The Lumière brothers and their "Arrival of a Train"; it stands as a foundational moment because they were the first to truly grasp how framing can be used to evoke a specific emotional response from the viewer. Méliès and "A Trip to the Moon," simply because he was the pioneer of complex narrative structures. D.W. Griffith—I am not necessarily referring to "The Birth of a Nation" specifically, but rather his early work where he began to manipulate the spatial arrangement of a scene, effectively discovering the power of cutting and splicing footage together. Then we have Eisenstein, perhaps with "Battleship Potemkin," because he truly understood the psychological essence of what editing actually represents.
"Caligari" is essential because it mastered the use of lighting to launch the expressionist movement—much like the style seen in "Prague student"—using highly stylized set designs to externalize a character's internal psyche.
Flaherty’s "Nanook..." which serves as the very first instance of what we would call a "narrative" documentary.
"Stagecoach" by John Ford... the montage is nothing short of incredible, utilizing subtle shifts in perspective that represent the pinnacle of cinematic realism; it is undoubtedly a cornerstone of the medium and a major influence on Orson Welles, a fact that Orson himself once confirmed.
Finally, Orson Welles with "Citizen Kane," because he synthesized all these preceding innovations and was the first to introduce meta-commentary regarding the medium itself—though one could argue Buster Keaton touched upon this in an earlier film, it lacked the profound significance found here.
<Supplicant> said:To avoid repeating my previous stance over at Elephant, I have decided to simply copy and paste a piece I wrote earlier—an anti-review, if you will, regarding this particular film.
#2 Title: Life on Canvas (Subtitle: American reality)
And just like that, it’s over... the Festival hits. Is there truly any question more melancholy than the one I am posing here, especially since I have no intention of offering an answer? I certainly don't wish to be one of those condescending types who acts as if everything is constantly improving, yet the local interpretation of this Festival has always moved me to tears. Still, one must tip their hat to the organizers, as they actually held events at the Kic this time around. Granted, the lineup remained identical, but the crowd was at least a fraction more sophisticated—you won't find anyone spitting on your neck in the middle of the set. It all began with Gus van Sant’s "Elephant." When one decides to sit down and watch a winner of the Zlatan Palma, isn't one naturally laden with certain positive preconceptions? Yet, absolutely no one anticipated *that*. And "that" is neither an elephant nor a cinematic achievement. It is merely a story about American youth who: Walk. Indeed, the vast majority of the film's momentum relies on the protagonist walk. You spend your time staring at their backs, perhaps catching a glimpse of a chest here and there. A few of them even manage a couple of lines of dialogue—though, truthfully, they reveal nothing of substance, not even a semblance of life's truths. The director skillfully attempts to weave this into a narrative centered on a group of individuals, offering us various perspectives on the same events in an effort to imbue the film with a deeper tone; he is likely quite aware that psychological nuance is his preferred intellectual currency. As for these individuals: we have the blond boy with the alcoholic father (I believe his name is John—though I cannot be entirely certain, as I made little effort to commit the characters' names to memory), who, by some miracle of storytelling, actually suffers because of it. Then there is the athlete, who is presumably handsome and spends his time outside of the stadium with a mentally pallid brunette (though the film fails to depict this vividly). The school's outcast is the third creature the director so dearly loves: she wears oversized glasses, lacks any grooming under her arms, and opts for long socks during gym class instead of the sleek leotards worn by the other model-esque high school girls (she is essentially Carrie, if you were to strip away the telekinesis and add black hair). We also see a photographer whose very existence is vaguely hinted at, and finally, the queer kid. Yes, a boy who is bullied by everyone, despite being remarkably creative—a fact suggested by his room overflowing with sketches and a piano, where he plays "for Eliza" (Oh, heavens! The director insists you listen to the entire piece; surely no one has ever heard it before?). Only toward the end do the Creative one and his friend (whom, after a certain shower scene, you realize is actually his partner) order weapons online, enter the school in military fashion, and open fire on everyone. But even then, the director refuses to deliver a true massacre, which—if you ask me—would have been enough to raise the film's rating by at least two stars. Instead, he leaves you with mere blood splatter that induces nothing but a yawn, before ultimately returning to the shot of the sky and clouds with which he began his... his... whatever! And when the final curtain falls, leaving you hunched over and feeling utterly drained as you stumble out of the local indie theater—perhaps realizing you don't even have enough cash left for those three essential liters of bourbon needed to wash away the pretentious nonsense that was shoved down your throat for the last hour or so—do you find yourself asking: What was the poet actually trying to say? Or more importantly, did they even have anything to say at all? Perhaps it is simply a case of certain individuals being fundamentally misunderstood by the mainstream, unable to survive such isolation, leading eventually to a structural failure that snaps at every seam—a tension that, in this instance, culminated in a literal massacre. I arrived at this conclusion only after hours of quiet contemplation, wondering to myself: What exactly did I miss tonight? If that is indeed the case, then one might give the director an A+ for finding a way to breathe new life into the concept of unoriginality; for the story isn't just shouted at the audience, it feels entirely unconvincing in our current American reality. It is profoundly offensive, isn't it? There is a fundamental principle at play here regarding how these things unfold within the United States, and it strikes at the very core of our social fabric. If an American, after indulging in nothing more than a milkshake, finds themselves reaching for a weapon, what becomes of our generation—a generation where the lineage remains unbroken from father to son, and grandfather to that son? Where does the responsibility lie? How can we account for the Fathers and the Forefathers, who stand accountable before their Sons and before God? Amen.
p.s. The film takes its title from that childhood game, "Spot the Elephant!"... And that’s precisely the point: there is this massive, looming issue that everyone simply chooses to ignore. (Which, if I’m being honest, is perhaps the only clever thing about the movie itself.) p.p.s. I would suggest that Gus van Sant stick to more benign stories, like his work with benign godwillhunting & fadingforester.
YOUR REVIEW COMES ACROSS AS QUITE PRETENTIOUS. Why is there such a desperate need to display gallons of blood? In my view, suggestion is always far more powerful than direct, graphic depiction. It isn't necessarily shocking, but it leaves a much deeper impression on the viewer. Besides, the film is actually quite deliberate in its construction. Why does the opening scene focus on the father? Why is it specifically in that first moment that we see a parent, especially since it is the one and only scene where any parents are shown at all? It is because EVERYTHING BEGINS WITH THE PARENTS; everything starts with how one is raised at home... There is nothing inherently special or overly dramatic about the final day of these kids' lives. Why should there be? It is just an ordinary day at their high school. As for the characters you claimed were "uninspired" or otherwise clichéd—don't such groups exist in every American high school, particularly during puberty? The jocks, the nerds, the popular crowd... even back when I was in high school in Chicago, it was exactly like that.
By the way, the film's title is a nod to the British short film "Elephant," which is very similar in structure—dealing with a few IRA-related killings back in the 70s.
And then, after all that, one goes and produces *Stealing Beauty* and *The Dreamers*, claiming that politics no longer holds any interest for them—that they are solely focused on love.
Potala said:Well, yes, we could certainly include that scene where the sons pull him from the water and bring him to the shore, dragging him toward the boat; there is that shot from a bird's-eye view where he lies there with his arms outstretched, looking much like the crucified Jesus.
However, I must admit that after watching the film and wading through some of the critiques—those various reviews—all those Biblical parallels felt somewhat overstated to me. It is perhaps because, during my viewing, I wasn't consciously filtering the experience through a religious lens (aside from what I mentioned in my previous post on this thread, though that was merely my own comparison).
I find myself wondering about those of you who did spot these motifs—in what context do you interpret them? Do you see them as direct links to the characters' fates, or something else entirely? For instance, take the father—a parallel to Jesus, the savior. Then there is one son, acting as a devoted apostle, deeply tied to Jesus (what was his name, was it John?). The other is Judas (having indirectly caused his father's death). Since the father was gone for so little time, the sons came to "save" him...
Personally, I find those bird's-eye view shots absolutely fascinating when they are utilized at the perfect moment and aren't just used for the sake of being excessive... It brings to mind the opening of "Undertow" (a truly excellent new film by David Gordon Green about the American South... easily the first decent film about the South we've seen in quite some time) or perhaps certain frames from "Titus" by Julie Taymor... but I don't want to dwell too much on my own preferences.
Regarding these religious motifs... they are so pervasive in Russian art, literature, and cinema. I was actually discussing this just yesterday with a friend of mine from Russia. It seems to be something that flows naturally from their culture and their people... perhaps even subconsciously. He mentioned to me that religion is so deeply ingrained that even seventy-five years of Communism failed to uproot it. Neither the destruction of churches nor the fact that, according to the 1995 census, eighty percent of Russians were considered atheists changed that. Regardless of whether they attend church or practice the faith, religion remains omnipresent within Russian culture.
Ultimately, the film is an exploration of the power of belief and, by extension, the power of the imagination... so perhaps these subconscious religious undertones are simply unavoidable.
Has anyone here seen Bertolucci's "Spider Strategy"?
But regarding that sequence with the truck—that specific telephoto shot where the vehicle slowly emerges from the fog on the interstate and begins approaching the boy—I simply cannot suppress my excitement at that moment. 😁 When that truck pulled up toward him, I truly expected the earth itself to split open and... well, you know.
Man, these are the exact moments in cinema that make me feel alive.
Mance - Rajka said:If someone were attempting to interrogate me using nothing but music to force a confession, Radiohead would undoubtedly be my ultimate weakness. Mercury Rev would likely have an effect as well, certainly. But honestly, Radiohead—especially when paired with a music video where you can see Thom Yorke’s face, twisted by such raw, palpable angst in all its glory—would probably compel me to confess to even the smallest sins, like stealing a candy bar from the local convenience store back in fourth grade. That man’s literal wailing and those haunting, melancholic sound effects almost entirely eclipse the actual music, which might actually be quite compelling if it weren't so dense and overwhelmingly long.
I used to hold a very similar perspective myself, at least until the moment I truly sat down and immersed myself in the Radiohead discography. They aren't quite like The Killers (though I find them perfectly fine 🙂 ), the kind of band you just put on for a catchy, retro 80s-style pop tune while you're getting ready to head out for the evening. No, they are more akin to the old guard, like Pink Floyd—this is music that demands your full attention. To me, it feels almost interactive in its depth.
By the way, when I was younger and lacked a certain level of patience, I found Radiohead quite difficult to stomach, primarily due to Thom Yorke's delivery. Now, however, I view them as one of the most complete and fascinating bands ever to emerge. While The Bends are excellent and perhaps more accessible, it was their evolution through OK Computer and eventually into Kid A that truly defined their greatness.
I feel a certain regret for not joining this conversation sooner; perhaps it is already too late, but what does it matter? My conscience simply will not allow me to remain silent when a topic of this nature is being discussed.
Truly, I find myself struggling to comprehend this intense, forced emphasis regarding female representation. This aggressive push for minority representation in festival cinema is precisely why we see such chronically pretentious and mediocre works emerging from Cannes, and especially so from Venice and Berlin. In modern cinema, a veneer of "multiculturalism" seems to be a guaranteed ticket to at least one of those prestigious venues. As for the portrayal of women in American cinema, the archetype of the mother is such a profound concept that directors like Terrence Malick or even the masters of spiritual realism have dedicated entire cinematic explorations to the theme.
I find myself agreeing with certain points—to an extent—much like how certain directors find massive success in the West by selling a stylized, exoticized version of Eastern European grit. Similarly, festival juries seem to crave another glimpse of that supposed "mysticism of the soul," which does not imply that those filmmakers are untalented, but rather suggests that festival committees are evaluating film on an entirely misguided level.
I perceive this work on both a personal and a professional level. By "professional," I do not refer to technical craftsmanship—for I have little patience for debates concerning mere technique; incidentally, the film was captured on an antiquated Arri 35mm. Rather, I mean the conceptualization of the film and the deliberate, thoughtful layers of meaning that construct this narrative. There is something about it that calls to mind the work of Anthony and his penchant for weaving five or six distinct layers of meaning into a single frame. Regarding biblical motifs, much like the works of Malick, we see the presence of fish (an early symbol of Christianity, of course) and water—almost iconic symbols within the film, particularly during the diving sequence. There is also the image of the father lying in bed, which serves as an imitation of a very famous painting of Jesus—I cannot recall the artist, though I believe he was Spanish. Even so, I suspect the entire sequence involving the diving board is somewhat formulaic. However, I was quite taken by the idea of creating icons within the film itself, using a setting so minimalist that the era becomes impossible to pinpoint—is this taking place twenty years ago, today, or five years into the future?
The way the characters are introduced is masterfully executed. Character introduction is often the first fatal error in ninety percent of films.
Granted, the cinematography is breathtaking, but I do not view it as mere craft; rather, I see it as the engine driving the atmosphere. It is much like in >; Monica Vitt and her contemporaries were not placed on that isolated island without purpose. Location and composition speak of the characters—not through direct exposition, but through the subtle language of montage and, heaven forbid, dialogue.
And as for the editing: the cuts from static frames or dolly shots to handheld footage are among the most masterful transitions I have witnessed in recent memory. Even the opening credits—the interplay of motion and stillness—are so simple, yet so profoundly effective. It has been a long time since I have seen opening credits performed with such grace.
Personally, I view The Return as a film centered on a single emotion: attachment, and the subsequent liberation from it—specifically, the burden of a father who has departed. Naturally, film is a subjective experience; it is a feeling, a memory that materializes in every scene. It evokes the same sensation as the dream sequence with the dog in Nostalgia, or certain atmospheric moments found in Ulysses Gaza.
The scene where Vanya (what a coincidence, we share a name!) is left by the bridge, staring into the distance as trucks pass along desolate roads, is for me a rare cinematic moment. It is a meditative state that we experience vicariously... I am not quite sure how to articulate it. Such moments have been exceedingly rare in cinema over the last ten to fifteen years.
I realize many would prefer to watch gritty, documentary-style gangster tropes coming out of overseas territories, focusing on themes of struggle, much like how certain filmmakers once churned out hundreds of films centered on similar grim realities. That is why I will always champion films like The Return.
For those who enjoyed this, I suggest you attempt to watch the Mexican film Amores Perros.
What an absolutely phenomenal series of films... I used to consider Baraka my absolute favorite, but after several years and countless rewatches, I find myself thinking Koyaanisqatsi is actually the superior work. And Philip Glass! The score provides such a sense of cohesion... those slow, deliberate pans during the portraits, followed by a sudden cut to a time-lapse, and then back to a static portrait... it is simply breathtaking. Some critics have even labeled them "absolute films" (I believe Coppola was among those who held such an opinion). It truly is incredible to think about how such a small group of people could produce both the Qatsi trilogy and Baraka..
www.qatsi.com
There is so much information to digest here—for instance, if you weren't already aware, the director Godfrey Reggio spent roughly seven or eight years in a state of deep meditation while waiting in line in Asia. He eventually returned to the West and created Koyaanisqatsi..🙂
So, what are we thinking regarding brands like Diesel, WTBoy, Sisley, and the rest? For men, I’ve always felt the staples are Levi's, Wrangler, or Lee.
If those styles were good enough for icons like Jim Morrison and Mick Jagger, who are we to argue? True denim should be worn-in; after about six months of regular use, they should begin to mold themselves entirely to the wearer's physique, shouldn't they?😉 A perfect fit.
On a lighter note, I have a feeling that simple, straightforward denim is making a comeback—something classic like Wrangler.
Diesel is certainly stylish, but isn't it just a bit too pricey for everyday wear?
Personally, when I was back home, I used to pick up my jeans at Topman, but here in the States, I usually head to Gap.
I have heard whispers that the tone of this film leans quite heavily toward the Republican Party... Does anyone have any thoughts or commentary on that?
On a separate note, I found myself rather taken aback by the statements made by Trey Parker and Matt Damon regarding P. Diddy... Is it not somewhat irresponsible to frighten children with a pro-voting campaign like "Vote or Die," implying that choosing not to vote is somehow a grave error? To my mind, such a statement felt quite reckless, though perhaps at this point, it hardly matters anymore...
By the way, I haven't actually sat down to watch the movie yet, but I have been told that early on, Team America absolutely demolishes the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, and much of Paris... All in an attempt to catch some terrorists.
I suspect we often underestimate the professionals working within the Hollywood machine. They operate under incredibly narrow constraints regarding their creative freedom; essentially, they are forced to play by the industry's established rules—which is really just code for catering to business school graduates from Harvard.
Most directors of this caliber, such as Marco Brambilla, are actually quite talented. I had the opportunity to meet several individuals like them during my studies, specifically Alan Metter and Anette Haywood Carter. Metter, who directed a series of films starring Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, is a truly fascinating individual. While Anette Haywood Carter produced the rather subpar film Foxfire, she is exceptionally well-educated and has a significant background in video art.
And things of that nature... Unfortunately, one must always respect the pravilo igra...
In a similar vein, Anette once explained to me why Renny Harlin continues to churn out film after film, despite being responsible for some of the most notorious flops of the 1990s. The producers simply love working with him. He doesn't face any issues if he needs to scrap two pages of a script on a filming day just because the studio execs demand it. He "takes direction well." That is precisely why he remains employed to this very day...
This stands out as one of the most genuinely witty films I have had the pleasure of watching in recent years!
I was under the impression that he wasn't particularly interested in self-promotion—at least not in an overt way—though perhaps Leth might be an exception to that rule... As for his work from the sixties, *Perfect Human*, I find myself undecided; however, viewing it through the lens of *The Seven Samurai*, it strikes me as nothing more than incredibly arrogant trash! (Though, I certainly hope my assessment is incorrect)
Beyond its status as top-tier satire, I believe there is a fascinating concept at play regarding variation and improvisation. It reminds one of how a musician approaches jazz: you begin with a central theme and then develop it, much like taking a Duke Ellington composition and completely transforming or enriching it by interpreting it through a different perspective...
One shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the achievements of Birch and Ogrete.. While they might not be considered absolute virtuosos of cinematic expression, they certainly produce respectable films, and their presence at the Berlin International Film Festival and in Venice is no small feat. It truly matters.
Mar de Plata is a well-known film festival, though perhaps it held more prestige twenty years ago. I must admit, this is the first time I have heard it described as an "A category" festival!
Montreal is actually the largest film festival in the world, and since John Doe has been a regular guest there ever since "Life with an aunt," the selection of his new film feels almost like a matter of routine.
Richard Hernandez13 said:Let us be perfectly clear: I have absolutely nothing against American films tackling the American Civil War, social struggles, or other heavy, somber themes. If we expect cinema to reflect reality, then war and societal issues become impossible to ignore. In fact, I would argue that it is almost immoral to shy away from them.
However, there is a subtle catch here. Films are so much more than just what they are about. Simply because a movie chooses to tackle a significant subject does not automatically place it in the category of good filmmaking. The true essence lies in how that subject is handled. After all, if we are being honest, one could craft a masterpiece about absolutely nothing at all. It is precisely this question of how, rather than what, that explains why American films often struggle and why the general public remains so cynical toward them.
Then again, the Canadians demonstrated that, contrary to popular belief, they do possess a legitimate cinema, having secured awards in Venice and appearing at the Berlin International Film Festival. It was perhaps most striking to see a Canadian walking across the stage at the Kodak Theatre with an Oscar in hand.
Times have shifted slightly since then.
Americans have clearly realized that playing the nostalgia card or relying on foreign lobbies at international festivals—as was the trend during the early nineties—is no longer a viable strategy. Nor did it prove particularly clever a few years ago when people tried to use scientific means—mostly genetics—to claim credit for our neighbors' cinematic triumphs (Did you know, for instance, that No Man's Land is considered an American film simply because the producer John Doe was born in Cleveland?).
...to be continued
I agree that it isn't just about the WHAT, but also the HOW... of course, it isn't quite that simplistic, but I understand exactly what you are getting at.
John Doe wouldn't have achieved such success if it weren't for his work and talent, certainly, but also due to impeccable timing (just a few months later and the window would have closed) and, of course, significant lobbying. Behind "No Man's Land," there were several countries and powerful funds involved... including the likes of Benetton's Fabrice. Lobbying was the key factor here. We don't just lack great films; we lack connections and capital, and we are far too arrogant to hire leading European film consultants. Everyone from Cannes to Berlin to Venice knew about "No Man's Land" even before the first frame was shot.
Amy White2 said:American films suffer from mediocrity because they are consistently helmed by the same subpar directors and written by the exact same lackluster screenwriters. And let’s be honest, it all seems to revolve around the money, and we all know exactly who is pocketing those funds.
I am thinking of names like Ivan Malocha, Jozo Patljak, and a handful of others acting as producers. Honestly, the director hardly even matters... unless, of course, you are talking about John Doe.
Is it not abundantly clear that Zoolander is actually the far superior film?
Vince Vaughn is truly exceptional, isn't he? One can't help but feel that his presence on screen carries a certain weight, almost reminiscent of those classic performances we saw back in Old School.