I find I need little more than a rudimentary frame work of what I want to say when I leave a draft, but I’m such an editor, I tend to write volumes of the beginning and then get bored or have to stop. This means my train of thought escapes me, and when I return, fwoop! I have nothing more I want to say about the film.

So, I will try to write about movies I see (just watched Julie & Julia), but not one every day. I thought it would be a good idea, but it’s just too much for me to concentrate on at this point.

Whether or not Boy A is based on the James Bulger murder is debatable, although I am more inclined to think it was inspired by, rather than based on, that 1993 case. Regardless, this film shocked, saddened and stuck with me for several days, thanks to the heartbreaking performance of Andrew Garfield.

The film raises some important questions about the nature of crime and its subsequent punishment. Can people be thoroughly rehabilitated? What happens to children who are tried as adults? Do we ever recover from the things we do against our fellow man? In the end, what are we asking of our justice system? Is there such a thing as impartiality? Is a clean slate actually possible?

The aesthetics of Boy A are minimalist with desaturated colours, blindingly white lighting and non-descript props and locations. The effect is beyond numbing; you can almost feel hope fading for Jack, who has nowhere to hide in this combination. The audio is similarly minimalist; there is almost no non-diagetic music, and the ambient sound is similarly muted and softened—even something which could be as jarring as a slammed door barely registers. This sensory deprivation puts you in an equal position to Jack, and helps (as if Garfield’s quiet anguish weren’t enough) to create compassion for a character—a person—everyone would immediately think of as a monster.

But it is Andrew Garfield who makes this film. His Jack is sad and sensitive, seeking that fresh start denied to most of us. It’s a delicately intricate performance, both transparent and heavily veiled; you know there’s wizardry happening, but he makes the result look effortless.

Has anyone else seen this gem?

Beginning June 1st, 2010, I will write, every day, about a film I have watched that day.

Sometimes, the blogs will be short, descriptive entries of my thoughts on the film, and other times, I will employ academic research to back up my thoughts in a fuller fashion. There will be a wide plethora of films from around the world, some old, some new, some rare, some ubiquitous.

I will attempt, as much as possible, to write about films I have not seen that I have been meaning to watch, however, it is likely that there will be retrospective posts which look at films I have seen in the past. It’s always fun to compare the “me then” and the “me now” reactions to films. I have changed so much since my teens. I’ve changed so much in just the last four years—and so have my viewing habits!

Comments will be open on all posts, and I welcome thoughtful, considerate responses.

See you soon.

Were things really so repressive for young, wealthy, white women in the 50s and 60s, or are films like Girl, Interrupted and Mona Lisa Smile exaggerating the situation? This was a time of great prosperity for North America, with new appliances and amenities out the yin yang. There were greater job opportunities for women, and while it was expected that the husband was the sole breadwinner, and all married couples would have children, it wasn’t such a bad time to be living. So why does every depiction of a 50s or 60s woman have her struggling with ennui, frustration, covert alcohol and prescription drug abuse? If this is really what was going on in suburbia, how in the hell did most women of the time have relatively happy homes, with pretty well-adjusted children? If this is the kind of life Susanna was trying to avoid, how is it she was placed in a mental institution?

Above all, why are these portrayals celebrated? Is it because we like to see suffering by people who would otherwise appear to have it all together (schadenfreude)? Or is it because, deep inside each of us is a misfit, and when we see other misfits struggling, and usually succeeding, our compassion and empathy makes us more human than ever before?

AAG is an early Bollywood film starring the inimitable Raj Kapoor, who, having fallen in love as a child with his friend, Nimi, searches high and low for his life’s meaning after she rejects him—twice. It is bookended by his wedding night, and the reason for recounting the tale. To be honest, I didn’t get to watch the whole thing, but I wish I had.

Dust in the Wind (Lian lian feng chen) is a Taiwanese film by Hsiao-hsien Hou, and it follows the lives of Wan and his friend/girlfriend Huen as they attempt to adapt to life in Taipei after growing up in a village. Wan is drafted into the military, and well, let’s just say, he and Huen never get married.

Later this week, I will also be seeing Blue Velvet directed by David Lynch, and Christopher Nolan’s brilliant Memento in a classmate’s seminar.

I have a confession to make. I have seen next to none of the films nominated for any of the Academy Awards this year. Plus, since I am still without cable (by choice), I am probably not going to watch the ceremony. Unless I get invited to someone’s Oscar party, and the chances of that are pretty slim.

This past week, I saw four films: Far From Heaven, A Taste of Cherry, Crimson Gold, and A Mighty Wind.

Todd Haynes’ Far From Heaven is beautifully shot and very colourful. It focuses on the seemingly perfect world of Cathy Whitaker, whose life is about to fall apart when her husband’s closeted sexuality is revealed. At the same time, she begins a friendship with a black man who owns a garden supply service. It’s inspired by the Sirkian melodramas of the 1950s.

A Taste of Cherry is a film by Iranian director, Abbas Kiarostami, and it is a simple story about a man who has decided to kill himself. We never learn why, and we never find out for sure if he does, but his quest to find someone to bury him is poignant. As beautifully shot as it is, I was much more taken with two of his other works, Ten and Where Is The Friend’s Home?.

Kiarostami was also the scriptwriter for Crimson Gold, a film directed by Jafar Panahi. I was blown away by this film, and I’m still trying to find the words for it. I am taking a combined New Iranian and New Taiwanese film course, and it’s really very cool.

After a conversation with a friend in my production class, I decided to watch A Mighty Wind again just for the sheer pleasure of it, and I am glad I did.

Up this week:

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
The Dark Harvest of Home
Kandahar, directed by Makhmalbaf
…and whatever else tickles my fancy…

Unfortunately, because of my work schedule, I wasn’t able to do much, although I did help with some audio work in production and editing, and provided the make-up and jewellery for the guy who played Marcie, the transvestite. In a way, I feel gypped and as if I let my team down, but what little I did do was awesome! I can’t wait to see the reception we get from the other teams…

It was a very unique film; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. It played with perceptions of time and memory, asking and raising more questions than it could possibly answer.

Is it a documentary? Well, it wrapped documentary techniques in a fictional package, which is the reverse of what usually happens in more straightforward documentaries. Those usually wrap fictional techniques in a more realistic package. Think of Michael Moore’s films: he clearly is telling a specific story from a specific angle, usually with a specific beginning, middle and ending. His images cannot simply speak for themselves, and even if they could, he doesn’t let them; there is always some dialogue, some narration or implicit question with an implicit answer hanging over whatever shows up on screen. Moore is not alone in this technique–most documentarians use it. However, it is a fictional depiction of a realist premise.

Sans soleil, on the other hand, begins with a fictional narrative: the traveller is following the trail of someone who has written her letters. She tells us what he writes, and then discusses her own (often similar) experiences. But the images are more like Lumiere’s factory workers than Melies’ moon man. These people are real people, their behaviour and postures are unrehearsed, impromptu, chaotic, spontaneous and natural. It’s as if the filmmaker took these images and then applied a story to what he recorded, that his thoughts came to him after he had shot the footage. With this interpretation, it’s easy to think that this was a very footloose, free way of filmmaking, but there was careful thought put into how to combine the images, what to say about how different cultures live on this planet.

I felt more comfortable with the scenes from Africa, even with their dire poverty and dying carcasses. I’ve seen them before, I know what I am supposed to feel when presented with the images. However, I found the Japan sections to be disturbing, disjointed, unfamiliar. There were parts that made me cringe. It reminded me strongly of how Western I am.

I would be very interested in hearing from anyone else who has seen this film. It was certainly a thought-provoker.

1. This blog will be a chronicle of the films I have seen IN CLASS.

2. I will post my initial impression of them, sometimes during the screenings (depending on access issues)

3. Should my opinion change or I learn some neat, new fact about the films I have seen, I will share those.

4. An attempt will be made to join class topics to the films screened.

5. I will not merely post a review for a review’s sake.

6. Any comments will be responded to as quickly as I can manage.