes were lost or how many compromises Welles had to make in the production of this film; same held true for his Spanish production of Chimes at Midnight - which was far more successful, in part because OW was well cast in the lead (Falstaff), a truly dominant figure, much more so than the enigmatic Mr. A of this film.

Joker is a far better, more thoughful, engaging, and provacative film than I'd expected

Have to admit that I seriously "misunderestimated" the Todd Phillips film Joker (2019) and was drawn to it only because of its numerous Academy Award nominations. Though we saw The Dark Knight and I read dozens of Batman comics in my youth, I have little to no interest in the Batman story line in particular or in DC comics in general (and was also put off by the Joker shootings in the Colorado theater and dismayed by what I thought would be glorification of violence) - but Joker is much more than a realization of a comic book. Sure there are aspects of the film that draw on the Batman story - this film depicts some of the back story of Batman/Wayne's early life and the rise of his nemesis, the eponymous Joker - but you don't need to know or care about that aspect of the film to be caught up in its story line and in the fantastic realization of NYC (Gotham, in the movie) at its lowest point: rampant crime, garbage workers on strike, complete breakdown of social services, simmering class antagonisms stoked by the tabloid press. The look and feel of NYC at its more dire is realized throughout the film: horrible subway system, mental institutions, state offices, marginal housing, and just the signage and the lighting of the city throughout, it's like a world re-created. But mostly, the film is a character study, of a mentally disturbed young man - played perfectly by Joaquin Phoenix, who deserves an AA in my opinion - as he struggles for social acceptance and recognition and is drawn into violence and mayhem, against his better instincts - and whose subway shooting of three young (obnoxious!) Wall Street types (a startling reversal of the Bernard Goetz case of about the same time as the movie seems to be set, the mid-80s) leads to a social revolution, with crowds in the street emulating Joker by wearing clown masks while tearing up the city, the have-nots taking out all their hatred and resentment against the haves. Despite his misdeeds, we can't help but emphasize with Joker - that's probably the most surprising, even disturbing, aspect of the movie; it provokes thought and self-examination - and it carries us easily through its 2 hours w/out seeming for a moment too long or gratuitous.

The beautiful and moving penultimate Agnes Varda film: Faces, Places

The penultimate Agnes Varda film (2017) - Faces, Places (hats off to whoever came up w/ the English title; the Fr. is Visages, Villages) - is a totally enjoyable and surprising documentary about her public-art project, in which she joins forces w/ a 33-year-old (AV was pushing 90) French graffiti artist who goes by JR. The film shows how the two of them develop a concept and then bring it to fruition through public art: They roam the French countryside in JR's van, which looks, amusingly, like a bigger-than-life camera; they stop in various town squares, churches, restaurants, factories, meet the local people, and get permission to photograph them; the van has a supersized printer than turns the photos into huge blow-ups - literally the size of a country barn - that AV and JR and their team post on walls, sidings, water towers, etc. In the process they (and we) get to know the "villagers" and in each case the villagers learn more about their community and come together in awe - sometimes in tears - when they see the posted public art. Much of the beauty of the film involves the bonding - and sometimes petty spats and disappointments - as the 2 of them develop their ideas; all told, they get along beautifully, and each brings his/her genius to this project; they are kindred spirits, experimentalists and anthropologists, who push the boundaries of art, and we really get the sense that this film shows Varda handing on a legacy to the next generation of public artists. Most of all, it's highly unusual to see in a work of art the very process of the creation, from germination to flowering, so to speak. The film has many moments of humor (e.g., asked by one of the subjects how the two of them met, JR says "through a dating app" - as Varda bristles) as well as some real pathos, especially toward the end, as Varda increasingly recognizes that her career, and her life, are nearing the end (she died in 2019).

Ozu's There Was a Father shows some early signs of his style and sensibilities

Yasujiro Ozu's relatively early film (he'd begun his work in the silent era), There Was a Father (1942) is a long way from his greatest work, Tokyo Story, but still a film worth watching for its own merits and for what it shows us about Ozu's developing talent and style. He works here with the great lead actor Chishu Ryu, who leads in almost every Ozu film over some 30+ years!, although without his usual writing partner (Kogo Noda). The simple plot line follow a father-son relationship over 25 years; the father (Ryu) is widowed, working as a high-school math teacher and raising in 5-year-old son. On a field trip w/ his students one student drowns in a boat accident; overcome by guilt and remorse, the father leaves his teaching job and begins a career search, even spending some time at a monastery. The young son is removed to a boarding school; over time, the father moves to Tokyo, where he works in a factory, as the son continues w/ his education but always apart from the father. The movie jumps forward rapidly in time, w/out belabored transitions. By the time the son is in his 20s, and traveling regularly to Tokyo to spend time w/ his beloved father, the son suggests that he would like to give up his job and move in w/ his father in Tokyo. In the climactic scene, the father resolutely tells his son that he will never allow this, both of them must continue working in their careers (strange advice from a man who walked away from his initial career of teaching). So we have a story of deep filial devotion and a father who encourages the work ethic rather than family values and love - a turnaround from the expected (compare with the entirely different filial loyalties in Tokyo Story). Apparently, the Japanese authorities supported this film, as they encouraged devotion to work and to the state - especially at the time of filming, which obviously was in the early years of World War II. Strangely, the war is hardly mentioned in this movie; the son has been drafted and has passed his physical, so the scene of his marriage at the end is tinged w/ fear - not on his part, but on ours: Is he likely to be alive in 3 years? A note I read about this movie pointed out that the American occupying forces edited the only copy of the film, so there may well have been more about the Japanese war effort and military culture, though what exactly is unknown. The film foreshadows Ozu's work in some respects: the adoring and subservient wife; the reverence for the teacher (in this film and in the much later Autumn Afternoon adult (male) students take their elderly retired teachers out for a celebration, which involves much alcohol. (All of the ex-students in There Was a Father, who are about 30 years old, are married w/ children - and it seems that none is expecting to be drafted.) We see many shots from Ozu's famous "tatami point of view," looking up at the characters from near-ground level - but few of the long takes and the silences that the later Ozu used to heighten and highlight the subtleties of his characters' interactions and conversations. Sadly, the print - probably best or only available - on Criterion is in dire need of clearnup, but the jittery and scratched film and the horrendously scratchy soundtrack.

Two films considered for awards in documentary short subjects

Saw two short documentary films under Oscar consideration, first Stay Close, which made the long list but did not receive a nomination - a film about a young man from Brooklyn, Keeth Smart, who overcame astonishing hardships and heartbreaks on his way to participation in fencing at the 2006 Beijing Olympics. The story is sad yet inspiring, though not especially groundbreaking as a documentary short - relying far too heavily on archival footage and family "home movies" with lots of voice-over narration and some animation as well, making the movie feel too choppy; some footage from Smart's post-Olympic life would have been good, though. The other film, one of 5 Oscar nominees in this category, Walk Run Cha Cha Cha, depicts a community in Socal of refugees from Vietnam, in particular a couple who fled separately - he came first with his girlfriend to follow 6 years later; the people in the community have bonded over ballroom dancing, and in particular the central couple take intensive lessons and participate in amateur competitions - and they're really good. The nicest sequence in the film, I think, shows a large group of members of this community gathered over dinner and chatting about one another and about their love for popular music and dance - all in
English, which of course was the 2nd (at least) language for all of them. All told, it's a warm and inspiring film, although it probably does not have enough of an edge, a conflict, a POV strong enough to win the Academy Award.

Just Mercy has two fine performances and a strong message

Destin Daniel Cretton's Just Mercy (2019) doesn't break much new ground - it seems there have been many other films about attorneys taking on nearly hopeless death-row appeals cases (think: Dead Man Walking, Making a Murderer) , though this one may be one of the few to focus on the racism that leads to so many unjust convictions in the South - and, familiar or not, it's a powerful movie, based on an actual case (and based on the book by its title character, Bryan Stevenson - played really well by Michael B. Jordan - the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative) of bravery and fortitude. In short, Stevenson, just out of Harvard Law School, goes to Alabama to work, initially as a volunteer, on death-row cases; he focuses on that of Walter (Johnnie D) McMillan (another excellent performance, this one from Jamie Foxx), who'd been targeted (because of an affair w/ a white woman) and framed (co-erced testimony from another prisoner who got a lighter sentence in return for his fabrications). Should have been and open/shut appeals case, as the conviction was so spurious and the evidence so obviously tainted, but the judges and prosecutors in Alabama, at least in the late 80s/early 90s, were so frightened about public outcry - from the white community - god forbid that an (innocent) black man was freed from prison! - that they made the most cowardly and despicable decisions as McMillan's life drained away. There's not much ambiguity or nuance in this film, but you can't help but be caught up in the sweep of the narrative, and Jordan's Stevenson is an incredibly likable protagonist throughout. I for one didn't know anything about Stevenson's agency or his work - which till now anyway has been overshadowed by the Innocence Project and the Southern Poverty Law Center. It's amazing and frightening that these injustices persist today, and not just in the South. This film does a good job throwing light on the heroic work of some lawyers who have devoted their lives to justice.

Always great to see a Met live HD broadcast, but some aspects of Kentridge's Wozzeck seem confusing and amiss

Yesterday we saw the Met Opera current production of Berg's Wozzeck via live HD broadcast; we went in large part to see the William Kentridge production (sets, costumes, design, direction) - have been interested in WK since seeing a show of his about 10 years go in SF. It's always great to see these Met live HD broadcasts - the sound is good (never as good as being in the house of course but probably as good as or better than broadcast) and you have the "best seat in the house," in a way - they're in fact seats that no one in the house can have - real close-ups of the performers, which of course over the years has changed so much in opera performance: the artists have to be good-looking, appropriate to their roles, and expressive without seeming unnatural and "stagey." All held up on that point in this production. The Kentridge sets were amazing as well, true examples of Expressionism (may remind you of the contemporaneous - 1920 - film Cabinet of Dr Caligari) quite appropriate to the material - the story of a troubled young man who feels beset upon by all forces: picked on by his commanding officers, teased and bullied in public, shamed that his wife/girlfriend is a prostitute and gives him little or no access to their son, impoverished, probably alcoholic, best by fears and demons - all this made vivid through a stream of projected slides and sketches and images emanating directly, it seems, from Wozzeck's mind. It's by no means a "pleasant" opera, nor is it meant to be - you won't leave the theater whistling the tunes; it's about the breakdown of man and of a culture. All to the good, but I still have some reservations about this production. First of all, it's never made clear enough) exactly when these events take place: in German, sure, but before the World War? During? W seems at times to be in the military, but he never wears a uniform. Many of the characters, including the infant, wear gas masks (and projected map that appears at one point highlights sites of WWI battles esp where gas was used) - but, again, what's the point he's trying to make here? Just confusing - although we do get a sense that Wozzeck himself represents all of German culture and history, feeling bullied and marginalized, like his country, ready to unleash violence - again, like his country. But all that feels remote, at least from American audiences (this production premiered in Salzburg); why not a contemporary setting? And if it must stay in the early 20th century, why not some consistency in costume: W seed realistic and correct for his time and status - basically, ragged khaki - but others were costumed as if for, maybe, Abduction from the Seraglio: piercing white military dress uniforms, a big feather-bedecked hat, curled handlebar mustache, etc. In its overall effect, this production was emotionally cold and distant - yes, perhaps intentionally; it's in the Brecht tradition of making us aware at all times that we're watching a drama, never "losing us" in the emotions - but the characters do seem always to address the audience rather than one another so there's no emotional connection with them and the tragic, violent conclusion doesn't engage and scare us the way it could, or should.

Eastwood's Richard Jewell shows how naming a suspect can ruin a life - but how close is this movie to the facts?

Clint Eastwood's Richard Jewell has the characteristic Eastwood stance: A man standing tall in a world of debased morals and institutional corruption. This movie is based on a magazine article and a book about the eponymous Jewell, who was named, unjustly, as the key suspect in the 1996 bombing at the Olympic games in Atlanta. It's actually based loosely on the facts, so it's probably best to just take this movie as a drama rather than as a biopic - though to be honest if the entire story were a fabrication the movie wouldn't be all that interesting, so take it as you will. CE, however, does a really good job, especially at the set-up, as he establishes Jewell as a social misfit and law-enforcement wannabe (anyone who's spent time among law-enforcement people has come across this type) - played very well throughout by the unknown, to me, Paul Walker Hauser, and his inexperienced but indefatigable attorney, played by Sam Rockwell. For those who don't know, Jewell was a security guard at the Olympic stadium; he spotted a suspicious backpack and alerted police officers, who reluctantly cleared the crowd away from the backpack, which eventually exploded, killing 2 and injuring many. The FBI immediately ID's Jewell as a suspect entirely because of his weird personality and his eagerness to be recognized as part of law enforcement. What we see, then, is the FBI taking an upper-cut from Eastwood, as they are so enamored of "profiling" to lead to suspects - see the Season 2 of Mindhunter, which of course championed profiling as the key to solve the terrifying Atlanta mass-murder case; here we see the agency gone awry, not concerned with evidence but assuming they had the right guy because he fit the profile (John Hamm plays the FBI heavy). Whether this is close to the facts or not I can't say - but I can confidently say that CE's portrayal of newspaper culture is absurd: The stop-at-nothing sexy female reporter is ridiculous, right from the first scene when she berates her colleagues because they can't get enough stories on page one; there are many egotistic and eccentric reporters, but the culture is not one of territorial competition, and it's hard to believe the Atlanta Journal-Constitution would name a suspect based on one shaky leak from the FBI (why Hamm would leak this info is also hard to fathom). Nevertheless, it is true that once Jewell's name was out there the media wouldn't let him alone - the news frenzy is in fact believable - and it took years for him to clear his name (i.e., once another suspect came to light), even though none of the evidence in the case pointed to him. The movie overall is one of Job-like suffering rather than of character development or plot complexity, but within that scope there are some powerful scenes and a fair indictment of those who would go off the page and identify a suspect before bringing charges; in practice, the FBI is notably strict on this matter, but something when wrong in the Jewell case - though CE's surmise as to how the case against Jewell leaked to the press is not convincing.

A French musical with a powerful feminist message - too bad the music's not so great

Agnes Varda's 1977 film, One Sings, the Other Doesn't, is more conventional in narrative structure than her earlier works - a tale of two women and the development of their friendship over time as they lead, for the most part, entirely separate lives, communicating mostly by post card. The movie has the easy flow of a road movie, but relatively little drama, which is OK, it makes the film feel more real and credible: These two women, stage-name Pomme ("apple," the singer; can't remember her birth name) and Suzette, could b like anyone most of us know, or at least knew of back in the 1970s. The film is of course a powerful statement on feminism, rare in commercial films of the era, and it's also a movie musical, with many of the scenes punctuated by songs composed and sung by Pomme and her backup group, The Orchids, as they tour the French countryside giving performances in small town squares (the troubadours reminded a little of Wim Wenders's Wrong Turn and Bergman's Seventh Seal). If only the songs were better! Their heart is always in the right place, but none is memorable (for some reason French popular music has never been adopted by American listeners); the Orchids sound vaguely like the Indigo Girls, but the IGs are much, much better; wondering here is Varda was influenced by her the musicals of her husband, Jacques Demy, but with a political/feminist message? In any event, the story line, essentially, is that the two women meet when Pomme is teenage student, and Suzette a young mother; S's husband commits suicide and P tries to help her with some funds to pay for an abortion in Switzerland. Nothing works out, and the women part ways - but both end up working actively on women's reproductive rights. They cross paths some 5 or so years later and initiate their correspondence, and eventually some visits. Pomme marries an Iranian man, and things start off well, but when they move to Iran (shot, I think, in a Paris suburb!) she feels oppressed, of course, and returns to France to pursue her singing career. Suzette, meanwhile establishes a women's health clinic and raises her two children; over time, the daughter becomes a more leftist-feminist than Mom, which shows that each generation pushes the previous. The movie is unflinching about the rights of women: the need for access to good health care and to the right to abort a pregnancy; the need to rectify legal inequalities about property and inheritance (who can forget Marlon Brando's boasts about the "Napoleonic Code" in Streetcar?). All told, a touch story which, despite some longueurs, is worth staying with till the end - it's not as creative or groundbreaking as some earlier Varda films but it carries a message and it carries its weight.

Mendes's 1917 will astonish and engage any viewer

Sam Mendes's new WWI movie, 1917, comes out of nowhere - has he ever in his long career done a movie so daring and innovative? - and will astonish and engage any viewer, no matter how many war movies you've seen, or missed. Who knows exactly what life was like on the front during this most brutal of wars (although hundreds of British writers have written about their war experiences, memories, or re-creations), but this movie feels about as authentic as you can get, as we follow two soldiers ordered on a dangerous mission: leaving the tenuous protection of the trenches and passing through the no-man's land between the English and German lines (in northern France) to carry a vital message to another company of English troops: the troops are about to make a daring assault on the Germans, but new intelligence shows they are walking into a German trap and the message ordering a halt to the English attack will save thousands of lives. Much has been said and written about the unusual camerawork in creating this movie, which begins with a single tracking shot that follows the 2 soldiers for by my measure about 65 minutes (and there are only maybe 2 or 3 shots in the final hour of the film as well). Mendes and his team deserve all the praise they're getting for this work, as the device makes us feel as if we're with these soldiers in real time, a third set of eyes as it were. They encounter, as you can imagine, several frightening obstacles and hazards in the course of their journey, as well as some encounters with soldiers and civilians that lead to some surprises, which I will not divulge. I really don't know how it was possible to make this film, but the camera work wasn't just showmanship - it is integral to the plot and the milieu of this film, making us feel that we're in danger, that we're holding our breath from moment to moment.

The weird and provocative tale of infidelity: Varda's Le Bonheur

Agnes Varda's 1965 film, Le Bonheur, is one of the weirdest you'll ever and sure to provoke a lot of discussion; it's not weird in any technical way - although Varda does evince a few innovative camera and editing techniques - not is the narrative hard to follow, but it's hard to figure out where to place your sympathies and antipathies and hard to determine whether than narrative - a very straightforward presentation of a marital 3-some makes any sense on the literal level and, if so, what's the point? What's Varda trying to say or show to us? It's almost impossible to discuss this film w/out spoilers, so I'll start out with the simple and then note where to stop reading if you haven't seen the film. The movie starts out as an almost absurdly idyllic portrayal of family happiness (le bonheur), with a very good-looking family of 4, two delightful toddlers, the mom a dressmaker/seamstress, the dad a carpenter/furniture maker; at the start they're all enjoying a day in the countryside, filmed with lush color and a Mozart soundtrack (though admittedly focused on his chamber music for winds, which can be just a little tense and unsettling). We see that the husband works for and with his beloved uncle, the kids are well cared-for, everything's great - so what's gonna happen to upset this idyll? The husband stops at the post office on some business and the pretty young clerk makes eyes at him, and eventually he returns the gaze, the 2 flirt a little, they go for a walk and have lunch together, she invites him to her new apartment (allegedly on a "job," putting up some shelves), and they begin an affair. Rather than causing him stress and guilt, he seems even more happy and content with life w 2 women. How long he he sustain this charade? (I've heart that there's one scene in which the 2 women appear, in a market of something; I didn't catch that). Spoilers coming: So on another countryside idyll, the wife, remarks that husband seems so happy, and he tells her, somewhat obliquely, that he's having this affair. It's hard to believe he would confess to this w/ such freedom and innocence. But, hey, this is France! And the wife just embraces him and seems to accept this - and we think, what a skunk, how can he do this to her, and why is she so acquiescent? They have sex, fall asleep in each other's arms, and when he wakes - she's gone. He takes the kids and goes to look for her and it turns out that she drowned herself in the nearby stream (there's some ambiguity here; it might be that she fell into the water - though most would not agree w/ that). Everything changes: the score becomes more ominous, the color saturation dims, husband goes into mourning, we don't for a second see him feel or express any remorse - though nobody seems to know why she would take her life (nor do I: Why didn't she start off by giving him hell?). And pretty soon, he goes back to the woman w/ whom he had the affair and she enters their family life and in the final moments we see the couple and the 2 cute kids enjoying another country idyll. So, what's the point here? That he can get away w/ the infidelity because he's so handsome? That this new relationship is obviously doomed, as both partners have shown that they're destructive and selfish? Varda takes no sides in this, but the ending is one of the many puzzles that viewers will have to unravel on their own.

Despite some flaws, Burning Cane is a remarkale first work from a 19-year-old flimmaker

Apparently Phillip Youmans, the director, writer, and cinematographer of the recent Netflix movie, Burning Cane (2019) is only 19 years old. Pretty good! He's obviously precocious and well on his way to a career in film-making, although this movie is far from perfect. On the plus side, PY does a great job from the first sequence showing us the social and geographical milieu in which he's working: the flatlands of the Louisiana sugar-can fields and a small village of black families who work in and around these fields. The central characters are middle-aged woman who seriously overweight and out of shape, a heavy smoker (as is just about everyone in the film) who at the start is concerned about home remedies for the "mange" affecting her dog; he son, an alcoholic and sometimes violent man who's spending a lot time supposedly raising his son; the boy, maybe about 6-8 years old, devoted to his dad but suffering from his dad's rage and unreliability, and the local preacher, recently widowed, who has some kind of relationship with the grandmother. With this set-up we have some powerful and disturbing scenes of violence, drinking, and general degradation; we feel sorrow and pity for these people locked into their world of poverty and suffering, and the promise of peace and salvation that the church offers really is a sham, hardly believed in even by the penitent (and even by the preacher himself - a bit of a Bergman-like crisis of faith here). Where the movie misses a few steps in its possibly intentional ambiguity: Did the preacher kill his wife? Is he in some kind of amorous relationship with the grandmother? Are any of the maladies affecting those in the village cause by the smoke from the burning can in the fields? What is the young boy's mother hardly in the picture? And when exactly is this movie set? 1980? Ambiguity is one thing - but incomprehensibility is something else, and the failure to clarify some of these (and other) plot points makes the movie feel too raw, undeveloped. I could add a few other quibbles, bu it's best to take this movie as is for its strength: A look at life in a community on the verge of extinction and at families on the verge of implosion, a film that literally could not have been made by anyone without first-hand familiarity - through experience or family history - with this material and setting.

A brave and original low-budget feature, Agnes Varda's first film

Agnes Varda's first film, La Pointe Courte (1954), is an early - maybe the first - example of New Wave cinema as well as a French version of the social-realism films characteristic of Italian cinema in the 50s (though I saw an interview w/ Varda in which she said she'd never seen any of the social-realism films). It's a double-genre film whose thin plot involves an attractive young couple early in their marriage; the man, for reasons we never learn, is visiting his home town, a fishing port on the Mediterranean, and his wife comes down by train from Paris to join him. The 2 of them spend long stretches of the film walking around the town and its environs discussing their on-again, off-again relationship. Should they break up, or remain together and return to Paris. "Spoiler": They return to Paris. As they wander about the town, we see lots of footage of the men and women of LPC (actually, the town is Sete) at work and play. There is much discussion of government inspectors on hand to ensure that the fishing waters are safe and that the fishermen don't take fish from outside the designated fishing areas. We never learn much about the source or outcome of these conflicts, but there are some terrific scenes in and around the boatyards as well as in among the village families with their joys and squabbles (one tiny thread of plot involves a teenage daughter who is dating against the will of her parents). Like the Italian neo-realist films, these element of LPC seem like documentary footage, and in fact AV did use the people of the village, all nonprofessional actors obviously, in all but the 2 lead role. There are some weird and innovative effects with sound - a strange musical score played I think by clarinets, and - as I learned from a Varda interview - unsual post-synch in which she kept all of the volume of the ongoing discussion between the married pair at the same volume level, so for example as they walk away from the camera down a long jetty we continue to hear their discussion at the same volume level: As they get farther away, we seem to follow them vocally but not visually. It's not a great film by any measure, but a brave and original low-budget feature that anticipated the films of Truffault (though without the humor), Godard (though w/out the politics), and Resnais (though without the self-consciousness).

Season 3 of Mrs. Maisel picks up the slack and has some great scenes and routines

Season 3 of Amy Sherman-Palladino's The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (Prime, 2019) is a definite step up from Season 2, which seemed to drift away from what gives the series its strength and its life: Rachel Brosnahan's portrayal of the eponymous rising-star standup comedian. RB in all but 1 (of the 8) episodes gives a hilarious shtick that is well-integrated into the plot line. Man will watch and enjoy this series from he performances alone - and she's funny even when not delivering lines, just watching her walk through a crowded room is funny enough. That said, the series is by no means perfect, with every episode having its highlights and dead spots. For example, the Weisman, particularly Tony Shaloub's character, are always annoying and ridiculously over-the-top whiners who are strain credibility at every turn. On the other hand, MM's manager, Susie (Alex Borstein) is more nuanced and funnier in this season than in either of the first 2, as she begins to develop her own career, notably by managing the career of comic Jane Lynch in her weird attempt to play serious drama (Miss Julie, of all things). Most of all, some of the scenes in Season 3 are beautifully conceived, filmed, and edited; in the 10th episode alone there's a great opening sequence in which we see two parallel scenes of Mrs. M and her ex early in their marriage and 4 years later - same setting, same characters completely different mood. Another great sequence simply shows MM walking through the crowded garment-district amid racks and racks of women's wear being cut out, sewn, prepared for shipping - a simple scene, maybe not even necessary, but good as any documentary on the industry in the 50s. And of course the Harlem barbershop scene in the 10th episode, this one Suzie's, a great and lively scene and probably incredibly difficult to script and plan. All in all, it's a season with its ups and downs, but the series is on the right track heading toward Mrs M's inevitable breakout as a headliner (in this season she's an opening act for a Johnny Mathis lookalike) in Season 4.