Once again, I spent most of this week
viewing the new Criterion collection releases streaming on Fandor. This week’s theme was ‘Girls Raising
Hell’, with the films focusing on women on women lashing out, taking revenge
against either specific people who have harmed them, or at society in general
for mistreating and ignoring them. On average, I didn’t like these quite as
much as last week’s selection devoted to the immigrant experience, but it was
still a strong choice of films.
The clear highlight of the week was Daisies
(Věra Chytilová, Czechoslovakia, 1966), which dives gleefully into anarchy. The
two lead characters are a pair of young women played by Jitka Cerhová and Ivana
Karbanová, both called Marie, though they use a collection of false names over
the course of the film. In the opening scene, they deliver the film’s simple
thesis direct to the camera, following a montage of industrial machines
and wartime bombings: “The world is spoiled. So we will be spoiled too!” The girls spend the rest of the film doing
what can only be described as ‘frolicking around’, crafting an iconic image
from plain dresses and heavy eyeliner, and disobeying the rules society has
laid out for them.
They eat things they shouldn’t, in ways
which they shouldn’t, and they trick rich men into paying for their meals,
which of course should not be done. The more society thinks they shouldn’t do
something, they more joyously they do it. This culminates in a food-fight which
leaves a banquet spread across a once-beautiful room. These are, of course, harmless
gestures compared to the destruction wrought by society’s men, which is exactly
the point. The film’s visual aesthetic matches its non-conformist worldview, employing
different colour filters and shutter speeds. This stylish approach reaches its
height during a playful ‘scissor fight’ between the two girls, which appears to
leaves the film stock itself in tatters, with ‘cuts’ visible across the entire
image. It’s a unique film with a wonderful look, and I had an absolute blast
watching it.
The Match Factory Girl
(Aki Kaurismäki, Finland, 1990) was a mild disappointment to me after I enjoyed
Kaurismäki’s Le Havre (2011) so much
last week. It shows great strengths in some areas, using great formal control
through its almost dialogue-free narrative and successfully earning our sympathy
for its lead character. As the film draws to a conclusion, though, a lot of
that sympathy is lost (or even deliberately discarded by the director) thanks to
a single choice the character makes. The lead is a shy woman named Iiris (Kati
Outinen), who lives with her parents and finds herself trampled by them, and by
the rest of the world.
Despite running for just 68 minutes, this
film takes as much time as it needs to drive the point of a scene home. We see
Iiris decide to take a risk in attending a local dance. We then stay with her
as she sits alone against a wall as an entire song plays out. She finishes her
drink, and places it amongst a pile on the floor, and we are crushed to realise
she has been there all night. It’s this familiarity with rejection which makes
her fall so completely for a creep at a bar, and which allows him to take advantage
of her so cruelly. Eventually, Iiris decides she is sick of being treated this
way, and then she does the thing that she does. There’s one person who seems to
me to be an innocent bystander, but who gets the same treatment as those who
have wronged her. This moment felt unusually cynical to me, though it may have
been the director’s intent to make us turn against the character here.
Writing about this film has reminded me of
the things it does so well, and has caused me to add a full star to my initial
assessment. It’s quite good.
Lady Snowblood (Toshiya
Fujita, Japan, 1973) is a stylish and entertaining revenge film in its own
right, but it is best known these days for the American film it largely
inspired, Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill
(2003-2004). Tarantino’s film uses shots, music and large sections of plot from
this film. He reshaped them into a better movie, but I was genuinely surprised
at how direct the parallels between the two films are. In the Japanese movie, a
woman named Yuki (Meiko Kaji) is born as a being of pure revenge, raised from
birth with the sole purpose of killing those responsible for the murder of her
father and the rape of her mother. She trains for this mission until her
adulthood, and then undertakes this mission very efficiently.
Revenge films are common, and many of them are
too simple to bother with, but Lady
Snowblood’s sense of style helps it rise above the trappings of its genre. The
camera moves fluidly, and often zooms in to show us the anger or fear in a
character’s eyes. The film’s jazz-inspired soundtrack feels completely out of
place in a Japanese film, but this only serves to bring this great music into
the foreground. The other major element which sets this film apart, and which
Tarantino lifted directly, is the violence. When a character is hit by a sword,
blood sprays out of them like somebody has turned on a red firehose. This will
often spray across a white wall or a white kimono, to allow us to see it
better. I suppose only personal taste can dictate whether this is fun or
childish, but it amused me. This is not high art, but it’s an enjoyable
distraction.
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