A rush of blood to the head
by Daniel Hui
It's been quite a while since I've gotten that mad feeling you get after seeing a movie in the theaters; that rush of blood to the head after the last scene ends. Most of the best films I've seen this year were at home, though I can't imagine how much more impact they would have had if I had seen them in the theaters, as they are meant to be seen...
I Vitelloni is the kind of Fellini film that reminds me why I fell in love with him at the early onset of my film addiction. He remains the filmmaker that best personifies the term 'bittersweet,' never afraid of engaging in sentimentality (both comedic and tragic) in pursuit of the sense of wonder that comes with pure cinematic magic. Shorn of the whimsicality that will later characterize him, I Vitelloni is more in line with his neorealist La Strada, Nights of Cabiria, Il Bidone, where a simple narrative provides the flow for what's more important in the film - the tiny triumphs and disappointments of his central characters that you find yourself caring so much for. It begins, like the other films, as a boisterous comedy, but builds its dramatic heft without you realizing until an ending heavy with poignance comes rolling in. The ending of this film, in particular, is simultaneously so feel-good and filled with regret that it's overwhelming - that it comes almost tangential to what was ostensibly the main narratives in the film makes it even more incredible - the kind of scene that feels like a mad rush of blood to the head.
Abbas Kiarostami said that his favorite films are those that put him to sleep on first viewing (often because their pace and style are so different from conventional films that he wouldn't be able to get used to them at first), but make him lose sleep the second time round. This was exactly what happened to me with Ritwik Ghatak's The Cloud-Capped Star, whose scenes begin and end much longer than films from other countries would. Having heard and seen nothing of this Bengali master before, I wanted to see this because it was described as a dark melodrama - right up my alley if it was done correctly, in the Sirkian/Ozu/Satyajit Ray/Loach kind of way. It was definitely subtle, with an ascetism that is not unlike Ray's (maybe it's an Indian cinema thing, I haven't seen enough to know), but its nondescript pacing put me to sleep within half an hour. Awaking periodically however, I managed to catch some scenes that haunted me and refused to leave my mind after - scenes where image, sound and scenario collide so violently that they are wrested forth from the need of a single coherent narrative to form life and consciousness on its own; those moments (of truth?) in cinema when you're not just listening to or watching a story unfold, but allowing the story to become part of your being.
I saw it a second time last night, and lost sleep because I couldn't stop thinking of the movie. Re-watching those scenes as part of a flowing narrative only drummed their power in even deeper, and in these elusive moments, I felt genuine grief - something that rarely happens out of Ozu's films.
I can't quite explain why this movie works either, to tell the truth. Its melodramatic machinations are plain as day, and behind every scene you see them work like the skeleton of a clock methodically ticking off every frame - but still you feel so much for the characters, and so wistful when the film eventually pulls back and watches them from a distance. So much so that when the film ended and the DVD returned to the menu (with the beautiful face of the female protagonist peering out of the window from behind a cloth, accompanied with the great Tagore song - one of many peppered generously throughout the movie), that sense of real, palpable grief just refuses to go away.I suppose I can find some reason of its greatness in the sleeve notes - it would seem that Ghatak really felt for his character, and in her he infuses so much sympathy and compassion. It is probably that passion for his character, that aggression that makes this movie so fiery and so brutal despite its flaws, as such concentrating my love for it in a few bursts of beauty (as compared to the rigor of Ray's perfectly-formed Charulata, which I love equally, but whose love I have for is evenly spread out). I can't be sure that is the reason of its greatness, but those scenes sure felt something like magic.
Both films from Esplanade.
Labels: federico fellini, indian cinema, italian cinema, ritwik ghatak
posted by Daniel Hui at 3:28 PM
21 Comments:
"It is probably that passion for his character, that aggression that makes this movie so fiery and so brutal despite its flaws, as such concentrating my love for it in a few bursts of beauty (as compared to the rigor of Ray's perfectly-formed Charulata, which I love equally, but whose love I have for is evenly spread out). I can't be sure that is the reason of its greatness, but those scenes sure felt something like magic."
I share your sentiments about this huge weight in writing about movies which truly earns our love for them. Having read your last two commentary pieces, allow me hence to share with you here some of my thoughts on film writings, which may vary with your film appreciation ideology.
I have long accepted that not everyone will agree with my writing methods/ film opinions and that any of my attempts in dissecting a movie's film making means may not successfully pinpoint its exact ability in conjuring up said "magical" ends.
Someone like Roger Ebert and Donald Richie comes very close in the kinds of film writings which distill our often entranced experiences into comprehensible words, and the likelihood of my reaching their levels is not favourable.
However, once I have reconciled with my limitations and the fact that cinematic magic is and may always be undecipherable, then I can humbly (suitably) set forth on a exploratory pilgrimage; to continuously write about movies, to share this love with people via my limited means, and in persistently honing this craft of worship into eventually building a words-laid shrine. Hopefully, this temple shall archive my passion for the religion of cinema and convert a man or two in sharing this passion. Or not.
I may not be worthy in knowing all the answers in what made my cinematic gods tick, but at least they kept me asking, instead of giving it all up.
I may not have completely understood what you meant in your "Do we need to understand movies?" column, but what I got from that piece is your seeming to have slumped into a funk and starts entertaining cynical thoughts about cinema's rejuvenating powers. I don't presume to convince you to think like I do, but I think this sustaining power of movies is what drives my passion, as I hope it will eventually be so, for you.
Cheers and good luck,
from the one who should have been praying.
Jeffrey and Daniel,
sometimes you all write better than Ebert. dat Roger, he not so great lah. serious.
'I can't be sure that is the reason of its greatness, but those scenes sure felt something like magic.'
Jeff - how do those lines sound like I'm entertaining cynical thoughts about cinema? The point of my article is not that I know, but that I don't know anything at all. Like you I'm still asking questions, I don't think I'll ever settle, maybe that'll be the day I'd become cynical toward cinema.
burhan - What I was referring to is also the need to have something to say about a movie. Why must we have a concrete expressible idea/thought/feeling to love a movie? Because many of the movies I love leave me head-scratching and bewildered, but will haunt me to no end. I don't think movies need to have something to say, to us or about itself. And very often, we probably don't need to say something about it to ourselves either. But as everyone says to diplomatically sign off an argument: well that's just me.
'Jeff - how do those lines sound like I'm entertaining cynical thoughts about cinema?'
Well Daniel, my comments are based on your two recent articles and not the most recent one alone.
In your piece on "Do we have to understand movies?", you stated, "I'm beginning to see the futility in storytelling for many films." That come off to me as an indication that you may be entertaining cynical thoughts on some kinds of films already.
To me, a family film like DUMA can arguably be as entrancing as an inexplicable film like Spirit of the beehive. By saying you are beginning to see the futility in the means of one kind of film, you are already implying its ends may by default not be as good as films made by other means which you don't frown upon.
To me, it really doesn't matter what the genre of a film is in or what film making techniques are employed. It is more important on how that film feels like to the individual viewer. Being able to recognise the bolts and nuts making up a car does not necessarily mean the experience of driving this car will be accurately projected. It all depends on who are the drivers or the passengers? What trips are to be embarked on? How many years can this car possibly go on and still be driven?
What I am trying to say is this;
- Do we have to understand movies to enjoy them? Like you, I don't think so.
- Once we think we understand (or think we understand) how certain films are manipulatively made, do we need to love them more or less? I think that is less important than what your ultimate feelings for these films are, whatever the means which have been used to bring out said feelings.
You may or may not agree with my somewhat presumptuous interpretations on the way you see movies and their impact on your life, but that is what I get out of your writings. Well, diplomatically or otherwise, that's just me. Of course I may be completely off the mark too, since I don't presume to be certain about who someone is just on their written words alone. So enlighten me. Cheers.
You refer to that line, but don't seem to see it in context of the article (or the next). I still revere Ozu as one of the cinematic greats, that I think he's manipulative does not figure into the equation. What you've questioned above, haven't I also questioned in my thoughts on The Cloud-Capped Star?
Moving away from narrative cinema doesn't mean abandoning it completely - it means, for me, accepting the other end of it and not imposing my pre-conceived notions on what a movie should or shouldn't be. More importantly, the questions I was asking were genuine ones - not at all rhetoric - when I said 'do we have to understand movies?' and 'why do we subject ourselves to the strings of a puppeteer when we have our own uncontrollable lives?' I don't have the answer, because I am a victim of this too.
Or maybe what you mean by 'entertaining cynical thoughts' is what I mean by 'doubt.' Doubt, for me, is important in anything in life, not just (but especially, for something as important to me as) cinema.
I am glad you clarified on the above. Keep searching then my friend, as I am sure I will too on my own. Interesting the different approaches to cinema. You may choose to doubt, while I will usually try to start on a clean slate whenever I enter a movie, without any built-in set of defences as I take in each movie anew. It's not that I do not doubt, it's just that I tend to treat cinema more like an unquestionable leap of faith. When a specific film do not work for me, I will try to cushion the fall from my leap with rants that it's the devil's work. When it works, I will praise it to high heavens and hope the gods of cinema will hear my orgasmic prayers and deliver me to a higher state of bliss with subsequent films to come. I usually come.
and i am still trying to figure out Mirror.
Let's hope we can all come and come together then.
The Visitor - See it drunk or stoned, it helps some.
when a film makes you scratch ur head, it is saying nothing to you. that is why you scratch ur head. either that, or you didn't wash ur head.
frankly, i am sick and tired of this bullshit about films being confounding therefore it's high art.
bull. shit.
if it's confounding, then the filmmaker has failed me.
burhan - My question in that article was also this: what then is the place of film criticism, since film criticism is the act of putting everything into words? As a film geek and not a film critic, I can only question. But as a geek I too often assume the role of film critic as well - it's this film critic in all of us that I have to kill somewhat, if not tame a little sometimes.
The Visitor - I think a film that makes you scratch your head doesn't mean it doesn't speak to you; maybe it's speaking to you but you're not ready to listen yet. For film to be an art (rather than just entertainment), film MUST move away from being just about story-telling, simply because there are just too many restrictions and it is impossible to explore or push any boundaries. We can probably blame the French New Wave for making the 'art film' important
But the French New Wave is far from just bullshit - if art has to be understandable, then all avant-garde/experimental films, Picasso, James Joyce etc would be all bullshit too.
burhan - I want to go into every movie as white paper too, but I can't don't have alcohol with me all the time...
Daniel,
"if art has to be understandable, then all avant-garde/experimental films, Picasso, James Joyce etc would be all bullshit too."
ur saying that all experimental/avant garde films are incomprehensible? i disagree! there are films that push boundaries, challenge the rules and norms, follow no linear form, but are still understandable, whether with effort or not.
i am talking about those films that try to be too clever and end up saying nothing in particular to anyone, be they "mainstream" or "arthouse" or "avant garde" (u know i hate to pigeonhole films!).
and no, films cannot move away from storytelling. storytelling is the BASIS of everything. a story may not follow a conventional plot, but there must still be a story.
story can be non-narrative, non-linear. story doesn't mean sure narrative wan. a story takes you from a beginning to an end, or a perceived end. how it takes you through this journey is up to the filmmaker.
re: understandable
yep. and i dont understand what ur trying to get at by defining "understandable" cos those definitions don't change or challenge what i said.
'and no, films cannot move away from storytelling. storytelling is the BASIS of everything. a story may not follow a conventional plot, but there must still be a story.'
I disagree, film is about ideas not stories - often what we deem as 'cinematic' exist above (or even beyond) story, or are buoyed on top of it. I don't think film is dependent on stories at all. Most of the films of Stan Brakhage, Andy Warhol, Kenneth Anger, Derek Jarman, and our favorite confounder Un Chien Andalou certainly aren't dependent on any form of narrative at all. How can stories be non-narrative? Story by definition is narrative.
Now I'm not an advocator of obscurantism by any means. I dislike people who deliberately cloud their ideas with metaphor and symbolism just so people could 'analyze' and decipher their work. But some films do only work within that line, I think we should have a democratic enough mindset to grant these films a chance.
'i also like the idea of a film critic as helping create an audience for a movie. this is especially important for malaysia and singapore where the people are not as film literate as, for example, france.'
I understand the importance of film criticism for that purpose, but recent debate about film criticism as brought that to the fore - is film criticism really for the masses? I really don't think so.
I think the limitation about putting what we've seen into words is that film captures a finite moment in a specific time. Its precision (and esoterism, I feel) is the reason it evokes a very particular feeling that cannot be captured again even in film (see the Psycho remake), and much less in words.
yes indeed. this is a really interesting discussion.
on "story" and "narrative", wait ... gimme a minute to check the dictionary. LOL
on story: if a film doesn't have a story to tell, i guarantee that you will be bored to death. i know one particular local film that has no story but just a bunch of half realised ideas. and my God, it was boring as hell.
on Un Chien Andalou: i son't understand why ppl still want to argue abt this film. like a debate i had with another friend who insisted there is meaning to the film, and that she once wrote a paper on it. there is NO meaning to it, as the filmmakers themselves have pointed out. what more could one need? whats left are individual interpretations. interpretations of a bunch of random images. what does that tell you?
i just checked the dictionary. yep, i was using the adjective rather than the noun. confused.
the revolution will not be televised.
i guess what i meant was a story told non-linear or in an unconventional formal approach.
What a great thread. I just watched The Cloud-Capped Star very recently in July too at the Osian Film Festival. They mounted a rare retrospective of Ritwik Ghatak's films and this was the highlight for many of us. You should catch his other films that are part of this trilogy where his main topic is really about the Partition between India and Pakistan, mirrored in a family during that setting.
I wish I could but unfortunately not that many of his films are available on DVD (Region 1 or 2, that is). I still have A River Called Titus and Subarnarekha on my watch list, and I can't wait to dive into them.
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