Showing posts with label Guy Maddin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guy Maddin. Show all posts

Monday, March 11, 2019

Movie Review: The Green Fog

The Green Fog **** ½ / *****
Directed by: Guy Maddin & Evan Johnson & Galen Johnson.
 
Every Guy Maddin movie is a like a trip inside of his very strange mind – a mind which sees connections in all sorts of them, where the ridiculous and sublime can co-exist. It is the mind of a movie obsessive – and Maddin’s films often use stylings of older films – silent films in particular – to tell deeply strange stories of deeply strange people. The Green Fog is a different sort of film for him in some ways – and yet it is very much a film that I can only imagine him making. The film is entirely found footage – all from movies and TV shows shot in San Francisco, for the most part with the dialogue cut out. Even when there is dialogue in a scene, Maddin and his co-directors (and editors) Evan and Galen Johnson – cur the dialogue – and just the dialogue out – meaning we see right up to the split second sound is going to come out, and right after it does. It is a very odd experience to watch. The structure of the movie is to retell Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo using only these clips of movies that are no Vertigo, but shot in the same city. If, like me, you’ve seen Vertigo more times than you can count – you can spot all the references, or at least most. You also may well be able to tell many of the movies being used here. And yet, it’s fascinating to see the film. Some will (and have) dismiss it as just a goof from a really talented, movie mad director like Maddin. The film, like everything Maddin does, has an undeniable, wicked sense of humor to it. But it’s more than that. It makes you look at Vertigo, one of the greatest and most talked about and written about films, in a different, new light.
 
It takes a little bit of time for you to kind of sink into a film like The Green Fog. It doesn’t operate like most films do, and even if (like me) you know the basic premise of the film before you watch it, you may not be prepared for just what Maddin is doing here – and the very meta way in which the film operates. Vertigo is, of course, a lot about watching – and so watching The Green Fog is about that as well. But now, we’re watching men watch women, and recall watching Stewart watching Novak in Vertigo, as we are watching these new people watch others. Maddin has some fun at times with this – so Rock Hudson watching a film reel as “evidence” becomes him watching a N’Sync video for instance with all of the seriousness you would expect when you watching something for evidence. Or when Michael Douglas from Streets of San Francisco watches Michael Douglas (naked) in Basic Instinct and tells him he’s looking good. Or when we get to the part of Vertigo when Stewart is basically in a catatonic state, and Maddin just plays minute upon minute of clips of Chuck Norris staring off into space. The Norris sequence is the best in the movie – in part because it is so funny, but also because it works. Drained of the sound, and the context of whatever the hell Norris is supposed to be doing in that movie, the clips work entirely in the context of what Maddin is doing.
 
The Green Fog is a massive feat of editing, and it is amazing how well it works. To be fair, it doesn’t really work as a film unto itself (at least I don’t think so – I wonder what someone who doesn’t know the concept of the movie, or have never seen Vertigo would make of this film – something I can never really know). It is an exciting film, a film that makes you reconsider the films it uses, the film it is referencing, and perhaps film itself – or at least the way we watch it.

Friday, February 5, 2016

Classic Movie Review: The Heart of the World (2000)

The Heart of the World (2000)
Directed by: Guy Maddin.
Written by: Guy Maddin.
Starring: Leslie Bais (Anna), Caelum Vatnsdal (Osip), Shaun Balbar (Nikolai), Greg Klymkiw (Akmatov).

If you are one of those poor, unfortunate souls who has not yet discovered the films of mad, Canadian genius Guy Maddin, than his 2000 short The Heart of the World may just be the place to start. It’s one of his best films to be sure – and typical of its work, it takes its inspiration from silent films (this one from Soviet films in particular), but does so in a way that wholly unique, wholly Guy Maddin. If you hate the film – and some will – its only 6 minutes long, so you won’t suffer for long. If you love it – and many will – you may have just discovered one of your new favorite filmmakers.

The film was commissioned by TIFF for the festival in 2000. Maddin, along with other Canadian filmmakers like David Cronenberg, Atom Egoyan, Patricia Rozema and Michael Snow (among others) were approached to make a 4 minute film to play in front of certain features. Apparently when Maddin heard that many filmmakers were planning on doing shorts with relatively few shots and simple stories, Maddin decided, of course, to do just the opposite. He expanded the film to 6 minutes after TIFF, and the film averages 2 shots per second for the entire runtime, and packs in a features worth of story into its runtime. In many ways, it plays like a silent film on fast forward.

The film is about two brothers who are both in love with the same woman, Anna (Leslie Bais), a State Scientist. Osip (Caelum Vatnsdal) is a mortician, who works with speed on an assembly line of corpses coming to him. Nikolai (Shaun Balbar) is an actor, who latest role is as Christ in a Passion Play, and he tries to impress Anna with his suffering. But Anna instead falls in love with Akmatov (Greg Klymkiw), an evil, fat, wealthy industrialist. But Anna discovers that the world itself is in danger of a heart attack – which would kill it – so she slides into the center of the earth to become its new heart – cinema.

The Heart of the World is a treasure trove for silent films fans. Yes, the movie references Soviet films more than anything else – the wealthy industrialist looks a lot like some of Eisenstein (in, say Strike), but there’s a lot of references here. Because the shots fly by so quickly, watching the first – or even second or third time through – isn’t enough to capture everything. It’s a short that not only rewards, but demands repeat viewings. I wasn’t at TIFF in 2000 – but I’ve been there many years, and I can tell you, the shorts and ads that play before the movie – even the best of them – get old, fast. I cannot imagine not perking up though had this played at the front of each movie one year I was there.

The Heart of the World is brilliantly constructed, witty, funny, moving and out and out fun. It is Guy Maddin at the height of his powers – which is why what could have been a throwaway film for many directors, ended up being one of the most acclaimed in Maddin’s career (he won quite a few awards for it). It is a short masterpiece – and the perfect place to start if you don’t already know Maddin.

Friday, October 9, 2015

Movie Review: The Forbidden Room

The Forbidden Room
Directed by: Guy Maddin & Evan Johnson.
Written by: Guy Maddin & Evan Johnson & Robert Kotyk and John Ashbery and Kim Morgan.
Starring: Roy Dupuis (Cesare), Clara Furey (Margot), Louis Negin (Marv / Smithy / Mars / Organizer / Mr. Lanyon), Udo Kier (Count Yugh / The Butler / The Dead Father / Guard / Pharmacist), Gregory Hlady (Jarvis / Dr. Deane / A Husband), Mathieu Amalric (Thadeusz M___ / Ostler), Noel Burton (Wolf / Pilot / The Captain), Geraldine Chaplin (The Master Passion / Nursemaid / Aunt Chance), Paul Ahmarani (Dr. Deng / Speedy), Caroline Dhavernas (Gong), Slimane Dazi (Baron Pappenheim), Maria de Medeiros (The Blind Mother / Clotilde), Charlotte Rampling (The Ostler's Mother), Karine Vanasse (Florence Labadie), Kim Morgan (Kim), Marie Brassard (Mysterious Necklace Woman).  

One viewing is probably not enough to fully appreciate – or hell, even fully understand, the latest film by Guy Maddin (co-directed by Evan Johnson) – The Forbidden Room. My initial reaction was that it wasn’t among Maddin’s very best films – preferring films like My Winnipeg or The Saddest Music in the World or The Heart of the World (one of the greatest 6 minute films ever made). But the more time passes, and the more I return to The Forbidden Room in my thoughts, the more I think that perhaps it does belong there. It certainly is the most Guy Maddin film that Guy Maddin has ever made – a crazy, visually spectacular journey into cinema’s lost past. To describe the plot of The Forbidden Room would be fool’s errand there’s just way too much of it – and to be honest, it all gets a little confusing at times. What Maddin and Johnson decided to do is research old, lost films and then “remake” them. Sometimes this is based on old reviews, sometimes little more than a poster or a tagline, that Maddin and Johnson spin off into some crazy narrative that lasts just a few minutes. But The Forbidden Room isn’t just a series of short films string together – that would be too simple. The narratives spin off into each other, with such a complicated nesting doll structure. Put it this way, if the nesting doll structure of The Grand Budapest Hotel had 4 different dolls – The Forbidden Room has many multiples of that dozen. Now you’re probably starting to see why I think I need to see the film again – at least once – to wholly appreciate it.

Maddin has assembled a huge, international cast of stars to be in the film. The first face we see is by veteran actor Louis Negin, who is hosting an instructional video on how to take a bath (can you believe that many people now take them every other day – some even every day). Negin will return in multiple roles throughout the film, as will many other members of the cast – just to make everything that much more confusing. What Maddin and Johnson essentially have done here is create a rabbit hole of narrative in which we continue to drop – so the water in the bathtub becomes an ocean, and there is a submarine in there, that cannot surface because it’s would explode if it did, but they’re running out of air, even when they factor in the air pockets from all the pancakes they eat (don’t ask), and their captain is missing, so they go looking for him, and instead find a lumberjack, and when they ask how he got there, he tells them a story about he and a group of his fellow lumberjacks trying to save the woman they all love, and how he had to pass a series of manly tests, but the woman also dreams of being an amnesiac and a singer, who will eventually sing a song about a character played by Udo Kier, who is obsessed with derrieres, and on and on and on and on.

The Forbidden Room is, in short, a pretty crazy film. It’s a film that I think you could probably see dozens of times, and still be surprised by what happens next, because there is so little rhyme or reason to it all. And also, because Maddin and Johnson have created such an immersive film – an impressive technical achievement, where they pretty much throw every technique – both old and new – at the screen to get every shot to look wholly unique and different.

Watching The Forbidden Room is, admittedly, a rather exhausting experience. It’s a film that’s impossible to keep up with, and yet one you want to dive back into when it’s all over. I’m still not convinced that it’s among Maddin’s truly great films – not like My Winnipeg, which had lots of digressions, much like this film, but one that Maddin seemed to have complete control over. This one spins wildly away from even Maddin. Which, of course, it’s one of its many, many charms. The Forbidden Room is far from perfect – but if it was perfect, it wouldn’t be half the film it now is.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

10 Best Canadian Films of All Time

Two weeks back, TIFF announced the results of their most recent survey of the Greatest Canadian Films of All Time – something they do every 10 years, give or take. For the first time since the survey started in the 1980s, Claude Jutra’s Mon Oncle Antoine did not win – that went to Zacharis Kunuk’s Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner for 2001 – which shouldn’t be all that surprising, considering it placed 5th in 2004, just three years after it came out. Apparently, the race was close, but Atanarjuat won it. Is it the greatest Canadian film of all time? Not to me, but it’s pretty damn close, so why complain?

Their list was as follows:
1. Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner (Zacharis Kunuk, 2001)
2. Mon Oncle Antoine (Claude Jutra, 1971)
3. The Sweet Hereafter (Atom Egoyan, 1997)
4. Leolo (Jean-Claude Lauzon, 1992)
5. Jesus of Montreal (Denys Arcand, 1989)
6. Goin’ Down the Road (Don Shebib, 1970)
7. Dead Ringers (David Cronenberg, 1988)
8. C.R.A.Z.Y. (Jean Marc-Valle, 2005)
9. My Winnipeg (Guy Maddin, 2007)
10 (tie). Stories We Tell (Sarah Polley, 2012)
10 (tie). Les Ordres (Michel Brault, 1974)

When the list came out, I started thinking about what my top 10 list of all time Canadian films would look like. I almost immediately knew that if I was going to make one up, I’d have to limit myself to one film per director – if not, I could easily have 6 Cronenbergs, 2 Egoyans, and only have two spots left. And what would be in the fun in that. I think one can argue that perhaps the reason why Cronenberg – Canada’s best known, and best director, ranked all the way down at number 6 is because he has so many films that could qualify, and there seems to be no real consensus as to what his best is. Browsing through the ballots, there was obviously a lot of votes for Dead Ringers, but there were also a lot of votes for Videodrome and Crash, and scattered support for Eastern Promises, Naked Lunch, eXistenZ, Spider, Shivers, Scanners, The Brood – even a couple of lone votes for M. Butterfly and Rabid. A few, possibly confused, individuals voted for Cronenberg’s American films – The Dead Zone, The Fly and A History of Violence. My guess is that if you were to ask this same group who the best Canadian director of all time was, Cronenberg would win. But that’s just a guess. In case anyone is interested, I do have a ranked list on Letterboxd of the Best Canadian films of all time, where I don’t limited myself to one film per director (and actually, only three Cronenberg’s made the top 10 – although he makes up a third of the top 21 films). http://letterboxd.com/davevanh/list/my-35-favorite-canadian-films/

Cronenberg is hardly alone in having multiple films split his vote. While almost everyone who voted for a Kunuk, Jutra, Lauzon or Shebib film voted for Atanarjuat, Mon Oncle Antoine, Leolo and Goin’ Down the Road respectively – Egoyan’s The Sweet Hereafter came third, but also found a lot of support for Calendar (one of the few films of his I have missed), Exotica, Family Viewing and The Adjuster. Denys Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal came 5th – but his The Decline of the American Empire and The Barbarian Invasions got lots of votes as well. Sarah Polley has only directed 3 films – but while Stories We Tell came in at number 10, she also got a lot of votes for Away From Her. Guy Maddin’s My Winnipeg made the top 10, but lots of people loved The Heart of the World, The Saddest Music in the World, Careful and Archangel as well. Canadian cinema remains a nice market even within Canada (and especially outside of Quebec) – so it’s not surprising that the same directors show up on everyone’s lists – they’re the only ones getting things made.

After making my list, I have to say, I think the TIFF survey did an excellent job. 6 of my top 10 are on it – and 2 others are by directors who made the list, but for different films. After some honorable mentions, I’ll get to my top 10 – which I ranked to make things more fun.

Honorable Mentions: C.R.A.Z.Y. (Jean Marc-Valle, 2005) is a funny, touching and heartfelt movie about being a gay teenager in 1970s Quebec (ask me another day, and I may put Vallee’s wonderful Café de Flore for 2011 here instead). The Dirties (Matt Johnson, 2013) was a funny and disturbing DIY movie about a school shooting. Ginger Snaps (John Fawcett) is one of the only truly original werewolf movies – which brilliantly, and hilariously, likens turning into a werewolf with teenage girl puberty. Goin’ Down the Road (Don Shebib, 1970) is undeniably one of the most important Canadian films in history – and has a brilliant documentary like feel to the story of two men who come from Out East to the Big City, and find it just as miserable. Goon (Michael Dowse, 2011) is perhaps not a great movie – but it’s a great hockey movie which is FAR rarer. Hard Core Logo (Bruce McDonald, 1996) has rightfully become a cult hit – it perfectly captures the messiness of punk rock and self-destruction (although sometimes, I think McDonald’s under seen Pontypool – a zombie movie with no zombies - is even better). Last Night (Don McKellar, 1998) is a very Canadian movie about the end of the world. Mansfield Park (Patricia Rozema, 1999) is as good a Jane Austen adaptation as more celebrated ones by Ang Lee or Joe Wright. Mommy (Xavier Dolan, 2014) is the wunderkind’s best film so far, and I doubt that it will be too much longer before he’s made a film good enough to be in the top 10. Splice (Vincenzo Natali, 2009) may not been as original as his Cube, but makes up for it by being batshit fucking insane – which is what I want from a Canadian movie like this. Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould (Francois Girard, 1994) is a musician’s biopic, but one with none of the usual trappings and clichés that mar even the best the genre have to offer.

10. 21-87 (Arthur Lipsett, 1963)
The montage films of Arthur Lipsett are fascinating to watch – his first film, Very Nice Very Nice – was Oscar nominated, and remains probably his best known film, and the consensus pick for his best. I, however, was much more impressed with his follow-up film – 21-87, made in 1963. Lipsett uses a mixture of found footage and footage he himself shot, and made a pessimistic, almost dystopian, view of society – where machines were taking over, and soon we would all be reduced to a number, not a name. It’s a sad portrait of our culture, and one that has only become more relevant in the 50 years since he made the film and today. The film was a key influence on George Lucas – especially for THX 1138 (although there is a reference to the title in the original Star Wars movie as well). Sadly for Lipsett, he didn’t last long at the NFB, where he made the film – his bosses didn’t like, and didn’t get his films, and so by the end of the 1960s he was off on his own – and slowly slide into mental illness. But this short film – only 8 minutes long – deserves a spot on this list.

9. The Barbarian Invasions (Denys Arcand, 2003)
Jesus of Montreal is a more daring film, and The Decline of the American Empire is out and out funnier, but Arcand’s Oscar winning The Barbarian Invasions is still my favorite of his work. The films takes place 17 years after The Decline of the American Empire, and revisits the same characters – and their now adult children. Remy (Remy Girard), the leftist, womanizing history professor of the original film, is dying – and although he has done his best to alienate those around him, they all come back as he faces death. This may seem sentimental or unrealistic – and to a certain extent it is, as everyone from his adult son, who has embraced everything he rejected, to his ex-wife, who he cheated on constantly, to former lovers come back to send him off. Yet Arcand isn’t only being sentimental here – he has some points to make. The older generation was idealistic – the younger generation isn’t – and the older generation may complain about how the world is going to hell, but Arcand makes clear that they are as responsible for that as anyone else, and if the kids are screwed up, well just look at who they had for parents? (The younger generation has Remy’s overachieving side and Marie Josee Croze’s heroin addict as flip sides to the same coin – and interestingly, they become characters perhaps more complex than anyone else). The film touches on issues like 9/11, the overburdened Canadian healthcare system and others as well. But through it all, Arcand remains his funny, whip-smart self. 

8. Atanarjuat: The Fast Runner (Zacharis Kunuk, 2001)
The newly minted “Best Canadian Film of All time” really is a masterful film – and unlike anything you have ever seen before, or likely will ever see again. Running nearly three hours long, the film takes place in an small Inuit community – the time period could be now, or 1,000 years ago, it doesn’t much matter. It is a film that both shows the Inuit culture in a way that it has never been seen before, and tells a story of passion, jealously and murder. The film is both very specific to its culture, and yet universal. It’s also not a boring film – not in the least – or some dull history lesson. The film is moving, and at times exciting – the three hour runtime moved by very fast for me. Kunuk has, unfortunately, not really been able to follow-up the film with much success – The Journals of Knud Rasmussen (2006) is fascinating, but feels much longer than Atanajurat, despite being an hour shorter. No, I do not think this is the best Canadian film of all time (obviously) – but it is one of the only films I can think – from anywhere in the world – that I would describe as truly one of a kind.

7. Enemy (Denis Villeneuve, 2013)
I could have easily have put Polytechnique here – Villeneuve’s gut-wrenching, black & white film about the massacre in 1989, or Incendies, his Oscar-nominated film about a legacy violence passed down from generation to generation (hell, ask me another day, and perhaps I would). But for now, I’ll go with Villeneuve’s most recent film – Enemy – an adaption of the Jose Saramago novel, The Double, about a history professor who discovers his exact double (both played by Jake Gyllenhaal in an excellent performance). The movie is 90 minutes long, and neatly twists itself at the 30 and 60 minute marks, taking the film in a new direction each time. Villeneuve’s film is a surreal nightmare – evoking Cronenberg – and making both Toronto and Mississauga seemed darker and greyer than ever before. The film is really about Gyllenhaal’s relationship to the women in life – brilliantly played by Isabella Rossellini as his other, Melanie Laurent as a new girlfriend, and best of all Sarah Gadon as his pregnant wife. The shock of a finale is ingenious – because it works first as per shock value, and then as something deeper. Villeneuve is a talented filmmaker – and Canada may well lose him forever to Hollywood (he has already directed the wonderful thriller Prisoners there – has completed another Hollywood film (which will premiere at Cannes this month), and has two more on the go (including a Blade Runner sequel). But if this is it for him in Canadian film – he’s left his mark.

6. Leolo (Jean-Claude Lauzon, 1992)
The fact that Jean-Claude Lauzon died far too young – in a plane crash at the age of 43 having just completed two films – is a tragedy, because Leolo is one of the most inventive films I have ever seen, and I wish I could have seen more by him. It is a tale inspired by Lauzon’s own childhood in Montreal – and centers on an introverted 12 year old from an insane family – and not a lovably eccentric insane family like most movies of this sort, but genuinely crazy. Not that Leolo isn’t himself a little crazy – he believes that his real father was an Italian farmer who masturbated into some freshly picked tomatoes, and the semen eventually impregnated his mother when she fell in them in the market in Montreal. Oh, and he’s devising an intricate machine of pulleys to murder his grandfather – who is a horny old bastard anyway. It’s one of those films that defy description, and must be seen to be believed. If you haven’t seen it, then do so. Now.

5. My Winnipeg (Guy Maddin, 2007)
There has never been a filmmaker like Guy Maddin before, and there will likely never been a filmmaker like him again. His films are inspired by cinemas’ past – particularly melodramatic silent films – but while his films often take that form, it doesn’t begin to describe them. His greatest film is My Winnipeg (although you could vote for any number of his films, and be right – and I hear his latest, which premiered at Sundance is one of his best) is his ode to his hometown of Winnipeg. Maddin both seems to love and loathe Winnipeg, and gives us a “documentary” about his town, and everything that happened in its history – none of it, and all of it being true. Maddin attributes the movie’s unique take on Winnipeg as laziness – he was hired to make a documentary about his old hometown, and decided not to do any research, and just do the whole thing from memory. In its way, it gives a more interesting insight into the city because it isn’t researched – and is about how it feels like live there. Basically though, it’s much more about Maddin than about Winnipeg. That’s why, to me, it’s the most fascinating film Maddin has made so far.

4. Mon Oncle Antoine (Claude Jutra, 1971)
In small town Quebec, in the 1950s, a young teenage boy learns a lot about life and death, and loses his innocence, all over one Christmas Eve. He lives in the kind of small town where most of the men work at the asbestos mine, and the entire town will congregate at the local general store – which has everything one could need to buy. The store is run by his uncle Antoine – who is also the local undertaker – and the boy works there, alongside a girl around his same age, from an abusive background. Claude Jutra’s beautiful movie is shot with documentary like realism in the early scenes – as the film plays as a coming of age film. The final act of the movie takes on a darker tone though – as the boy is confronted with a series of uncomfortable truths on a long, cold, snowy sleigh ride to pick up and return a dead body with his uncle. The film works wonderfully as a coming of age/loss of innocence story – but there’s more here than that, as the movie also functions as an allegory for Quebec from the time the film takes place (the 1950s) to when it was made (1970s) that makes it a deeper experience. Jutra never hit these heights again – but in Mon Oncle Antoine he made a perfect film.

3. Away From Her (Sarah Polley, 2007)
Sarah Polley’s directorial debut Away From Her is a subtle heartbreaker of a film. The great Julie Christie stars as a woman who is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, and eventually has to go into a nursing home. Her husband, the great Gordon Pinsent has to deal with the fact that he has been left alone – the woman he has loved all these years is still there, and yet gone – she even finds a new love interest, and doesn’t realize that she is already married. Pinsent is hurt, and tries, in vain, to try and get her back. But this isn’t The Notebook – but something deeper and truer to life. Polley shoots the film is bright whites – it takes place during the winter, and there is white snow everywhere, the sun is shining, the fluorescent lights of the nursing home non-ceasing. There is nowhere to hide. Polley does a remarkable job adapting Alice Munro’s short story – something that is hard to do, because Munro’s genius is often about what happens outside the story – that is not written, but felt. Polley has directed two other films since Away From Her – Take This Waltz, a wonderful, underrated examination of infidelity and divorce, and Stories We Tell, a personal documentary about Polley’s past (that easily could have been here instead of this one). Alongside Xavier Dolan, she is probably the brightest hope of Canada’s future cinema, especially since Vallee and Villeneuve seem determined to go Hollywood (not that I blame them). This is a subtle, heartbreaking masterpiece.

2. The Sweet Hereafter (Atom Egoyan, 1997)
Over the lifetime of this blog – started in 2009 – I have been hard on Atom Egoyan as he makes one disappointment after another (Chloe, Devil’s Knot, The Captive). But I’m hard on him because during the 1990s – and into the 2000s (I will still stand up for films like Ararat, Where the Truth Lies and Adoration), he seemed poised to perhaps one day rival Cronenberg as the greatest Canadian director in history. That hasn’t happened – but Egoyan has made at least three truly great films (Exotica and Felicia’s Journey are the others) – but The Sweet Hereafter really does tower over the rest. The film is subtle and heartbreaking and shot in the winter, with snow covering everything (much like the previous two films on this list come to think of it). It tells the story of a tragic school bus accident that takes the lives of 14 children, and its aftermath. Ian Holm delivers a remarkable performance as a lawyer who comes to town and hopes to sign up the parents for a class action lawsuit. But he isn’t a slime ball or a crusading hero – The Sweet Hereafter is too complex for that – but a sad man, dealing with loss of his own. The film is not about assigning blame, but is really about grief, and how nothing will ever make everything whole again. Adapting the book by Russell Banks, Egoyan has crafted a masterpiece. I want this Egoyan back – not the one who made Devil’s Knot.

1. Dead Ringers (David Cronenberg, 1988)
I’ve been working on this piece for a couple of days now, and I have gone back and forth and back and forth multiple times as to what David Cronenberg film should be #1. I could easily have put Crash (1996) here – and its disturbing portrait of a sexual car crash fetish, which acts, in its way, as the culmination of Cronenberg’s career up to that point. Or I could Videodrome here, with its genre leanings mixed with media messages, and gory special effects. What about Naked Lunch – a brilliant blending of the sensibilities of Cronenberg and William S. Burroughs, to come up with something wholly unique. Spider is a wonderful examination of a schizophrenic mind that came out the time as the feel good version – A Beautiful Mind. eXistenZ was a virtual reality film the same year as The Matrix – and Cronenberg’s film was smarter. Eastern Promises was an exciting, brilliant acted and directed Russian mob movie. The more I think about it, the more I love Cosmopolis – the Wall Street giant as emotional vampire film from a few years ago. Even Cronenberg’s less successful stuff – like the early Shivers, Rabid and The Brood, or later A Dangerous Method or Maps to the Stars are fascinating to watch. Luckily The Dead Zone, The Fly and A History of Violence are technically American films, or that would have made things even more complicated. So finally, what was it that made me land on Dead Ringers as his best (Canadian) film? Part of it is the technical mastery on display in the film – it may be easier now to have one actor play two characters and interact with each other, but it was much harder in 1988 – and Cronenberg pulls it off brilliantly. Not only that, but the whole movie is coldly, almost surgically, directed, making an exploitation like premise come across as something much more serious – and tragic. Part of it is the performances by Jeremy Irons – who makes the two Mantle twins completely different characters, even as they are wholly dependent on each other. But it’s really the final scene that makes me vote for this one, finally, over Crash. Both films have a tragic conclusion in their way – Crash with a marriage only temporarily “saved” as the characters continue to careen towards their deaths. But Dead Ringers final shot is haunting, tragic, sad, inevitable and just plain brilliant. Ask me another day, and perhaps Crash gets my vote (in fact, when I initially wrote this up, it did) – but for now, I’ll stick with Dead Ringers.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

DVD Review: Keyhole

Keyhole
Directed by: Guy Maddin.
Written by: George Toles & Guy Maddin.
Starring: Jason Patric (Ulysses Pick), Isabella Rossellini (Hyacinth), Udo Kier (Dr. Lemke), Louis Negin (Calypso / Camille), Brooke Palsson (Denny), Suzanne Pringle (Brooke Palson's body double / Gun Moll), David Wontner (Manners), Kevin McDonald (Ogilbe), Daniel Enright (Big Ed), Theodoros Zegeye-Gebrehiwot (Heatly), Brent Neale (Denton), Olivia Rameau (Rochelle), Claude Dorge (Belview).

Guy Maddin is one of the distinctive directors working in the world today. Love his films, or hate them, there is no doubt about who made each and every one of them. He has directed 41 films since 1986 – most of them shorts, and although I’ve only seen a handful of them, I count myself as an admirer of his. No, I don’t think I’ve ever loved one of his films, but they are all unique and at the very least interesting. He dives back into our shared cinematic past, and comes up with something that is all his own.

His latest film is Keyhole, a very odd film indeed, which mixes elements of film noir and horror, but it really neither of those things. It opens with a group of gangsters firing their way into a house that has been surrounded by the cops. It is night, there is a thunderstorm going on, which keeps the cops at bay. We know we are in Maddin territory early – and not just because the film uses his distinctive black and white visuals. The film opens with a gangster telling everyone to line up against the wall – any one alive, face out, any one who is dead, face the wall. This may sound odd, but this is a house full of ghosts – of memories – so it makes a bizarre kind of sense. The lead gangster is Ulysses Pick (Jason Patric) – and this is his house, and he needs to figure out its mysteries. In addition to his gang, there are two hostages – one young man bound and gagged, and a young woman who is soaking wet. Ulysses’ wife Hyacinth (Maddin regular Isabella Rossellini) is in a room on the top floor of her house, and has her naked father chained to the bed – but as he says, no one knows just how long that chain is.

I could try to explain what happens in Keyhole, but it would be an exercise in futility. I’ve seen the film, and I know what I saw, but I’m not sure I could describe precisely what happens in the film – or more importantly what it all means. Maddin has described the film as his first true narrative film, and there is certainly an element of that in this film – much more so than he previous films. And yet the film, like his others, plays more like a dream than a true narrative. While you watch the film, you know what is going on at any given moment, but when it is all over and you stand back and try to piece everything together, I’m not sure it all fits. But I am sure that Maddin doesn’t really care if it all fits he is more interested in diving headlong into cinema’s past and coming out, with his themes of memory and loss. These echo through Keyhole in many ways, and really throughout all of his films.

Keyhole is not my favorite Guy Maddin film – that would probably be his extremely bizarre “documentary” My Winnipeg, about his mixed emotions about his own home town. But it strangely, it may be his most accessible film – a good place to start for people who want to find their way into the films of this unique director. Because it has more a narrative, and more mystery to the narrative, it plays more like a “traditional” film than most of Maddin’s work, and as such audiences will be comfortable with it. No, I'm not sure if it all comes together, but it does provide enough details for audiences to parse. In Maddin’s best films – like My Winnipeg and Brand Upon the Brain – are purely felt and made films. Yet, Keyhole is still fascinating. It is still a film that only Guy Maddin would make.