One Busy September

Hello all! Out 1 got some exciting news today, hearing officially that we are accredited for the New York Film Festival! This means you can expect a lot of reviews and articles about the festival here over the course of the month. Press screenings start September 15 with Cannes winner The Class and Kelly Reichardt's much anticipated Wendy and Lucy (ok, maybe no one else is anticipating it much, but I loved Old Joy and hear even better things about this.) Although I may get bogged down in all of the different movies, I will try and focus on the film without distribution, assuming that we will likely cover the more recognizable names when the are officially released in a couple months.

Apart from festival excitement, there is plenty to do film-wise in New York this month. Now, I know that there is always something to do, but you can continue reading this post for some of the film premieres and other events going on, mostly at MOMA. A few of these were at the 2007 NYFF and are finally getting "proper" releases and others are classics that are always worth seeing again, or for the first time, in theaters. It is going to be a really, really great month to be in New York (and one that will surely make many of you non-New Yorkers jealous.)

Jack Smith's Flaming Creatures (w/ Scorpio Rising on Sep. 13 at MOMA; Sep 6-7 at Anthology)

Woody Allen's Husbands and Wives (September 17-19)

Bela Tarr's The Man From London (September 22-28)

Carlos Reygadas Retrospective (including the official US premiere of Silent Light, my favorite film from the 2007 NYFF and, with this public screening, I can (finally) heil it as one of the best of 2008; alongside the retrospective is a screening of Dreyer's Ordet which very much inspired Silent Light)

Dreyer's Gertrud (September 25 and 28 at MOMA)

Hope to see some of you at these screenings!

-James Hansen
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EMPHASIS ON THE CLOSE UP: Reygadas' Diegetics

Abundant with striking provocation, Carlos Reygadas’ 2005 film Battle In Heaven has numerous close ups that work on varying levels that could be theorized, but none is more striking, and highly debatable, than a close up that appears in the first scene of the film. Starting with a close up the face of Marcos, a large, older man, the camera tracks down his naked body where Ana, a young woman, is performing felatio on him. The camera continues to track around their bodies, and slowly moves on Ana's eyes as she is performing this sexual act. Or is she?

Mary Ann Doane’s artice “The Close Up: Scale and Detail in the Cinema” calls into question the existence of space within the world of the close up and how the close up works within the diegetics of the film. Doane explains, “the space of the narrative, the diegesis, is constructed by a multiplicity of shots that vary in terms of both size and angle- hence this space exists nowhere; there is no totality of which the close up could be a part.” (Doane, 108) While this explanation comes from Balazs, Doane goes on to break down narrative spacialization into diegesis (the space of the narrative) and the space of the spectator. Doane argues, against Balazs, that the close up will always constitute a detail or a part, but admits that in the space of the spectator “the close up will, even if only momentarily, constitute itself as the totality, the only entity there to be seen.” (Doane, 108) It is in the opening close up of Ana’s eyes in Battle In Heaven that these two worlds that Doane analyzes come into collision.

There becomes diegetic confusion when Ana opens her eyes and stares into the camera and sheds a tear. In taking away the temporality of what Ana is doing and where she is, the look that Ana gives in close up becomes an implication to the audience and becomes totally isolated from the sexual act that is initially displayed. The image of her eyes has become the totality for the audience, but the same transference happens within the diegesis of the film. Although without spatio-temporality it is impossible to say what the rest of Ana’s body is actively engaged in, the previous shots seen of her performing felatio have her eyes shut tight. It is only when the camera is focusing on her that she is able to break from the diegesis and enter a no man’s land where diegetics no longer exist. She is alone in the world and is the totality of the cinematic moment. The isolation of her within the frame grants her a breaking from the diegetic world of the film and, literally, opens her eyes into the spectatorial cinematic space where Ana is now having a direct confrontation with the audience.

This diegetic battle posed in Battle In Heaven signals a new kind of diegetic autonomy that can be taken out of Balazs and Doane. The space between diegesis and spectatorial space is problematized in this close up. The diegetic autonomy is taken away in limiting to frame to only the eye’s of Ana, however, it opens up a new kind of spectatorial diegesis where the character is able to interact with the spectator outside of diegetics. More than just a simple breaking of the fourth wall, as could be suggested, there is something more radical at work in Reygadas’ film. When Ana looks into the camera and sheds two tears, it is certainly some kind of break, but there is no self reflexive recognition in this cinematic isolation. Without any kind of recognition, yet with the moment being so thoroughly non-diegetic in terms of the narrative, there is a certainly a new kind of cinematic space that is yet to be theorized by Doane. Battle In Heaven is able to take a diegetic moment, remove the diegetic autonomy of the narrative, but maintain some sort of diegesis within the realm of the spectator. This radical space may not be completely new to cinema, but is something that needs to examined further in understanding the diegetics (and radical make up) of the close up.

by James Hansen
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NYFF: Silent Light

With every great rise in a “national cinema,” there are always essential directors and artists hidden beneath the enormous popularity of the so-called premiere directors. The recent Mexican New Wave has boasted three fabulous talents and pushed their top notch directors into Hollywood success. Alejandro Gonzales Inarritu (“Babel”, “21 Grams”) and Alfonso Cuaron (“Children of Men”, “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban”) have transitioned into highly regarded successes in the industry. Guillermo Del Toro moved from Hollywood back to Mexico to create his monstrously successful Spanish/Mexican co-production “Pan’s Labyrinth” and is lined up to return to Hollywood. At the same time, director Carlos Reygadas (“Battle In Heaven”, “Japon”) has worked alongside these directors without being pushed over the border and into the American industry. While his work has not been as economically viable, therefore not as widespread, as the others Mexican works, Reygadas is an equally important director with extraordinary depth and range. Reygadas’ new film “Silent Light,” which has been submitted as Mexico’s selection for Academy Award consideration and was the highlight of the New York Film Festival, deepens Reygadas’ art and should help establish him as one of the premiere directors of the Mexican New Wave.



“Silent Light” opens with the greatest opening shot since Bela Tarr’s stunning opening to “Werckmesiter Harmonies.” The eight minute shot starts staring into a sky full of stars and rotates around into daybreak on the horizon. The shot ends and transitions into more solitude before the silence is broken by the word “Amen.” This opening sequence establishes Reygadas’ change in tone from his earlier works. However, the film is far from muted and finds Reygadas’ characteristic provocations through the drastic changes in character and contains moments that are equally stunning as the opening for “Battle In Heaven” which showcases an attractive young women giving felatio to a fat, uninspired older man.

“Silent Light” has been deemed a more mature work for Reygadas and, while this seems to me an unfounded back handed compliment regarding Reygadas’ prior films, it certainly seems to be a move, in general, to more refined filmmaking. While there is still a fair amount of experimentation, the seemingly conventional feel comes from the more clear cut story that “Silent Light” tells. Johan, the head of a simple Mennonite farming family, is married to Esther. However, there is trouble on the horizon when Johan breaks down into tears after telling Esther that he loves her at the table. Johan is in love with another woman named Marianne who he admits is his “natural woman,” but is afraid to leave Esther because it will hurt her. Johan constantly tries to dodge the fact that it would effect him so deeply, but his religious struggle is key in realizing his desperation.



There is something mystical about the relationship between Johan and Marianne when they are together. Johan and Marianne slowly undress each other, taking time to realize the beauty of their partner. After they sleep together, each bead of sweat on Johan’s face is astonishingly clear. His soul seems to be seeping out of his body, when Marianna tells him that peace is stronger than love and Johan predicts that there will be more pain to come before he finds peace and happiness. Marianne explains that being with Johan is the saddest and happiest time of her life; she has been shut out of her family, but has possibly found her perfect man. The transgression and moral battle is placed squarely on Johan’s shoulders.

Set in a northern Mexican Mennonite community, cast with local non-professional actors, and becoming the first film ever told in the medieval German dialect called Plautidiectsch, “Silent Light” may sound like incredibly non-commercial filmmaking, but the astounding build and emotional resonance of the film’s final act showcases Reygadas’ “maturity” and ability to combine many unique elements without any of them overshadowing the work. The tone may seem lighter and Reygadas may appear to be drifting from his “provacateur” status, over which critics have harshly divided, however, “Silent Light” still manages to contain Reygadas’ classic audaciousness in its quiet moment of revelation. It is in this slight shift that Reygadas may finally find commercial interest in his work, while still maintaining the elements that make him a quintessential filmmaker.

“Silent Light” is the kind of film that the New York Film Festival and, indeed, any great film festival need. Though it may not be as risky a choice as some would like, recognizing previously overlooked films such as Reygadas’ “Battle in Heaven” or Pedro Costa’s “Colossal Youth,” the selection of “Silent Light” signals the selection committees nod of approval to the work of Reygadas. While the approval of “the committee” may signal a deeper problem about the film industry’s frustrating commercialism and unwillingness to take distributive risks, the festival’s commitment to showcasing great films, commercial studio pictures or otherwise, allows a film like “Silent Light” and Reygadas’ work to be written about and given serious thought and opened up to an intelligent and insightful audiences. Whether it is reflected the the festival’s selection or not, for my money, “Silent Light” brings to fruition and seals Reygadas as not only one of the premiere directors of the emerging Mexican New Wave, but also as one of the most interesting and crucial voices in modern world cinema.

by James Hansen

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