The Body as Soul: Bruno Dumont's Hadewijch

Where did she come from, Julie Sokolowski? She plays Céline vel Hadewijch, the movie's lead. I can see her soul through her eyes, her face is an emotion.

When her face is absent, I think of seeing it.

I can't think of her 'neutral' expression, she seems always in some thought or feeling,

drawing some thing out of herself for the moment,

or searching for a thing,

or hiding,

or absorbing;

her face can crush me, I become destroyed with it,

because Céline's emotions become mine,

and I want so badly for her to have the good ones only.
But, life as it is, one takes the good one can get.

When the movie begins Céline is studying to become a nun, and her psycho love for Christ worries her Mother Superior, who kicks Céline from the monastery. Still lost in a blindlove for Christ, but taken from that love's context and made to reenter the reality of Paris, Céline searches for a way to fuse with Christ.

It's a romance story where the girl is unable to be with her love. Her father is a Professional Christian (minister), and her parents think she's home waiting for exam results. The audience knows of the tension between Céline and her father not because the movie stresses it through repetition, but because the only time Céline says a critical thing about a person is when she talks about her father ("jerk"), to her friend Yassine (Yassine Salime), whom she meets in a Paris cafe. At a concert along a river,

Yassine makes a move on Céline, before he knows better.

He likes her as a friend, but doesn't understand her all the way.

His brother Nassir (Karl Sarafidis), a devout Muslim, gets her.

 

Nassir has ideas about where Céline can direct her love for Christ. Though they practice different religions, they relate on mutual grounds of psycho-passion for God.

The movie makes the case that belief is a shared characteristic which becomes categorized by the particulars of religion.

This is Bruno Dumont's fifth movie, from 2009. I hadn't seen a movie of his since his debut, 1997's The Life of Jesus, a good movie, but I was amazed by the growth Dumont has made. He's a moviemaker who continues the exploration of the human soul through the art of cinema, and his Hadewijch has the soul-puncturing efficacy of honest and brave movies.

And I'm not referring to Dumont's bravery in confronting controversially extreme emotions -- that controversy will fade, and what lasts of that particular brand of bravery -- I'm referring to his cinematic quest to expose the interior truth of Céline. It's brave of a moviemaker to care about his lead so much that I'm overwhelmed by a desire to talk about the lead, instead of the moviemaker, and I seem unable to separate the emotions of the lead from the emotions of the movie. Dumont has made himself as invisible as possible; all his cinematic techniques are intended to focus the emotions of Céline. His technique burrows inward.

And by witnessing a movie burrow into itself, I begin to burrow into myself. Hadewijch is a movie I've carried in my thoughts (there are a surprising number of emotions and moments to recall, though the narrative feels 'loose'), and in my thoughts the movie has continued to grow in meaning and emotion. 

Chilly Scenes of Winter

"Why would you choose someone who loves you too little over someone who loves you too much?"

CHILLY SCENES OF WINTER

a fizzling romance drama from 1979

directed by Joan Micklin Silver

 Suspect I would've preferred the 1976 novel Chilly Scenes of Winter by Ann Beattie to this 1979 movie directed by Joan Micklin Silver. This story of a man who becomes frantically and neurotically obsessed with a woman suffers from a kind of gloomy, sticky intensity; the result of neurotic excretions and a tendency to emphasize, tonally and thematically, the neuroses. Realworld neurotics orbit their fears around dramatically rich specifics that appeal to creative types as enhanceable details.

The match-up is corny, tedious, obvious. The method is common to movie narratives because movies tend to limit their tonal palettes, while novels tend to have more textures and perspectives. Not all movies do this and not all novels do that, but in my opinion, the first step toward making a boring movie is limiting your tonal palette. I believe a movie narrative should be like knocked over beer dripping from the edge of a table. I can think of at least a handful of neurotic, obsessive, male-centered romance movies from the 70s and 80s, and they're all damaged by a sweaty-palm nervousness.

So we're all on the same page, this is my personal definition of neurosis:

neurosis |n(y)oŏˈrōsis|

noun ( pl. -ses |-ˌsēz|)

mental incapacity to be mellow, for more than

like two seconds

Charles (John Heard) romances co-worker Laura (Mary Beth Hurt), his affection for her as immediate as his attraction. She's six weeks into a marriage separation

"If I make you feel terrific will you marry me?"

Charles swiftly angles for Laura to move in with him, which she does. He adores her. She's everything he wants. She's unsure. While living together, Charles begins to worry there's a problem with the relationship, and hounds Laura with needy insecure questions, and by worrying creates a problem.

The love Charles has isn't the same kind of love Laura seems to be looking for, or rather, Laura isn't sure what she's looking for and wants space to decide, but Charles crowds her because he's so sure.

The relationship lasted two months and occurred before the movie's narrative.

Laura returned to her husband.

The relationship is told through flashbacks, and the narrative takes place a year after the break up, when Charles begins to act on his longing for Laura.

He breaks a long radio silence, by calling Laura and asking to see her. Before the call, he promises himself not to beg.

She agrees to see him.

Seeing her makes him desperate to have her again.

The movie excels when it handles character emotions with tender earnestness. One can sense the flames of desire between Charles and Laura, and sense his fevered passion, and her earnest confusion. My fav thing about the narrative is how it renders a compassionate portrait of romantic despair.

The melodramatically suicidal mother of Charles is probs my fav character.

"I think one day she just decided to go nuts because it's easier that way. That way she can lie around in the bathtub, and say whatever she wants, and hit the scotch whenever she feels like it, and just not do anything. Sort of tempting, isn't it?"

I like the mother's excessive mania, which though it instigates drama, doesn't seem to seek or mean to create drama. Charles is an emotional tornado, his mother is the storm in the clouds.

"Susan. Susan always appears to be happy and normal. She must know something."

(this next section discusses the movie's ending)

According to Matthew 1: 6-11,

"The movie was first released under the title Head Over Heels to avoid the dreary connotations of 'chilly' and 'winter.' Director Joan Micklin Silver, with the studio's encouragement, also opted for an upbeat, optimistic ending that was faithful in spirit to the fadeout of Beattie's novel. But none of this helped the film find an audience and the reviewers who compared it unfavorably to Annie Hall (1977), Woody Allen's equally quirky comedy-romance, didn't help either. So Head Over Heels was shelved until UA's Classic division came along and decided to give it another chance in 1982."

in '82 the movie was rereleased with the Chilly Scenes of Winter title, and according to Matthew 2:2 

"The distributor also removed the original happy ending and substituted an alternate one which was more downbeat but true to the film's melancholy tone and wintry look."

The version I saw was the '82 version. I'd like to see the original.

The Ohioans (music)

Punching the Clown

Faced with several attractive possibilities for Netflix streaming, but overloaded on conflicting reasons for watching each one, I instead decided to watch a completely random movie I'd never heard of and knew nothing about. Typical to this situation, the Netflix image for the movie was a deciding factor:

The randomness of my choice, as opposed to the deliberateness of selecting one 'for my mood' or based on expectations, combined with the interesting poster (complete with laurels), and the positivity expressed by the swath of reviews I sampled, compelled me to watch Punching the Clown. Sometimes this method burns me and wastes my time, but I was lucky enough this time that it paid off.

Henry Phillips plays a fictional version of himself in a movie he co-wrote with director Gregori Viens. Henry is a comedian/musician large enough to have his name listed in Wikipedia, and small enough that the link doesn't lead to a page (red font = no link):

and that seems like a pretty good introduction to Henry. In the movie he's decided to give his industry career a chance to blossom by moving to LA and sleeping on his brother's couch. His brother, Matt (Matthew Walker), is an actor who, when not auditioning for Hot Pocket commercials, dresses as Batman for children's parties.

Not actually a photo of Matt, this is Henry in Matt's costume. Matt is a balding redhead with a goatee and jangly teeth (I assume that's how he likes to be described)

Matt: Carrie left me.

Henry: Aw shit man. Just like that huh?

Matt: Well we had a pretty big fight, and I'll spare you all the gory details, but I thought it would be a good idea to make up, so I sent her a singing telegram. Then she fucked the singing telegram guy.

The movie does a good job of rerouting typical situations into humorous variants. The narrative works by surprise, coincidence, misunderstanding, etc punchline betrayals of audience expectations. His lyrical humor functions this way as well, by employing creative wordplay; because of this, his songs work best the first time you hear them (I wonder if the movie would be like that too, cinematically it's unimpressive).

The movie's LA feels unprocessed and realistic (it's shot 'documentary style'). There's often a satirical view of LA milieu and its tendency for small-talk charged with business overtones. Other LA topics explored are personal voice vs marketing image, power vs perception of power, public appearances vs reality, etc social dimensions common to the entertainment industry.

A thing I liked about Punching the Clown is Henry doesn't possess an LA personality. Henry seems genuinely unfazed by the gloss and glamor of the city, uninterested in adapting to its business models. He hopes to remain himself and obtain the modest goal of financial success. In this way the movie is about the enduring artistic struggle to retain one's integrity and intentions in the business of art. This makes the movie the least-LA LA movie I've seen in a long, long time.

I don't think Henry places himself above LA, I think he's likable for his skill at deflating the ego of LA while cracking into his own persona. It's not at all a story about a rise to success, or even overlooked genius. Just some crummy and relatable semi-miserableness. He pokes fun at his plight by performing a blues song that's about being out of blues, because his life isn't so bad. The movie's dry humor compliments its vague dreariness, and it's consistently funny and interesting.

Little Fugitive ('53)

Funny that this movie, which I'd never heard of until yesterday, is in the National Film Registry, and famous for being the movie François Truffaut named as inspiration for The 400 Blows, saying "Our new wave would never have come into being if it hadn’t been for the young American Morris Engel, who showed us the way to independent film production with his fine movie Little Fugitive."

Little Fugitive, through non-professional child actors, a handheld 35mm camera, location shooting, and hundreds of clueless extras, captures the feeling of being a young boy from Brooklyn visiting Coney Island in 1953. The film is as light as the day of a child, eschewing adult world responsibilities, problems, neuroses, etc.

The narrative pivots on a case of mistaken homicide: the slightly-older boys execute a ketchup-blood-based prank that convinces young and clingy Joey he's shot and killed his slightly-older brother.

And then, true to both the movie's naturalistic style and its boyhood perspective, when Joey flees (aka goes on the lam) to Coney Island, he spends his time tossing baseballs at milk bottles, riding the carousel (felt like the whole carousel ride was included), collecting bottles for nickels he uses to ride ponies, and in various other ways behaves like a normal child.

 During this trip, two peripheral characters are introduced -- one a small boy who teaches Joey about collecting bottles, and the man who runs the pony business. I can't tell you a thing about these peripheral characters, because Joey doesn't take the time to learn about them, because he's a kid, and for likewise reasons they don't volunteer their life stories.

I never felt afraid for Joey, whether because of assumptions about a safer 50s America, because he's only gone for one day, or because he doesn't seem too worried himself. There's the feeling that he's decided to live and spend the rest of his life on Coney Island, a place of endless pleasures.

I liked this movie so much. It reminded me of a kid's fantasy movie crossed with a 50s Japanese melodrama crossed with a documentary. Still photographers by trade, the moviemakers search out delightful details from Joey's journey, and the naturalistic style gifts the film with a sense of life and breathe. This doesn't feel like a scripted recreation of this life, it feels like an encounter with the real thing.

Basically, the whole movie is off the rails, but in the meandering readworld way of childhood adventure.

She Done Him Wrong ('33)

"Listen, when women go wrong, men go right after them."

SHE DONE HIM WRONG

a pre-code saloon-set romantic comedy

directed by Lowell Sherman

 "You know I, I always did like a man in a uniform. And that one fits you grand. Why don't you come up sometime and see me. I'm home every evening."

Talk about She Done Him Wrong is talk about Lady Lou (Mae West) dominating the screen. Liking her is the same as liking the movie. It's not the mere fact that she's the main character, it's that her behavior and attitude captivate beyond the normal. She's to this movie what Tom Power (James Cagney) is to The Public Enemy. She's a sex gangster.

The movie could be played in science museums under the title MAE WEST: FORCE OF NATURE. She'd double-feature with tornados.

The setting is New York, Bowery, in the 1890s: Lou sings in a saloon owned by her benefactor Gus (Noah Beery), whose charming Russian partner Sergei (Gilbert Roland) shows romantic interest in Lou. An unscrupulous sexual and business rival of Gus's, Dan (David Landau), haunts the saloon, desperate to win Lou's affections.

The saloon's atmosphere envelops the movie, it's portrayed from: Lou's bedroom, the bar area, the back-alley, and the stage; most of the movie's action takes place in the building. It's a late-early entry for cinematographer Charles Lang, who would go on to shoot many more movies, including Ace in the Hole, One-Eyed Jacks, How the West Was Won, The Magnificent Seven, and Some Like it Hot. Here the camera feels wooden and flat. It's missing dynamism.

 The script, noted for Lou's crackling repartee and bawdy double entendres, is a censor-lightened version of West's play Diamond Lil. It may be no small coincidence that in 1934, the year after this movie's release, Hollywood instituted the production code. 

Director Lowell Sherman began his career as an actor. He directed thirteen features, sometimes directing himself. If he was of any use to West and Grant I'm not sure, but he was of no use to cinema (here).

Chick: "You'd sell your heart and lungs for a handful of diamonds, and I'm doing a stretch with the rats and the bugs so you can have them."

Ex-squeeze Chick (Owen Moore) does time for the robbery of diamonds meant for Lou. He's okay with the stretch if Lou's waiting for him, but has crazy suspicions she's being 'unfaithful.'

Sergei: "See, they make your eyes sparkle. And your teeth clean like pearls. Oh you are beautiful. I love you so. The men of my country go wild about women with yellow hair."

Lou: "I'm glad you told me, I want to keep straight on my geography."

Sergei: "I love you. You were made for love, and for love only should you care. And now surely you have enough diamonds."

Lou: "Oooh. Diamonds is my career."

Sergei: "I swear I shall make you happy. I shall die to make you happy."

Lou: "Aaii, but you wouldn't be much use to me dead."

She's the sun of this sexual galaxy. Often her costumes, by a young Edith Head, sparkle. Although dress and body fashions have shifted since the 30's, and social attitudes and behaviors have changed, Lou still literally sparkles. And it's not so much the diamonds and fancy hairstyles and dresses that are magnetic, but the self-confidence Lou radiates.

Captain Cummings: "Well they're wonderful. But they always seem so cold to me. They have no warmth, no soul. I'm sorry you think more of your diamonds than you do of your soul."

Lou: "Well, I'm sorry you think more of my soul than you do of my diamonds. (laugh) Maybe I ain't got no soul."

 Lou wants to fuck the virtuous Captain Cummings (Cary Grant). He's the one she can't have, so the one she wants most of all.

When Chick breaks out of jail he makes his way to Lou,

throws an abusive hissy fit

and pleads for her to run away with him.

And he's only one of her problems. Gus and his partners, to Lou's surprise, are involved in illegal activities, and a federal agent codename The Hawk is after them. Worse, Lou murders Sergei's lover in a fight over a knife.

Combing the hair of her murder victim

Her life on the brink of chaos, the walls closing in, it takes the man with the right kind of love to end Lou's troubles.

Born to Win ('71)

It was this shot in particular that made me sit up and pay attention to Born to Win. Something about the fact that I immediately realized J (George Segal) couldn't enter Lauren Bacall's Applause (on the marquee in background), and Lauren Bacall couldn't enter George Segal's Born to Win. Born to Win is in some ways dissimilar from typical movies, because its structure and rhythm and aesthetics attempt to use cinema to come near reality, rather than create a special and artificial movie reality. There was sometimes a slight tension between reality and art: throughout the movie clever details made moments interesting and memorable, like when J hides from a cop in a drying machine and the cop figures it out and turns the machine on,

when J is locked in a room by some drug thugs and attempts to get the girl across the street to call the cops through flashing his genitals by opening and closing the lady's nightgown he's incongruously wearing due to his situation,

when the elevator door keeps trying to close during a dramatic scene,

the colors of the closing credits,

and an earlier moment wherein Parm (Karen Black) kisses J's heroin tracks. I've always felt kissing heroin tracks is the most romantic thing possible.

Tell you the truth, I have all sorts of problems with J and Parm's relationship. I think it's a relationship that's filmpossible, which is a word I created right now that combines 'impossible' with 'film' to denote a thing that could only happen if some filmmaker or filmwriter made it happen. The situation wherein J and Parm meet: she approaches a car he's stealing and asks for a ride, he agrees to give her a ride, it's revealed it's her car, they go to her house, she's very flirty and immediately head-over-heels, they make love etc. I guess maybe things like that happened in '71, maybe there was a more relaxed attitude about relationships and hooking up, but it was difficult for me to care about a relationship that happened so randomly and sustained itself not only for no good reason but even sustained itself despite the fact that J has a couple character flaws. It's like, if you're going for realism, why do that.

When the romance worked it was by sheer perseverance, like on their car trip when they ask each other for kisses, and he says he feels like he's a teenager and he says he likes feeling like a teenager, and he orally stimulates her sexual organs while she drives and recites a nursery rhyme.

Their trip takes them to the beach, and if there was ever a perfect movie to have a scene on a beach with grey skies, it was this movie about the ex-hairdresser (did I forget to mention?) heroin junky who takes his free-spirited gf to the beach.

The movie was Ivan Passer's second directorial effort. He made his name in Czech in the mid-60s, writing on Loves of a Blonde and The Fireman's Ball for fellow Czech moviemaker Milos Forman. Of his own films, Cutter's Way seems most famous. His most recent was 2005's Nomad: The Warrior, which appears to be one of those giant historical epics.

The relationship I thought was well-developed was J's relationship with drugs, which seemed all-consuming, and also I liked his friendship with Little Davey (Tim Pelt). They have misadventures trying to score their next fix, and are kind of sweet to each other.

Even though charismatic J has "Born to Win" tattooed on his arm, he has all kinds of bad luck during the movie. It's hard to be a destitute heroin junkie, cops always after you (including Robert De Niro), trying to get paid, do the thing that'll bring the next fix, etc.