Friday, April 19, 2019

A Story of Floating Weeds (1934)

It has been nearly six months since my last post on Ozu.  Actually more than anything it took me a little while to track down today's entry.  But when I saw it was part of the library of Criterion Channel's new streaming service I jumped at the chance to see it.

Stylistically it feels very close to Ozu's previous work, A Mother Should be Loved.  It is full of many of the signature aspects of the Ozu style - ellipses, empty frames, long takes and tatami shots.

Among the few stylistically new touches that jumped out at me was Ozu's use of the tatami shot on an approaching train.  The effect was unlike any I have seen to date of a filmed, approaching train.  It almost gave a 3-D sensation to the movement.

Speaking of movement, this might be the first of Ozu's films that I would characterize as containing the Ozu rhythm, the slow, hypnotic drone of scene progression, unconcerned whether audiences follow or boredom takes over.

Ozu sets the rhythm immediately with a slow fade in (which also feels a little new to Ozu's work).  He then immediately jumps into a slow montage of people-less shots that, like A Mother Should be Loved, once again shows shows that Lang's M might have more than impressed Ozu.


Sunday, January 6, 2019

Favorite (four), part fifty-nine

Just like in my other fifty-eight posts in this series, I want to take a second to single out the highlights of my recent film viewing.  Most of the films I have been glad to see but only a very few have stayed with me.  This series is my filter for those and my hope is one or two will be good to you as well.

Jean-Paul Civeyrac's A Paris Education
It's unfortunate that it is shot on digital black-and-white because if it had the cinematography of Garrel's Regular Lovers it would find a place in my small pantheon of truly cherished works.  But even as is it's pretty special.  It captures some of the poetry of Paris and what the formative years feel like at the fac.  That is, time as your captive and endless amounts of it for sitting around among peers, taking walks and formulating dreams for undoing the previous generation's misguided efforts and hopes.  The end has a narrative device so brilliantly utilized by Demy in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Kazan in Slendor in the Grass, Rohmer in My Night at Maud's and to perhaps a slightly lesser degree Chazelle in La La Land.  And even though the device is familiar, Civeyrac uses it in a way that feels fresh and new.  By fast forwarding with Etienne, it is not a particular romance that he is forced to reckon with but an entire view of the world and of himself.     

Matt Wolf's Wild Combination: A Portrait of Arthur Russell
One of those documentaries that immediately convince you to go out and dig into the work of the featured artist.  Prior to watching the film, I had only heard one song by Russell and now I am very curious to spend more time seeing what he was all about.  He strikes me as part Scott Walker, part Mark Hollis and perhaps part Nick Drake.    

Alice Rohrwacher's Happy as Lazzaro
The first film I have seen from the young Italian filmmaker is impressive.  The best way I can describe it is a welcome concoction of Kiarostami's feel for the land, Lynch's ability for rupturing time and early Van Sant's poetic sense for the rough and marginal.  Based on this film, Rohrwacher is full of talent and tough to categorize.  I am very excited to see what she does next.          

Amy Scott's Hal
Another documentary, like the recent one I saw on Arthur Russell, that makes you immediately want to dig further into the subject's body of work.  As a long time fan of Ashby, Shampoo for instance might be in my all time top ten, I have always been curious to learn more about the filmmaker.  Having seen this doc, which I cannot recommend highly enough to any fan of Ashby, I now can't wait to go back and watch all seven of his films from the seventies.