Forgotten VHS: "Memories of Underdevelopment" (Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, 1968)

by Jacob Shoaf

Memories of Underdevelopment (1968) is the more serious counterpart to Tomás Gutiérrez Alea’s The Twelve Chairs. Both portray the social effects of the Batista overthrow as relates to bourgeois Cubans (not a phrase you hear terribly often), though Chairs shows the results through both a former aristocrat and a revolutionary, while Memories focuses solely on the former as he interacts with numerous examples of the latter.

In Memories, a fleet of well-to-do Cubans emigrates to avoid the regime change. Sergio (Sergio Corrieri) watches as his (ex)wife and friends leave for Miami. He stays behind to start writing the Great Cuban Novel. This leads to a lot of aimless wandering accompanied by internal monologues describing the state of Cuba as seen through Sergio’s eyes. But since waxing philosophic doesn’t take too much time, he still manages to become involved with Elena (Daisy Granados) who serves as the prototypical daughter of the revolution. She falls out of favor with Sergio and he looks back to a relationship he had with a European girl (and Sergio makes sure to point out that she hails from a developed nation).

Memories gives off a vibe of early Godard (but not quite as frenzied and with less philosophical asides). It was the first Gutiérrez Alea film to be shown in the US, and is also probably the director’s best known film. Through freeze frames, documentary footage, and flashbacks we study not only one man, but an entire culture. Memories isn't just a great Cuban movie. It's a great movie on an international level.

(Note: While there is technically a region 1 DVD of this film, it’s only available in PAL format. So make some friends in Canada or look for it on VHS.)
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Forgotten VHS #10- "Toute Une Nuit" (Chantal Akerman, 1982)

I find it really hard to understand why so few of Chantal Akerman’s film are available in the United States. From her 1975 classic Jeanne Dielman to her 1993 D’est, both considered among of the best of Akerman’s career (if not the best of each respective decade), Akerman’s films are hard to find, yet each of her films I have seen, other than the disappointing Sud (1999), is more poetic, attentive, and hypnotic than almost any other singular filmmakers’ work. The same goes for Akerman’s 1982 feature Toute Une Nuit.

Although Toute Une Nuit is not as personal as Akerman’s most powerful films, her methodic filmmaking, sly humor, and obsession with relationships is firmly on display in her pseduo-conceptual work. Toute Une Nuit, like most Akerman films, contains minimal dialogue, and slowly tracks over two dozen characters as they move around urban Brussels passionately connecting with one another, if only for brief moments. It is hard to imagine Richard Linklater’s great film Slacker working, or even existing, without Chantal Akerman. While Toute Une Nuit is still only available on VHS, it is worth seeking out (and can be found on Amazon for under $5!) It is a good introduction to Akerman’s work (although I think News From Home (1977) would be the best introduction) and has quietly thrilling aspects that have become part of Akerman’s signature voice.

by James Hansen

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Unforgetting an Unforgotten VHS!

Some exciting news to report for you Bresson fans, and those who have followed our Forgotten VHS Series. A film that Brandon wrote about earlier in the series, The Devil, Probably is being released on DVD. Although it isn't Region 1, it should be widely available as a Region 2 DVD and is an exciting bit of DVD news. Lesson to learn here: buy a region free DVD player immediately and start taking advantage of the whole world of DVDs.

Here's a link of where to buy The Devil, Probably. The site (Movie Mail) is one of my favorite DVD sites. Basically has all the Region 2 DVDs you could ask for at very reasonable prices.

Enjoy your weekend of movies!

-James

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Forgotten VHS #9- Rosselini's "Paisan"

My introduction to Roberto Rossellini’s Neo-Realist masterwork, Paisan (1946) came in Martin Scorsese’s My Voyage to Italy (1999). Scorsese’s always-infectious passion for cinema is nowhere more evident and intimate than in his detailed analysis of Rosselini’s film, spurring to seek it out. Thankfully, TCM came to the rescue when John Sayles guest programmed it. Paisan is a formally unique film, comprised of six vignettes taking place in six different Italian areas (Sicily, Naples, Rome, Florence, the Appenine Range, and Porte Tolle) in the wake of World War II. The complex moral episodes present the realities of a post-war Italian identity and how this native identity interacts with international influences and how the Italian psyche handles its newfound desperation. Featuring the balanced writing team of Rossellini, Federico Fellini, and Sergio Amidei, among others (Italian team writing!), Paisan is by turns sentimental, violent, hilarious, and heartbreaking.

Being the only Rossellini film I’ve seen, I’m not quite able to place it in his body of work, but going on secondary sources regarding Rosselini’s work, it seems Paisan is an especially haunting film in Rossellini’s canon. One stand-out scene involves a dead partisan begin floated down the Po River with a sign attached to him that marks him as a “traitor.” The scene exemplifies the harsh beauty of Rossellini’s Neo-Realist universe and is the crowning moment of Paisan. Currently, multiple VHS copies of Paisan are available on the Amazon Marketplace for under $8 – a deal if I’ve ever seen one.

by Brandon Colvin
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Forgotten VHS #8- Abel Gance's "Napoleon"

Not only is Abel Gance’s 1927 historical epic, Napoleon, a forgotten VHS – it may very well be the most unjustly forgotten film in the history of cinema. The hallucinatory masterpiece is the pinnacle of French Impressionism and is certainly Gance’s magnum opus. Using a dazzling array of inventive visual techniques, Napoleon anticipates the work of the cinematic surrealists and the American Avant-Garde of the 40s, 50s, and 60s, all while maintaining an involving and clear narrative.

Gance’s visual innovation in Napoleon is astonishing. The writer, director, and editor combines lightning fast editing (predating Brakhage by many years), beautifully orchestrated montage sequences (yep, better than Eisenstein), jarringly effective superimpositions (at one point there are 40 in a single shot), multiple aspect ratios (including 4:1, having three cameras shoot footage side-by-side with the intention of having the three film reels projected on three screens), split screens (by having discontinuous shots juxtaposed in the three screen format), and beautiful tinting (particularly during the film’s final scenes where the three screens are split and tinted to appear in the pattern of the French flag). In addition to these impressive aspects, the film features breathtaking camera work, including brilliant use of tracking shots, handheld shots, and once scene where the camera is attached to a swing and looms back and forth over a crowd.

Napoleon is an incredible film, but it is noticeably absent from the Sight & Sound polls and many canonical lists, even though it blows most films completely out of the water. Most appallingly, Gance’s genius film is absent in the DVD format. Hopefully, once the film is given a proper DVD treatment (please, Criterion, please!), it will be rediscovered and given its proper due. Currently, the film can be acquired on VHS for around $40 from Amazon Marketplace. It may seem pricey, but trust me, it’s worth it – unless you want to wait around for Turner Classic Movies to show it again.


by Brandon Colvin

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Forgotten VHS #7- Moretti's "Caro Diario"

“The road movie” these days, at least in my thoughts, seems to be a uniquely American thing. Although there have been some examples of films from around the globe that take place on the road, the plethora of “road movies” are American. From Easy Rider (1969) to, most recently, Into The Wild (2007), the American road movies always take a turn for the worst in portraying some sort of idealism and moralistic values. That said, I was delighted to recently find Nanni Moretti’s Caro Diario (1993), a magnificentally playful “road movie” that transcends a traditional Italian point of view by creating what I see as maybe the only all encompassing road movie. Although Caro Diario, following the trek of Moretti who plays himself as a character in the film, spends much of its time traveling around Italy by Vespa or boat, the film works its way to more elegiac moments of austere beauty than all the American road movies I have seen.

Although Moretti as a character/actor could be compared to the sometimes abrasive personalities of Woody Allen, Roberto Benigni, or Caveh Zahedi (when they act), I found Moretti mostly endearing and more comparable to the tenderness of Zahedi in his magnificent documentaries, most notably In The Bathtub of the World (2001), than to any sort of irritating personality. Told in three distinct chapters, Moretti travels around Italy exploring the things he finds most beautiful, usually simple homes and bridges. Spiced up by an equally fun and touching soundtrack, Moretti’s ventures reminded me of the beauty we find everyday that much of the early work Bertolucci sought out. From the trip to the place of Pasolini’s execution to a conversation about “The Bold and the Beautiful” with American tourists, Caro Diario is full of great sights and power that could only be found by this drifting road movie. While it loses some steam in its painfully funny, in many ways satirical, final chapter, Caro Diario sustains itself as a vision of Italy, and the world, that I won’t soon forget.

Caro Diario is OOP on Region 2 DVD and VHS, but I was able to track down the VHS at my school library (I have to admit...I was assigned to watch Caro Diario in a Drift Cinema Theory class I am currently taking in my MA program at Columbia. My professor left a bootleg of Chapter One of the film for us to watch, telling us how hard the film was to find. I always take that as a challenge.) Even more exciting (which may make this less legitimate as a Forgotten VHS entry, but we don't have any more avenues/features for this to be written about yet...other than a straight up review), Caro Diario is actually available through the 'Watch Now' feature on Netflix. The film is not available to rent, but apparently if you have Windows and a Netflix account, you can watch it now. I strongly advise doing that.

by James Hansen Continue reading...

Forgotten VHS #6- Bresson's "Une Femme Douce"

From the harrowing, elliptical opening sequence depicting the suicide of a stunningly beautiful young girl, Robert Bresson’s first color film, 1969’s Une Femme Douce, is an astounding example of the disciplined simplicity signifying Bresson’s undoubtedly unique cinematic signature. In the film, a young girl, named Elle (Dominique Sanda), is wooed by Luc (Guy Frangin), a greedy, materialistic pawnbroker, eventually marrying him. Their personalities clash, as foreshadowed by Luc’s handling of a gold crucifix necklace, which he regards merely a precious metal, but which Elle holds in higher esteem for its metaphysical significance. In this fantastically Bressonian scene, Luc begins his domineering, oppressive reign over Elle, disregarding her strong feelings about the crucifix in favor of his own interests. Elle’s suicide, which begins the film, is brought forth as a result of her severe depression while in the relationship and the film is essentially told by her grieving husband as he details his past with Elle to their maid, played by Jeanne Lobre.

The first of two Dostoevsky adaptations undertaken by Bresson during his color period (the other being Four Nights of A Dreamer (1971), adapted from the short story “White Nights”), Une Femme Douce contains many fascinating elements that are quite idiosyncratic when placed alongside the rest of Bresson’s oeuvre, particularly a fascinating play-within-a-film scene in which a terribly-acted performance of “Hamlet” is viewed by Elle and Luc. The performance drips with campy artifice and sensationalized melodrama and serves as a slyly-placed criticism of the theatrical acting style that Bresson famously loathed and sought to deconstruct with his highly original technique of using amateur “models” in his films rather than professional actors. Having seen it only once, on loan from Jeremy over at Moon in the Gutter, my thirst for this sadly overlooked Bresson masterpiece is still not quenched and I hope to acquire a copy of the VHS myself, which sells for about $35 on eBay and the Amazon Marketplace. A great companion to another Bresson Forgotten VHS, The Devil, Probably (1977), this beautiful film would be excellent as part of a Forgotten VHS double feature.

by Brandon Colvin
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Forgotten VHS #5- Anthony Mann's "Man of the West"

Anthony Mann’s harsh 1958 Western, Man of the West has been shamefully ignored since its initial theatrical release. The film barely had an opening and notoriously bombed, mostly due to its unrelenting brutality and its disfigurement of Gary Cooper’s wholesome image. Full of incredible compositions, second only to the work of John Ford in the genre, Mann’s film is the culmination of the string of tough Westerns such as Winchester ‘73 (1950), The Naked Spur (1953) and The Man From Laramie (1953), all of which revealed an extremely dark edge to Jimmy Stewart long before Hitchock’s reworking of Stewart’s clean cut image in Rear Window (1954) and Vertigo (1958). Similarly, Man of the West presents a completely fresh take on Gary Cooper, as his character, Link Jones, a former outlaw attempting to go straight but inadvertently gets forced into joining up with his old gang, displays many sadistic qualities among his many moralistic, positive traits. In one particularly startling scene, Cooper’s character can be seen giving his cousin, Coaley (Jack Lord), an extremely intense thrashing. Link Jones crosses over into extreme territory in the violent fight scene, revealing hateful and vindictive aspects of Cooper’s range that are left untouched in most of his signature performances in films like High Noon (1952), The Pride of the Yankees (1942), Sergeant York (1941) and Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936).

The real star of the show, however, is Lee J. Cobb as the leader of the outlaw gang and Cooper’s character’s uncle, Dock Tobin. Cobb’s performance, though a bit sensational, is incredibly engaging. Cobb secures his position as one of the finest actors of the Classical Hollywood era with a masterful performance that approaches the level of his excellent turns in On the Waterfront (1954) and 12 Angry Men (1957). In addition to Cobb’s memorable performance and Cooper’s fascinating playing-against-type, the film’s worth in increased by the interesting way that it serves as an inverted counterpart with John Ford’s The Searchers (1958). In many ways, Man of the West presents a character arc in Link Jones that is the reverse of Ethan Edwards. Rather than a confrontation with civility and advancement by a generally outlaw-like figure, as with Ethan, Link’s journey is one from an attempt at assimilation to the temptations of criminality and reversion. The two films serve as excellent compliments to each other, revealing a brilliant dialectic relationship whose synthesis ultimately defines the Western genre.

Godard’s feeling regarding Man of the West certainly highlight this relationship in that while he felt “The Searchers” to be the greatest of Westerns, he claimed that Man of the West “revinvented” the Western, as can be read in the excellent piece about the film featured in “Godard on Godard,” an absolute must read (notice the Godard trend in the past couple of posts). Man of the West is sadly absent from any DVD shelves, mostly due to how it was ignored upon its initial release and therefore overlooked. However, it can be found for under $10 on VHS from Amazon.com and frequently appears on Turner Classic Movies. Good luck finding this marvelous Western from a true master of the genre, Anthony Mann.

by Brandon Colvin Continue reading...

Forgotten VHS #4- Kiarostami's "Life and Nothing More..."

A great film to introduce people to the director and also one of his best films, Abbas Kiarostami’s Life and Nothing More... is a critically essential film that is stuck, for the time being, on VHS. While many people consider the lure of Iranian cinema an acquired taste (who doesn’t love slow moving allegories?), this film is more approachable for those unfamiliar with the director or the region, but also provides key insights into how the struggles of daily life combine with cinematic “storytelling.”

The second part of his Koker trilogy (comprised of Where is the Friend’s Home, Life and Nothing More..., and Through The Olive Trees), Life and Nothing More... follows a father and son as they travel through Iran to find the two boys who starred in Where is the Friend’s Home after an earthquake hit the region in 1990. Kiarostami constantly blends fact with fiction, and intersperses documentary elements with those of traditional narratives. Those qualities and obsessions are no more clearly identifiable than in this film. An earthquake really did hit Iran in 1990 and killed almost 30,000 people, so Kiarostami’s desire to find the boys is a real one. Still, the journey through the devastated areas shifts Kiarostami’s focus into an attempt to comprehend the complexities of life. The film finishes with an incredible final shot that represents the uphill battle that the anyone has when faced with obstacles and is, in many ways, an attempt to redefine the things that humans find most important.

The video quality may be poor, as it was on my viewing, but even that cannot hold back the visceral power of this film. Kiarostami has made many great films (Close Up and Taste of Cherry are definite masterpieces. The Wind Will Carry Us is also really worth seeing), but Life and Nothing More... is equally as impressive and an incredibly undervalued and under-seen film in Kiarostami’s vital oeuvre.

by James Hansen

*Editor’s Note*
YouTube Video Warning: This is the only video I could find and is, in fact, the last 8:38 of the film. Although it gives away nothing in terms of plot (as there isn’t really a traditional plot to be found) I felt like this should be mentioned for those who want to hold out to see the end in the context it needs for full appreciation. Watching this certainly won’t ruin the movie at all (otherwise I would not add it) but I want to protect the die hards who are already on Ebay looking for this VHS.

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Forgotten VHS # 3 – Welles’ “The Magnificent Ambersons”

Not only is Orson Welles’ never completed follow-up to arguably the greatest cinematic debut of all time a forgotten VHS, it also perhaps the most forgotten film ever made, relative to its importance and greatness. Many cinephiles who rank Welles’ “Citizen Kane” (1941) among the greatest films ever made have never seen his 1942 sophomore effort, “The Magnificent Ambersons,” which is as ambitious, original, and entertaining as its predecessor. This is mostly a result of the film’s non-availability in the Region 1 DVD format. However, “The Magnificent Ambersons” is available in three different VHS versions, all of which are available for under $15.


“The Magnificent Ambersons” follows the life of a spoiled young man, George Amberson Minafer, raised in an aristocratic family, who’s spoiled nature leads him to become a power-hungry control freak. George seeks success and prominence and his pride results in the prevention of his mother from marrying a rich entrepreneur, eventually causing the Amberson family’s stature to dwindle. The opening scenes of the film exemplify “The Magnificent Amberson’s” tour-de-force style. These opening scenes are marked by Welles’ brilliantly witty narration and a fast-paced, wonderfully rhythmic sequence detailing George’s childhood and the history of the Amberson family, one of the most prominent in Indianapolis in the late 1800s. As in the incredible opening sequence, the film maintains a virtuoso visual style throughout, full of complex deep focus compositions and long, flowing shots that relate the Ambersons’ story with elegance and masterful craftsmanship.

Perhaps as interesting as the actual film is the story and history behind the production and editing of “The Magnificent Ambersons.” The original cut of the film was 148 minutes long, but Welles had to leave the project to work on his ill-fated film about South America, “It’s All True,” leaving him out of the country and unable to complete the re-edits demanded by RKO. The re-editing was left instead to future director Robert Wise, who trimmed the film down to a bare 88 minutes, mutilating the film in Welles’ eyes. Welles was left out of the re-editing process and his suggestions were ignored by RKO. The film as Welles intended is essentially lost, but the edited remains are still nearly perfect, representing just how powerful Welles cinematic prowess is, shining through the restraints put on it by the studio’s manipulation. “The Magnificent Ambersons” is one of the true cinematic masterpieces and its absence from Region 1 DVD is absolutely shameful. However, scooping up a VHS copy of the film is certainly better than missing out on a great film experience.

by Brandon Colvin

*Editor's Note*
There is a Region 5 Spanish DVD of the film, but the quality is supposedly the same as the VHS. Also, we are assuming most people do not have Multi-Region DVD players as of now, which makes VHS the only format that the film are available in. When multi-region players becomes more popular, the rules of this series may become more strict, but as of now the series will allow titles that have non-region 1 DVDs. We will make notes of them, like this, when necessary.

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Forgotten VHS #2- Bresson's "The Devil, Probably"

Robert Bresson’s 1977 masterpiece “The Devil, Probably” is his greatest color work, epitomizing Bresson’s brilliant transition from a mastery of classical black and white to the expanded possibilities of a multicolored cinematic world. The film is the apotheosis of Bresson’s ascetic style, which delves further into nihilism in “The Devil, Probably” than in any of his other films. Along with “Agnes du péché” (1943), “Trial of Joan of Arc” (1962), “Une femme douce” (1969), and “Four Nights of a Dreamer” (1971), “The Devil, Probably” is currently unavailable on DVD, and, sadly, its rights belong to New Yorker Video, a company which has historically released low quality, bare bones DVDs with terrible prints, as is the case with Bresson’s “A Man Escaped” (1956), “Lancelot du lac” (1974), and “L’ Argent” (1983). However, “The Devil, Probably” is certainly worth searching for on VHS and can be found easily on the Amazon.com Marketplace or eBay.

Bresson’s film follows a disaffected youth, named Charles, who confronts and challenges religion (a favorite Bresson topic), industrialism, psychology, politics, and the counterculture during his existential journey through the banal and uninspired streets of Paris. The film addresses one of the primary themes of Bresson’s oeuvre, suicide, in a more direct way than in previous films, truly dealing with issues of unavoidable meaninglessness and bypassing the faith-based semi-miracles that transform many of Bresson’s characters and save them from the void of nothingness, as in “Diary of a Country Priest” (1950), “A Man Escaped” (1956), and “Pickpocket” (1959). “The Devil, Probably” contains many unforgettable scenes, including a great conversation between Charles and a psychoanalyst, as well as a haunting final scene that feels like the immaculate capstone to Bresson’s highly influential and totally inimitable career.

by Brandon Colvin

*Editor and Writer's Warning*
The subtitles on the VHS are not very good, but it is still well worth it. Just don't say we didn't warn you...

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Forgotten VHS #1- Godard's "Numero Deux"

Introducing a new series of entries that will often be found here at Out 1. The forgotten VHS entries are to serve like those "overlooked DVD" entries on so many other sites. Not that overlooked DVDs should not be recognized, but recent reports have shown that there were far more films available on VHS than are currently available on DVD. This leads me to believe that if we don't remember these VHS' then many of these films will be lost and never get the ultimate transfers that they deserve sometime down the line. The shorter entries will be used to highlight these essential films that are currently only available on VHS.


Jean Luc Godard's "Numero Deux," only available through Facets Video, is one of the best and most important films of the 1970's, as well as one of Godard's finest achievements. Though it is usually forgotten in light of Godard's classic works of the 1960's, "Numero Deux" is a film that demands to be watched, especially in the ever present digital age. At once fascinating, demanding and haunting, Godard's "remake" of "Breathless" is a meditation on family life, sex, and alienation in the modern age. Set in, and never moving from, one family's apartment, the viewer watches their lives unfold through multiple superimpositions and juxtapositions within the scope frame. The only full scope shots are in Godard's prologue and epilogue, while he sits, frustrated, at the film's editing table.

It was only recently that I came across this work for the first time, yet somehow I consider that a benefit. The combination of digital, video, and film struck me more today than it would have if I would have seen "Numero Deux" years ago. So many people complain that much of Godard's work is stuck in the moment that it was made. However, "Numero Deux" is advancing and gaining increased relevancy with time. It may be hard to find, but if you are lucky enough to come across a copy, it is an opportunity that should be grasped and will surely be cherished for years to come.

by James Hansen

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