The Pitfall

The Pitfall (1962) was Hiroshi Teshigahara's debut as a fiction film director. I've got to say that this is an incredibly ambitious film for a debut because it barely keeps itself together during the 90-minute running time. Initially the film seems like a story of two miners trying to make a living, but eventually it ends up becoming a cryptic mystery combined with a ghost story and social critique. There's also a (possibly unintentional) level of dark comedy that becomes dominant on a few instances. The narrative rushes between these different aspects at such a fast pace that I'm not sure what to make of this film even though there are obvious hints of brilliance scattered all over the film.

Even if you think the screenplay fails there's a lot to be enjoyed about the film's form. Takemitsu's sparse and experimental musical score sets the atmosphere all the way from the very first scene with its menacing tone. Segawa's striking black and white cinematography is guaranteed to pull anyone into the film's fascinating world.

The Pitfall was the first of three collaborations between the director Teshigahara, avant-garde novelist Abe, experimental composer Takemitsu and brilliant cinematographer Segawa (the first three collaborators would also make another film together afterwards). One of the other collaborations would be Woman of the Dunes (1964), one of my favorite films of all time. The Pitfall pales in comparison to this masterpiece because it is incapable of handling its own ambition in writing.

Score: 8 out of 10

Dracula

Tod Browning's Dracula (1931) is probably the most famous film adaptation of Bram Stoker's influential novel of the same name. It has affected our views on vampire mythology for a century and the film adaptation's power is still palpable. Even though it made a lot of silly vampire tropes into cliches, the film still manages to make the most out of them (such as the crucifix).

The storytelling moves the film forward at a calm but menacing pace - relying on the its atmosphere. Above all, Dracula is a visual feast. Mise-en-scene is simply stunning in this film. As a great example, I would like to mention Dracula's old castle that serves as the milieu for the beginning. Those glorious, beautiful shots of the wide open space in the filthy, rat-infested castle left me in awe (and made me very tense). The other locations and sets are marvellous as well and the costume design adds a nice, quirky touch to the film.

Bela Lugosi's performance dominates the film and he is able to carry the film's momentum graciously on his own. His intimidating yet intriguing body language and intricate line delivery make his performance truly masterful.

Dracula is a film that relies on a calm buildup and atmosphere instead of shocks. If I had a problem with the film, it would be with the occassionally weird editing, but luckily that wasn't too off-putting for me.

Score: 9 out of 10

Red Beard

Akira Kurosawa's Red Beard (1965) stumbles a bit for the first two hours: its introduction of the characters overstays its welcome and the narrative is a bit uneven. As we get to know Red Beard (a famous doctor who helps the poor), Yasumoto (a young doctor who is unwillingly forced to help Red Beard) and a wide range of side characters, there are moments of thematic brilliance (social injustice is only the most visible theme) even if the narrative is a bit messed up. Luckily the last hour (basically the part after the intermission) is very solid in all aspects because it gives the film a clear focus.

Kurosawa's form is great yet again with impeccable lighting, striking compositions and gripping editing. Reviewing the form of a Kurosawa film becomes quite meaningless because it is nearly flawless almost on every occasion. The only exception to the rule is The Idiot because it was butchered by the studio.

Even if Red Beard is a slightly flawed film, it's certainly worth watching because the last segment of the film is so masterful.

Score: 8 out of 10

Yi yi

Edward Yang's Yi yi (2000) is a film that moves me unlike any other: it can be said that the movie tells in a nutshell what it means to live in a contemporary society. We take a look at a Taiwanese for a short period of time that includes several major events (wedding, funeral, birth) and the time gaps between them. There are lots of important storylines which smoothly develop at the same time and somehow Yang keeps the entire situation perfectly clear to the viewer throughout the film. That's a great achievement on its own. The narrative is freakin' dense. For example, it can be seen in the character (and plot) development and the sheer number of all sorts of motifs.

Even though the film comments a lot on Taiwan's current situation, it is handled subtly. In addition, the film deals with a lot of universal problems so it can easily touch a viewer of any nationality. Yi yi manages to take on so many themes and subjects and explore them in profound ways. First of all, the generation gaps between the grandmother, the parents and the kids are explored thoroughly. Secondly, even though the film focuses on family dynamics, there is no serious problem between the family members themselves. However, even in a good family each member faces loneliness and alienation from time to time - and that's what the flick's multi-layered content focuses on.

NJ, the father of the family, is an honest and reliable guy - unlike his greedy business partners who he has to deal with. After he meets his ex-girlfriend his daily routine is thrown out of balance as the reunion makes him revisit painful memories and face nostalgia. Due to his work, he meets a wise Japanese man, Mr. Ota, who gives him the best possible advice in many ways. Ota is also a fascinating character and Issey Ogata's performance is stunning. When Yang began writing Yi yi, he wrote the character of NJ for Nien-Jen Wu, a famous Taiwanese screenwriter. His performance really captures the essence of the character and I find out more and more incredible layers in his performance after repeated views.

Min-Min, the mother of the family, faces an existential crisis after her mother falls into coma. Her character development happens mostly off-screen and relies only on a few bits of dialogue. Through a spiritual trip she realises something essential about life. Elaine Jin makes the most of her relatively short screentime and turns in a breathtaking performance - especially her rant about her life's meaning is praiseworthy.

Ting-Ting, the older child of the family, deals with guilt and first love after she befriends the new neighbour. Arguably, she experiences most emotional growth in the film and that is why she is the most fascinating character for me. Kelly Lee's restrained and natural performance is probably the greatest among the brilliant performances of the film. There is an elegance in her performance that is quite rare for someone of her age.

Yang-Yang, the younger child of the family, is hungry for knowledge as he takes photographs, faces problems at school and becomes distracted by innocent attraction. Along with Mr. Ota, Yang-Yang delivers the most philosophical and thought-provoking ideas in the film - such as the idea of us seeing only "half of the truth" because we can see what is in front of us, not what is behind us. After a long bout of minimalism, his speech at the end of the film is the best bit of sentimentalism (probably) ever used in film. Jonathan Chang's performance is one of a kind: Yang tried to make him feel as natural and free as possible in front of the camera and it shows. There is no pretension in his facial expression or posture. It is a surprisingly honest performance for a child actor.

There is also the story of Min-Min's brother, Ah-Di, who gets married at the beginning of the film and he has to deal with financial problems throughout the film. His storyline is weak in comparison to the other storylines, but it isn't bad by any means. In fact, it is brilliant, but its connection to the others isn't strong and it is unfair to compare any story to those three brilliant storylines that dominate the film.

When all of these storylines and characters come together in a single 3-hour film, the viewer is given an unforgettable experience. The content alone is so beautiful and profound that it leaves me in awe for days after I've seen the film. No matter how many times I watch the ending scene (or lots of other scenes, as well) I shed a tear - not because it is necessarily sad, but it is so beautiful and tangible.

Yang's cinematography is calm and distant. The camera moves in the least possible ways for many reasons: it gives us time to enjoy the gorgeous compositions and it gives the film a life-like pace. In addition, the film uses a lot of long takes. Some of the action happens off-screen because (for example) the view is blocked by a wall. Yang employs this technique very effectively. He often uses reflections in the compositions to create fascinating imagery. Often Taipei is reflected on the glass for many thought-provoking purposes.

The camera is often far away from the central characters so that we can observe them more objectively. Or as the director himself said: (not a direct quote, more like a sum of his thoughts on the commentary track) If the camera was close to the characters, why would they reveal their innermost secrets to a stranger (referring to the camera) who is near them. But when Yang uses close-ups of the characters, they are very, very hard-hitting.

The film is not only visually stunning and intriguing - it enthralled in auditive ways as well. The use of sound is very central: there are even important audio motifs in the film (e.g. the sound of lightning in Yang-Yang's storyline). Sometimes the sounds from different storylines overlap to another in order to create interesting parallels. The soundtrack consists of known classical compositions and Kaili Peng's (the director's wife's) instrumental music. All the music in the film fits in perfectly and creates occasionally a haunting atmosphere for the film. For example, the closing scene ends with one of Peng's compositions (that isn't sadly released ANYWHERE) which plays all the way through the credits. This composition refuses to leave my mind at peace because it's so moving in its subtlety and simplicity.

Even though this review is quite long, I feel the task of covering everything important about the film impossible. There is so much to be found on repeated views and there is so much I still have on my mind, which I can not express in this review. The film provides me with something that other films don't succeed in (at least on Yi yi's level): a perfect and thorough catharsis.

Score: 10 out of 10

The Seventh Seal

Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal (1957) is about a knight who wonders about life, death and the existence of God after he starts a chess match with the Death in order to save himself. Christianity is under attack when the man faces a crisis of faith, but it sadly leaves me disappointed. Maybe it's because I'm a theist, but in my opinion the film never digs deep enough into its subject. It remains on the surface level: a mere complaint about God not being there for us. However, that on its own is sufficiently explored.

Bergman's expressionistic take on the story is a bit peculiar. Sometimes the over-the-top symbolism is too comic for its own sake: Bergman can't handle the so-called "comedy" in this film. Luckily that is not the case for the entire film. There are moments when the expressionism works very well and left me a few images to remember.

The cinematography of the film is phenomenal, but otherwise the form is not as good as everyone seems to think. The editing works well, but it's not even great in its simplicity. The music gives a weird vibe for the film, but there are moments when it utterly fails because it's too dramatic.

Even though I'm a fan of the director and even though this was the second time I watched the film, I can't appreciate it. There are a few moments of brilliance, but they are hindered by the flaws.

Score: 7 out of 10

Departures

Yôjirô Takita's Departures (2008) won the Oscar award for the Best Foreign Language Film. In the film, a cellist is forced to become an "encoffinist", the person who prepares the dead for funerals. The film is a lot of things at the same time: a social observation on social stigmas related to occupation, a story of finding solace and dignity in the most unlikely place, and it is also about dealing with death and troubled relationships.

The film succeeds in being all of these things at the same time - although I did have one problem with the screenplay: the film was emotionally uneven at first because the comedy and drama didn't really mix together well. However, the film's last 30 minutes don't have this problem at all.

Formally the film is solid - even a bit fascinating in a few scenes. It works really well all the way from music (loved the cello) to editing (the montage after the first hour was brilliant). The form isn't spectacular enough to make the film a masterpiece - which is a shame because it has all the ingredients for that.

Departures deserves its Oscar because it is a very good film - sadly it doesn't manage to go beyond that. 

Score: 8 out of 10

Elina: As If I Didn't Exist

The Finnish director Klaus Härö has recently reached international fame with his film Letters to Father Jaakob (2009). I decided to watch his entire filmography and started from the debut, Elina: As If I Didn't Exist (2002) which I had seen once as a kid. It is the story of a Finnish girl who has problems with her strict teacher (played by Bibi Andersson, by the way) and coming to terms with the death of her father. The film shoots questions concering old-fashioned education, bilingual problems and coming of age. Klaus Härö makes most of the short running time (80 minutes). He creates truly wonderful characters and sucks the viewer effortlessly into his world.

Härö's storytelling and editing rely on basic tricks, but he uses them in the best possible way. While these aspects are rather ordinary, his cinematography is breathtaking by any standards. I was flabbergasted at the colors and compositions in pretty much every scene. The way the swamps and the school are portrayed is impeccable.

Elina: As If I Didn't Exist is one heck of a debut for any filmmaker. All of its aspects work well and Härö is able to make the film a truly emotional experience without falling for over-the-top sentimentality.

Score: 9 out of 10

REWATCH: Last Life in the Universe

This is the first time I have watched a film that I have already reviewed on this blog again. I already reviewed Pen-ek Ratanaruang's Last Life in the Universe (2003) back in November so you better read it first in case you haven't already.

Ratanaruang's surrealistic and melancholic meditation on death, loss and isolation still packs a punch for me - although this time the film was not as surprising. The occasional black humor is brilliant and reminded me a bit of the korean director Chan-wook Park. However, the humor doesn't have a presense as strong as it has in Park's films. Doyle's cinematography is still fascinating and the musical score (and sound design in general) is haunting.

The thing I love the most about this film is the main character Kenji - and Asano's portrayal of him. Even though the character is an exaggerated stereotype, it never becomes a problem for me.  He is well developed and Asano's performance is simply stunning. I can not emphasize his importance to the film's success enough in this review.

Score: 10 out of 10

Maborosi

(the snapshot is not mine, it's from dvdbeaver.com)

Hirokazu Koreeda's Maborosi (1995) is a tale of grief. Yumiko (Makiko Esumi) is happily married to Ikuo (the always-fabulous Tadanobu Asano) and they have a baby. Then Ikuo abruptly commits suicide without any apparent reason. Yumiko's life falls apart as she faces terrible grief when she comes to terms with what has happened, but eventually she marries a single father (Takashi Naitô) who lives on a remote island. The heavy burden caused by her grief hasn't left her alone yet and she wanders in a labyrinth of sorrow throughout the film.

Koreeda's masterful minimalism is already evident in his first major feature. His compositions are precise and captivating; the cinematography is restrained yet beautiful; the film's deliberately calm pacing makes the entire film feel meditative - and that's exactly what the screenplay requires.

In overall, the film is an aching and magnificent study of grief and resurrection. At first I thought it had not affected me as much as I would have liked, but after a while it had lingered long enough in my mind to guarantee itself a place among my favorites.

Score: 10 out of 10

A Time to Live and a Time to Die

While A Summer at Grandpa's was inspired by the screenwriter Chu Tien-wen's childhood, A Time to Live and a Time to Die (1985) was influenced by the director Hou Hsiao-hsien's own childhood memories. It is by far his most personal film - and it is also his first movie that uses ellipses in a ridiculously confident way. While ellipses were used already in his earlier films, this film takes their use to a whole new level. 

A Time to Live and a Time to Die concentrates on a Chinese family which moves to Taiwan in 1948. As time goes by, the gap between two generations in the family becomes visible because the older family members are confused due to being cut off from their cultural heritage. As the narrator says at the beginning of the film, the film consists mostly of the director's impressions of his father and memories of growing up in Taiwan. We witness the family's story through the eyes of Ah-Hsiao (Hou's "onscreen alter ego") during a period of several years.

The film's impact slowly burns into your mind and leaves you feeling empty - in a positive way. At first it seems as if it has no way to affect you, but especially after you're done watching the film, it goes deeper and deeper into your mind. The film lingers there for a long while. It is surprising how universal the film's content seems to be even though it's very personal and autobiographical.

Hou inserts small political, cultural and technological details that subtly create the film a world of its own. These details emphasize the distance that grows between the generations. The film isnt completely minimalistic though - for example, its statement on the social position of women is quite vocally expressed through dialogue. It is almost scary to see just how confident Hou is in handling the content of the film.

It is apparent that Hou's skill - to use the same compositions on more than one occasion to have an effect on the viewer - is becoming finer by each film. In this film he makes a lot out of it even though he doesnt use it excessively. His framing is even more precise and admirable this time around. His use of long takes also seems to emerge in this film.

A Time to Live and a Time to Die is a difficult film to watch due to its elliptical and subtle nature. I bet it's a film that only gets better by rewatches and its impact isnt at its best during the first view.

Score: 9 out of 10

Ikiru

Akira Kurosawa's Ikiru (1952) is the story of an old man (Takashi Shimura) who finds out he has only 6 months to live. The film is the portrayal of his struggle after learning about this horrible truth. At the same time, Kurosawa delivers sharp social criticism by taking aim at the horrible bureaucracy that takes place at the office the man works at.

Ikiru is a heartbreaking film which has a few glorious moments of comedy, but in the end it is a tragedy. The film's content works on a personal and a social level: while the old man has to accept his incoming death he goes through a complicated phase of development before the film finally moves onto the strong social criticism. The content's admirable complexity left me in awe. Kurosawa's form doesn't fail either. The powerful camera movement and delicious photography are brilliant as usual.

Score: 10 out of 10

What Time Is It There?

Tsai Ming-liang's What Time Is It There? (2001) is a film about alienation and loss. As usually with Tsai's films, Lee Kang-sheng plays a character named after the actor himself. This time his father dies, and the film shows us how he and his mother react to the loss. That's only half of the story. He also meets a woman (Chen Shiang-chyi, plays a character named after herself as well) while selling watches on an overpass. Unfortunately, the woman leaves for Paris the next day.

The film focuses on the concepts referred to in the title: "there" and "time". Both of the main characters feel dislocated from time and space. This phenomenon is examined in a poetic way. Lee spends a lot of time alone in his bed - he even resorts to peeing into plastic bags and bottles. He becomes fixated with resetting every clock he sees to the time that is in Paris - he believes he can maintains his relationship with Chen that way. Chen, on the other hand, only finds peculiar guilt and loneliness in Paris.

And because the film is directed by Tsai, there are excellent moments of slapstick in the film. He even applies some of this subtle humor (it is funny to say that slapstick is subtle) to the central themes and motifs, but luckily that doesnt ruin the impact of its content.

The elegance of Tsai's form is stunning. He proves he has his film tightly under his control. The best example of his self-confidence and talent is the very first scene that is constructed of one clever static shot. I believe he used more cuts in this film because the story is split into two storylines, and thus requires more editing. His compositions are not only beautiful, but they also heavily reflect the dislocation the main characters feel.

What Time Is It There? is a stunning film, and I realised my review doesnt entirely express my admiration of it. It might actually be my favourite from Tsai's filmography.

Score: 10 out of 10

Last Life in the Universe

Pen-Ek Ratanaruang's Last Life in the Universe (2003) is the complete opposite of his earlier film, Monrak Transistor (2001): it is melancholic, calm and it is more concerned about its concepts than a tight and complicated plot. The film is an accurate character study of the two main characters. One is a completely introverted Japanese man (Tadanobu Asano) who attempts suicide on various occasions, but he claims he isnt doing it out of hopelessness. Due to an unfortunate accident, he meets an extroverted Thai girl (Sinitta Boonyasak).

The character studies are simply fascinating in Last Life in the Universe. Both of the main characters are given equal focus and it really gives a wide perspective for the film. We enter their dreams and thoughts in an intriguing way. At its core, the film is about life, death, alienation and reconciliation. Death is always present in the film. The eruptions of violence are somehow so melancholic and even bittersweet. It is interesting even on the surface as it works as a romantic comedy, but I hardly even thought of it as one before writing this review.

Christopher Doyle worked as the Director of Photography for this film, and that can easily be noticed in the cinematography. Ratanaruang's form was already excellent in Monrak Transistor without Doyle, but now it reaches new, unbelieveable levels of quality. The compositions and camera movement are so essential that many reviewers easily call it the third main character of the film.

The film relies heavily on the two main actors who are astonishing. Tadanobu Asano's restrained performance as the introvert is so pitch-perfect that I would laud it as one of the best performances of the whole decade. It is the complete opposite of his performance in Ichi the Killer, and it is refreshing to see him in a role like this. Sinitta Boonyasak's performance is not to be forgotten: it is as glorious as Asano's. Their body language is essential for the interpretation of the film and they succeed in so many ways that it is hard to describe it sufficiently. 

The same thing goes for the whole film: I believe my review can hardly describe, evaluate and show respect to the film as well as possible. It is so carefully nuanced and delicately executed. It left me with this strong feeling of weightlessness and emptiness - in a good way.

Score: 10 out of 10