I saw a few films this weekend. I know, what's new there eh? This time however, they formed a
nice little marathon together. The films; Persona, Vertigo, Mulholland
Drive. The theme; women in trouble.
I hadn't planned to watch these all together. I had tickets to the BFI screening of Mulholland
Drive booked for the Sunday, which had been planned yonks ago. Friday daytime, I had been
listening to a Max Von Sydow interview on Radio 4, in promotion for the very oddly Best Picture
nominated Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Of course, the conversation turned quickly to
more interesting matters (read Bergman), which reminded me that I still had a DVD of
Persona on my bookshelf which I had received for my birthday two years ago (I had meant to
watch it sooner, honest guv). Seeing as it is my birthday in less than a week, I thought that,
after getting home from work, I'd get a couple of brieres in and knuckle through it. Then, after
that, I wasn't quite sleepy enough to go to bed, so I cracked open the Hitchcock boxset I had
received for my birthday three years ago (I had meant to watch more of it sooner, honest guv) and
stuck Vertigo in. What wonderful luck it turned out to be! So much influence, theme and
content is shared by these three, that I would definitely recommend watching them in close
proximity.
All three of these films are heralded as masterpieces and regularly chart highly in those
wonderful lists ranking subjective greatness in cinema, so let's get somethings out of the way
quickly. There is only one masterpiece in this group. Out of the two remaining, there is only
one great film that fails admirably by its own ambitions. The final film unfortunately is not up
to the standards set by the other two, even though it contains some of the greatest visuals and
music ever set to celluloid. (Oh the suspense!)
The Masterpiece - Mulholland Drive
Bette has come to Hollywood. Bette wants to be an actress. Bette meets Rita. Rita can't remember who she is, but she knows that she has been involved in an accident. Bette and Rita team up to work out this puzzle and find themselves on the periphery of the seedier side of showbiz. Diane and Camilla are actresses. Camilla is far more successful than Diane. Camilla and Diane are having a love affair until Camilla breaks it off and becomes engaged to her director. Camilla seemingly enjoys torturing Diane emotionally. Diane seeks revenge.
This is simultaneously one of the most complex, original and emotional theatre experiences I have ever had. Seeing this again really hits home how upsetting Lynch's lack of productivity lately is. There is no one who makes films like this and, although he has his fair number of supporters and detractors, I don't think we'll truly appreciate these films until Lynch flat out stops making films. No one has such a keen sense of emotion on film without relying on plotting, and consider the scope! Throughout this film, I was scared, touched, heartbroken, entertained and humoured. In fact, it wouldn't be out of place to have a 50s salesman on hand before each screening declaring "Thrills, spills - this has got it all!".
The Admirable One - Persona
I've got the feeling this one may reward repeat viewings. I think I would have flat out loved
this film if I had seen it in my teenage years. This film is incredibly minimalist and quite
affecting despite this. The plot involves a nurse and her patient, an actress. The patient has
stopped communicating or reacting with the outside world, although it seems that this is more
self-imposed than neurological. From here on out, where the film goes is open to interpretation,
but to me I saw a story about a woman, despite being silent, completely dominates the nurse. So
little happens in this film (which is always a good indicator that I'll enjoy it), yet there
exists an incredible feeling of intense dread in this film. I really love that this completely
exists without the introduction of any major physical intimidation (unlike Kill List).
I really admire how this film attempts to get across an awful lot of complex emotions without
using a great deal. There's three settings, barely any props, costumes that suit the minimal
approach to the rest of the film and yet, there definitely is something lacking, and no where is
this more apparent in the finale of the film. Finally, after suffering so much, the nurse leaves,
or is it the nurse? Have the actress and the nurse combined in some way? Or has the actress
treated the nurse as a role, absorbed her and in doing so, become her? It's a very intelligent
and well constructed film, but I feel that its meaning is too obscured for me to love it,
especially in comparison to Wild Strawberries or the Seventh Seal.
The Less Admirable One - Vertigo
One of the nice things about watching films that were released at least 30 years ago is that there
is a plethora of critical analysis available for my prying eyes to get a hold on. This
especially true when there's a famous actor, director or writer involved. This is especially true
when it involves one of the most revered directors of all the ages; Alfred Hitchcock. Let me put
some confessions out there. I've currently got a boxset of several Hitchcock films, birthday gift
from a couple of years ago, and I had only got through four of about fifteen prior to last Friday
(Psycho, The Birds, Rear Window, Shadow of a Doubt). Even greater
confession; ehhh, not getting all the love. I certainly had a lot of fun with those films and I
wouldn't call any of them terrible (though I would call the Birds bad), but there are many
other directors I not only prefer, but admire their abilities greater.
This film upsets me greatly. This is the first of Hitchcock's films in which I really could
admire the direction - y'know, that thing that he is really praised for. There is plenty on the
internet discussing Vertigo but unfortunately, I couldn't find a huge amount on the
internet focusing on why I couldn't sing its praises (I'm sure it exists, but out of the two
articles I found one was very good, the other was so poorly researched and written (hello pot, I'm
kettle)). For a film that currently sits at 2nd on the 'They Shoot Pictures, Don't They?' Top
1000 (a hugemongous list that culminates rankings from a majority of film publications and
ballots, so it's fairly representative of the broad consensus regarding film (aside - I wonder how
they weight it? Really gets the voting theory geek in me out)), boy does this film have problems.
Let's try and explain away most of these issues. There's a great deal of near hilarious moments
that break the rules of the world presented here (e.g. Scotty, an ex-cop, tailing a woman in the
least tactful manner ever, the letter writing sequence and all that happens afterwards), but it
has often been said that Hitchcock was a director who wouldn't let details get in the way of a
great thriller, so let's say that takes account of this. The script is also of some concern.
Some of the lines were so clunky, they reminded me of some of the gems contained in James
Cameron's Titanic (compare 'Say, weren't we engaged once?' to 'Look at his use of colour
here...' - both cause me to crack up in hysterics). But hey, let's call it a stylistic choice.
Most of Vertigo feels so dreamy anyway, so why should these characters talk like people? This
gets me to a biggest issue: rampant misogyny.
Where to start? Well, the most obvious offenses are in the second half. The female characters
are not only badly treated, but presented terribly. In the second half, one female character
limps offscreen never to be seen again, while the other is forcibly moulded by James Stewart's
ex-cop into the perennial Hitchcockian blonde. Now, this second part has been seen as a personal
commentary by the director on himself, some form of possibly derogatory self reflection. I don't
feel this stands as a valid interpretation however as, although to our modern eyes Scotty is a
deplorable character, the film seems to stand behind him, pandering to his offensive actions.
There's also an added layer that the woman of his affections has aided in murder and thus is on
the wrong side of the moral compus presented by the film. This isn't even touching on the fact
that every female character who comes in contact with Scotty falls in love with him. Consider when the film ends, is it at a natural conclusion? I suppose so without extending it for another half hour, but is it a definitive ending? No. Are all the villains caught and the loose ends tied up? Not a chance. No, the woman in the plot is punished and holds the responsibility for the whole thing, while the actual male mastermind is off getting loaded in Europe, no doubt with a yacht, champagne, models and golf shorts. All of this
is a great shame, because visually and audibly, this is one of the greatest films I've ever
experienced. I've been a huge Bernard Hermann fan for years, but I don't think any of his other
scores come close to this one (well, Taxi Driver isn't far off). Such a shame.
So let's quickly tie this together. Watching Vertigo and Persona first was interesting just to see how important these two films were in inspiring Lynch's career in whole. The break down sequence in Persona really reminds me of Lynch's technique of intense distorted noise matched with extreme close up images (think the match in Wild at Heart, the vinyl in the intro of Inland Empire) and if there's one thing I couldn't praise Lynch enough for, it would be creating such oppressive atmospheres which seems a natural progression from the one present in Persona. It is also not a huge jump to see how the surreal and dreamlike Vertigo leads to part narrative, part sensory essay nature of Lynch's latter films. In fact, I see a perfectly natural progression from the nun at the climax of Vertigo to the creature living outside the diner in Mulholland Drive. Each involves a comment on Hollywood or acting of some kind, even if it is not explicitly in the plot. Is Scotty's reaction to betrayal any different to Bette/Diane's extreme behaviour at the end of Mulholland Drive? Maybe, but I'm torn between which I find more terrifying. Duality of meaning and of identity is rife within each of these, but whereas it only serves as a plot point in Vertigo and somewhat obscured or confused in Persona, Mulholland Drive deals with this, not only successfully, but in one of the most intelligent and original ways I've ever seen. I have often looked across the news wondering how some people can do what they do and still live with themselves. Hell, I've even asked that of myself sometimes. May we all be haunted by our own little elderly couples.
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Other musings
So birthday sequence is in full earnest! My brother had his birthday last Monday, mine is the upcoming Monday. Thankfully, my bro totally enjoyed all of his gifts (GITS:SAC, The Changeling, Session 9, a Warhammer artbook and a bizarre mounted photo of Patrick Troughton). I'm totally going to see a mini-marathon of my favourite films from childhood (Ghostbusters, Robocop, the Terminator) this weekend, thanks to my very good friend Jonathan Hatfull (http://jonathanwriting.blogspot.com/)
So Rick Nash didn't jump ship over trade deadline day. Though, with that $7.8m price tag, it's hard not to think that he's chained to the Bismarck that is Columbus. Hmm, actually, scratch that. Bismarck makes Columbus sound like they were once threatening. What's more accurate? I guess the Costa Concordia. Yeah, looking at the Blue Jackets backcheck does make me wonder if they think they're on a cruise.
Study has amped up. I think the sprinting starts now. And on note of sprinting, my training for the Great North Run has stepped up a notch, boom.
I'm thinking of buying some shoes and not just running shoes.
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