Top 10 Viewings, April 2013

10.  Prince of Darkness (Carpenter, 1987)
  9.  Deja Vu (Scott, 2006)
  8.  Chloe in the Afternoon (Rohmer, 1972)
  7.  Anatomy of a Murder (Preminger, 1959)
  6.  Point Blank (Boorman, 1967)

  5.  Claire's Knee (Rohmer, 1971)
  4.  Secret Sunshine (Chang-dong, 2007)
  3.  Solaris (Tarkovsky, 1972)
  2.  Laura (Preminger, 1944)
  1.  Only Angels Have Wings (Hawks, 1939)  

Wendy and Lucy: On The Outside Looking In

I hope to occasionally use this space is to highlight frames that, for thematic and aesthetic reasons, feel particularly striking. Hopefully I can provide a sentence or two of context for the frame but avoid spoiling for film for the uninitiated. 

Kelly Reichardt's 2008 film, Wendy and Lucy, introduces its two title characters in the above tracking shot. Wendy (Michelle Williams) and her dog, Lucy, walk into the shot from just left of frame. Reichardt follows them as they walk and play with a stick together. Aside from its initial beauty, this shot stands out because of the happiness it portrays. If there is a common theme to the frames chosen for this post, it's "on the outside looking in." Wendy spends much of the film stalled, looking on as society chugs along, oblivious to her plight.

Wendy at a pay phone. Calling her sister and brother-in-law, "just to talk." During her call, we hear the exterior sounds of cars passing by.

Wendy after setting up camp for the night, watching a train passing by.

Wendy, late in the film, looking through a fence.

"You can't get an address without an address. You an't get a job without a job. It's all fixed."

Top 10

My, yet to be officially requested, submission* to the Sight & Sound Top 10 Films list. Six months late is right around the time the online discussion should be amping up, right?

1.   Raging Bull (Scorsese, 1980)
2.   2001: A Space Odyssey (Kubrick, 1968)
3.   8 1/2 (Fellini, 1963)
4.   McCabe & Mrs. Miller (Altman, 1971)
5.   The Three Colors Trilogy (Kieslowski, 1993 - 1994)
6.   Vertigo (Hitchcock, 1958)
7.   The Conformist (Bertolucci, 1970)
8.   Citizen Kane (Welles, 1941)
9.   Andrei Rublev (Tarkovsky, 1966)
10. M (Lang, 1931)

* = list reflects personal top 10 as of March 29, 2013, 2:11 PM.

Observations on Like Someone In Love

Abbas Kiarostami’s latest film, Like Someone In Love, has stuck in my mind in a way few recent films have. In an effort to nudge along my own processing of the film, but not spoil anything for those not fortunate enough to see it yet, I’ve compiled this list of moments that, for one reason or another, stand out.

• Many smarter and more articulate viewers have commented on the film’s opening scene, but I was struck by a moment near the end of that sequence. After a tense confrontation, Akiko’s pimp steps outside the bar to make a phone call. For the first time in the film, Kiarostami cuts to a shot outside the bar, looking in. We see Akiko from behind sitting at her table, her female friend at a table nearby. Kiarostami’s camera also captures the pimp's reflection in the window. Because he is standing, and the girls are sitting at tables inside, his reflection towers over both of them - a subtle illustration of his financial clout over the girls, as well as the sexual politics Kiarostami will be exploring throughout the film.
• The difference between expectations and reality. On multiple occasions, characters are told explicitly that reality is more complex than they anticipated. A cab driver is told, “in theory, yes,” Takashi’s apartment would be right here; and later, Akiko’s fiancé is told, “ideally, yes,” she would behave the way you want her to. These are only two specific examples, and I’m refraining from getting into significant plot points where expectations and even identities are further explored.
• Kiarostami loves to place his characters in moving cars (see also Taste of Cherry, Close-Up, Certified Copy, Ten, among others), and doesn’t hold back here. What struck me most about these car scenes, aside from the beauty of streetlights and blue skies reflected in the windshield, was the passage of time. On two occasions Akiko uses a car ride to catch up some much needed sleep. Once she does finally drift off, her drivers immediately notify her they’ve reached her destination. Kiarostami withholds any visual cues representing passage of time (wide, external shots); and the ride feels shorter than advertised. In modern Tokyo, obligations keep everyone busy, and sleep is hard to come by. I was even a little disoriented by the quick arrival.
• A shot of Takashi in a chair talking to Akiko, while her blurry reflection is captured in a blank television screen next to Takashi. Akiko is presenting blurred seduction, or as a friend eloquently referenced: she is seen through a glass darkly. Again, amorphous identities.

Please feel free to contribute to the list in the comments section!