Ingmar Bergman’s Autumn Sonata (1978)

Autumn Sonata still

“The mother’s injuries are handed down to the daughter. The mother’s failures are paid for by the daughter.”

Ingmar Bergman directed over 60 films during his career, with a group of regulars in most of his later movies. Autumn Sonata stars one of his regulars, Liv Ullmann, as Eva, the daughter of a concert pianist, Charlotte, played by first-time collaborator Ingrid Bergman. The film is shot in beautiful color by Bergman’s cinematographer Sven Nykvist, using a palette of autumn colors – oranges, reds, yellows. The story is classic Bergman and addresses a theme he based his career off of – our inability to communicate with, and thus connect, with the people closest to us, and the ways we suffer because of it.

Eva is visited by her mother Charlotte after an extended absence. Upon her arrival, Eva surprises her mother by telling her her other daughter, Helena, is there as well. Helena suffers from an extremely disabling muscular disorder (I believe it is cerebral-palsy) and must be under constant supervision. After Helena’s condition became bad enough, she was placed in a hospital and effectively abandoned by their mother, and Eva took her in to watch over her. After a tense day together, Eva and Charlotte are left alone, where Eva confronts Charlotte over her failure as a mother, and the damage and pain she has wrought upon her two daughters. After being confronted with the pain of her children, Charlotte has her own opening, and reveals to Eva her own fears and pains. The film ends with a potential reconciliation on the horizon. Kierkegaard once said that, I’m paraphrasing, only after we have truly broken down all of our borders and revealed ourselves to those around us can we truly love. This is an idea that Bergman brought to all of his work and it is certainly true for this movie. (It is also extremely true, and is something we should all be aware of.)

The film is classic Bergman, and if you’ve never seen a Bergman before you may be shocked by its raw emotion. Eva and Charlotte are aggressive and naked in their confrontation, and is frequently hard to watch. Ullmann in particular excels in this film – I found my stomach writhing with pity watching her sob angrily at her mother. I’ve found Bergman’s color films to be particularly powerful in certain aspects, and conveying pain is one of them. Having said that, if you have indeed never seen a Bergman film this isn’t necessarily the best place to start. The film rehashes themes he explores better in his other works. If you are familiar with Bergman, it is worth watching, but only after getting through his films from his classic period, such as The Seventh Seal, Winter Light, and Persona. I was originally very impressed when considering that this film was released in 1978, given that he was at his peak during the late 50s and early 60s, but then I remember Fanny and Alexander, one of his great works, came out in 1982. If you are going to pick one late Bergman film to see, there is no contest – Fanny and Alexander is a masterpiece.

Having said all of this, I want to make clear that Autumn Sonata is a great movie. While it is not essential Bergman, it is the work of a master in his late period, re-exploring the ideas he wrestled with throughout his oeuvre. The acting and Nykvist’s cinematography are phenomenal. I’m on a quest to see all of Bergman’s films, and Autumn Sonata is definitely not one to skip over, once you’ve made it through the classics.

Click here to see The Criterion Collection’s page on Autumn Sonata.

Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2 (1963)

Marcello Mastroianni in 8 1/2“I thought my ideas were so clear. I wanted to make an honest film. No lies whatsoever. I thought I had something so simple to say. Something useful to everybody. A film that could help bury forever all those dead things we carry within ourselves. Instead, I’m the one without the courage to bury anything at all. When did I go wrong? I really have nothing to say, but I want to say it all the same.”

Federico Fellini’s 8 1/2 (1963) is one of the most honest films I have ever seen. The film concerns itself with Guido Anselmi, a famous director trying to create his next movie. Unfortunately for Guido, however, are a never-ending ring of producers, admirers, and lovers who will not allow him the clarity he needs to create an honest film. Driving Guido through the quagmire he finds himself in is a genuine desire to offer a pure, honest form of self-expression in his film.

The film has been called the “greatest film about filmmaking.” It features an early example of post-modern self-reference – Fellini wrote the film during a bout of writers block, burdened by producers and fans in the same way Guido is in the film. Fellini titled the film 8 1/2 as he saw it as his 8 1/2th film – he had previously made 7 1/2; that is, six feature lengths, two shorts, and one film he co-directed.

Whereas Fellini features the same hang-ups as Guido does in the film, Fellini succeeds magnificently where Guido seems to fail. Many of the critiques Guido reads about his own film are applicable to Fellini’s film as well – “…the film (is) a chain of gratuitous episodes which may even be amusing in their ambivalent realism….enough of symbolism and these escapist themes of purity and innocence.” It seems as though Guido is trying to make his own 8 1/2. Well, Fellini succeeds at least.

Billy Wilder’s Sabrina (1954)

Sabrina stars Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, and William Holden.

Sabrina (1954) boasts such an all-star lineup it’s hard to see how it could be anything but great. The film is directed by the great Billy Wilder (it was his last film with Paramount Pictures, ending a 12-year working relationship), and stars William Holden, Humphrey Bogart, AND Audrey Hepburn. With firepower like that it’s hard to miss.

Not that the film does. However, given my love for Wilder, Bogart, and Hepburn and thus my huge expectations, I couldn’t help but feel a bit let down. The plot is familiar, a Cinderella story – the daughter of the chauffeur, Sabrina (Hepburn), is in love with the rakish son, David (Holden), who pays her no notice. She goes off to Paris, she becomes cultured and beautiful, she comes back, and she wins his love. But David is no Prince Charming. He has been married several times, and is engaged for a forth time when he “falls for” Sabrina. David is a cad, and we are made to admire his older, serious brother, Linus (Bogart). Now, this is where the film begins to slip a bit. Worried that David marrying Sabrina will ruin a huge business deal Linus has arranged, he attempts to thwart their relationship. He does this by attempting to get Sabrina to fall for him and (surprise!), he begins to fall for her himself. The audience is then meant to root for Linus, and hope that he and Sabrina end up together. The problem is that Sabrina feels affection for both brothers at the same time, and David plans to call off his marriage to be with her. Are we to believe David has changed his ways and Sabrina is going to get her lifelong wish? Are we to root for the underdog in Linus? This leads to a conflict in the viewer. I would say the latter, apart from the fact that Linus plans to manipulate Sabrina’s emotions, have her fall in love with him, only to send her off to Paris and never see her again. That’s a little too cruel for a character i’m meant to root for. In Hepburn’s earlier film, Roman Holiday, she falls in love with Gregory Peck while he is using her for his own personal gain. However, this is forgivable, as Peck does not know her before he begins the relationship. Linus has no such excuse – he has known Sabrina for an extremely long time. You feel conflicted rooting for him when he is shown to be capable of such cruelty and coldness.

Beyond this, the film is very enjoyable. The dialogue is charming and witty, as are the characters. There are some good gags and lavish scenery. This is one of Wilder’s weaker films, but that doesn’t mean much when you have The ApartmentSome Like It Hotand Sunset BLVDunder your belt. All in all, the film is worth watching, it’s enjoyable, it’s charming. Ultimately, Wilder crafts a story to complex for its own good, but its still very very good.

Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven

Here is a still from Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven (1978). The whole movie looks like this. Go watch it.

Richard Linklater’s Slacker

Richard Linklater’s debut feature film Slacker, released in 1991, became something of a manifesto for Generation X (despite the fact that Linklater himself is a baby boomer).

The film, as is the case with a lot of Linklater’s work, has no real plot or characters. It is a series of vignettes of different residents of Austin, TX holding different intellectual discussions. In this regard, it is similar to his later work Waking Life (2001) (see my previous post), yet it differentiates itself by its mood. Slacker has a very playful, energetic feel to it. The different conversations are connected by space – that is, someone will leave one conversation and pick up another conversation with somebody walking by.

Other than that, there is no real link between the conversations. They range from philosophical meditations to political rants (not shying away from conspiracy theories either) to pop culture obsessions (one character attempts to sell an alleged pap smear from Madonna [the entertainer]). Placed together, the vignettes form a resonant impression of an unmotivated but intelligent generation. However, the film is not fettered by age – the spirit of the generation still echoes today, and probably echoes for anyone who was ever a bored 20-something.

Here is a trailer for the film: Slacker trailer

Malick/Bernanke???

Are Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke and acclaimed American filmmaker Terrence Malick the same person? I can’t say for certain, but see for yourself! Perhaps this would explain what Malick has been doing with his decades worth of free time.

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Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket


I mentioned this film in passing in a previous post, but I feel it is a movie that deserves its own discussion. For many, this is their favorite Stanley Kubrick movie. I have had problems with it in the past, but after a recent rewatching I have found that I am more impressed with it now than I was previously.

Since 2001 (1968), Stanley Kubrick has broken almost all of his movies up into several distinct sections. In A Clockwork Orange (1971) there is the beginning section with Alex as a delinquent, followed by his stint in prison, and concluded with his time after being released. I have never taken issue with the fragmented nature of Kubrick’s storytelling, finding each section to complement the other ones, and never having a significant drop in quality. Full Metal Jacket (1987) is the exception to this statement.

The opening segment is phenomenal. It shows the process of a group going through marine bootcamp. Amongst the group is Pvt. Joker, who is the film’s main character-of sorts, and Pvt. Pyle, a fat, stupid layabout. Pvt. Pyle consistently makes mistakes and is unable to complete the physical demands imposed upon him by the strict drill instructor, who verbally and physically harrasses Pyle at every opportunity. After enduring months of abuse, Pyle finds his calling in riflery. The night before graduation, however, Pyle shoots the drill instructor with his rifle before shooting himself in the mouth. The film then cuts to Joker in Vietnam.

After this, the film takes a nose dive. The opening is a brilliant exploration of the dehumanizing effects of bootcamp, while the rest of the film struggles to find what it is it wants to say. After numerous forgettable interactions, Joker and his unit attempt to kill a sniper who is slowly picking them off.

Before this, however, Kubrick flirts with different ideas. Joker is originally deployed to Vietnam as a photographer, which allows him to critique the media’s representation on the Vietnam war. However, Kubrick quickly drops this promising concept. This prevents Full Metal Jacket from reaching its full potential as a great movie.

Terrence Malick’s The Thin Red Line

In his career lasting over four decades, Terrence Malick has directed five feature length films. He released his debut film, Badlands, in 1973 to great acclaim before releasing what some consider his magnum opus, Days of Heaven (1978). He then disappeared from the film scene for 20 years until releasing The Thin Red Line in 1998. Since then, he has directed two more films, the temperately received The New World (2005) and the phenomenal (in my opinion, at least) The Tree of Life (2011).

I had only seen Days of Heaven and The Tree of Life prior to watching The Thin Red Line, but they were two movies I had immense respect for. I found The Thin Red Line to not only continue but to increase my admiration for the elusive Malick. Within his works, Malick has created a style that allows his films to speak on a different level than most films. As opposed to using a traditional narrative style, Malick instead waxes philosophical, utilizing long takes showing beautiful images of nature, while a voiceover takes the viewer through a philosophical meditation on man’s meaning and place in the universe.

The Thin Red Line continues Malick’s exploration of ordinary characters dealing with the struggles of life. There is no true main character in the movie, as Malick uses an ensemble cast for his story.  However, Malick expertly weaves through his cast, showing the characters within the warzone they inhabit before quietly retreating into their minds for them to deliver Malick’s trademark voiceovers. One of the film’s main concerns is man’s identity – as he steps into foreign lands, slaughtering strangers in the name of abstract concepts, how different is he from the combatants? Perhaps, as one characters remarks, all men have one soul that they share, that all faces are faces of the same man. During the voiceovers, all of the actors speak in a calm, meditative voice, creating a similarity between the speakers. The speaker is identified through camerawork, yet sometimes Malick doesn’t carefully define who is speaking, creating the impression that perhaps they all truly are the same person.

Malick is one of the great filmmakers alive today. He has surprisingly announced two upcoming films, generating much excitement within the film world.

Maryland Film Festival Podcast

Here is a podcast I made reporting on the upcoming Maryland Film Festival happening in Baltimore! Check it out!

http://ross5512.podomatic.com/embed/frame/posting/2012-05-07T12_29_47-07_00?json_url=http%3A%2F%2Fross5512.podomatic.com%2Fentry%2Fembed_params%2F2012-05-07T12_29_47-07_00%3Fcolor%3D43bee7%26autoPlay%3Dtrue%26width%3D440%26height%3D85%26objembed%3D0

Grigory Chukhrai’s Ballad of a Soldier

Ballad of a Soldier, released in 1959, is one of the key cinematic works of the Khrushchev Thaw. After the death of Stalin and the ascension of Khrushchev, the Soviet Union went through a period of cultural revitalization. Film production increased dramatically, and restrictions on the content of productions were slackened. Films no longer had to unanimously praise the Soviet Union and its leaders.

It is within this milieu that Ballad of a Soldier was made. The film tells the story of Alyosha, a soldier during the Great Patriotic War who manages to single-handedly defeat two enemy tanks. As a reward, he is granted six days leave to return home to visit his mother. Along the way he meets a large number of different characters, including Shura, a young girl whom he falls in love with.

The film presents a different view of Soviet military life than other pre-Thaw films. Alyosha is depicted as very much an individual, not merely a Soviet soldier. In another departure from pre-Thaw films, the internal sufferings of the other soldiers Alyosha encounters are shown.

Ballad of a Soldier is a good movie. After leaving Shura, Chukhrai shows a series of superimpositions of Alyosha’s thoughts over the passing trees. His memories, as well as his dreams, are shown as fleeting images. This is the strongest part of the film, as it opens Alyosha up the most for the viewer. Despite this, I could not shake the feeling that Ballad of a Soldier is today largely remembered for the context of its creation as opposed to its content. While it is a decidedly good movie, it was not as good as other movies it gets compared to, such as Tarkovksy’s Ivan’s Childhood (1962) (see my post here). The film is tender and honest, yet does not offer enough for me to consider it one of the great works of Soviet film, as it is sometimes called today.