Monday 22 July 2024

At the Classic & Lido in Melbourne and the Randwick Ritz - SMALL FEELINGS: THE FILMS OF JOHN CASSAVETES  - A Complete Retrospective



Classic, Lido & Ritz Cinemas are exploring the career of American maverick and provocateur John Cassavetes with a complete retrospective of his directorial features, from his breakthrough Shadows through to his final film Big Trouble. This is the first time all of Cassavetes’ films have been exhibited together in Australia.

 

Cassavetes' films were hugely collaborative, emphasising the actor’s role in exploring difficult characters and “small feelings” often ignored by the studio system. Created outside of this system, his films ultimately defined the idea of the independent film and expanded the possibilities of the medium.

Every Thursday at 7pm from August 29 to November 14. Tickets are on sale now.

 

FILM PROGRAM
Thursday 29 August, 7pm: Shadows (1959)
Thursday 5 September, 7pm: Too Late Blues (1961)
Thursday 12 September, 7pm: A Child is Waiting (1963)
Thursday 19 September, 7pm: Faces (1968)*
Thursday 26 September, 7pm: Husbands(1970)
Thursday 3 October, 7pm: Minnie & Moskowitz (1971)
Thursday 10 October, 7pm: A Woman Under the Influence (1974)
Thursday 17 October, 7pm: The Killing of a Chinese Bookie (1976)**
Thursday 24 October, 7pm: Opening Night(1977)
Thursday 31 October, 7pm: Gloria (1980)
Thursday 7 November, 7pm: Love Streams (1984)
Thursday 14 November, 7pm: Big Trouble(1986)

*130 minute director's cut
**108 minute director's cut

TICKET LINKS
Session times and tickets for Classic Cinemas here.
Session times and tickets for Lido Cinemas here.

Session times and tickets for Ritz Cinemas here. 


"When I hear the term independent filmmaker, I think immediately of John Cassavetes. He was the most independent of them all. For me, he was and still is a guide and a teacher. Without his support and advice, I don't know what would have become of me as a filmmaker. The question 'What is an independent filmmaker?' has nothing to do with being inside or outside the industry or whether you live in New York or Los Angeles. It's about determination and strength, having the passion to say something that's so strong that no one or nothing can stop you.  

John made it possible for me to think that you could actually make a movie—which is crazy, because it's an enormous endevour, and you only realize how enormous when you're doing it. But by then it's too late.  

He once said, "You can't be afraid of anyone or anything if you want to make a movie." It's that simple. You have to be as tough as he was. He was a force of nature."

— Martin Scorsese, from a tribute to Cassavetes published in 1989

"Without individual creative expression, we are left with a medium of irrelevant fantasies that can add nothing but slim diversion to an already diversified world. The answer cannot be left in the hands of the money men, for their desire to accumulate material success is probably the reason they entered into filmmaking in the first place. The answer must come from the artist himself. He must become aware that the fault is his own, that art and the respect due to his vocation as an artist are his own responsibility. He must, therefore, make the producer realize, by whatever means at his disposal, that only by allowing the artist full and free creative expression will the art and the business of motion pictures survive.

— John Cassavetes, ‘What’s Wrong With Hollywood’, from the Spring 1959 issue of Film Culture 

"What makes a film? A script is only words and description—a shorthand for a life situation, an abstraction. The interpretation of the script and the life of the people within it are what makes it real and important. A big passage of dialogue ina. Nervous actor’s hands is a traumatic experience and will either end up being cut at the rehearsal stage or, if shot, deleted when the film is edited. A big passage in John Marley’s hands, or Gena Rowlands’s, or Lynn Carlin’s, or Seymour Cassel’s —is like no words at all: you’re not even conscious of the numnber of words being used, or the time that is passing."

— John Cassavetes, from an introduction to the published screenplay of Faces  

For more information, contact Head of Marketing Jaymes Durante: jaymes@movingstory.com.au 


 


 

 

 

Sunday 21 July 2024

The Current Cinema - Barrie Pattison enthuses over HOW TO MAKE MILLIONS BEFORE GRANDMA DIES (Pat Boonnitipat, Thailand, 2024)


The new Thai film 
Lahn Mah/How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies is currently a box office leader in Asia. It is exactly the kind of product SBS’s Founding Fathers (& Mothers) had in mind, something to make migrant voters remember them on polling day, with the added fringe benefit of making those seem less alien to the wider population still mulling over multi-culturalism. I remember the politico who cheerily explained that it wasn’t there for punters who were too mean to lay out the cost of a foreign movie. 

Well currently SBS is airing Austin Powers Man of Mystery and Olivier’s Hamlet - time off for the subtitling unit. Can’t help but think that other outlets could meet that need without troubling the tax payer.

I came at How to Make Millions Before Grandma Dies pretty much unprepared - minimal advance publicity and reviews in Chinese. Also my tolerance for films that give off feel good vibrations is limited. It took me a while to get into this one. 

Twenty-something Putthipong Assaratanakul is trying to monetise the family computer without much success. His sexy cousin Tontawan Tantivejakul is onto a better number nursing her grandfather through the last stages of a fatal illness, with an eye on the family inheritance. Cut from the delighted invalid’s TV showing a parade of fashion models to a line of white-robed monks at the old man’s funeral. Tantivejakul’s coming out of that manoeuvre with a house.

Assaratanakul hasn’t taken much notice of Usha Seamkhum, his isolated granny. He waits downstairs while his parents make one of their duty flying visits. Hey, didn’t we see that last week in the Spanish Casa en flames? Is this universal human behavior or do these guys watch one another’s movies?

Her scans reveal that the old woman has stage four cancer and he’s warned not to tell her. The bulb lights up. He gathers his things and moves in to tend to Seamkhum’s final days. This takes a sizeable adjustment for both of them, with him having to give the octogenarian sponge baths and rise at five AM to assist on her congee stall. Complications develop with his parents and waster uncle revealed with the surprise sympathy that the film manages to find for most of it’s characters. The inheritance plan and the character trajectories laid out prove unreliable. Only Seamkhum’s brother, who prospered from their family inheritance and is serving a luxury buffet when she brings her grandson to see him, proves contemptible. “Don’t come again.”

The film manages the tightrope between saccharine and cynical with remarkable skill. Even the upbeat ending is made acceptable when we see it has been set up - the silver belt gift, Seamkhum’s afterlife plan. The one departure from realism, the Miss Julie pan to the characters young, is where it should be to have an effect.

My feeling that I was being presented with an exotic soap opera evaporated under the impact of skilful filmcraft. The city we see is not familiar and brought to life by the people we get to know attempting to create a good life. Particularly the open-air train becomes a motif, (telling shot of Seamkhum’s reflection on its window after the grim news) along with the alleyway shop-home contrasted to suburban comfort, the shoe warehouse, the community pool, the crowded hospital waiting room, the street market, where gran’s friend is also condemned by cancer - all more plausible in soft colour and unfamiliar groupings. It is hard to resist the final drive past the places picked out earlier and now signalled by announcements rapped on the coffin.

The creatives are not established, with the director having done some episode TV and Usha Seamkhum’s long experience confined to commercials. There is some overlap with Bad Genius (Nattawut Poonpiriya,Thailand, 2017) where Sarinrat Thomas, who plays the lead’s mother (a nice piece of writing & performance) was the headmistress.

This is not an impenetrable festival piece like Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past LivesA Saturday run, at the Event Centre, was well attended. I would have been surprised to see as many people downstairs at Twisters.

The Current Cinema - Thoughts on THE BIKERIDERS (Jeff Nicholls, USA, 2023)

 


Tom Hardy (r)

The Bikeriders  i
s interesting almost for what it seems desperate to avoid. Which is it doesn't want to be seen as an 'exploitation' picture where people remember the sex, the blood and the gore and overlook the crap acting, the cheap effects, the risible story line and find merit in other bits and pieces. 

So..tarting at or near the start, everyone who reviews the film goes back to Brando in The Wild One as a point of reference and the famous ' Waddya got" response to what it is he's rebelling against.

But the tone for the genre was set almost simultaneously by a movie and a book. Roger Corman's The Wild Angels was a common or garden story lifted to prominence by the sheer brilliance of its film-making  (by both Corman and by Peter Bogdanovich who did the second unit work), with all the motorcycle riding scenes done without back projection or any other fakery and providing audiences with an exhilarating sense of speed and danger. Corman embedded himself into the Hell's Angels club  and filled them up with beer and marijuana. 

Jodie Comer, Austin Butler

The film's sense of excitement was such that the Venice Film Festival chose it as their opener in 1966. AIP exploitation cinema came a  long way that day.

Then in 1967 Hunter S Thompson wrote "Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs". It was product of Thompson's year long close up look at the gang and pulled no punches in its description of drug use and dealing, common violence, pack rape and other unedifying activities. It sold millions. The floodgates were open and have never closed. And Australia has made its contribution most notably through the Mad Max movies but also one of the most famous one offs in our cinema Sandy Harbutt's Stone. I'm sure Thompson's book provided the basic research for many of the dozens of movies that have followed.

Almost every one of them is likely to feature some attempt at least at outrageous violence. Stone for instance  was made memorable by the scene of the piano wire strung across a road which neatly decapitates an enemy.

Toby Wallace

Now Jeff Nicholls didn't want to be lumped into this morass. He wanted to make a movie that, once again, Cannes or Venice or Berlin might take seriously. Hence he chooses to make the film as some pseudo documentary with characters talking direct to camera, supposedly a photographer seeking info to back up a picture book of the gang. There are some violent moments, most notably where the shard of glass gets embedded in a fist but for the rest, like the pack rape which occurs off-screen, not so much and in the end (spoiler alert) the gang leader gets shot dead. 

If this film is going to win any awards it might be for the new category of "Casting". Two Brits, Tom Hardy and Jodie Comer, play the leads and the young Australian actor Toby Wallace, last seen as the hyperactive young juvenile delinquent in Babyteeth does a top turn  as a would-be gang member who, first spurned in a clever scene which tests his loyalties, comes back to take revenge. It's a great entree to a Hollywood career.

Friday 19 July 2024

The Current Cinema - Some thoughts on THE BIKERIDERS (Jeff Nicholls, USA, 2023)

Tom Hardy (r)

The Bikeriders  i
s interesting almost for what it seems desperate to avoid. Which is it doesn't want to be seen as an 'exploitation' picture where people remember the sex, the blood and the gore and overlook the crap acting, the cheap effects, the risible story line and find merit in other bits and pieces. 

So..tarting at or near the start, everyone who reviews the film goes back to Brando in The Wild One as a point of reference and the famous ' Waddya got" response to what it is he's rebelling against.

But the tone for the genre was set almost simultaneously by a movie and a book. Roger Corman's The Wild Angels was a common or garden story lifted to prominence by the sheer brilliance of its film-making  (by both Corman and by Peter Bogdanovich who did the second unit work), with all the motorcycle riding scenes done without back projection or any other fakery and providing audiences with an exhilarating sense of speed and danger. Corman embedded himself into the Hell's Angels club  and filled them up with beer and marijuana. 

Jodie Comer, Austin Butler

The film's sense of excitement was such that the Venice Film Festival chose it as their opener in 1966. AIP exploitation cinema came a  long way that day.

Then in 1967 Hunter S Thompson wrote "Hell's Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs". It was product of Thompson's year long close up look at the gang and pulled no punches in its description of drug use and dealing, common violence, pack rape and other unedifying activities. It sold millions. The floodgates were open and have never closed. And Australia has made its contribution most notably through the Mad Max movies but also one of the most famous one offs in our cinema Sandy Harbutt's Stone. I'm sure Thompson's book provided the basic research for many of the dozens of movies that have followed.

Almost every one of them is likely to feature some attempt at least at outrageous violence. Stone for instance  was made memorable by the scene of the piano wire strung across a road which neatly decapitates an enemy.

Toby Wallace

Now Jeff Nicholls didn't want to be lumped into this morass. He wanted to make a movie that, once again, Cannes or Venice or Berlin might take seriously. Hence he chooses to make the film as some pseudo documentary with characters talking direct to camera, supposedly a photographer seeking info to back up a picture book of the gang. There are some violent moments, most notably where the shard of glass gets embedded in a fist but for the rest, like the pack rape which occurs off-screen, not so much and in the end (spoiler alert) the gang leader gets shot dead. 

If this film is going to win any awards it might be for the new category of "Casting". Two Brits, Tom Hardy and Jodie Comer, play the leads and the young Australian actor Toby Wallace, last seen as the hyperactive young juvenile delinquent in Babyteeth does a top turn  as a would-be gang member who, first spurned in a clever scene which tests his loyalties, comes back to take revenge. It's a great entree to a Hollywood career.

Thursday 18 July 2024

On Criterion Blu-ray - Rod Bishop comes down hard on on PAT GARRETT & BILLY THE KID (Sam Peckinpah, USA, 1973)

Kris Kristofferson, Bob Dylan
Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid


 

Back then - and 50 years later - it’s hard not wondering whether this Sam Peckinpah ‘revisionist’ western would been made if Two-Lane Blacktop hadn’t appeared two years earlier. 

Written by the same scriptwriter, Rudy Wurlitzer, it also boasts two famous musicians with little acting experience in the main cast, and it valiantly strives to recreate the languid ennui of Monty Hellman’s seminal road movie in similar wide-open landscapes.

In 1973, casting musicians in films was hardly a new idea. But after the counter-culture highs (ahem) – and lows - of Easy Rider (1969), a film that blew up the Hollywood business model; and after Beach Boy Dennis Wilson, and folk prince James Taylor - neither of whom had acted before - headed up Two-Lane Blacktop, why not give it a try?

Country singer Kris Kristofferson had acted before, in 1971’s Cisco Pike, but if he’d learnt anything from that outing, it certainly doesn’t show up here. His self-conscious performance as the notorious Billy The Kid is close to awful, and his technique with rifle and pistol so abysmal, it’s hard to believe he could hit anything, let alone all the cowboys hiding behind barns and rocky outcrops and riding their horses. 

Charismatic is a word often applied to Bob Dylan songs, but never to his screen performances. That’s because he simply can’t act. Even if he has been watching James Caan with his knife in El Dorado. Dylan’s role in Pat Garrett is so marginal and perfunctory, it’s clear he’s in the film because he is Bob Dylan - and you’re not.

Kristofferson's and Dylan’s lack of acting chops are compounded by the presence of seasoned professionals forced to work with them – James Coburn, Barry Sullivan, Jason Robards, Jack Elam, Harry Dean Stanton, Elisha Cook Jr and, best of all, Slim Pickens and Katy Jurado who use their limited screen time to give the film its only true moment of emotional clout.

Peckinpah’s last western was a dismal failure and it’s still hard to believe it came only four short years after his best, The Wild Bunch

Gene Siskel in The Chicago Tribune felt Pat Garrett “appears to have been made in emotional slow-motion, and the self-inflating lethargy and mugging of all concerned reduces the enterprise to an exercise in pretension.”

Criterion have now released a 4K Blu-ray package including no less than three versions of the film - The 50th Anniversary edition (1 hour 57 mins); the Theatrical Release (1 hour 46 minutes) and Peckinpah’s Final Preview Cut (2 hours 2 mins).

Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid was bad back then. It’s even worse now.

 

Tuesday 16 July 2024

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema 1960-2020 - Bruce Hodsdon continues his series - 6 (28) West German Cinema Part Four - The Young German Cinema: Reitz, Schlondorff, von Trotta

Edgar Reitz

Edgar Reitz and Alexander Kluge were among the 26 signatories to the Oberhausen manifesto in 1962. Reitz was a leading figure in the Young German Cinema decades before the enormous success in Germany of his “highly ambivalent reworking of the heimat genre” (Kaes) ; the 16 hour television mini-series Heimat (1984) was filmed in the district in which Reitz grew up.  

Reitz had been passionately committed as a filmmaker to developing new forms beginning with what are regarded as two of “Young Germany’s best experimental films.”  Kluge called him “the most consistent German filmmaker […] the one who deals, in the most relentless fashion with the ambiguity of human consciousness […]  a superb craftsman, open to experiment”  (1981 interview quoted in 0Phillips ed. 247).

Reitz completed 5 features and more than 20 experimental shorts and documentaries and participated in several collaborations, 1958-78. Unlike Kluge, an intrinsically political person who came to film through legal studies and philosophical investigations, Reitz began by simply wanting to make films. “My idea of how to become a filmmaker,” he has said, “is to spend five or six years doing every possible job connected with films” (ibid).

Following the creation of state funding opportunities in setting up the new film school at Ulm in 1965, Kluge and Reitz took on teaching the theory and practice of filmmaking until the founding of the Munich and Berlin academies several years later. Practical training at Ulm was discontinued with the school thereafter devoted solely to research and theory. Reitz served as cameraman on Kluge's first feature Yesterday Girl. He was also mentor at Ulm to Ula Stöckl whose films, beginning with Neuenleben hat die Katze/ The Cat Has Nine Lives (1968), were precursors to the New German women’s cinema’s, ‘Frauenfilm’, of the mid seventies.

Reitz’s commitment to auteur filmmaking was shared with Kluge. On the basis of what Reitz called the “real experiences of the author” he struggled to reconcile his own identity with Young German Cinema’s self-understanding in his first feature. Mahlzeiten/Mealtimes (1966) is the story of a marriage, a “fairly realistic love story” that challenged genre stereotypes with elements of ambiguity injected by abrupt changes and reversals, especially with the ending. Retitled more provocatively Lust for Love for international release, it won the award at the Venice Film Festival for best first feature but was pulled from release at home by the distributors in an on-going dispute between the industry and the new filmmakers over the issue of manipulation of subsidised distribution (ibid 235).

Mealtimes 

Reitz’s second feature Cardillac (1969) is an adaptation of a novella ‘Das Fraulein von Scuderi’ by E.T.A. Hoffman. Cardillac is a goldsmith who, unable to give up his creations, resorts to robbery and even murder to recover them. He suicides in a home-made electric chair. The film reconstructs his life while shifting to his daughter who, dominated by her authoritarian father, becomes a cold, unresponsive young woman. Alongside fictitious characters real people appear in the transposition of feudal patronage to contemporary West German show business and of a literary work from the Romantic period into a context that allows contemporary references. All, as  Elssaeser points out, “almost an anthology of motifs clustering around New German Cinema’s fictionalised self-understanding” (87) Cardillac never made it into cinema release: “critics found the story too academic and the style too arty.”

Reitz's hometown in the remote Hunsrück region west of the Rhine is the locale for Die Reise nach Wien The Trip to Vienna (1973). Co-scripted by Kluge, based on an actual story of Reitz’s mother, focussed on the everyday lives in the Spring of 1943 of two young wives whose husbands are serving in the army. Lonely and frustrated, the discovery of a cache of money allows them to realise their dream of a trip to Vienna only to lose it all to a racketeer. Returning home, Illusions lost, one of them is arrested by the Nazi authorities for failing to report the slaughter of a pig but they manage to implicate the official on a rape charge.  Found guilty, he is sent to the Russian front where he is killed. “Made for a wide audience[…] in evoking the connection between private life and the National Socialist system […] the film does not make any value judgements (Phillips ed. 258).

The Trip to Vienna 

In 1974 Reitz again collaborated with Kluge, sharing the director and screenplay credits this time on 
In Gefar und größter Not bringtder Mittelweg den Tod/ translated as In Danger and Deep Distress the Middle Way Spells Certain Death, the title taken from the writings of Friedrich von Longau, a German mystic of the Reformation, another period of great upheaval (ibid 259). Fact and fable are combined in a collage of events in Frankfurt-on-Main during a ten-day period in February 1974. The film is modelled on the 'Wechenschau' (weekly newsreel) a cinematic form that has been written about by Hans-Magnus Enzensberger as “Fragmented World : Anatomy of Wechenshau” whose central theme remains destruction (Phillips ed. 259). Kluge and Reitz further deconstruct the already fragmented footage by leaving out the conventional newsreel attempts to make sense of what is on the screen, letting the images speak for themselves without unifying commentary whereby the world becomes chaos. Two fictional characters, variants on Kluge’s Anita G and Roswitha, while never interacting provide a connecting element, Inge who “sleeps around” and steals from her lovers whenever possible and Rita, an East German spy harassed by her superiors. Fictional and real-life events are radically interwoven to form the nightmarish collage : the annual Mardi-Gras celebrations, police action, a political convention, a conference of junior executives, a beauty contest, and a meeting of astrophysicists. The film culminates in police action against squatters protesting the destruction of long occupied apartment blocks to make way for redevelopment adopting a realist mode as defined by Kluge - see 6 (26) Two Types of Realism.

The Middle Way attracted some criticism for not making an overt political statement; viewers are meant to draw their own conclusions from a series of ironic visual aphorisms, radical critiques of mass culture that poses questions, not solutions. “If the 'plot' seems consistent with Kluge's work, the images are clearly the result of Reitz's early experimental efforts. We see a world moving very fast but going nowhere. The image of the destruction of perfectly useful buildings in the name of “renewal” becomes “a metaphor for post industrial society and its obsession with mindless growth, hurtling  through chaos to what may well be total annihilation” ( Lutze 260)

Reitz's fourth solo feature, Stunde Null/ Zero Hour (1977) is partly autobiographical, centred on a group of people in a small town near Leipzig in the immediate postwar period. The occupying American forces are preparing to move out to make way for the Russians. The troops in both invading armies are not at all accomodating of the locals. Described as “powerful, warm and moving,” Zero Hour, then considered by many to be Reitz's best film, received a national award. Reitz has said that some of those portrayed in the film, including members of his own family, “were capable of being part of the Third Reich […] It remains a mystery how Hitler's Germany could have come about […] I have learned to live with this ambivalent feeling that is typical of my generation in Germany.” Zero Hour was a prelude to the enormously successful Heimat (1984) which, by 1980, was already a work in progress. Reitz, like Kluge, Fassbinder, Syberberg and Sanders-Brahm, sought “to provide in their films a historical memory that runs counter to Hollywood’s notions of German history - even at the risk of appearing, or indeed becoming, revisionist” (Kaes ‘Hitler to Heimat’ 197).

Reitz in his first two features, was intent on fulfilling promises made in the Oberhausen Manifesto : dealing with present day realities while challenging audiences to accept new forms and conventions in telling a realistic love story in Mealtimes;  the “modernising of the literary adaptation through “a constant gruelling dialogue with his film team on the theme of social responsibility of the artist to society” in Cadillac (critic Kirsten Witte quoted Phillips ed. 257).  As previously noted, both films failed to find find a cinema release, setting Reitz on the path to Heimat inTrip to Vienna and Zero Hour.

Volker Schlondorff

After completing his secondary and tertiary (economics and political science) education in Paris, while also attending the Cinematheque regularly, 
Volker Schlöndorff spent a year at the film institute IDHEC before making a short film and then working as an assistant director to Louis Malle, Alain Resnais and Jean-Pierre Melville. Although he was not one of the Oberhausen Manifesto signatories he readily joined the Young German filmmakers when he returned to Germany in the mid-sixties after a  decade in Paris. The first works of many of them aroused hopes that they were seldom able to fulfil having to struggle with the difficult conditions in the context of a failing national industry.

As Anton Kaes acknowledges, the films of Kluge and Schlöndorff are radically different from each other in the formal treatment of their subject matter, in essence alluding to causes and consequences of National Socialism  (Nowell-Smith ed.616). Kluge's experimentalism is in sharp contrast to Schlöndorff's professional craftsmanship, the latter's tendency toward convention obscuring the extent of his commitment to rigour and craft. What placed him as the outsider in the New German Cinema was his unashamed populism: “I believe that it's only a popular medium as the nickelodeon that the cinema can really be justified.” ( Sandford 37). The greatest vindication of this popularizing approach was perhaps the success of The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum (1975) “which not only managed to present sensitive major political issues to a wide audience, but actually was the first real international commercial success of the whole New German Cinema” (ibid).

The Lost Honour of Katharina Blum

A film like 
Katharina Blum made in realist style can readily attract an audience and “may ask the right questions but in a manner not sufficiently geared to provoke a spectatorial reply.”  Corrigan asks the final question “whether this kind of aesthetic moves an audience to merely accept history as a reality or to engage with it as an horizon that can and should be changed?” (72).

Corrigan further notes that Schlondorff from early in his career began to define his aesthetic around the notions of reception and distribution as “one of the pioneers of ‘commercial' developments in the New German Cinema’s distribution. By favouring the appeal of adaptations of literary classics  Schlondorff took on the risk of the film being often negatively compared by critics, as a priority, with the original novel rather than approaching the film on its own terms. He has spoken of how for him literature “is a source of information […] above all, information regarding the question : What is German? What is actually German identity?” (quoted by Christian-Albrecht Gollub, Phillips ed. 278).

Another evaluation is that Schlondorff has been as a director without a style. Rather than a criticism, this could be taken as a measure of his adaptability. He has spoken of lack of stylistic mannerism in his films – an absence of experiment in narrative in what he has termed a “film-theoretical concept” adhered to in order to connect with a wide audience which is rejected by him as “a type of moralistic imperative.”  This absence of a theoretical concept of cinema eschewed finding filmic equivalents for literary tropes in favour of the more conventionally direct synthesis of performance, visual and sound atmospherics, and linearity.

Margarethe von Trotta

This ‘no film-theoretical stance’ was shared by his then wife, collaborator and writer-director in her own right, 
Margarethe von Trotta, who resented labelling of any sort, making films with a wide audience in mind, she collaborated with Schlondorff on Katharina Blum and Coup de Grace (1976). Acknowledged as a leading force in the New German cinema, she directed her first solo feature, The Second Awakening of Christa Klages, in 1978.  

In The Young Törless (1966) darkly ironic intimations of things to come in the behaviour of adolescents from the Austrian upper classes, pre World War I in an Austro-Hungarian military boarding school, was adapted by Schlöndorff from a novel by Robert Musil in a co-production with Louis Malle credited as artistic adviser – he apparently recommended the novel to Schlöndorff. While the dark irony is not overstated, the chilling anticipation of violent obsession and passive weakness secreted in a culture stifled by authoritarian regimes and attitudes, is clear enough. Corrigan draws a telling comparison with Jean Vigo's Zéro de Conduite (1933) and Lindsay Anderson's If ... (1968), films with similar boarding school settings. “But unlike these two films there is no rebellion against the institution but instead a frighteningly stoic withdrawal” (review in Criterion online).

The Young Törless

A loose companion to 
The Young Törless is a rebuttal of the premises of popular provincialism in the German heimat film genre, The Sudden Fortune of the Good People of Kombach (1970), conceived as a television production but also intended for theatrical release, co-scripted by Schlöndorff and von Trotta based on actual events that took place in 1821. A desperate small band of Hessian peasants hold up a tax-wagon only to find that their sudden wealth proves more lethal than the impending threat of starvation as they find their action bringing the full weight of the ruling class upon themselves. The film chronicles the situation rather than focusing on individual characters.

The ability to combine entertainment and political commitment on contemporary issues, as the American cinema from time to time demonstrates, was in short supply in German cinema which very seldom reacted so topically to current developments as in The Lost Honor of Katharina Blum (1975) which Schlöndorff and von Trotta co-scripted and co-directed. In December 1971 the West German yellow press “reported” a bank robbery by the terrorist Baader-Meinhoff gang, and when novelist Heinrich Boll took exception to the slanted and sensationalist accounts he was promptly labelled a sympathiser and intellectual accomplice of the group and his house was subject to police search. This resulted in a novel in which Boll describes four days in the life of a young woman victimised by unfair tabloid practices. Boll sent the galley proofs to Schlöndorff and von Trotta.( Phillips ed. 282).

The Second Awakening of Christa Klages

According to von Trotta she directed the actors while Schlöndorff looked after the technical aspects. Whereas Boll narrated the story - subtitled “How Violence Develops and Where It Can Lead.” - in 58 sections filled with flashbacks and commentary, the film presents a straightforward chronological sequence of events. The camera acts as a passive recording device to narrate, not to explain. Many critics preferred Boll's mosaic structure but audiences were in no doubt: 
Katharina Blum was the most successful German film of the mid-70s, both at home and internationally. 

The producer of The Young Torless Franz Seitz acquired the rights for Gunter Grass’s provocative novel The Tin Drum (1959), wrote an initial script, and invited Schlondorff as director to work on the further adaptation co-written with Grass and Bunuel collaborator Jean-Claude Carrière.  Starring an international cast it was a major success in 1979 both with West German audiences and internationally while, as Grass agreed, maintaining the spirit of the novel.

********************************

Previous entries in this series can be found if you click the following links

 

Sixty Years of International Art Cinema: 1960-2020 - Tables and Directors Lists to Accompany Bruce Hodsdon's Series

 

Notes on canons, methods, national cinemas and more

 

Part One - Introduction

Part Two - Defining Art Cinema

Part Three - From Classicism to Modernism

Part Four - Authorship and Narrative

Part Five - International Film Guide Directors of the Year, The Sight and Sound World Poll, Art-Horror

Part Six (1) - The Sixties, the United States and Orson Welles

Part Six (2) - Hitchcock, Romero and Art Horror

Part Six (3) - New York Film-makers - Elia Kazan & Shirley Clarke  

Part Six (4) - New York Film-makers - Stanley Kubrick Creator of Forms

Part Six (5) ‘New Hollywood’ (1) - Arthur Penn, Warren Beatty, Pauline Kael and BONNIE AND CLYDE

Part Six (6) Francis Ford Coppola: Standing at the crossroads of art and industry

Part 6(7) Altman

6(8) Great Britain - Joseph Losey, Lindsay Anderson, Karel Reisz, Richard Lester, Peter Watkins, Barney Platts-Mills

6(9) France - Part One The New Wave and The Cahiers du Cinema Group

6(10) France - Part Two - The Left Bank/Rive Gauche Group and an Independent

6(11) France - Part Three - Young Godard

6(12) France - Part Four - Godard:Visionary and Rebel

6 (13) France Part 5 Godard with Gorin, Miéville : Searching for an activist voice

6(14) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Bresson 

6 (15) France Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Jacques Tati

 6 (16) - Part 6 - Creator of Forms - Carl Th Dreyer

6 (17) - Italy and Luchino Visconti

6(18 - Italy and Roberto Rossellini - Part One

6(19) - Rossellini, INDIA and the new Historical realism

6(20) - Rossellini in Australia

6 (21) - Italy - Michelangelo Antonioni

6 (22) - Italy - Federico Fellini, Ermanno Olmi

6 (23) - Italy - Pasolini, Rosi

6 (24) - Interregnum - Director/Auteur/Autoren

6 (25) West Germany

6 (26) - Alexander Kluge Part One

6 (27) - Alexander Kluge Part Two


Thursday 11 July 2024

JUST LIKE STARTING OVER - A Review of Tony Rayns new book on his encounters with Korean Cinema


The Brit film critic Tony Rayns made his first trip from his home in London to East Asia way back in the mid-70s and has since done so on countless occasions. The first trip was to find films for a Chinese film retrospective at the London NFT. His first trip to South Korea came a decade later in 1988 when the country was still essentially a military dictatorship. But it was only a few years before the country transformed into some sort of democracy and its film and broadcast industries began the transformation into what is now an international powerhouse of production. If you find that overstated then I offer as Exhibit A the amount of South Korean material you can find on Netflix, a national output reaching an international audience unrivalled by any other non-English speaking country.

The part Rayns himself has played in that modern history of the Korean cinema cannot be underestimated. Now he has written a book, part memoir, part critical diary, part political commentary which recalls decades of close encounters with Korean film-making at all levels of production. "Just Like  Starting Over: A Personal View of the Reinvention of Korean Cinema" has now been published by the Korean Film Council and is a most informative read. It is just so first because the author's voice comes through so unmistakably - forthright, incisive, generous to many and acerbic about some. Second it is a most welcome resource to help track through the myriad of film-makers who have made their names not just in Korea but now even  in the wider international film production community.

The book was commissioned by Park Kiyong the Chairperson of the Korean Film Council who has known Rayns since his first visit and fully acknowledges in his Publisher's Foreword the author's contribution. "Tony Rayns created a doorway for us to the outside world." This doorway was initially through Rayns contact with various festivals in Europe and America. It wasn't an easy task. Festival directors were never wildly adventurous souls but still there were receptive people in Vancouver, Rotterdam and London and they took Rayns advice and suggestions seriously enough. It was always a slog. (Nearly a quarter of a century ago I wrote about the phenomena of festival caution in a despatch for Senses of Cinema from Vancouver.) I'm not sure that the battle has yet been won.

Rayns book tells this story and then moves on to a series of mini-essays about the key film-makers of the modern era. Needless to say the list is led by Bong Joonho but it includes Hong Sangsoo, Im Kwontaek, Jang Sunwoo, Kim Jeewoon, Kim Kiduk and Park Chanwook among them. It includes much information as well about the politics of the industry and especially the effort made to reserve a large section of film exhibition for Korea's own cinema.

Rayns is a superb writer and recorder of these events and the Korean Film Council is to be commended for commissioning what is a quite unique study of a nation's modern film-making development. 

For information about obtaining a copy of the book:

Korean Film Council (KOFIC), 130, Sueyeonggangbyeon-daero, Haeundae-gu, Busan, South Korea 

koreanfilm@kofic.or.kr