High Life (2018)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

High Life (2018) – C. Denis

With references to both 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Solaris (1972), Claire Denis’ latest is set on a space journey to the farthest reaches of our solar system (or actually beyond and directed toward the nearest black hole in our galaxy).  Robert Pattinson stars as one of the only survivors of the crew (the other is a small baby) and the film jumps around in time (and hurtles through space) as we find out how he ended up there.  He certainly isn’t the typical astronaut type.  Soon, we discover that this is all part of a program by NASA to send death row prisoners to space to collect data and to judge impacts on them (despite the fact that the astronauts will age much less quickly than those back home will).  In the flashback scenes, a doctor (Juliette Binoche) is seen attempting to produce babies in space via artificial insemination – usually they don’t survive because of the radiation; she is also seen pleasuring herself in the “sex box”.  As such, the film does have a bit of a Cronenberg body horror feel at times, though it never gets quite as gross as he does/did.  Still, with a soundtrack mainly of low rumbles/electronic sounds and a lot of lonely scenes in space, this is a nearly soporific film, although if you get on its wavelength (as I did), it can be strangely absorbing (in an ugly and beautiful, sad but hopeful sort of way).  Yet, one can’t help but think that the film falls short of the sci-fi masterpieces that it aspired to join…

The Sicilian Clan (1969)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Sicilian Clan (1969) – H. Verneuil

Who could resist the promise of a French heist movie starring Alain Delon, Jean Gabin, and Lino Ventura (with a soundtrack from Ennio Morricone to boot)?  Not me – but alas, the promise only leads to an average genre pic, which is disappointing when you’ve been exposed to the (better) films of Jean-Pierre Melville.  Delon is in his prime as a vicious thief who escapes from a prison van and then plots to rob a travelling jewelry exhibition.  He is aided by the titular Sicilian family, led by Gabin (in pre-Godfather mode).  He is tracked by police commissioner Ventura.  The plot has some twists – yet, somehow it doesn’t feel tight enough.  Director Henri Verneuil lets the suspense drain away or doesn’t build it properly.  Still, there are plenty of classic moments (some might say clichés), such as Ventura trying to quit smoking but struggling due to the stress of the case, Delon almost getting nabbed while visiting a prostitute, Gabin politely and stoically accepting his lot.  Of course, the Thirties was Gabin’s decade (with a great later turn in Touchez Pas au Grisbi in 1954, already the gangster ready for retirement) and Delon (Le Samouraï, 1967; Le Cercle Rouge, 1970) and Ventura (Le Deuxième Souffle, 1966; Army of Shadows, 1969) had better roles for Melville.  But if you are jonesing for this genre, this is certainly more than passable fare. 

Malcolm (1986)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Malcolm (1986) – N. Tass

Charming Australian comedy that also includes a bank heist that is essentially ridiculous – pulled off with mechanical rubbish bins – but that’s not the point. Instead, this is a bit of a character study (or two) about the titular Malcolm (Colin Friels), a shy grown up mother’s boy (who might be thought to be “on the spectrum” these days), who spends his time building model trams and creating mechanical contraptions in his home. He also has a pet cockatoo. When his mother passes away, he takes in a lodger, Frank (John Hargreaves), who, it turns out, has just gotten out of prison; Frank’s girlfriend, Judith (Lindy Davies), soon joins them and smooths over Frank’s rough edges. Eventually, they decide to rob banks together! The movie is clearly low budget but its location shooting in Melbourne (the milk bar, the pub, the tram lines) feels right -- and shows just how much the city has changed since the ‘80s (which is to say a lot!). Of course, the cops are bumbling and there is a bit of keystone comedy when Malcolm’s self-engineered car splits in two during a getaway but the movie happily allows the crooks to get away with it and we feel somehow that no one was disadvantaged at all. In fact, the heist seems to have helped Malcolm socially since he uses his skills to fit in.  Worth a look, especially if you are in Melbourne.

Fårö Document 1979 (1979)

☆ ☆ ☆

Fårö Document 1979 (1979) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman returns 10 years later for a second documentary about Fårö, the small island he came to call home (although at this point he was a tax exile living in Germany).  This second look is longer and less formally structured with more expansive wordless stretches showing us life on the rural island (which has become a favoured tourist destination during the summer).  It does feel meditative at times. Watching this back-to-back with the original 1969/1970 doco reveals some overlap (this time they slaughter a pig instead of a sheep, however) and from this vantage point, a viewer might be hard pressed to determine whether they are watching 1969 or 1979.  A brief attempt in the spirit of the 7 Up! Series involves interviewing the kids from the bus in 1969 to see whether they followed through on their plans to leave Fårö or to stay (most ended up staying, it seems, even as the population dropped to 670 or so).  Everything is very pastoral (and often very wintry), but the loss of cinematographer Sven Nykvist is felt.  A few poignant moments captured me but my attention did waver.  Bergman’s political comments at the end further reinforce the sameness of this sequel.  Perhaps this is one reason why the mooted 1989 edition was never made.  Nevertheless, it would likely be great to visit Fårö one day.

Fårö Document (1970)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Fårö Document (1970) – I. Bergman

Ingmar Bergman made two documentaries about the people on the island that he came to call home in the late 1960s, Fårö (which is a small island just off the coast of the larger island of Gotland, southeast of Stockholm in the Baltic Sea).  Bergman interviews a few of the 900 residents (a school-teacher, a 102 year old carpenter, a sheep farmer, a fisherman, a young couple just about to have a baby, an old retired woman with an amputated leg, some school children) and shows scenes from the island and its routines (graphic scenes of sheep being slaughtered by hand caused me to look away).  In 1969, the island was dealing with a decreasing population (as young people left for the mainland) and a decrease in autonomy as local services were becoming centralised in Gotland.  Bergman uses some of his questions to address the politics of the island (and of Sweden), advocating for the rights of his neighbours (the documentary was shown on Swedish TV).  Bergman is a good interviewer and the interviewees seem at ease and their reflections are intriguing – even if one knows nothing about Fårö, it isn’t hard to imagine their lives and concerns (and to see the universal human condition in them). Sven Nykvist’s cinematography, in both black & white and colour, elevates the picture to something more poetic than a series of talking heads.  Bergman made a sequel in 1979 (which I will turn to next).

Alfie (1966)

☆ ☆ ☆

Alfie (1966) – L. Gilbert

I’m working my way through a list of the best 100 British films of the 20^th century and this was next in line.  Featuring one of Sir Michael Caine’s early star turns in full on Cockney mode, the film is horribly dated. iMDB describes the plot pithily as follows: “An unrepentant ladies' man gradually begins to understand the consequences of his lifestyle.” Throughout the film, Caine breaks the fourth wall to speak directly to the camera about his exploits, which involve affairs with married women behind their husbands’ backs, getting girls pregnant and leaving them, and generally behaving like a misogynist cad.  He isn’t a sympathetic character although some of his adventures (and spiels) must have been designed for comedy (perhaps his over-reaction to finding spots on his lungs at the doctor’s office). Fifty years later, it is hard to tell whether anyone in the audience was expected to identify with Alfie’s behaviour – teen boys wanting to imagine a love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle, perhaps – but more mature audience members would certainly see the shine come off as Alfie is psychologically affected by both the loss of his toddler son (when the young mum he impregnated eventually marries someone more responsible) and a depressing abortion (that he encouraged in a married woman he seduced). We leave him being rejected by Shelley Winters in favour of a younger stud.  In the end, the film lands halfway between kitchen-sink realism and farce, tantalising the audience with laddish exploits while still moralising heavily about their consequences.  Cher sings the title song over the closing credits.

Midsommar (2019)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Midsommar (2019) – A. Aster

Director Ari Aster garnered a lot of attention for his first film, Hereditary (2018), that featured Toni Collette as a woman seeking support in dealing with grief over the death of her mother.  This results in a significant amount of family conflict (and horror) and things get very weird.  Midsommar follows a similar pattern.  Florence Pugh (so great in Lady MacBeth, 2016) plays Dani, a young woman who has also recently lost her parents and now travels with her rather thoughtless boyfriend to a remote Swedish village with his friends.  Apart from Dani (a psychology student), they are all postgraduate students studying anthropology.  The trip to Sweden is an opportunity to attend a unique festival at the request of a student from that village but, for Dani, it is also a means of escape from her grief and perhaps a chance to solidify her (shaky) bond with Christian (Jack Reynor).  Arriving in Sweden, the group is repeatedly given magic mushrooms and exposed to the customs and cultural traditions of the Hårga people. The build up of tension is slow and steady, as weirdness is suddenly introduced and then backed away from.  There is a fair bit of foreshadowing (particularly if you look at the paintings and murals around the village in detail) which “explains” the plot but might be too overt.  Because the film takes its cues from The Wicker Man (1973), if you’ve seen that, then you probably have half an idea where this is going (although it gets a lot more graphic). Although Pugh is excellent (despite a role that calls mostly for grimacing and crying), Jack Reynor and the other actors playing the guests are not always convincing. It is probably Aster’s script that lets them down, as he seems more interested in the various rites and pageantry than in his characters – until the end when he wants to comment on the relationship dynamics again (but may not have “earned” the moment?).  Still, this is a film that holds your attention the whole way through, even if your acceptance of its reality wavers at times.  In this genre, that is often the best that we can get.

Un Flic (1972)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Un Flic (1972) – J.-P. Melville

Melville’s final film is a restatement (or rehashing) of his earlier themes about male bonding, grace under pressure, the commonalities between cop and criminal (themes later borrowed by John Woo among others).  It also is another example of his stylized technique, with the art direction and set design featuring multiple shades of grey, blue, and brown (including the suits, trench coats, and fedoras), shot in the rain or on cloudy days.  Melville famously claimed that his films weren’t “Bressonian” but instead that Robert Bresson’s films were “Melvillian” – by which he means to say that his films were intensely focused on instrumental actions (including shots of hands and feet) more than on establishing the psychology of his characters. Un Flic displays this fetish rather extravagantly with two major heist scenes, the gang (led by dubbed Richard Crenna) robs a bank on a rainy day and a drug courier on a train.  The latter scene takes place in “real time” as the train travels twenty minutes between two stops and Crenna descends from a helicopter onto the roof and then back up again.  (The fact that the train and helicopter are so clearly models detracts from the film and speaks to Melville’s tight budget; unlike Hitchcock’s back projection, the effect here isn’t particularly Brechtian). The two heist set pieces don’t really contribute to the themes or to character development in Un Flic.  Instead, Alain Delon’s police inspector is more richly presented, as we see him in a variety of contexts, at different crime scenes, at the office, with police informants, and alone with his tryst partner Catherine Deneuve – but also at the typical Melvillian nightclub (with synchronised dancing girls) which is run by Crenna whose girlfriend is actually Deneuve as well (a link between cop and crook again).  Of course, everything and everyone is cool, particularly Delon, Crenna, and Deneuve, but Melville’s handling of the conclusion feels abrupt – he’s set the mood expertly, but he has less patience for the resolution and its (typical) fatalism.  Still, there’s a nice effect when Delon’s final move in this chess match sinks in.  Start elsewhere but this is still worth it for fans.