Man of Iron (Czlowiek z zelaza)

We are going to win. If not now, then next time.

After watching Man of Marble, and being graciously surprised by it, I took a look through the Book for other films that made it from my ancestral country of Poland. There were several, but for purposes of limitation, I focused on films that were strictly from Poland (rather than a joint country effort), and in Polish, for what will be my Poland-a-thon. Naturally, I couldn’t resist starting it off with the sequel to Man of Marble, which also made the list: Man of Iron. Just four short years after Man of Marble, Andrzej Wajda saw opportunity in the Solidarity labor movement of 1980, and decided to make a follow-up to his previous film, exploring similar ground, but in a new historical and contextual setting. Whatever he did, when he did it, it must’ve worked; Man of Iron ended up winning the Palme d’Or at Cannes that year, and while I nowadays don’t necessarily take that as a sign that the film is a surefire winner, with Man of Iron I feel I can relatively take that liberty.

Man of Marble dealt with a film student’s efforts to track down the life history of a legendary working man named Mateusz Birkut (played by Jerzy Radziwilowicz), and to discover why the system he worked so hard for turned on him. This time around, we follow a reporter who is brought on to an effort to discredit and destroy Birkut’s son, Maciej Tomczyk (also played by Radziwilowicz), who has started a strike in his shipyard, and thus seems to be following in his father’s footsteps. The film is structured almost exactly like Man of Marble; we follow the reporter around as he talks to various people, watches snippets of film, and gathers information on his subject; even with the differing reasons for why the protagonist is gathering said information, the film still goes about doing it in the same way. This meant that this film comes off pretty much identically to Man of Marble, and since I liked that film a great deal, this was a more than welcome second helping of everything that I found likable about the first. From the shot composition and cinematography, to the script and structure of the story, it was all a replica of Man of Marble, but without rehashing the same material that the first one covered. This is truly what a sequel should be; more of what worked, without being exactly the same.

I said in my Man of Marble review that I was amazed at how Wajda was able to make a film so critical of its own establishment not after, but during the period it criticizes. I wasn’t entirely correct; Marble criticizes the history of said establishment, and takes that criticism and stares it into the eyes of the present, admonishing them for what has transpired. Iron, however, is the real deal; this film was made in the narrowest of windows between the formation of the Solidarity movement, and its eventual suppression at the end of 1981, just enough time for a film like this to be made a released. And holy crap, does Wajda ever get away with something on this big a scale; I may have overused the word ‘scathing’ to describe similar settings and stories in the past, but never has that word been more appropriate than with Man of Iron, and the fact that Wajda does it all right smack dab in the middle of the Communist suppression movement that effectively erases anyone involved with making exactly such a product as this is unbelievable, and largely why I suspect it won the Palme d’Or. Not only is this an important film, but it still manages to be an entertaining one as well, and it does so pretty much along the same lines as its predecessor. It also does so in such a way that you don’t really need to have seen Man of Marble to get this one, though doing so will of course enhance your understanding of this film and its many mentions of the previous one. Wajda has a much older film on this list, which I will get to after my next one, but I can only hope he is as good in his earlier years as he is in these. This is the type of film that makes me proud of what filmmakers can accomplish, and it certainly deserves more than just a look on your part.

Arbitrary Rating: 8/10

Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no haka)

Why do fireflies have to die so soon?

I heart Studio Ghibli. Like, a lot. Now, normally, that’s because of Hayao Miyazaki, who is arguably their best asset; because of him, even seeing Studio Ghibli’s animation style in any film, Miyazaki or not, gets my heart all warmed up. So, naturally, I was pretty excited to get into Grave of the Fireflies, one of Ghibli’s non-Miyazaki works. I don’t really know what I was prepared for going into this one, but after it was over, one thing was for sure: I definitely wasn’t prepared enough. Umberto D, Europa ’51, Bicycle Thieves… you can have them if you want them, but for me, the goddamn saddest, most depressing film I have ever seen has now got to be Grave of the Fireflies. And I couldn’t have appreciated it more.

People looking at this one should know right off the bat; there’s very little to this one that can be called plot. Things do happen, but there’s no real line of narrative; it’s mostly just about how young Seita and younger sister Setsuko try to survive in a war-ravaged rural Japan after their mother dies. That’s about as much plot summary as you’ll be getting from me, both because there isn’t a whole lot more to it than that, and also because I don’t want to spoil this experience. As for the animation, it was stellar, but I was expecting that, even from the early years of Studio Ghibli. I can’t attest to the Japanese voice performances, as I saw the English dubbed version, but the voices in English were very subtle, and very fitting for the mood and the topic of the film.

This is one that words can really do no justice; you just have to see it for yourself. This is one of the most gut-wrenching, eye-watering, heart-stoppingly sad films I have ever personally witnessed, and though it got very close to unbearable as it was happening, after it was over I couldn’t help but have a feeling of catharsis. This was great, plain and simple, mostly for the very reasons that would seem to be turn-offs for the average moviegoer. Now, I, of course, will first and foremost recommend Spirited Away as probably the best ‘gateway’ film for someone to get into Japanese animated features, but this is definitely on the list, somewhere. Even though it was Studio Ghibli, I was uncertain as to why they needed another slot on the list, but I was thoroughly convinced by the end of this one. See this if you get the chance. You might be bawling your eyes out by the end of it, but it couldn’t be more rewarding, mostly for that very same reason.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

Yol

Forgive your rights on me.

Yol is a great example of a filmmaker’s determination and ambition to get a film made no matter what the cost or effort needed to do so. The director, Yilmaz Guney, was in Turkish prison when he wanted to make this film, first for harboring anarchists, and then once more for shooting a judge in a drunken row, so he was obviously in no position to make a film, much less ask for leniency given the type of film he wanted to make. Nevertheless, he wrote the script, and got detailed and exacting instructions out of the prison and into the hands of his field assistant (and, while he was in jail, his proxy director), Serif Goren, who made several Guney films according to these instructions, including Yol. If any of Guney’s films should make the list, it stands to reason it would be this one, as it won the Palme d’Or at Cannes in ’82, but as I’ve discovered in my exodus through Palme d’Or winners from the list, especially the more modern ones, that is no secure expectation that the film in question is entertaining, or even in some cases good.

Yol is a deconstruction of the current state of Turkey, after the coup d’etat of 1980, seen through the eyes of a handful of Turkish prisoners given a week’s leave from incarceration. In doing so, the film is very obviously structured to expose the various facets of this era of Turkish history, and the individual stories of each of the prisoners on leave is designed to bring out one aspect each for us to focus on, though it is not in a blocked-out order; we cut between the stories often, and this makes the film more engaging, for what it’s worth. I probably shouldn’t have seen this right after Loulou, as the technicals for the films are nearly identical; realistic cinematography and acting, through a mostly handheld camera. What makes Yol different from the apathetic approach of Loulou is two things: the musical score that Yol uses (to great effect, in my opinion; I was constantly enjoying the music even while I was enjoying the film), and the presence that the performances bring to the screen. The actors in Yol ooze gravitas and weight, and a lot of the shots in the film are just of them staring at something slightly off-camera, or even into the camera itself, which combined with the music track, makes for surprisingly entrancing viewing (as does the shots in the snowy landscape in the second half of the film). The stories themselves are interesting enough, but not anything to stare in wonder over; as long as you’re not going into this looking for a whiz-bang spectacle of a script, you should be all right, though I will say the film got a lot more impactful and entertaining in the last third or so of the film, where there’s more story resolution than political metaphor.

I get the feeling that the editors of the List are quite often mistaking “important” as “must-see”. In terms of importance, this film is quite high on the list, being essentially an expose on the post-coup-d’etat culture of Turkey, written by a current Turkish convict, and thus the portrayal of the country and how it works and operates is bound to be less than flattering. Thus, the film works much like Z and Man of Marble, and to that end, yes, it definitely has an important place in Turkish film history. But, despite its importance, there is very little about this one that makes it a “must see” experience, either for its greatness or for its uniqueness, because it doesn’t have either one. It’s not a bad film, especially for the type of film that it is trying to be; it pretty much succeeds at what it sets out to do. But going through this list, my eyes are always on the lookout for that special something that truly makes a film a can’t-miss experience, for whatever reason, and Yol didn’t have that. If there were another list made of The 1001 Most Important Films of All Time, they can count on my votes to put Yol on that list, but “must see”? That’s an entirely different thing altogether.

Arbitrary Rating: 7/10

Loulou

“She’s so in love. How do you do that?” “That’s how it goes.”

Man, whatever happened to Gerard Depardieu? He was a damn fine character actor and French sex symbol, then he went and gained some serious weight. I haven’t seen him in any of his recent films (though he is in Life of Pi, which as the cover of the next edition of the Book, I’ll be seeing sometime in the future), so I can’t attest to whether or not he’s still got the acting goods, but it’s a little surprising he went all Orson Welles on himself. Especially given that he used to make films like Loulou, an exploration of French ideals in the guise of a love affair between Depardieu’s roguish thief and Isabelle Huppert’s dissatisfied housewife. The Book seemed to have a bit to say about this one, about how it was a scintillating look into the sexual relationships between classes in France, and what-have-you, but for me, I’m not really seeing too deeply into it the way these professional critic types seem to be.

There’s really not too much to the plot, other than Huppert having an affair with Depardieu, pretty much in the face of her former husband, who comes into and out of the plot intermittently. There’s definitely some subtext between Huppert’s character intentionally foregoing the secure, upper-class lifestyle for the thieving, lower-class Loulou, but I didn’t really find too much more than that, and certainly not for a thesis essay or anything of the kind. The film comes across as a Dogme film before the Dogme had actually been laid out; handheld camera, natural lighting, realistic performances, whatever is the opposite of ‘the works’. Now, when a film goes this route, regardless of its intent in doing so, it had better be pretty darn entertaining and solidly written and performed in order to do the bare minimum of any film and hold the viewer’s interest. Loulou fails in this regard; the performances are bare (and well done for it) but nothing to get in a tiff over, the cinematography is just as naturalistic, and therefore just as unremarkable, and the script was nothing to be surprised about – it got the job done, and that was about it. Really, that’s what this film has to offer; it gets done what it wants to get done, and that’s that. The bare minimum.

I have a theory; when a film isn’t really as fully developed as it has the potential to be, critics like to fill in the empty spaces with presumptions and meanings behind things that most likely aren’t as there as they would like to think they are. In essence, this is a film that is so devoid of substance (i.e. the subtext and layers the Book’s quotation says about the film), that to justify its very existence, critics over-analyze it and come up with subtext and layers where there really shouldn’t be any. Loulou might be all that I’ve heard about it (which wasn’t much, and took some searching), but for me, I looked under the hood, and I saw very little under there. This is another one where pretty much all it has to offer can be found in other films, and in better form, so there’s really no reason to watch this, unless you’re specifically interested in a certain aspect of it. I wasn’t, and so I remained fairly detached as the film went on, and I suspect that will be the case with you as well.

Arbitrary Rating: 6/10

By the by, I’ve had computer troubles, which is why I haven’t posted in almost two weeks. All better now, though, so back to the quest for me.

Batman

Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?

Na na na na na na na na… Batman! The one, the original, the film that started it all (ignoring the campy Adam West version, of course), Tim Burton’s adaptation truly set the mold for practically every superhero film to follow; the genre is of course ever-evolving and changing, but it couldn’t have done so without a film starting the trend, setting the bar for each film to move further afterwards, and Tim Burton’s Batman is clearly the film that did it. Now, that doesn’t exactly mean this is a masterpiece; there’s a lot of material here that’s dated significantly since the film’s release, but that doesn’t mean there still can’t be some entertainment value to be had from this one.

Everything, from the cinematography to the special effects to, hell, even the acting (especially from Nicholson), is straight out of the textbook for how to make a summer blockbuster. This film essentially came from the era of when the textbook for how to make a successful film was just being rewritten, so it adheres to the formula pervasively. Being a Hollywood blockbuster of the 1980s, the film couldn’t be less on-the-nose if it tried, and it doesn’t try in the least, but given how much this has influenced nearly every superhero movie to follow in the next two decades, I doubt we would have it any other way. The one big quibble I had, with the story, was the decision to have the young Joker be the mugger that kills Bruce Wayne’s parents. I felt it was too much of a shoehorn to tie the entire film into a neat, tidy bow, when it really wasn’t that necessary, and the aspects of the plot that did involve it could just as easily been rearranged in different ways to serve an even better story. Some have also criticized the use of Prince songs for the soundtrack, but I didn’t pay it too much mind; to me, it fit right in with the whole late-80s mindset of the film’s entertainment value.

I’m really at a loss for how to rate this one. On the one hand, it was entertaining, and extremely successful at the type and style of movie it wanted to be. On the other hand, it was way too formulaic (the romantic subplot, for instance, that seems to be there solely because every successful wide-demographic film needs to have a romantic subplot), and in my opinion the film hasn’t aged all that well, given the state of superhero movies today; even Nolan’s trilogy. Still, there’s no denying that superhero flicks, and summer blockbusters both, have a lot to be thankful of Batman for, but I’m still not too convinced that warrants inclusion in the list automatically. But I guess I can live with it.

Arbitrary Rating: 8/10

The Story of Women (Une affaire de femmes)

Rotten is the fruit of your womb.

I’m really unsure of how to tackle this one. The Story of Women (though the French title, Une Affaire de Femmes, translates more accurately as ‘Women’s Business’) deals with one of the last women in French history to be sent to the guillotine, and in that alone it seems it would make for a compelling enough story for a film. Well, it seemed it would; the end product seems to have no qualms about laying that expectation by the side of the road and simply leaving it there. Once again, I must say, it’s not because this is a bad film; it was just so… uninteresting. Bland. It never got me involved whatsoever; it was almost neorealistic, that’s how little I seemed to care.

Now, right off the bat, I should mention the one thing that was, in fact, rather exemplary; Isabelle Huppert, the lead of the film, gives a very naturalistic and expressive performance, that of the true story of a housewife in Nazi-occupied France, who beleagueredly becomes an abortionist, performing 27 of them, something that was illegal during the wartime era of the country, and for which she would be found guilty and guillotined for. Huppert, however, was the only thing that was even remotely interesting during the almost two hour running time of this one; there was quite enough plot for the whole thing, but none of it seemed all that… enticing. There was no real reason to watch the film, and the entertainment value was extremely flat, if it was even there at all, and both of those combined in one film meant that I had an especially rough time getting through this one. As such, and because the film is so neorealistic, I’m left with very little to say about it; other than its main star, there really isn’t anything that juts out enough at you for you to take notice, which while being a good thing in certain ways, also means it is essentially a featureless wall for you to just stare at.

Throughout many of the films I’ve watched from the list, I’ve been initially stymied as to why the film is seen as such a classic and must-see, but by the end of the film it has been made readily apparent to me; that “x factor” has kicked in, and I am ultimately thankful for the experience. The Story of Women was exactly like that, but without the concluding payoff; I spent the whole time wondering why I was watching this film instead of something more interesting, or hell, even something better, and the film never gave me an actual reason otherwise. As solid as the film was, it’s actually rather sad to say how disappointed I felt at the whole thing, and to say I saw no real reason for this to be on the list is to hammer one more unnecessary nail in the coffin. Huppert was very good, but other than that, there’s really no good reason to sit through this one.

Arbitrary Rating: 6/10

The Big Chill

Neither time nor distance could break the bonds that we feel.

Lawrence Kasdan may be known to the more diehard Star Wars and Indiana Jones fans as the co-writer of Episodes V and VI, as well as the original Raiders film. Well, apparently he was so well regarded with his contributions in the film industry that they gave him a shot at the director’s chair as well, and he made something of it with Body Heat, which is also on the List and thus one I will get to soon enough. This one, The Big Chill, is his next film, and it falls in with Diner and other films of its like, being a grown-up reunion film, almost like an older version of American Graffiti mixed in with “inter-connected lives” films like Smoke. So, because it is like so many other films already on the list, it pretty much immediately garners some initial hesitation from me on the count of not wanting to sit through yet another of the same experiences, so I was keen to look for anything that would help this stand out from the rest of the pack. Needless to say, it doesn’t, but it’s still a decent film regardless.

The narrative device of the Big Chill is not a new one, and there are several films that this one evokes; a group of old school friends reunite and spend some catching-up time together after the funeral of one of their own. Like I said, it doesn’t exactly break new ground, so what does this one have to offer? Honestly, I’m not too sure what this one has that other films don’t already have, and it’s mainly just the unfortunate happenstance of having seen all those other films before having seen this one. Still, if you’re a fan of films like Diner, and are interested in, well, more of the same, this will be a nice second helping for you. Otherwise, if you’re still full from the first serving, more of this will likely leave you feeling bloated.

I really wish I had more to say about this one, but that’s how samey it is to so many other films, especially from the List, I’ve seen. There’s a few non sequiturs, like the film’s propensity to cut the scene right after delivering one of its cutting whammy lines, and the distinct oldies soundtrack (a highlight for me, as I’m a big oldies fan, despite how obliviously nostalgic it desperately tried to make the film), but other than the odd tassels at the end of the carpet that these are, it’s still just another rug. Now, again, if you’re a fan of rugs, you’ll find many things to appreciate about this one, but as for me, I’ve seen enough rugs just like this one.

Arbitrary Rating: 7/10

Poltergeist

Do you see them?

The cult horror classic Poltergeist, directed by Tobe Hooper, is generally agreed upon to largely be the brainchild of Steven Spielberg. While Hooper, a surprising choice given The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, is technically the director, and gets the official credit, most of the people on the set agree that Spielberg was pretty much the man in charge. Only thing was, he wasn’t supposed to be; there was a clause in Spielberg’s contract while he was shooting E.T. that said he couldn’t work as director on any other film until E.T. was finished. Well, seeing as he is credited as producer, writer, and editor of Poltergeist, he essentially found a way to work around that.

I’d seen Texas Chain Saw Massacre, but hadn’t seen this one until tonight, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Hooper this time around. I shouldn’t have been worried; here, Hooper shows a surprising amount of deftness in his handling (if it is indeed his handling). This isn’t the rough and gritty kill-fest that was Texas Chain Saw, this is a much more fine grain of sandpaper, used to polish the film to a mirror shine. Every element is perfectly professional and solid all the way through, though again, with Spielberg as producer, you know he wouldn’t accept anything less. The other standout, besides the production as a whole, is the special effects; even for 1982, they’re pretty extraordinary, and the film would’ve been hokey and campy had they been anything less than what they are.

This is pure popcorn entertainment, plain and simple, and as far as popcorn entertainment goes, this is pretty damn good. Hell, I feel pretty confident in saying this was great, and that’s a word that’s pretty scarce coming from me about a straight popcorn blockbuster. To quote any moviegoer over the age of 40, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, and this is a great example of an entertainment blockbuster that works on just about every level. The Book makes a point to mention that the plot may strain credibility a little, and that’s really the only knock against it I would give, but I was engrossed in the story the whole time, and never felt that credibility stretching personally, so if I can get past it, you should be able to just fine. I went into this thinking it was just another popular blockbuster to make the List, and came out incredibly pleased with what I’d just seen. If you haven’t seen this one yet, either, it’s a film that really is worth it in the end, and it doesn’t save itself entirely for the end like so many other films; it’s worth it the whole way through.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10

The Accidental Tourist

It’s not just how much you love someone. Maybe what matters is who you are when you’re with them.

I’ve decided to make a concerted effort to check off all the films not in my edition of the Book. To that end, I’ve decided to start with the earliest film to be removed from the list, 1988′s The Accidental Tourist. The list seems to have quite the liking for William Hurt, who stars in practically every third film from the 1980s, so that coupled with 1001 List regular director Lawrence Kasdan, apparently makes for an automatic inclusion in the inaugural list. That’s all I can see how this made the list in the first place, and really, I’m not too sure it should’ve even done that.

This film has very British sensibilities, but suited for an American audience. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say that it’s cautious, but it is very, very reserved. If you’re looking for something to really wow you, or even go as far as surprising you, this film certainly shouldn’t be on your list. As for what it offers, well, to be honest, I can’t really come up with anything; the performances are natural (though Geena Davis’ character gets somewhat annoyingly forward at times), the camerawork is standard, the script is perfectly believable; everything is exactly like it would be in real life. And therein lies the problem with this one; it is so much like real life that it becomes boring to watch. This is why films like In the Bedroom, while critically lauded, are such a chore to get through for me; unless there’s some specific subtext or metaphor underlining what is happening, then the film is just offering a look at someone’s life that, aside from the actual events happening to said person, is almost exactly the same as my life. And that’s not why I watch movies.

The Accidental Tourist is probably one of the best examples of why films should always distance themselves from being too like real life. There should always be a layer of fantasy or unrealism between the film itself, and the viewer’s life beyond the fourth wall. Otherwise, you get this film, which while being touching at times, and mildly confrontational at other times, is essentially just following the life of Hurt’s character, and offers no other benefits to watching the film. Watching this film is exactly the same experience as living your life just the same way as Hurt’s character has lived his, and for me, it just didn’t work; it’s been said more often than not that people go to movies for the escapism, that suspension of disbelief that allows them to live a life they couldn’t or wouldn’t live in real life. The Accidental Tourist doesn’t offer that, at all; all the touching and confrontational moments I mentioned are the same such moments everybody occasionally experiences in their own lives, so this film just ends up falling flat for me. I can only hope that you might get more out of it than I did; it’s still a fine film, but there’s really no reason to invest your time into it.

Arbitrary Rating: 6/10

When Harry Met Sally…

At that moment, I knew. I knew the way you know about a good melon.

If it weren’t apparent already, I’m not that much into rom-coms. Ignoring some standout exceptions, the genre as a whole is really… well, a genre as a whole. All the films are far too samey and rarely do anything to distinguish themselves from the rest of the pack, so it all just melds together into one glob of a movie genre. If there’s one man that could take a generic rom-com and really differentiate it so it stands on its own, it would probably be Rob Reiner. Thankfully, he was handed a Nora Ephron script, and knew what to do with it; I wasn’t looking forward to When Harry Met Sally just because it was a rom-com, but when I started it, it blossomed into something more: A platon-com. A platonic comedy. A comedy all about how a woman and a man can be friends without (or potentially with) seeing each other. I didn’t even know such a type of film existed, but it does, and When Harry Met Sally is undoubtedly the prime example.

I started the film, and before I knew it, I was practically drowning in witty, smartly written speech. It was so heavy, so thick with dialogue, that I couldn’t help but pay attention so closely through the whole thing, until, before I’d realized it, a half-hour had gone by, and it felt like nothing. It was after realizing that that I made another, tangential realization: I liked this film. Another half hour in, and I can say that I genuinely loved it. It was very well-made, without drawing unnecessary attention to itself; the hallmark of a Reiner film. It was damn near perfectly acted; every actor did exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment, and I never felt once that what they did was incorrect or unwarranted. And the script was flat-out amazing, the way it handled itself and handles its inter-personal connections between its characters; really, exceptionally well done. I guess what I’m saying is… this film is practically perfect in every regard, and I was genuinely entertained the entire ride through, which is more than I can say for just about every other rom-com out there. Oh, one more note: the little vignettes with the old couples talking about how they met was an excellent touch; it helped easily break up the story into its various segments, and provided a nice backdrop to explaining how Harry and Sally met, and the weird and sometimes rocky road that led to them ending up together.

If you haven’t seen this one, which I promise not to judge because I hadn’t seen it either until just now, make it a point to do so. I can point to pretty much every excuse that might pop into your head as to why you wouldn’t want to see this, point to When Harry Met Sally, and say “Well, this is the one exception”. Honestly, it really is that good, and it would be a landmark film for many rom-coms to follow in its wake, desperately trying to recapture that magic without really realizing the elements that, added together, made this film what it was: great direction, excellent acting, and one of the best rom-com scripts ever written. You need all of these to be the next When Harry Met Sally, because to have anything less would make you a wannabe, and that’s exactly what the rom-com genre has turned into: a wannabe. They all want to be When Harry Met Sally, so it stands to reason that you should see this one and see what all the hype’s about. If it can even make me tolerate a rom-com, let alone love it, you know it’s something extra special.

Arbitrary Rating: 10/10