by James Hansen Looking at the works on this list, there aren't necessarily many connections. They range from shorts to features, narrative to documentary, Hollywood to experimental. Still, I think lurking below the surface of many of the best works of the year (and recent years) is a unique emphasis on spatial dynamics, both internal and external. Space and the surrounding environment become imbued within the characters, images, and hidden stories of these films. Further, each of these moving image artists shows an awareness of how the feeling of those spaces has the ability to transfer onto and into the viewer's body. At times disorienting, irritating, and/or overwhelming, these films place demands on the minds, eyes, and bodies of their viewers (not to mention their performers), and ask for a willingness to play in games without ever knowing all the rules. Active investigations don't need to end when the movies do. Here are my Top 13 Films of 2014.
Recently selected as Nathan Lee's #1 film (er, video) of 2008, Jean Luc Godard's minute-long festival trailer (entitled Une Catastrophe) for the 2008 Viennalle kicks it old school in terms of dialectical Russian montage, but it is nevertheless a striking and dashingly original short from JLG. I may not go as far as Nathan in terms of its greatness (it feels a little too much like the opening to Godard's vastly underappreciated Notre Musique to be a full fledged, unique masterpiece), but its definitely worth a (quick) watch nonetheless..
And a quick side note: sorry for the delay in posts. I have been away from the internet for about a week, but should be back full swing henceforth. Brandon breaks down (and takes down) early Oscar favorite Slumdog Millionaire, new contributor Chuck Williamson reviews Fear(s) in the Dark, and I tackle Clint Eastwood's 2008 would-be melodrama dyptych of Changeling and Gran Torino. Plenty of other happenings are sure to come along as well. Out 1 is ready to roll into the new year and we hope you all come along with us! Keep spreading the word! Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night! Continue reading...
A fun early short here directed by JLG and written by Eric Rohmer. Certainly not his best work, but it is characteristic of things to come. Part one is on top followed by part two.
With his most recent zombie flick installment, Diary of the Dead, George A. Romero has come incredibly close to diving headfirst into straight-up comedy. Sadly, he didn’t quite get to the bottom of the sea of hilarity. Although Diary features ample self-reflexive parody and general genre spoofing, as well as a crazy badass deaf Amish guy whose role in the film I will save for the reader to discover, the film is hampered by its momentary lapses into nearly unendurable pretension and ill-conceived social commentary, which is quite unusual for the typically sharp Romero.
Diary’s set-up echoes that of this year’s Cloverfield: a group of twentysomethings (this time film students initially making a student film) become hounded by an individual amongst them, Jason (Joshua Close) who is hell-bent on recording the end of the world as it happens. As revealed in the film’s introductory voice-over, Jason has died and his surviving girlfriend, Debra (Michelle Morgan), has finished his documentary of the earth’s zombiefication, entitled The Death of Death, which she then plays for the audience, making super-serious pseudo-philosophical commentary throughout the film, clashing with the film’s generally consistent parodic sensibility. During Romero’s introduction to Diary of the Dead before a special midnight screening at Nashville’s treasured Belcourt Theatre, which I attended gleefully, Romero maintained the comic tone that dominates much of the film amidst his humble sincerity. Romero noted that, contrary to Land of the Dead (2005), Diary is “a film from the heart” in which he tried to discover whether or not he had the “chops and stamina to do a little film again” and the legendary writer-director repeatedly expressed his gratitude for the enthusiasm Diary has been received with, noting that he would have made the film “even if it went straight to DVD.” When Romero began fielding questions from the audience, shit got hysterical.
One audience member stood up, gesturing toward his amputated arm and asked if he could be an extra in Romero’s next film since it would be easy to special effect an arm-ripping scene with him. Everyone got a good chuckle out of the unexpected humor proposed by the man, who laughed quite a bit himself, particularly when Romero retorted “I’ve shot my last few films in Canada and zombies in Canada are unionized,” referring to the regulations on extras, and expressing regret that the “$1 and a cheeseburger” policy of paying extras isn’t practical any longer. The conversation then shifted to talk of Romero’s childhood fears, leading him to comment, “I was frightened that when I died, Jesus was going to kick my ass,” adding, “He was the first zombie, actually,” prompting a roar of laughter from the crowd. The raucous humor was further enlivened when a few audience members shouted, “Then, why do we eat his flesh?” and “Why do we drink his blood?” Romero, smiling from ear to ear, then declared, “This guy’s spun this thing right on its head!”
Following Romero’s standing ovation as he left the stage, the film began – starting its oft-hilarious journey toward the demystification of the media and of cinema, via a zombie apocalypse. Diary employs many of the well-worn tactics of cinematic derangment, a la Jean-Luc Godard and Dziga Vertov’s Man With a Movie Camera (1929). The film’s opening shot begins with a new cameraman onto his camera – from the camera’s perspective – immediately forcing the audience to realize that it is watching through the first-person eye of a camera, which it will throughout the film. In addition to its constant references to the presence of the camera, including a detailed description of the camera used to shoot the film-within-a-film, The Death of Death (and presumably the actual film), much like the description read aloud during the credits of Godard’s Contempt (1963). The film’s use of absurdly bombastic and stereotypical music also echoes Contempt’s melodramatic and overly-sensuous score and is well-manipulated by Romero. Another tool of inciting awareness of the film’s fictionality in the audience borrowed from Godard, is the jump-cut, which in Diary has become what may be called the “glitch-cut,” in which the first person camera gets scrambled, thrown, or turned off, for dramatic or comedic effect.
Romero’s most audacious move is his revelation of the film’s editing process, as is masterfully depicted in Vertov’s aforementioned silent masterpiece. In one scene during which the group has a chance to rest at the compound of an African-American militarist group, Jason basically sprints to a computer in order to edit and upload some of the footage he has shot to Youtube. He is shown picking his shots and dropping them in their slots, basically creating the film the audience has been watching. Exciting because of its deconstruction of the cinematic product, the scene epitomizes Romero’s goal of attacking the media and stripping it of its power. But is it really necessary in the Youtube age? Romero seems to think so, and he iterates this with obnoxious emphasis. Before attacking Diary’s irritating moments of seriousness, due must be given to its lightness. When the audience first meets the film’s group of protagonists, they are filming a low-budget horror film about a mummy. Referencing and mocking Romero’s penchant for social commentary, as is displayed in his milestones Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Dawn of the Dead (1978), one of the students sardonically comments that the The Death of Death should have “an underlying thread of social satire.” Additionally, Romero inserts humorous statements on zombie movement, as one of the characters comments to the actor playing the mummy that he can’t run after the girl, claiming, “You’re a corpse; if you run fast, your ankles will snap off.” The parallel scene near the film’s finale of the first filming scene is exceedingly comical (but shan’t be detailed for the sake of preserving the plot!) and the sequence featuring the deaf Amish guy is one of the most knee-slap-inducing bits of cinema I’ve seen in a long time. Watching Diary of the Dead, I kept wishing that Romero would just make a straight-up comedy. I have a feeling it would be marvelous.
When Romero did stray from his comic tone, eyes rolled all over the theatre. Although Diary does maneuver through some racial and gender commentary during the scenes involving the militarist group, as well as tackling the downside of isolation during the film’s finale, when dealing with the role of the camera in society, the film becomes quite hamfisted. Repeatedly, like an ideological bludgeon, the concept of the camera as a weapon (zing!) is bashed into the head of the viewer, such as when a frustrated Debra turns the camera on Jason and asks, “You see how it feels?” The exploitative possibilities of the camera are underlined fifteen times by Romero, particularly during a scene where the group must battle zombies in a hospital and Jason is told, “Don’t try to speak, just shoot,” leading him to point his camera with precision, rather than use the gun that is the intended object of the command. After the students’ cynical professor, Andrew Maxwell (Scott Wentworth) blows some zombies away, he gives the gun to someone else, explaining, “It’s too easy to use.” Almost immediately afterward, Debra hands the camera back to Jason, also explaining, “It’s too easy to use.”
This is how I imagine the thought process behind the scene: “Get it? It’s like a metaphor and shit. ‘Shoot,’ do you get it? Lemme make sure you get it. Hmmm. I’ll just use the same damned metaphor over and over and milk it to the point that you want to vomit. Then you’ll definitely get it, and you’ll think I’m edgy and clever. Fuck subtlety. I’ll just punch you in the stomach. You’ll be amazed!” Sadly, Romero does just that, harping on the violence-of-the-camera issue with the tact of a 13-year-old. It’s a tragic day when I have to call George A. Romero “didactic,” but he is that, if nothing else, during the disgustingly clunky portions of Diary.
On the whole, Diary is watchable, but definitely not as rewatchable as Night of the Living Dead or Dawn of the Dead. It seems Romero might still be getting his groove back after returning to the zombie genre, but hopefully he will be able to attain the perfection of Dawn once more, striking a balance between horror, comedy, and social satire. Maybe he’ll tie his heavy hands a little better next time.
by Brandon Colvin
***Photos of George Romero were taken by Jackie Clarkson***
We usually stick to writing our own stuff around here, but I felt compelled to post a link and let everyone know about a fascinating article written on David Bordwell's blog. Bordwell should be familiar to most everyone (and if he isn't, start asking for some of his books for Christmas) and although I don't always agree with his perspective on things, his blog continues to be one of the most insightful ones I have found on the web. His most recent post about Jean Luc Godard and the cropping of his films aspect ratios. The case is very pertinent considering the DVD releases we receive today and the images that we are being shown with no validation as to what format they should actually be shown on. More than just a fascinating article on Godard, Bordwell gives some major insights into what we should expect of the cinematic image and provides a constant questioning of the images that we receive.
I encourage everyone to check out Bordwell's blog, and specifically this new entry if you are interested in Godard or the importance of the correct aspect ratios and the cinematic image.
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.
Out 1 Film Journal was founded in 2007 by James Hansen. All writers retain copyright for their material published herein. If you wish to contact the editor, please do so at out1filmjournal@gmail.com.
