Quick Takes (October, 2017)

Toni Erdmann

Cinematic odds and ends... in ascending order...

James Gray's The Lost City of Z is a misjudged failure. Gray seems at home in the jungle and captures moments of intrigue and beauty, but whenever his English hero returns to Europe the film flounders. Efforts to expose British classism and sexism are ham handed. Charlie Hunnam is a disaster as the lead and Sienna Miller is only slightly better as his missus. Only Robert Pattinson emerges unscathed with a nice turn as Hunnam's aide-de-camp. Costumes and cinematography are pretty, but the film fails to engage the mind.

Mike Flanagan's Gerald's Game is a slightly above average Stephen King adaptation. Carla Gugino and Bruce Greenwood star as a married couple whose getaway bondage weekend goes horribly awry. The scenario is on solid ground when picturing the power struggles of a marital union, but someone, King I assume, over eggs the pudding by providing a back story for Gugino's character revolving around incest. Henry Thomas is effective as her creepy Dad in a triumph of against type casting. Gugino and Greenwood are both underrated players who get to shine in this Netflix sponsored B, but Flanagan has yet to show he can be more than a routine horror director.

Somewhat more successful is Don Mancini's Cult of Chucky. Mancini goes for an artificial look for the mostly asylum set film, emphasizing primary colors which fit the graphic novel tone of the piece. Performances are solid and lead Fiona Dourif grounds the film. Not one I can recommend to the average viewer, but for horror fans this is satisfying fare. 

Kelly Fremon Craig's The Edge of Seventeen is a promising debut. The picture is a fairly rote coming of age story. but Craig and a talented cast milk the formula for all its worth. Hailee Steinfeld, Woody Harrelson, Kyra Sedgwick, Blake Jenner and Haley Lu Richardson all provide memorable moments. The costumes are remarkably selected for a contemporary picture.

Otto Preminger's The Cardinal, from 1963, is the type of pot boiling bestseller that is rarely translated into film these days and when it is, it usually becomes a miniseries. The lead, Tom Tryon, shows why he became a writer, but Preminger's mise-en-scene is eye popping.

Pedro Almodóvar's Julieta is his best since Talk to Her. One of Pedro's less arch and gaudy works, Julieta plays like a Hitchcock film, one of the characters even name checks Patricia Highsmith. A mother reflects, in flashback, on her estrangement from her daughter and Almodovar shows, once more, that though there are plenty of comely boys in his world, his heart belongs to Mama. Almodóvar's empathy for his heroine is amplified by the heroic performances of Adriana Ugarte and Emma Suarez as Julieta then and now. The beautiful shot of a stag running alongside a train is alone worth the price of admission, but Julieta has many wonders. 

Maren Ade's Toni Erdmann is a masterpiece, a tart look at sexism, parenting, globalization, sex roles and lots of other awkwardly painful stuff. Sandra Huller and Peter Simonischek, as her shaggy dog Dad, are nonpareil. Too bleak and off-putting for some, it tickled the darker region of my funny bone. Ade is not a very flashy director, but who needs flash when you have attuned players responding to sensitive direction and a smart script. I dread the American remake.

Jacques Rivette and Suzanne Schiffman's Out 1 is a towering and 12 hours long masterwork that will be fairly impenetrable to all but the hardiest cineastes. As to what this beautiful monstrosity is about, one could explore, endlessly, its focus on the theater or conspiracy theories, but it is chiefly about Paris, post-1968. Namely, a floundering counterculture trying to survive after its moment. Jean-Pierre Leaud personifies the French New Wave kids having a psychotic break while Éric Rohmer shows up in a cameo to embody the ancien régime. Hats off to Netflix for fleetingly airing this hard to find work. 

Undine

The Romantic Agony: Undine and victim

Christian Petzold's Undine is the most romantic film of the year and one of the more accomplished. Petzold has plopped the ancient myth of the water nymph into present day Berlin. His heroine is a lecturer on Berlin's urban development which dovetails nicely with the picture's utilization of the great German city as backdrop and supporting character. The inhabitants of Undine coexist with a rich tapestry of history, but are also busy creating their own fables, myths, and romantic legends. Petzold knows that the primeval myths of Germany stem from its forests, rivers, and lakes. Accordingly, the main encounters in Undine with the other worldly occur outside of Berlin.

We first meet Undine when she has just gotten the elbow from a beau. She rebounds instantly and miraculously upon meeting Christoph, a diver who spends much of the film repairing underwater turbines. Undine and Christoph have instant rapport and undying affection. The destruction of an aquarium upon their first meeting signals the tidal wave of sexual attraction that sweeps them away. The appearance of magical realism in Petzold's work took me some getting used to. The film even includes a giant catfish (a big fish) named Gunther. By the film's end, I was swept away.

Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski, who paired in Petzold's Transit, offer two of the most compelling performances of the year. Even when their character's actions are outlandish, there is no denying that they fully embody their motivations and quirks. Some may not be able to suspend their disbelief, but Undine conveys that love is a mystical connection that defies reason. 

Raw

Julia Ducournau's Raw is a striking first feature that transcends its genre. This cannibalism at a veterinarian school feature belongs to the body horror genre and, at times, the shadow of David Cronenberg's work, particularly Rabid and Crash, threatens to overwhelm Ducournau's trenchant vision. The performances of Garance Marillier and Ella Rumpf as ambivalent siblings helps lift this film above arty, slasher fare into something more disturbing. Ducournau's emphasis on the hazing rituals of the school, with its intimations of torture and degradation, presents us a rapacious system whose inhabitants respond in kind. Ducournau's heroine is named, like de Sade's, Justine. As in the work of the mad Marquis, the defilement of an innocent is an expression of evil, but also humanity. Because evil would not exist without humanity. Worth checking out for the brave and few. (10/30/17)