VERS MATHILDE VS. DIONYSIS IN '69

Dionysis in '69/Vers Mathilde

Documentary filmmaking is nothing new for Claire Denis. Early on in her career she made documentaries on both Jacques Rivette (The Watchman) & African musicians (Man No Run). Abstract storytelling is nothing new for her either (both Friday Night & L’Intrus are examples of Claire Denis playing with story structure & surreality). I used to site L’Intrus as Claire Denis at her most experimental before returning to slightly more traditional story telling, but the more I think about it – Vers Mathilde, which came after L’Intrus (and is often forgotten about within the cinematic universe of Claire Denis) is just as playful & experimental as its predecessor. Vers Mathilde is abstract (the split screen format, the lack of traditional dialogue, the overall look, etc) but it also tells a story (the film documents the rehearsal process of dance choreographer Mathilde Monnier as she preps for her latest performance). Like Nenette & Boni being the bridge/link between Claire’s “gritty” period and her more “Dreamy” period, Vers Mathilde is a bridge between Claire’s dreamy/abstract period (Friday Night & L’Intrus) and her return to linear/straightforward plot structure (35 Shots Of Rum, White Material & Bastards). Naturally Claire Denis’ last few films still have that dreamy/surreal ambiance, but they’re nowhere near as experimental as her work in the early/mid 2000’s.

Vers Mathilde

Vers Mathilde is also another film that shows Claire’s fascination with the human body. If you frequent this site enough and are familiar with all my Claire Denis content then you know her fascination with the crevices of naked/half naked human body.

Vers Mathilde

My re-examination of Vers Mathilde  - which came after my appearance on the Claire Denis episode of The Wrong Reel - ties in with an old/underappreciated Brian Depalma film I discovered a few months ago.
I love when two unlikely artists share (some) abstract similarities.Claire Denis & Brian Depalma couldn't be any more different as far as I'm concerned so this (small) piece is a little unique.

Dionysis in '69

A few months back I had the pleasure of seeing Brian Depalma's rare/forgotten about experimental film Dionysus in 69 - A split screen documentation of an abstract performance piece (much like Vers Mathilde). It should be noted that Vers Mathilde isn't told entirely in a split screen format (but the best parts are).

I don't know if Claire ever saw Depalma's early film but the parallels between the two movies are uncanny at times. While one film (Dionysis) is way more chaotic than the other (Vers Mathilde) the formatting alone is worthy of this imagery comparison piece.

Besides the split screen formatting, bodies are shot in the same unflinching manner, and the idea of what performance art can be is challenged in both films...

Dionysis in '69

Dionysis in ’69 is a breath of fresh air for casual Brian Depalma fans like myself who always associate his work with the obvious Alfred Hitchcock (even though I’m a casual fan I still recognize his iconic status in the world of film).

If you showed me Dionysis blindly I would think it was a film directed by Jonas Mekas, Shirley Clarke or other experimental/anthology film archive-related filmmakers of that ilk. But certainly not Brian Depalma. At first glance this film fits nowhere in his filmography (not even his for-hire works like Home Movies). But after multiple viewings I’ve come to the realization that it not only fits in right alongside his more recognizable films, but it’s his only voyeuristic film that owes absolutely nothing to the style of Alfred Hitchcock (it goes without saying that the themes of spying & eves dropping in Depalma’s work comes directly from his infatuation with Alfred Hitchcock). I know documentaries are voyeuristic by default but the invasiveness of Depalmas camera in Dionysis is on another level. I mean…you can almost smell the B.O. coming off of the performers in the film (and can literally hear the pounding of their flesh banging up against each other).

Both of these films (which are under 85 minutes) would make an excellent double feature/study.

THE PREEMPTIVE STRIKE...

Before we get in to the big end of the year wrap-up in a few weeks, let's take a look at some of the films from 2015 that I wasnt able to write about at length but still enjoyed...

Junun

The best thing about Junun, PT Anderson's documentary that chronicles the recording of the Shye Ben Tzur/Johnny Greenwoods/Nigel Godrich collaborative album of the same name, is that it's unlike anything he's ever made. That's not saying it's the best thing he's ever made (because it isn't) but it's still a breath of fresh air within the world of PT Anderson. There's no Altman references or borrowed shots from classic American 70's cinema. There isn't even much of a narrative (or talking) outside of musicians recording & drawing inspiration from their surroundings - the Mehrangarh Fort in Rajasthan, India (prior to Junun this tourist attraction was best known in the world of film as the backdrop for the prison in The Dark Knight Returns). The music within Junun is the real "dialogue" in the film.

PTA takes the cliche dream of the musician going off to an isolated place in a far off country to record, and he makes it an enjoyable experience in under 60 minutes. I feel like had most directors set out to document Junun it would have been an extra feature on a DVD rather than a (short) feature, but Anderson managed to pull a unique standalone project.

Instead of focusing on the key musicians like Greenwood & Godrich, PTA focuses mostly on the singers & musicians from the area in a non-fetishized/fascinated westerner kind of way.
Although the film mostly highlights analog recording and vintage instruments, that signature Radiohead sound (a combination of digital & analog) definitely rears its head at certain points in the film in an organic way (at the 24:20-ish mark there's a great sequences that combines old traditional music with a computer-driven electronic baseline).
I get a slightly bigger bonner for a film like this as I also make music and can be a studio rat from time to time. I love the combination of old/vintage gear & new/computer-driven equipment (artists like Holy Fuck, Animal Collective/Panda Bear, Antipop Consortium & Black Dice are some groups that come to mind when I think of masterful combinations of old/dated equipment mixed new technology).

I'm sure a small handful of PT Anderson fanatics will try to make Junun out to be more than it is but at the end of the day it's certainly worthy of an honorable mention on a 2015 movie list).

White God

I went and saw White God with two good friends of mine who happen to be dog owners, so the emotions were a little heightened in certain parts (that fact alone makes this films success on some level). Any time a dog in the film experienced some type of emotional or physical abuse, I could sense my friends on each side of me cringing and/or looking away in discomfort. The montage where our protagonist dog is transformed in to a fight dog is incredibly hard to watch. And I don’t even own a dog. So imagine what it’s like if you’re a “dog parent” watching a scene of another dog getting strung up by its neck or beaten in an effort to “toughen” it up. So while White God isn’t the master work that some critics said it was, it’s still a worthwhile movie. If not for nothing, the crew behind White God deserves a little extra credit for crafting a film that kind of rested on of the shoulders of shelter dogs. I don’t know if some of you are familiar with the psychology behind some shelter dogs but they aren’t always the most trusting animals (rightfully so). While White God has absolutely nothing on a movie like Roar (a film that saw actors working alongside untrained lions & tigers), it’s still pretty impressive to make a successful movie with a cast of mostly untrusting & abandoned (wild) animals. The lead dog in particular gives one of the greatest animal performances in the history of cinema (his movements & expressions are incredibly humanistic).

In White God we follow "Lili" and her dog “Hagen”. After Lili’s father refuses to keep a dog in his home, he drives the dog far off to another part of the city and for the rest of the film we watch Lili & hagen try to find they're way back to each other (throughout their journey various forces get in the way of their reunion).

The thing is, for me at least, White God gets its points across long before the movie even reaches the half way mark – animal abuse is terrible, the world can be an ugly place, and the bond between a dog and it’s owner is unlike any other type of bond (personally, I’m a cat person but I do recognize how much more loyal & friendly dogs are over felines). For the rest of the movie things kind of drag on and get a little repetitive. The exploration of friendship, animal abuse and the idea of turning a mirror on society so it can take a look at itself is hardly uncharted territory. With hints of everything ranging from the obvious White Dog & Cujo to Milo & Otis, White God sort of melds together elements of various genres (the title, a play on its spiritual predecessor White Dog, isn’t as controversial as it sounds). On the surface things starts out like a family-oriented drama about the relationship between a young girl and her dog “Hagen”. Then the film focuses primarily on the dog and his journey to get back home (Milo & Otis). After that, the tone completely shifts in to a sort of social commentary on how ugly the world can be and how easy it can corrupt a naive/blank vessel like a loyal canine (White Dog). And by the end of the film we’re waste deep in to a lowkey horror movie where dogs have completely taken over a city and are out for blood (Cujo). 

White God is an enjoyable movie at the end of the day. The only reason I haven’t been raving about it like I have other films is because of what I said earlier – the plot is a mixture of material we’ve all seen in movies before. I think I found certain parts to be funnier than they should have (the scene where the dogs murder the evil dog fighter comes to mind) but it’s still a success. Actually, certain scenes bring about reactions in me that I think the filmmakers wanted to evoke in an effort to challenge the audience. Take the scene I just mentioned where a gang of dogs murder one a guy. I honestly found joy in the fact that a dog abuser got killed by a gang of dogs. But it goes without saying that I shouldn’t find pleasure in seeing someone get killed no matter how bad of a person they are. I’m kind of playing in to that ugly way of thinking that the film is sort of shaking its finger at.

This will definitely come up again in my year-end review.

Room

Not gonna lie – I thought Room was going to fall somewhere between a well made lifetime movie with good actors, and full-on Oscar bait. I’ve said it before on here and I’ll say it again – I can be a judgmental prick when it comes to film and my prejudgment with Room was yet another example of this. I was wrong. I definitely had my internal judgy thoughts thrown back in my face as Room deserves all the praise it’s been getting.
What I appreciated so much about Room is that films with incredibly heavy subject matter tend to focus on the story & performances (which is important) while leaving behind style & ambiance, but that wasn’t the case here. And by style & ambiance I don’t mean that Room is supposed to be some stylized-looking Michael Mann film. But a film like Room needs to convey the grit & ugliness that comes along with being trapped in a shed for 7 years, and it certainly does that. There’s also some cool little metaphoric moments, for folks that like that kind of stuff, which really stuck out to me. When Jack first leaves the shed in an effort to get help, that scene is almost like his second birth as he’s seeing the (outside) world for the first time. Room also has a lot in common with Michael (2012). Both films, which deal with an abducted protagonist held against their will, show the claustrophobia of being trapped in a tight space along with the fear of being a prisoner.

There are a few angles one could take that could pick apart certain aspects of the movie but if you allow that level of nitpickiness to seep in then you won’t be able to enjoy anything. If you’re prone to cry at the movies then this will more than likely bring on the water works as it deals with everything from (the obvious) abduction, rape & crushing isolation to sever depression, hopelessness & PTSD. The film doesn’t take these issues lightly. Room is a realistic portrayal of the aftermath of a traumatic experience) and it doesn’t handle the characters with kid gloves.

Youth

I’ve said it on here a few times this year and I’ll say it again – reality mixed in to fiction seemed to be the general theme in prominent films this year, and Paolo Sorrentino’s Youth is just another example. In the film Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel & Jane Fonda (in a brilliant three scene appearance) all play aging entertainers (a music composer, a movie director and an actress respectively) reflecting on their respective careers while vacationing in Switzerland. Youth has the same vibe of Sorrentino’s previous work in terms of basic plot and overall look (Michael Caine’s look is practically modeled after Sorrentino regular Toni Servillo). Like Great Beauty, Youth is another look at upper-class/well off artists coming to grips with getting old while looking back on life which naturally bring up a few skeletons here & there. Caine’s “Fred” is forced to accept the fact that he wasn’t a good husband or father, while Keitel’s “Mick” has to come to terms that he has fallen off as a filmmaker. If you’re a diehard Harvey Keitel fan like I am, then Youth will definitely hit you right in the gut (mostly towards the end). Like Forest Whitaker in Abel Ferrara's Mary, Keitel’s performance in Youth is fairly tame until the final act of the film when he suddenly lets loose and just hits a homerun (Keitel’s performance in the last third of Youth is some of the best stuff he’s done since his resurgence in the early 90’s).

Youth (along with the release of The Lobster this year) also opened my eyes to how great Rachel Weisz is (I never had anything against her or ever thought she wasn’t a good actress but 2015 was an eye-opening year for me).

Forbidden Room

Forbidden Room is a mixtape of everything ranging from Maya Deren to early Bunuel (Guy Maddin even references his own films in this). There's tons of blended/overlapping imagery, off-kiltered moments and triumphant music. But that doesn't necessarily mean that it can be enjoyed by any & every cinephile. You may love Los Olvidados or Persona but that doesn't guarantee you'll love this. Hell, you may want to approach Forbidden Room with caution even if you're just a casual fan of Maddin. Much like what Inland Empire & Eraserhead is to David Lynch (total & complete self indulgence), Forbidden Room is the equivalent to Guy Maddin. This is Guy Maddin with almost no filter. Now...if you're a diehard fan of his work and/or the type of experimental films played at Anthology Film Archives on a random Tuesday night - then this is right up your alley. I'm a Guy Maddin fan so let me preface that what I'm about to say is meant to be a compliment - the vibe of Forbidden Room feels like the product of an intelligent person staying up all night then having to write a thesis paper in under 24 hours. Sure, there's some misspelled words within the body of the document and possibly some coffee stains on some of the pages, but it still gets its point across to the appropriate audience.

There is a plot (a heroic lumberjack sets out to rescue a kidnapped woman), and some obvious themes are explored (masculinity, sanity and the importance of dreams & nightmares). But Forbidden Room is such an overwhelming film - both visually & sonically - that you may find yourself forgetting about the plot and just zoning out to the moving images on the screen in front of you. Even the ensemble cast is a little overwhelming. While there are a handful of consistent characters that we do follow from beginning to end, there are also familiar faces that appear out of nowhere for a few minutes and then they disappear for the rest of the film (I while say that Maddin does tie all the characters together in the end). 

Side note - it's always a pleasure to see Adele Haenel in anything even if it is a non-speaking role.

This is an experimental feature so don't expect everything to feel polished or "safe". If you appreciate silent film, the ambiguous moments of a film like Clean, Shaven along with obscure Kids In The Hall sketches - then this is a movie for you.

TWO BY KIAROSTAMI: CLOSE UP & TASTE OF CHERRY (CRITERION BLOG-A-THON)

Cinema lovers are sick people - Francois Truffaut

In the late 1980's the Ahankhah's (an Iranian family made up of Husband; Abolfazl, Wife; Mehrdad and their two sons; Monoochehr & Mahrokh) became acquainted with famous Iranian filmmaker; Mohsen Makhmalbaf. At one point the family invited the filmmaker in to their home because they believed he wanted to use it (and them) in his next project. The only problem is that the person they thought was Mohsen Makhmalbaf was in fact some guy (Hossain Sabzian) pretending to be the famous filmmaker. A few days earlier Sabzian happened to be sitting next to Mehrdad Ahankhah on the bus and he introduced himself as the famous Iranian filmmaker (who Mehrdad happened to be a fan of) and just went with it.

I have vivid memories from when I was a child of my father doing shit like this to amuse me & my mom (although he didn't take it nearly as far as Sabzian did). When I was nine years old we went to visit my grandmother in Queens like we usually did once a month or so. While we were on the subway a lady noticed my father was wearing an NBC hat and asked if he worked for the television studio in New York. Without hesitation my father replied yes and went on to explain his (made up) position at NBC. The only thing is my dad was really a social worker for a corporation in Northampton, Massachusetts. This didn't surprise me too much because at that point I already knew my father was the same person who told my mother he knew Arthur Ashe personally as a way to impress her back before they dated. A lot of people tell lies & tall tales for various reasons. However Sabzian's reasons for lying go a lot deeper than simple self-amusement...

Somewhere in between William Greive's groundbreaking yet convoluted Symbiopsychotaxiplasm (1969), Orson Welles' F for Fake (1973), Colour Me Kubrick (2005) & Henri-Georges Cluzot's Inferno (2009) lies the "docufiction"; Close Up - Abbas Kiarostami's uncategorizeable film based on the true story of a lonely cinema lover and the family he briefly took advantage of. Hossain Sabzian is a living breathing example of Truffaut's famous quote at the start of this piece yet at the same time Kiarostami makes us feel sorry for him in a way. From his sad/insecure mannerisms right down to the holes in his socks; Hossain Sabzian is a pitiful guy. A pitiful guy with an appreciation for good movies. Part of me thinks Kiarostami knew audiences who watched this film would be somewhat sympathetic towards Hossain's situation as we can kind of identify with him. Lets be clear - Abbas Kiarostami is one of the most important filmmakers in world cinema but he ain't Steven Spielberg. His films aren't the kinds of films that play at major theaters. The average movie-goer doesn't just happen upon his work like; "hey you wanna see a movie tonight? Abbas Kiarostami's new movie is playing at the multiplex downtown". Most people who watch his films are cinephiles who have a little bit of Hossain Sabzian in them. Take me for example - Not only do I have in my possession (well...at my grandmother's house) a small trash can that once belonged to Martin Scorsese (seriously tho, I do) but I have saved print screens of all the email correspondents between myself & Claire Denis and I will probably NEVER throw away the shitty disposable phone I used to speak to her on a few years back as it's now an important artifact in my life (I was fortunate enough to do a brief interview with Denis in 2013). I have other similar stories from other cinephile buddies of mine but I wont go in to those. Truffaut is righgt. We are sick people. Hossain Sabzian just took it to another level. Even now as write this, Close-Up brings up so many other cinematic moments in my obsessive movie brain. 

The shot of Hossain Sabzian sitting behind bars is like something out of a Bresson film...

the final freeze frame shot at the end is reminiscent of everything from the obvious 400 Blows to Chameleon Street...

While films like Room 237 & The The Father Of My Children make me proud to be a cinephile, Close Up makes me a little embarrassed to love films the way i do. When Sabzian was eventually arrested and tried in court for impersonating the filmmaker, he makes a statement along the lines of how he lived his life according to Makhmalbaf's film The Cyclist and how it had such a huge impact on his life. This was his defense to a certain extent. Like...He seriously came to a court of law with that. What a romantic yet crazy/disconnected thing only a dedicated cinema lover would think to say when facing serious charges. Although Sabzian deceived a family, he still admits that what he did was wrong and is a stand-up guy in court. He doesn't deflect or try to avoid blame and doesn't even resist arrest. I think that's why people (myself included) find some redeemable qualities about him. He's clearly a lonely guy. In court the only person who comes to his defense is his mother.

The Cyclist (1987)

Perhaps to get a better understanding of Sabzian (and this film) one must get an understanding of Makhmalbaf's The Cyclist - The story of an Afghan refugee who tries to raise money to pay for surgery for his dying wife by riding a bicycle nonstop for a week as people bet on whether or not he can complete the task. This film goes a little deeper as it's apparently based on something Makhmalbaf actually witnessed as child. It's also believed by many film critics that The Cyclist is a metaphor about the immigration system in Iran.

Was Abbas Kiarostami fascinated by the fact that someone so much in love with film would try something like this? Or to take it a step further - was Kiarostami fascinated by a fellow Iranian that much in love with Iranian cinema given its sometimes limited resources that he felt the need to base a film on this man? Was he intrigued because Mohsen Makhmalbaf is a friend/acquaintance? I'm not entirely sure but I'm glad he made this film (which may have never of happened had Kiarostami not picked up the magazine that reported the story). What makes Close Up so unique is that it's a film made up of reenactmented moments using the actual people involved playing themselves (Sabzian, the Ahankhah's, the journalist who reported the story, and even Mohsen Makhmalbaf). The court scenes are particularly confusing because it really looks like authentic grainy footage. This isn't the first film in history to do this. I'm immediately reminded of Muhammad Ali playing himself in the pre-Michael Mann biopic - The Muhammad Ali Story. But Close Up is definitely one of the best films of its kind (Tony Buba's Lightning Over Braddock, which we'll be getting in to early next year, is an earlier genre-less film that may have influenced the style of Close-Up in some way). 

It's pretty brave of the "cast" to come back and relive/reenact such an embarrassing moment. Its already been established how embarrassing this event was for Sabzian (i mean seriously, how far was he going to take this charade until he got caught) but on the other side you have an entire family duped in to believing they were going to take part in a film directed by their favorite director when they could have just sought out a picture of the real person. Its also brave to star in a film alongside someone who came in to your home and tried to take advantage of you (although peace was made between both parties in real life, I can't image how awkward and tense it must have been on set).

The biggest mind-fuck about Close Up is that Hossain Sabzian got everything he wanted and more. When he was pretending to be this famous filmmaker he had plans to make a film about the family and that's partially what Close Up ended up becoming. He got what he pretended to set out to do which I'm sure deep down inside was a dream of his. Not only that, but Sabzian got to work with two of Iran's most important filmmakers (one of which is the man he pretended to be). I'm not trying to compare a guy like Hossain Sabzian to Mark David Chapman. Their crimes are nowhere near the same. But at the same time there is some similarity - they both got recognition and fame after doing something wrong (which is an understatement in Chapman's case). No matter how sad & pitiful Sabzian may be, what he did was wrong yet at the end of the day he was more than rewarded in return. There's a scene in the film where Abbas Kiarostami visits Sabzian in prison and asks what he can do for him and Sabzian requests Kiarostami make a film about his struggle. Well...he definitely got that. And not just any movie. Many people consider Close Up to be Kiarostami's best film. He's in the history books of cinema now. Mark David Chapman shoots John Lennon and there's been movies & songs made about him. Chapman wanted to be famous and he got it. Did Sabzian want fame? Did he play everyone including Kiarostami? Did he pull a pre-Banksy/Exit Through The Giftshop on everyone? Eh, probably not. He doesn't come off that clever of a person (although he did manage to get away with pretending to be someone for a little while without anyone noticing). Plus, Kiarostami approached him not the other way around. (we learn that years after Close Up was made, courtesy of a mini documentary that's part of the special features on the Criterion disc, Sabzian is still pretty much the same sad pitiful person and hasn't moved on with his life).

I am still very surprised that I managed to make that film. When I actually look back on that film, I really feel that I was not the director but instead just a member of the audience. Because the film made itself, to a large extent. The characters involved were very real, I wasn't directing the actors so much as being directed by them. So it was a very particular film. One of the very worrying aspects of the film is exactly what Geoff has asked about. I asked Makhmalbaf, the director, to come and meet Sabzian on his release from prison. Sabzian had no idea what was going to happen on that day and who he was going to meet. That moment is very real, when Sabzian meets his idol [and Sabzian bursts into tears]. They got on the motorcycle and we followed them in the car without Sabzian's knowledge that we were filming. - Abbas Kiarostami

Mohsen Makhmalbaf & Hossain Sabzian ride to the Ahankhah's home to appaologize and make peace towards the end of the film. This scene also serves as an obvious tip of the hat to Makhmalbaf's The Cyclist

Mohsen Makhmalbaf: Do you prefer being Makhmalbaf or Sabzian?

Hossain Sabzian: I'm tired of being me

The moment where Sabzian meets Mohsen Makhmalbaf, who plays the role of peacemaker between the Ahankhah family and Sabzian, is, in my opinion, one of the most humbling moments in modern film. The impostor breaks down in the presence of the man he pretended to be but is given comfort instead of shame & ridicule. The difference between Sabzian's story and that of Alan Conway (the man who got away with impersonating Stanley Kubrick who, like Sabzian, looked nothing the filmmaker he was pretending to be) is that Conway did what he did for attention and to feel important for the sake of feeling important. Although his execution is fucking creepy, this was about being an artist for Sabzian. He, a poor "insignificant" everyman of the Iranian lower class (much like the main character in The Cyclist), wanted the experience of being in the shoes of an important cultural figure in a land where art & culture are sometimes limited & censored. That's the beauty of film scenes like in Iran. They go through so much heartache & restriction during the filmmaking process yet still manage to produce beautiful pieces of art (sometimes restrictions help in a roundabout way).
Close Up is told in a kind of cut-up style. The chronology of events in the film jumps around quite a bit. I hate getting on Tarantino so often but does anyone besides me get pissed every time he's credited as this innovator/inventor of non-linear storytelling? Obviously more people are going to identify with Pulp Fiction & Reservoir Dogs than they will with Close Up bit it still bugs me (Abbas Kiarostami has some interesting comments about Tarantino on the special features of the Taste Of Cherry DVD). Additionally, so many mockumentaries, which has now become an over saturated genre in both film & TV, are mislabeled as original and/or thought provoking simply because they make us question if something is real or not when they clearly obviously aren't real. But Close-Up genuinely makes you question if what you are watching is real or a reenactment. This isn't anything on the level of Stan Brahkage or Maya Deren but in terms of storytelling it's pretty experimental and unique especially for a feature length film.

One could say the experimental style in Close-Up rubbed off on the final moments of one of Kiarostami's most know films; Taste Of Cherry...

For years I avoided The Taste Of Cherry because it seemed like one of those art house movies that you not only had to see but you also had to love it and couldn’t question its greatness. I was also under the impression that this movie was given special treatment by cinephiles because it was made under all the harsh scrutiny & religiously-based rules set by the Iranian film industry. Kiarostami faced problems in Iran during & after the production of Taste Of Cherry. Apparently he not only had to cut out certain scenes that depicted the country as poor but he could only edit the film at night when the editing equipment was available. When he won the Palme D'or at Cannes he got in to more trouble in his home country for kissing Juliette Binoche on the cheek after she presented him with the award (13 years later they would go on to make Certified Copy together). Because Juliette Binoche isn’t his wife it caused a stir in his home country. Taste Of Cherry wasn't the first time Kiarostami faced some type censorship and/or stoppage, and it certainly wouldn't be the last (in 2002 he was denied a visa to come to Cannes because of all the post-9/11 nonsense). 

It felt like I was hearing more about Kiarostami's censorship and other controversies surrounding him than I was hearing about his actual films. I mean...were they actually any good, or was he just getting sympathy due to all the hardships he faced? Keep in mind I was young at the time I thought all this. I was a Kiarostami novice up until 2006. Knowing what I know now, I have an even greater respect for Iranian cinema and any other movie scene that creates such great films under harsh restrictions.

Most people I knew who had seen Taste Of Cherry either shrugged their shoulders at it or labeled it as boring. But curiosity finally got the best of me so I blind bought the (criterion) DVD and it turned out to be one of my greatest cinematic discoveries of the last 10 years. I know Taste Of Cherry is kind of like "Kiarostami 101" but it’s still a great film. Even though I fell in love with it on the first viewing and still watch it on a fairly regular basis, I can’t exactly argue that it isn’t boring. It’s quite boring. A good portion of this film takes place inside a car, as do a lot of Kiarostami's films...

Top Row: Certified Copy & Like Someone In Love
Middle: The Wind Will Carry Us & Taste Of Cherry
Bottom: Ten & ABC Africa

...But it’s a good kind of boring. There's constant dialogue, interesting conversations and beautiful cinematography. 

The story is pretty simple - a middle-aged man is driving through a small town in Iran looking for some assistance in committing a potential suicide. There’s an aire of mystery to the film as we're not given any back story about the main character; "Badii" (Homayon Ershadi) or why he wants to die. This aspect of the story didn’t sit too well with some people, most notably the late great Roger Ebert -

If we're to feel sympathy for Badii, wouldn't it help to know more about him? To know, in fact, anything at all about him?

Ebert does have a point. What if Badii was a shitty person not worthy of our sympathy or any kind of redemption? For those hypothetical reasons Kiarostami had this to say...

In “Taste of Cherry” I have tried to keep a distance between my spectator and the protagonist. I didn’t want spectators emotionally involved in this film. In this film, I tell you very little about Mr. Badii, I tell you very little about what his life is about, why he wanted to commit suicide, what his story is I didn’t want the spectators to get engaged in those aspects of his life. For that purpose I had to keep Mr. Badii away from the audience. So he is a distant actor in a way…I was very concerned, and am always concerned, about my spectators. I do not want to take them hostage. I do not want to take their emotions hostage. It is very easy for a filmmaker to control the emotions of spectators but I do not like that. I do not want to see my audience as innocent children whose emotions are easily manipulable.

the three passengers Badii picks up in the film...

In the film, Badii drives around looking for someone to bury his body in a hole he dug near a tree out in the dessert after/if he decides to go through with killing himself. In return for helping, Badii promises to leave behind a nice sum of money for whoever buries him. After a few failed attempts he finally picks someone up who agrees to do it. I'm almost embarrassed to admit but I've seen this film many times and only recently (courtesy of John Cribb's pink smoke review of Like Someone In Love) did it dawn on me that at the start of the film it comes off like Badii is "cruising" as opposed to looking for someone to help him commit suicide (this also probably didn’t sit too well with the "powers that be" back in Iran).

On the issue of Badii wanting to end his life, Passenger #3 makes an assumption that his depression has to do with some kind of debt or family troubles. Generally speaking, that’s usually the reason someone in a film wants to commit suicide (either that or over a woman). What Kiarostami is essentially trying to say (or challenge us on) by not giving up much info on the main character and his decision to kill himself is; why concern ourselves with the "why"? There are already a million movies that do that. Why dwell on the past? If anything, Taste Of Cherry is about the importance of the now, the importance of life and the future. Yes, the future. Although it’s pulled off in a very dark and almost backwards way, Taste Of Cherry is partially about the importance (or dare I say, celebration) of life. Or at the very least it’s an intellectual anti-suicide film. I'm not even sure if this was even Kiarostami's goal but that's what I took from it. Think about it - everyone Badii picks up off the side of the road (each a different ethnicity; Kurdish, Afghan & Azeri) tries to talk him out of killing himself in their own way. The soldier he picks up first absolutely refuses to do it and eventually runs off scared. The second passenger (a man studying to be a priest) talks to him about the immorality of suicide and tries his best to talk him out of going through with the act as well. Even the third and final passenger, who does agree to help him, gives Badii some advice to try and change his mindset and outlook on life...

I'll tell you something that happened to me. It was just after I got married. We had all kinds of troubles. I was so fed up with it that I decided to end it all. One morning, before dawn I put a rope in my car. My mind was made up, I wanted to kill myself. I set off for Mianeh...I reached the mulberry tree plantations. I stopped there. It was still dark. I threw the rope over a tree but it didn't catch hold. I tried once, twice but to no avail. So then I climbed the tree and tied the rope on tight. Then I felt something soft under my hand. Mulberries - Deliciously sweet mulberries. I ate one. It was succulent. Then a second and third. Suddenly, I noticed that the sun was rising over the mountaintop. What sun, what scenery, what greenery! All of a sudden, I heard children heading off to school. They stopped to look at me. They asked me to shake the tree. The mulberries fell and they ate. I felt happy. Then I gathered some mulberries to take them home. My wife was still sleeping. When she woke up, she ate mulberries as well. And she enjoyed them too. I had left to kill myself and I came back with mulberries. A mulberry saved my life.

Every man on earth has problems in his life. That's the way it is. There are so many people on earth. There isn't one family without problems. I don't know your problem otherwise I could explain better.

The world isn't the way you see it. You have to change your outlook and change the world. Be optimistic. Look at things positively. You're in your prime!

Although a somewhat simplistic story, it’s still uplifting. Taste Of Cherry mixes religion (the film opens with a title card that reads “In The Name Of God”) with spirituality. If anything the Iranian film industry should make Abbas Kiarostami's Iranian films as accessible as possible. His work does its small part to break all the ridiculous stereotypes many westerners have towards Muslims in this post 9/11 world we live in. Taste Of Cherry is very much a Muslim film yet I still felt a connection to it without being Muslim.

Kiaorstami's views on religion are more spiritually-based which explains a lot in Taste Of Cherry (especially the ending)

In my view, religion is to believe in all the things that are invisible

Taste Of Cherry actually has two endings - One is an open & ambiguous ending, while the other is an ambiguous ending to the whole movie watching experience that may leave you going; "huh?".
At the end of the movie we see Badii in the grave he dug for himself on his back looking up at the sky as it starts to rain. Before we see if he dies, the screen goes black momentarily and we're left to decide if he goes through with the suicide or not. In true art house fashion the director leaves the ending up to us to decide what happens. He leaves it up to us to believe in our own (invisible) interpretation. Going back to my statement about the film being a possible celebration of life - there are so many signs that lead me to believe Badii lives in the end; Every character in the film tries to talk him out of ending his life. Even the background characters one might think serve no purpose play an important role in helping Badii chose life.

There's a scene in Taste Of Cherry that’s been embedded in my mind since the first time I saw it - After the first passenger runs off, Badii’s car runs off the side of the road and he gets stuck. Suddenly a group of workers close by gather around to push his car out. This may seem like an insignificant scene to some but I found it touching. The instant willingness of these strangers to help dig this car outta kinda seemed like some sign. As if something was trying to show our depressed main character that even though life can be shitty sometimes, there are still kind people out there willing to help and lift you up. In this case even strangers (one of 'em is even smiling while he's lifting the front of the car as if he's glad to help). Also, the grave Badii lays in is next to a tree. Yes it’s extremely cliché but in cinema "the tree" does pretty much represent life (especially in art house). Just refer back to the story Passenger #3 told Badii. It was a tree that stopped him from ending his life. A tree provided the berries for him to eat, the tree provided him with the view to see the sun rise and it was a tree that made the little children happy. In the end Badii lies in an open grave and it starts to rain. It goes without saying but, when something is planted underground it needs rain to grow and rise above the ground. So at the end of the day no matter how dark or heavy the film may be, I think all signs point to life.

ending #1

The second ending is what the film is most known for and kind of split audiences in half. At the end of David Lynch's long & intense trip through Inland Empire we see the cast behind the closing credits dancing & celebrating and blowing kisses at one another reminiscent to the end of a play or the end of a Saturday Night Live episode where the cast & crew come out to thank everyone. After an intense film like Inland Empire an ending like that serves as kind of a breath of fresh air and assurance that everything is ok. This is the same case with the final moments of Taste Of Cherry where we see b-role footage of Kiarostami directing behind the scenes with the cast & crew. Although Taste Of Cherry is heavy and subtly intense in its own way, this second ending serves as a way of saying "it's just a movie". It’s almost like you're under hypnosis while watching Taste Of Cherry and then the hypnotherapist suddenly snaps their fingers or uses the trigger word and we're out of the trance. It’s the general consensus among most people (who've seen this) that the ending is supposed convey the message that "nothing matters" but that's a pretty simplistic view if you ask me. Unlike most art house filmmakers who avoid answering questions directly, Abbas Kiarostiami had this to say about the films ending...

ending #2

I understand the difficulty you have comprehending the last scene of this movie. I sympathize with you. But this has been deliberate on my part...I was afraid that if I ended the movie where Mr. Badie laid down on his grave the spectator would be left with a great deal of sadness. Even though I didn’t think the scene was really that sad, I was afraid that it would come out as such. For that reason I decided to have the next episode where we have the camera running as Mr. Badie was walking around. I wanted to remind spectators that this was really a film and that they shouldn’t think about this as a reality. They should not become involved emotionally. This is much like some of our grandmothers who told us stories, some with happy and some with sad endings. But they always at the end would have a Persian saying which went like this "but after all it is just a story!" The very last episode reminds me of the continuation of life, that life goes on, and here the audience is confronted with the reality they had hoped that Mr. Badie would be alive and there he is a part of nature and nature still continues and life goes on even without Mr. Badie. And if one could really think about being or not being present in life, or if one thinks about it in terms of the real implication of such presence, one might not in fact engage in committing suicide at all. The person committing suicide might think that s/he is taking revenge from the society, nature, life, powers to be, and so on. But s/he doesn’t realize that after a suicide life still goes on and things stay the way they are. I could interpret this in a different way. If my audience is as creative as I imagine them to be, they can take this in a variety of interpretations and I can sit here and every time make a different interpretation of it, as every time one can creatively reinterpret the reality.

On one hand that sounds like artsy babble but what stands out to me is the phrase "life goes on". Say my interpretation is wrong and Badii really does kill himself in the end. According to the views of the filmmaker (which I'm sure come from a spiritual place) life will still go. He will be buried in the ground and now become part of the earth.

Taste Of Cherry was my introduction in to the world of Abbas Kiarostami so it has some sentimental value. It carries the spirit of Bergman's Wild Strawberries - both films are contemplative road movies about life, and, in my opinion, it had a subconscious influence on quite a few road movies that came after it like; I Travel Because I Have To, I Come Back Because I Love You (the film's co-director, Karim Ainouz, confirmed Taste Of Cherry's influence on him at a Q&A a couple of years back at Anthology film archives where I also came to discover that he studied architecture just like Taste Of Cherry star Homayon Ershadi. For those that don't know, Architecture is the field I work in. Perhaps my spiritual connection to this film has to do with the subconscious (professional) connection I have with the film's star...

Make sure to check out all the other entries in the Criterion blog-a-thon over at Criterion Blues...

TWO BY WENDERS (SPECIAL GUEST WRITER: LEANNE KUBICZ)

As I was reading over Leanne's latest contribution to PINNLAND EMPIRE, I came to the realization that both of these films, along with the man responsible making them, are a little special to me - Early on in our relationship, I took my now fiancée; Sharon, to see Pina, while Wings Of Desire was the last film Claire Denis worked on before stepping out on her own to make her feature film debut (Wings Of Desire Co-Star Solveig Dommartin actually starred in Denis' sophomore feature as well).

So take some time outta your day to read the first guest writing of the year while I try to restore/rewrite some lost content and decide if I wanna write something on Philip Seymour Hoffman or not.

Also be sure to check out Leanne's film blog; LMK Film Pics...

Enjoy...

PINA

This documentary has a deceiving title; if you are expecting to learn about choreographer Pina Bausch and her dance methods, this is not the film for you. The quote included on the promotional poster, ‘Dance, Dance, Otherwise We Are Lost’ would have been an excellent title because this is a documentary primarily about image and not factual information. Who is Pina Baush? Where was she born, how did she develop her style, when was her dance company established, etc.? Well, I wouldn’t know unless I read about her after the fact, as none of this is covered in the film. Originally projected in 3D (I viewed it in standard 2D), Wenders cuts major works by Bausch with dances staged in nature, on public transportation and on busy roadways to showcase the striking beauty and emotional theatricality of her art and her troop of dancers.

When I stated that there is little to no biographical information presented in this documentary about the eponymous woman, there is also hardly any information about the dancers or the pieces either. Early on female dancers are shown laying on a stage filled with soil and then a familiar bassoon solo is heard. I thought, “Ah, The Rite of Spring, excellent! Wait, this is not the correct choreography. What?” Luckily, I am a Stravinsky fan or I would have been completely lost. There is no title to identify this as "The Rite of Spring" and no explanation of the divergence from the original ballet choreography. Baush’s piece is primal, grimy and terrifying but also very confusing. I want to know how this version was conceived and the intended meaning. Was the reception as negative as with Nijinsky’s choreography? No answers are provided and only certain sections of Baush’s piece are shown. It is visually arresting but frustrating; if the entire piece was shown it would be a performance film and no answers would be expected, but this is a documentary and there are cuts within the piece, which is a very disorienting stylistic choice on Wender’s part. The camera captures the sinuous dancers in an intimate fashion which brings you onto the stage with them. The pity is that the pieces are cut randomly and give little context for what the dances represent.

Almodovar’s Talk to Her showcases Baush’s piece "Café Muller" in a more understandable fashion, to my estimation. That film overtly implied the dance’s meaning by having Marco and Benigno seated together at the recital. They were going to try, maybe fail, at saving the women they love. That brief scene was more instructive on the theme of the piece than the footage in this documentary. Two dancers discuss the work and examine a scale set of the area strewn with chairs, but a good deal more commentary could have been added to lend some comprehension to the proceedings.

Talk To Her

Talk To Her

Having a terse sentence: “You just have to get crazier” be the explanation of Pina’s choreography advice is frustrating. I’m genuinely curious why one piece has a dancer declare, “This is veal!”, has her insert veal into her shoes and proceeds to dance en pointe outside of a factory. The audience is given this incredibly weird and off-putting image and it is quickly cut to reveal another snippet of a greater piece. The dancers receive my deepest admiration and Baush as well, but this documentary should have stayed with the pieces a while longer. Take time to breathe with the dances instead of cutting through as many as possible without examination. The documentary suffers from a lack of focus which could be attributed to the fact of Baush dying only a few days after she had revealed to her loved ones that she had cancer. A shock like that would throw the center off assuredly, but due to this being a documentary, maybe sharing that information would have helped.

Wings of Desire (1987)

Wenders produced a masterpiece with this story of angels in Berlin watching over humans. He infused beauty, humor and love, without pretention, into a setting that includes a circus with an introspective trapeze artist, angels outfitted in trench coats trading the details of human activities, Peter Falk playing himself and unexpectedly, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds for good measure. To be so personally affected by a film that I literally cry throughout the whole picture while also laughing is a gift. In other hands and with other players this film would have been trite; the magic Wenders worked cannot be understated.
I have never before and will probably never again view such a life affirming film. It’s absurd in a way that a story taking place in a dingy, ripped-apart city with the most fraught past could exude such wonderment. Starting the film with an old man singing and writing on paper, “Als das Kind Kind war…” “When the child was a child…” is the main point of the entire story. Live with childlike wonder and openness, live “Now, now, NOW!” as Damiel the angel (Bruno Ganz) says.

Wenders’ use of black and white interspersed with the most blinding, enrapturing color is dazzling. A bold instance of color finds Marion (Solveig Dommartin) sitting on her bed after flying on the trapeze, musing about life. Her inner thoughts are philosophical, dark and confused. “Emptiness. Fear. Fear. Fear.” Troubling thoughts perhaps but laced with “the desire to love.” Marion broods yet moves on, accepts her sadness, works with it and hopes for better things. The beauty of human vulnerability and the ability to imagine better days is highlighted by the bursts of color throughout the film.

When Damiel first experiences blood he happily licks it and smiles, “It has a taste!” To find delight in such a thing is childlike but also needed. To examine and experience the happiness of surprise is an act we do not engage in enough. Damiel does not always live in the moment, as when he sits in the empty field where the Alekan Circus had been parked. He yearns for Marion feeling the sadness of being just a little bit too late. Cassiel the angel (Otto Sander) looks over him with compassion, knowing that he will return to the present moment to soldier forth. Longing is the reason why Damiel became human in the first place, so his frustration is poignant and well placed. 

Special note must be made about Peter Falk’s participation as himself. This is not stunt casting; his performance is sweet sincere perfection. His interactions as a famous man acting graciously with movie extras, “extra people” as his inner-voice calls them, are wonderful. He asks an older woman permission to sketch her picture. He does a nice job yet inside he thinks to himself, “Someday you’ll make a good drawing. I hope, I hope, I hope…” His doubt in his artistic abilities is very reassuring. Even Peter Falk doubts himself, one of the great actors! Falk’s normalizing part is played with humbleness and abundant glee. When Damiel exclaims, “I want to know everything!” Peter replies with a crinkly smile, “That you have to find out yourself. That’s the fun of it.”

Writing about this film can veer into sentimental territory; to watch it and realize the splendor and sorrow of life is sublime. I find the image of a woman sitting alone in a laundromat supremely moving. The orange machines stretch out before her as she sits. This is life and it is gorgeous. So mundane, so lonely, but to be alive, to see orange washings machines! Ah, it is fantastic!

DOUBLE FEATURE: PRINCE AVALANCHE & BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO

These two films may not have much in common to you all but to me they share a few connections. Both Prince Avalanche & Berberian Sound Studio represent "the return" of two separate groups of artists who I love/loved very much. With Prince Avalanche, this was a return to form for director David Gordon Green & his cinematographer; Tim Orr, while Bereberian Sound Studio represented Broadcast's return to recording music after the passing of their lead singer. Both films are also about loneliness among men to a certain extent, and lets also not forget these were both released last year and are set in the past...

PRINCE AVALANCHE

Immediately after posting on facebook about how pleased I was with Prince Avalanche, PINNLAND EMPIRE contributor Matt Reddick's girlfriend; Catalina, noted the film's serious bromantic quality which brought me to the realization that David Gordon Green doesn't get enough recognition for his exploration into the world of male bonding. This lack of recognition is partially his fault due to his last two films being quite bad which turned a lot of people off to his work (myself included). But prior to Your Highness & The Sitter almost every film he made dealt with friendships between males of various ages (All The Real Girls, George Washington & Pineapple Express) or the bond between brothers (Undertow). Hell, even Your Highness is about bonding between two brothers when you really think about it.

Prince Avalanche fits right in with the rest of Green's filmography more than anything he's done in quite some time.

No matter how Malick-ian & artsy Green's past work was, he always expressed the desire to want to make a comedy since he first started making movies (refer to his Charlie Rose Interview back in 2000). It's just his previous two comedies were awful. With Prince Avalanche it seems like he's found a balance. On one hand he went back to the beautiful sprawling cinema he was once known for over a decade ago while at the same time still holding on to the comedic elements that he's been exploring for the last six years.
Prince Avalanche feels like a mixture of All The Real Girls and Pineapple Express (Gordon's one & only successful comedy in my opinion). Paul Rudd & Emile Hirsch's chemistry is pretty similar to Rogen & Franco - the grumpy cynic (Rogen/Rudd) constantly fussing at the dopey idiot (Franco/Hirsch) which is a relationship that dates back to the first comedic duos of stage. And certain moments in Prince Avalanche felt like extensions (or deleted moments) from All The Real Girls. There's an exchange of dialogue between Paul Rudd & Emile Hirsch in Prince Avalanche that reminded of a quote Shea Whigham delivers to Paul Schnieder in All The Real Girls...

Lance (Emile Hirsch): At least I don't go around thinking I'm a great dancer when I actually stink at dancing

Alvin (Paul Rudd): You've never even seen me dance

Lance: I've seen you do a lot of things when you don't think I'm looking

 - Prince Avalanche

Tip (Shea Whigham): No, we ain't friends no more! ...YOU AIN'T EVEN IN MY TOP 10! 

-All The Real Girls

You have to remember that both scenes I just quoted involve grown men. There's something incredibly funny, sad & intriguing about that. Its like David Gordon Green knows there's this level of immaturity that men will never lose no matter how much we age.
When I watch how grown men interact with one another in Green's work I'm sometimes reminded of John Cassavetes, Peter Falk & Ben Gazzara in Husbands...

BRO-ING OUT: MALE BONDING IN THE CINEMA OF DAVID GORDON GREEN...

George Washington (2000)

Undertow (2004)

Pineapple Express (2009)

Prince Avalanche (2013)

I have to give Green credit for crafting a solid film centered around two traditionally frustrating cinematic archetypes: "the idiot" (Emile Hirsch) and "the unpleasant cynic" (Paul Rudd). But in the case of Prince Avalanche, Green twists the screws a little bit and makes Hirsch's idiot character ("Lance") not only stupid but also without much of a conscience (at one point in the film he openly brags about sleeping with his best friend's girlfriend without fully realizing how fucked that is). And Paul Rudd's "Alvin" is one of those unpleasant people who only knows how to communicate through negativity and is just someone you don't want to be around for more than 20 minutes (he's easily agitated for no good reason, prefers to be depressed & lonely and he almost never smiles). And with the exception of two other supporting characters who show up sparingly, Alvin & Lance are all we have to deal with for pretty much the entire film.

Set in the late 80's, Prince Avalanche (a loose remake of the 2011 Icelandic film; Either Way) is the story of Alvin (Rudd) & Lance (Hirsch) - two road workers at odds with each other doing repair to a highway that's been severely damaged by a massive flash fire. Their job, which pretty much consists of painting the yellow divider lines in the middle of a long stretch of highway, forces Alvin & Lance to be away from home for days at a time. Alvin is currently going through a rough break up with his ex, who just so happens to be Lance's sister. As I already said, Alvin is a pretty unhappy guy with no friends who isolates himself from the world (we get the sense he's always been a pretty negative person which is what led to his break up) while Lance is a dopey guy in his early 20's more concerned with women and dreams of leaving his small town for "the big city". As the story progresses, tension in each of their separate personal lives comes to a head along with their relationship with each other. Do they work things out and become buddies or not?
In my opinion, David Gordon Green does Either Way justice with his remake. He maintains the same sparse ambiance and uses the same type of awkward adult humor. Hirsch & Rudd even deliver some of the same dialogue from Either Way line for line a couple of times.
I don't know if I'd label this a dark comedy like so many others have been so quick to do. While Prince Avalanche has plenty of funny moments, there's also just as many serious and/or touching moments that balance everything out making this David Gordon Green's first true dramedy (there's a difference between the two genres). Paul Rudd has worked outside of comedy in the past but this is probably the best non outright comedic performance he's ever given (he really channeled his performance from the 2007 dramedy; Diggers).

Visually, Prince Avalanche is the best looking thing Tim Orr has shot for Green since All The Real Girls. Once again, Orr makes rural/nowhere U.S.A. look nice & calm. There's also a couple of editing moments that are very reminiscent of recent Terrence Malick (specifically The New World & To The Wonder) which was ultimately what showed me that Green had returned to his old style while at the same time still growing and trying out new things as a filmmaker (for those who only started following his post-Pineapple Express work, Green was very much influenced by Malick in the first half of his career)

BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO

Not since Judgement Night (1993) had I been more initially excited about an original soundtrack more than the actual film the soundtrack was intended for. Ever since the untimely passing of Broadcast's lead singer Trish Keenan, I wondered if one of my all time favorite bands would call it quits. Even though they've experimented with instrumental music in the past (Microtronics 1& 2) it was Keenan's voice that really made them so great. But the score they put together for Peter Strickland's Berberian Sound Studio is proof that the remaining members can still make great music even without Keenan's presence (I sincerely hope they don't ever try to find a new lead vocalist because it just wouldn't be the same).

If you refer to my review of 12 Years A Slave you'll recall my growing annoyance with those Hans Zimmer/Howard Shore-style film scores. If I see a slave being brutally beaten on screen (like Chewital Ejiofor in 12 Years A Slave) I don't need the heavy handed string music blasted directly in to my ear to remind me that I should feel sad. I know how and what to feel without the added music. Thankfully quite a few filmmakers in 2013 turned to contemporary musicians for more ambient/non-traditional music than any recent year I can think. The Place Beyond The Pines (Mike Patton), Only God Forgives (Cliff Martinez), Berberian Sound Studios (Broadcast), etc. and even though Shane Caruth isn't on the same level as the aforementioned musicians, his work on Upstream Color was great too. Its not like this is some new phenomena. Almost all of Jim Jarmusch's films are scored by contemporary musicians (Tom Waits, John Lurie, Rza & Neil Young), Claire Denis practically works exclusively with various combinations of The Tindersticks lineup and Olivier Assayas has used Sonic Youth a couple of times. But 2013 seemed to be a mini-explosion of contemporary musicians scoring films.

Broadcast's sound is perfect for cinema. They often incorporate visuals in to their live performances and their retro sound is reminiscent of old 60's films like Blow-up which, coincidentally, is a film that had an obvious influence on Berberian Sound Studio.

I know it seems strange that I spent a good portion of 2013 listening to a film score without seeing the film but I was so disappointed by a lot of what I saw last year that I thought Berberian Sound Studio would be just another letdown. The reason I finally got around to watching it is because it landed on a few "best of..." lists in the contributors section of my end of the year wrap-up and its been compared to classic works like The Conversation & Blowout..
After finally watching this (courtesy of Netflix Instant) it makes sense that Berberian Sound Studio is being compared too and group in with The Conversation & Blowout by just about every movie critic out there. All three films are neo-noirs/mysteries about sound engineers in situations that get way out of hand. But to me, Berberian Sound Studio also feels like a mixture of Barton Fink & Roman Coppola's underrated CQ. If you're familiar with either of those films then you know that they're also heavily influenced works. With Barton Fink you have the obvious Eraserhead influence, while CQ is an homage to everything from Roger Corman B-movies & Italian horror films (like in Berberian Sound Studio) to European art house. Like Black Dynamite or Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive & Only God Forgives, Berberian Sound Studio is another retro "movie mixtapes"/movie collage, although slightly less obvious with the movie references...

Berberian Sound Studio / Barton Fink

In Berberian Sound Studios, Toby Jones plays "Gilderoy" - a British sound engineer hired to work on the post-production of a low budget Italian giallo film ("The Equestrian Vortex") in the vein of the style of Mario Bava or Dario Argento. The minute Gilderoy arrives at the Italian movie studio (Bereberian Sound Studio) we realize that he's out of his element. His timid nature causes him to be bullied around by the loud, boisterous, passionate Italians he's working alongside, there's clearly some inner turmoil between the cast & crew which he's now in the middle of, someone is trying to sabotage the film and it's also heavily implied that Glideroy has never worked on a low budget horror movie before. This immediately reminded me of the basic plot to Barton Fink - an off-Broadway New York City playwright (John Turturro) is hired to come out to "Hollyweird" to write b-movie screenplays. And the idea of a foreigner going over to another country to work on the post production of a sabotaged European B-movie is part of the basic plot to CQ. And like CQ, Berberian Sound Studio is a film within a film that's also about the making of a film that schools the audience on the little tricks that went on behind the scenes in order make a cheap movie come to life.
Through the course of the film Gilderoy becomes more & more uncomfortable working at Berberian Sound Studio and he starts to sense that the same mysterious force that's trying to sabotage the film hes working on is also out to sabotage him. There's no visible or immediate threat (outside of the Italians who dislike him for no legitimate reason) but you do start to feel that there's something creepy out to get him. ...Or is there?
Berberian Sound Studio is the kind of psychological thriller in the vein of Fear X or The Tenant where the longer you watch the more you start to question if our main character is really in trouble or slowly going insane. This is the part of the story that I thought got wrapped up a little too quickly. In the last 20 minutes Peter Strickland does a Demonlover/Mulholland Drive to the plot and we're given a sudden twist that felt hurried & rushed. This is a very entertaining film but parts of it felt kind of empty. There seemed to be more effort put in to the style and ambiance and less in to the story. I thought the sudden plot twist/split personality angle was unnecessary. Stirckland could have kept things more straightforward/based in reality like Blowout or The Conversation which I found to be a lot more effective in the end. I don't mean to insult Berberian Sound Studio because, again, I did enjoy it overall, but part of it felt like Peter Strickland couldn't come up with a good enough ending so he threw a hail mary and just decided to make things surreal & Lynchian at the last minute.
This makes the Coen Brothers influence even more evident given that's a common thing they love to do when they cant end a film. SNAP!

I was surprised to learn that director Peter Strickland wasn't a music video director prior to becoming a filmmaker given his emphasis on style over plot which is a trait many music video-turned movie directors have (Anton Corbijn, Mark Romenak, Jonathan Glazer, etc). Even David Fincher, Michel Gondry & Spike Jonze (who all got their start making music videos) get caught up in that from time to time. I think if Peter Strickland hooked up with a talented screenwriter he'd find that one key element that's missing.
But with all that being said, I still highly recommend this for anyone who loves old Italian horror films, psychological thrillers or Roman Polanski. Actually, this is a role I could see Roman Polanski playing. Toby Jones' performance, which is really good, did remind me of Polanski in The Tenant in certain parts.
No matter how empty some of the story may be, this is the kind film that's bound to bring up the kind of discussion brought on by films like Mulholland Drive, 3 Women, Black Swan, Persona, The Tenant or any other film that deals with split personalities, pressure, broken dreams, loneliness, being consumed by the art you create or all of the above.