tree of life

Like Tarkovsky, Terrence Malick is another film mystic and favourite director of mine. His work is deep, mysterious and, whereas Tarkovky's tends to be dour, joyful. He eschews making worldly entertainment in favour of meditating on life's big questions like "what is love?" and "what happens when we die?"  In his relatively small body of work as director (only six films in 42 years, of which Days of Heaven is still the best in my opinion) he has managed to give us a clear and unique worldview in which nature and grace are the dominant forces. You don't just watch a Malick film, you experience it; you have to enter with an open mind and check your habitual film viewing expectations at the door--never more so than with his latest, Tree of Life.

The "story" (I use quotation marks because the film is less of a narrative and more of an experience) is about a boy growing up in a straight-laced small town in the 1950's; his mother teaches him and his brothers to love and be joyful, while his father trains them to be manly and cruel (he is not portrayed as a heartless villain, but rather a product of his environment and the times, and is redeemed in the end). The younger brother dies in Vietnam, and each family member prays, in eloquent voice-over, to be reunited. Here's where the cosmic montages come in: from the big bang to the dinosaurs, to the glass-towered cities of today, they long for each other until the end of time when their prayers are finally answered.

Malick truly goes out on a limb here, both stylistically and thematically. In our jaded times, educated people often look down on religious faith as the domain of naive fundamentalists, while in this film it is restored to what it once was: humanity's most sublime pursuit. We saturated, savvy viewers may interpret cosmic montages as the language of advertising and the image of a man in a business suit wandering in the desert as a well-worn cliché. Such is the dilemma of releasing a modernist oeuvre in a postmodern world.

Were it not for his hermetic isolation, Malick would perhaps have been more wise to some of the pitfalls he ventured into. But would he have had the insight to capture so compellingly the perspective of a new-born child, to linger so lovingly on all the small lessons given to the baby by its parents? Would he have had the patience to film the secret life of boys in their backyards and alleys in such detailed and life-like complexity?  His monk-like approach to his work makes it an honest expression from the bottom of his soul and I for one would never encourage him to "get with the times". Kudos to the producers (Brad Pitt among them), who didn't either, for simply trusting his unique vision and standing behind him in getting this elusive film made.

exteriors

As you may have noticed lately, my posts have become a bit fewer and farther between. I have to admit, I've been doing less writing in general for the past few weeks. The thing is, summertime in Canada is short and sweet and we have to get out and enjoy it while we can.

It's not that I'm blocked--I have more ideas bubbling away than I can keep up with--I simply acknowledge that there is a time for everything, and, as a creative type, taking care of the body is just as important as taking care of the mind. In fact, as Mark Fenske, associate professor at the University of Guelph and co-author of The Winner's Brain: 8 Strategies Great Minds Use to Achieve Success writes here, physical activity and periods of mind-wandering are now known to propagate spontaneous thought (and often, creativity). I am a true believer in this, since I often get my best ideas while jogging or going on long walks in quiet, familiar surroundings. Furthermore, there are few things worse for your body than sitting at a desk for hours on end, as explained by this alarming article.

So, instead of feeling guilty about it, I have resolved to get out and get physical on nice days, and save the hammering at the keyboard for rainy ones. Who knows--perhaps it may even improve my work. Either way, it's an experiment I'm willing to try.

summer viewing

It's here!!! It's FINALLY here!!! (Summer, that is--we Canadians wait all year for this.) The air is filled with BBQ smoke and the scent of lilacs; the nights are warm and balmy and the days are long and bright. What better way to relax after an evening of bike riding, jogging, lounging in the park, etc. (or weather those rainy days at the lake) than watching a movie? I can't think of anything either. So here are a few favourites that will heighten your enjoyment of those moments:

La Dolce Vita (1960)

I first discovered this Fellini classic one summer in High School and it contributed to my decision to become a filmmaker. I didn't realize it then, but the Italian aristocrats' lives of leisure--long, aimless car rides, spontaneous swimming and sleepless nights of partying and ghost-hunting--strangely resembled my own episodic existence as an adolescent in summertime. In Marcello, a romantic observer rather than an active participant in the revelry, I recognized something of myself. But all of that aside, the sweetness and magic of this film (along with the ear-pleasing sound of Italian dialogue) make it the perfect waking dream to experience in summer.

The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010)

David Robert Mitchell apparently enjoys La Dolce Vita as much as I do, because his first indie feature owes a debt to it in terms of spirit and content. Don't get me wrong, The Myth of the American Sleepover is much more than an homage--it is a moving portrait of the end of summer, the end of adolescence, the comfort of the neighborhoods where we grow up, and the mystery of the wide world that awaits us. I happened to catch it at a festival last year and am thrilled to see it's getting released in July. I will be sure to remind you to go and see it when it comes out.

Superbad (2007)

Definitely one of the best mainstream comedies I've seen in recent years, this one tells a teenage story from a different angle, focusing on the painfully embarrassing, awkward side that many of us may choose to forget. Brilliantly written and performed, this is great fare for when you feel like a laugh. (Michael Cera's rendition of The Guess Who's These Eyes is a classic moment in cinema, if you ask me.)

Splendor in the Grass (1961)

Another summer film about teenagers? Yes! Summer is fleeting, and so is youth. This small-town melodrama (my favourite genre, as you know) is, sadly, not very well-known. In glorious Technicolour, it tells the story of two young lovers torn apart by their raging hormones. It launched Warren Beatty's career as a movie star (and possibly as a prolific womanizer as well); I can see why Nathalie Wood's character literally went crazy for him. The acting is a little dated at times, but Kazan's use of water to represent sexuality would have been cutting edge in its day. This movie is perfect for necking with your sweetheart on a steamy summer night. I only wish I could see it at a drive-in!

In the Heat of the Night (1967)

Mystery is another great summer genre. This classic by Norman Jewison was ground-breaking for its social relevance (the main character is an African-American detective investigating a murder in a small, racist town), but it is also a really entertaining, well-made film. The cops cruising by the window to ogle the exhibitionistic housewife and the fry cook dancing to Foul Owl on the Prowl in the deserted diner are especially priceless moments.

Rear Window (1954)

And finally...Hitchcock. I think all of his films make great summer viewing, but this one, a murder mystery set in the midst of an infernally muggy New York heat wave, especially so. Shackled by a broken leg, an adventuresome photographer is cooped up in his stifling apartment and hen-pecked by his girlfriend and housekeeper as a mystery unfolds across the courtyard from his window. Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly are delightful together, Thelma Ritter is a riot, and the voyeuristic device of shooting POVs through the protagonist's telephoto lens is cinematic perfection--pure pleasure, anytime of year.

stop the ride

On a rainy night last week, I did something I hardly ever do: I attended the opening night of a summer blockbuster, The Hangover Part II (in AVX). I could turn this into a rant about what is wrong with the movies today, but I actually more or less enjoyed the film; it's the experience of going to the theatre that makes me shake my head in dismay.

There have always been bad movies, but only in the last five to ten years has the actual experience of watching them been ruined (with a few exceptions, including the short-lived Smell-o-Vision). In commercial theatres these days, you submit to being deafened by digital sound, fattened by bushel-sized popcorn, and brainwashed by advertising--all before the show even starts! I would go so far as to say that the introduction of surround sound and curved screens started this downhill slide; a door-knock coming from the back of the theatre only distracts me and, unless seated directly in the middle, I find curved screens more annoying than immersive.

If you're like me, you go to the movies to forget where you are for two hours, not to be constantly reminded by obnoxious technology. Roger Ebert, a self-proclaimed "reactionary purist", has written about his opposition to 3D (which is already faltering in popularity among North American audiences) and other "enhancement" technologies such as D-Box motion seating. His argument is that theatres no longer sell movies, they sell a theme-park experience. This, along with bad projection, texting audience members, and the high ticket price, is causing many film-lovers I know who actually care about content to give up on the theatre entirely and get their fix online instead.

It may seem sad to squander all the resources, talent and technical expertise spent on bringing films to the big by viewing them on a computer monitor or mobile device; however, there could be an up-side to this progression. If film viewing becomes increasingly a solitary experience like reading a book, maybe the content will get more subtle and intimate as time goes on. I might be overly optimistic, but making films for the "tiny screen" (iPhones, tablets, etc.) will perhaps influence filmmakers to scale back the spectacle and focus on the story for a change.

Until then, thanks to sites such as MUBI, we cinephiles can access thousands of beloved classics and obscure masterworks online while we wait. We can only hope that, in the future, Art will win over Industry, the fads will pass, and one day we'll be able to return to the theatre and actually enjoy the experience.

small-town melodrama

As you've probably guessed from my Stegner House posts, I am a lover of small town mythology. Small towns are fertile ground for conflict; behind a façade of normalcy lurks a rot so fetid that only a huge blow-out can clear the air. (At least, in the movies.) Hollywood may be prone to exaggeration, but that is the name of the game with melodrama; perhaps that is why that particular genre is so well-suited to the small town setting.

Here are some conventions of the genre: everyone knows everyone, and their business too; the young ones are dying to get out and the old ones are waiting to die; there is an unshakable power structure in place, with the town’s richest family at the top of the pyramid; there is no sanctity of marriage—everyone cheats on everyone; not only is difference not tolerated, it is actively sought and destroyed; and most importantly, no one is who they pretend to be.

Here are a few of my favourite small-town melodramas:

The Chase (1966)

Directed by Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde) and starring Marlon Brando, Robert Redford and Jane Fonda, this film chronicles a day in the life of a rip-roaring Texas town, where local bad boy Charlie "Bubber" Reeves is headed after he breaks out of jail. The sheriff, played by Brando, tries to convince the convict's wife (who is engaged in a tryst with his best friend) to get him to surrender, but a vigilante mob is out for blood, and forces a fiery climax that ends well for no one. This gripping film is an under-appreciated classic and a quintessential small-town melodrama.

The Last Picture Show (1971)

Released at a time when psychedelia was in full swing, this quiet, black-and-white film feels like a reaction against the hippie radicals of New Hollywood. Operating in the classical mode of studio masters like Hawks and Ford, it’s less of a melodrama and more of an archetypal character piece, or as Sight and Sound’s James Bell describes it, “en elegy at once for a period in history, for a time in one’s life, for small-town America.” Whatever it is, it’s one of my all-time favourites.

The Killer Inside Me (2010)

The most recent incarnation of the genre that I've seen, this film is brutal and misogynistic, yet somehow still enjoyable. Based on the 1952 pulp fiction novel by Jim Thompson, it suffers from a too-straight adaptation; sexually-deviant sheriff Lou Ford’s story is heavily reliant on a web of relationships too sprawling to fit into a movie. Casey Affleck is deliciously creepy as the twisted anti-hero, and all conventions of the small-town melodrama are present in the extreme, yet it’s still missing something. Director Michael Winterbottom, being British, was perhaps ill-prepared for this deeply American yarn (David Lynch, with his effortless undercurrent of weirdness, could have made it an instant classic). Nevertheless, there are more than enough good performances, cool cars and million-dollar music cues to make it worth watching.

Blue Velvet (1986)

David Lynch is the undisputed champion. The opening sequence of this movie alone sums it all up: to the sound of Bobby Vinton’s golden voice, azure skies and ruby roses gradually give way to an extreme close-up of larvae writhing disgustingly under the surface of an emerald lawn--the small town melodrama in a nutshell! By the way, this was the last film ever to be shot in glorious, three-strip Technicolor; if someday you get the chance to see it on 35mm, drop what you are doing and go. There is nothing like it.

If you're into the genre, here are few others that I love: Splendor in the Grass (1961), Hud (1963), In the Heat of the Night (1967). Watch for mini-reviews in my upcoming "summer viewing" post (if summer ever decides to stick around, that is).

dark night of the soul

"Upon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart
That fire t'was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come"

- St. John of the Cross, from Dark Night of the Soul 

The weather couldn't be more beautiful today, but the blue sky and bright sun couldn't clash more with the way I'm feeling. I am having an artist's dark night of the soul, or what I like to call a "why bother?" day.

A "why bother?" day goes like this. You get up, you go about your routine, everything is fine. Then you get to thinking. About your life, your career. You ask yourself, Am I wasting my time? You get stuck on that question and it plays in your head like a broken record. It saps your productivity, spoils your mood. Everything you've done seems worthless, you suddenly feel lost. In a previous post I made a list to remind myself of why I make films, but when I'm really in the doldrums, no rational argument will help.

I once heard a celebrated author say he wishes he hadn't spent the last 40 years of his life writing. What a crushing realization to come to in the sunset of an illustrious career! Think of all the people out there clamoring for the very life he regrets. The idea chills me.

Like mystics, artists too can have crises of faith. I think it comes from spending too much time in our heads, blindly chasing abstract concepts. These moments are just part of being an artist--they are the price we pay for the privilege of making art. I've found that there's no other remedy but to wait them out, and go outside for some fresh air and physical activity. I suppose maybe an ice cream wouldn't hurt, either. (What would St. John have said to that?)

women to watch

When I was in film school, I would have had trouble naming 10 women directors off the top of my head, let alone 10 contemporary ones whose work interested me. As far as I can remember, we only studied Leni Riefenstahl and Maya Deren in my Film History classes (which is pathetic, now that I think back on it).

I was too in love with cinema and distracted with learning to pay attention to the gap. I never felt under-represented in my film school, since there were just as many of us girls as guys. As a young woman filmmaker, I was never intimidated by "gear" and could detect no discrimination whatsoever from funding agencies because of my sex.

Then, when I was touring with my medium-length documentary, I experienced my first taste of ignorant dismissal (it was unintentional, but that is perhaps the most dangerous kind): a female journalist kept passing the mic to my producer/husband instead of me. Yes, he contributed much to the film and was entirely familiar with the material, but I got more and more frustrated as she repeatedly passed over me, the creator, in favor of the man standing next to me, simply because he was a man.

It wasn't the biggest slight in the world, but it certainly made me mad, and it made me understand why we have to pay attention to these things. Ignorance is bliss, and as long as we ignore a problem, it will never go away.

Directing fiction films is a true boys' club. We face the same issues as the women in other male-dominated fields: people are constantly testing us to make us prove our worth, we often have to choose between having kids and having a career, we are told we're "good for a woman", when we just want to be "good". In fact, I would rather just be called a "filmmaker" than a "woman filmmaker" since the latter smacks of a second class. (How often do you hear "She's a genius!" by the way? ...Exactly.)

Countries including Sweden and Spain have instituted quotas in their state funding agencies to help bolster the ranks of female filmmakers. I'm not really in favor of this approach because I think that proposals should be judged by their merit alone, and not by the gender of their creator. The best way to support women filmmakers is to make a point of watching their work; it will only succeed as long as audiences (both male and female) pay to see it.

Here are some women to watch:

Kelly Reichardt

I absolutely loved Wendy and Lucy and can't wait to see Meek's Cutoff, coming soon.

Sophia Coppola

Lost in Translation is a favourite of mine, and I'm very much looking forward to Somewhere, her latest.

Lynne Ramsay

Ratcatcher is a brilliant and haunting work from this UK director.

Debra Granik

Winter's Bone is one I keep harping on. Just go and see it already.

Courtney Hunt

...Same with Frozen River.

Kathryn Bigelow

She was the first woman ever to win the Oscar for Best Director, as well as buck the stereotype of women not being able to direct commercial action movies. I confess I haven't seen The Hurt Locker yet, but it's definitely on my list.

Jane Campion

...you must already know. Still haven't seen The Piano? Shame on you!

Deepa Mehta

Water is my favourite of all her films, but Heaven on Earth is good too. She gets extra points, having received death threats in her native India for broaching the controversial topic of widow's rights.

Jennifer Lynch

Following in daddy David's footsteps must be tough, but Jen's creepy detective thriller Surveillance stands on its own. Unfortunately, it is chronically overlooked and underrated.

Sarah Polley

She gets more than enough media attention here in Canada (token woman, anyone?) but Away From Her is solid. I'm not going to hold it against her that she was famous before she started directing.

Granaz Moussavi

This up-and-comer has the soul of a great artist. At a festival, I saw her recite a poem she wrote at age 19 in three different languages (she translated on the spot). Her debut, My Tehran for Sale, knocks it out of the park.

Sophie Deraspe

I briefly mentioned her film Signes vitaux (Vital Signs) in my post about this year's Rendez-vous du cinéma québécois. It was such a powerful and visionary piece that I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

There! 12 women directors off the top of my head, and not a single romantic comedy. Things must be looking up.