Reviews

"Stromboli" is a fascinating examination of suffering, desperation, faith and the desire for redemption. I've never liked Rossellini's films as much as Bresson's but I think the two directors often dealt with the same themes in similar ways, with minor stylistic variations. Where Rossellini used actors and non-actors who gave performances, Bresson used models and types who were instructed to remain impassive. Where Rossellini's films focused on passionate characters and emotional situations, Bresson approached his stories with a scientist's dispassion. I've always found Rossellini's films strange – they are often parables that invest heavily in domestic melodrama and the histrionics of their characters. Nevertheless, I think "Stromboli" is one of his most successful films. Karin suffers so much--a war refugee, internment camp resident and then harried wife and social pariah on a desolate island--that it is easy to see how she is blind to faith. Despite her eventual redemption Rossellini doesn't paint Karin as a saint. Her protestations regarding the social politics of the island develop into a crusade to transgress their customs and protocols, often in self-righteous objection to the constraints placed on her. And her willingness to exploit her sexuality further confirms her all too human (and flawed) nature. The scenes where Karin attempts to seduce the priest and later seduces the lighthouse keeper are brimming with carnal sensuality. Bergman, as always, is excellent.

I know it is a violation of the terms and conditions to focus on other user-comments but 'The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes' demands an examination that acknowledges reception above all other interpretative modes. I find it fascinating that many of the respondents interpret this film as something more than simply the photographing of a number of autopsies. First, this demonstrates a desire to bestow meaning on anything, whether it is elicited or not. Secondly, it exhibits a desire to deify anything created by an acknowledged artist-in this case avant-garde filmmaker Stan Brakhage-regardless of its true material worth. Ultimately, I think this is the wrong way to approach this film, which is simply the filming of a series of autopsies, nothing more, nothing less. Brakhage has stated that the metaphorical hermeneutic code is endemic in the material. This is true, but the notion that a dead body being stripped of its components says anything significant about the nature of life and humanity is highly contentious. Brakhage invests no artistic design in his film; he simply photographs the morgue workers in operation. Yes, we see imagery that is at turns repulsive and often saddening, but would we imagine anything else. It might be argued that, given the film's title, Brakhage is trying to demystify death. However, films like these are de rigueur in medical classes and therefore this 'scene' is not hidden from the world. People actually deal with it everyday. Those who have no exposure to the dead or the human anatomy will most likely have no interest in the material. So, once again, what is this film's worth? It is not artistic (despite other users trying to consign their own aesthetic design on the film), it is not useful, and it fails as a demystification of death or the human body. Ultimately, 'The Act of Seeing With One's Own Eyes' is a failure as a film and offers only limited interest as a curio.

"Man in the White Suit" is perhaps, along with "Kind Hearts and Coronets," the pinnacle of the Ealing film. It's a very sophisticated and subtle comedy/farce that takes a dig at a number of the cultural institutions that characterise northern England. It's not so much a satire directed at capitalism but an opprobrium of the suspicious relationship between capital and labour and the broader unworkable relationship of commercial achievement with scientific progress. The success of the film resides in the subtlety with which these issues are explored and the even-handedness by which they are dealt with. At a more basic level the film is an excellent example of a farce as the frustration, misinterpretation and exaggerated comedy are delivered with a breath-taking pace. Very well written, even better direction and uniformly spot-on performances make this one of the great British films of the 1950s.

"Trouble Every Day" is, for me, one of the most unfairly maligned films of recent times. Surely it is the admittedly confronting content that has people dismissing this near-brilliant meditation on carnal desire, blood lust and homicidal tendencies, and not the filmmaking. There is something gratuitous about the scenes of explicit violence in "Trouble Every Day" but I see no reason why this is grounds to reject the film outright. I think everything else works pretty well from the elliptical narrative that never lets on more than it needs, the stripped and reserved performances, the suggestive camera work and the beautiful, atmospheric photography. The sense of menace created by the guttural aural track and the bloody violence suggest an unusual link between art-film and horror that is reminiscent of Cronenberg and Ferrara. One of the more compelling films I've seen in recent times.

"Spellbound" is ostensibly a non-fiction film that, theoretically, documents the events of the real world. Of course, in reality, this is a fallacy. But "Spellbound" represents an excellent example of just how manipulative and subjective the documentary genre can be. The film encourages sympathetic identification with some characters and empathy with others, and antipathy towards some others. The construction of the film-the elements that make it a representation of an author's perspective-necessarily guide the viewer into certain attitudes to certain characters in the film. In this way "Spellbound" seems most like a Guest mockumentary, the attitudes are more condescending than sympathetic or respectful. It's an effective film nevertheless, and it carries a significant condemnation of the values of a culture which would spawn the inane and abusive spelling bee enterprise.

"Ten" is a terribly uneven study of an Iranian woman's life as she drives various people around Tehran. It is typical Kiarostami, and thus it is typically underwhelming. The problem is that the segments don't coalesce into anything significant and the method of representation merely serves to annoy rather than inspire. The relationship between the mother and the son is by far the most compelling and the film would have worked better had Kiarostami remained focussed solely on this relationship. The other encounters serve to broaden the illustration of this woman's world, but they also serve to mute the engagement with her as a person. Instead she becomes a pseudo-sociologist, investigating the world around her, for our benefit. This is a particularly unconvincing aspect of the film. The sequence with the prostitute is clearly the weakest as the woman's interrogation of her passenger devolves into the worst kind of pop-psychology. Ultimately "Ten" registers as a failure, Kiarostami's restrictive techniques are not that much more significant than "Taxi-Cab Confessions" and the narrative fails to compel. Though, as a look into the uncommon world of a different culture it does have some ethnographic benefits.

"Rabbit-Proof Fence" is a serviceable melodrama about the plight of a trio of escapee Aboriginal girls travelling back to their settlement. The film looks great, the story is simple but strong and the performances by the three young girls, and Kenneth Branagh are all very good. The other performances, though, are below standard and they disrupt the emotional force of the film. And, at times, Noyce's unsubtle direction errs towards overstatement, and the writing is occasionally simplistic and one-sided. The issue of `Stolen Children' is a valid one in Australia, but it is an extremely complex one, an aspect that this film fails to convey.

"Bad Eggs" is an utterly terrible Australian comedy, poorly written and remarkably badly performed by a band of non-acting types (mostly stand-up comedians). It's films like this that reveal the dearth of quality film talent in Australia, and of the misguided efforts to cultivate what little talent that does exist. It is the incestuous attitude within the Australian film industry where it matters who you know and not what you know (or your talent) that contributes so greatly to the problems. Tony Martin is a well known comedy writer and performer – how that translates into feature filmmaker is anyone's guess. It is an amateurish effort from a bunch of personalities clearly out of their depth. Maybe they should have written a sitcom.

"Gangs of New York" is a deeply flawed film from Scorsese. It's certainly not a flawed masterpiece as many have asserted, but rather is an at times brilliant spectacle, but just as often a mediocre conventional drama. Scorsese seems too intent on making a big film with big set-pieces but has failed to devise this within a coherently constructed framework. Ultimately the film's greatest problem is one of intention – it seems to be about everything and nothing and finally rounds off in a confused mess. The final reel is perhaps the weakest 20 minutes in all of Scorsese's work. Some other shortcomings include the conventionality of the narrative – a straightforward revenge drama, with a love interest tacked on, with several soap-opera moments and melodramatic twists. Leo is okay, but he doesn't really impress. Cameron Diaz causes all kinds of problems, she is dreadful playing a character that is redundant. It's a stupid and useless character that detracts from the overall film. Given all of this there is a diamond in the rough – Daniel Day-Lewis. Playing a complexly drawn character Day-Lewis is sublime in giving the cinema's best performance in the last 3 or 4 years. He is simply astounding in every scene he is in and he dominates the other actors with an uncommon charisma and an indescribable attraction. Scorsese's film is moderately entertaining but I expect more from one of cinema's great filmmakers. I think history will show that Scorsese's earlier examination of New York's foundation - the modern masterpiece "The Age of Innocence"; will dominate in all comparisons to "Gangs of New York".

"A Woman Under the Influence" is typical of Cassavetes amateurish films with over-the-top performances which indulge improvisation, often to the point of embarrassingly silly moments. Rowlands much lauded performance is quite poor, depicting a nervous condition with all the fervor of a hysterical teenager performing in a high-school play. But I think this is what Cassavetes valued and it's a detriment to his films which often explore interesting issues. "A Woman Under the Influence" isn't a terrible film, but it's certainly not a good one either.

"Ratcatcher" is a fairly auspicious debut for a young director. Lynne Ramsay has a powerful command of the visual aspects of filmmaking (dare I say it – approaching the poetic images of Tarkovsky) but her narrative authority is a lot less notable. This is a film in the manner of "Kes" but without the true humanity that that film had in spades. "Kes" is a masterpiece of social-realist humanism because the element of hope is never obvious but is always apparent; I think "Rosetta" is similar in this regard, too. But in recent Scottish cinema, in particular, there seems to be a masochist pleasure in dwelling on representing the worst kinds of poverty and despair, merely to serve a sensationalist agenda. In this respect I'm referring to films like "Small Faces", "Stella Does Tricks" and to a lesser degree "Trainspotting" (a film with other benefits overshadowing its gleeful focus on abject misery). This is an aspect of "Ratcatcher" which soon becomes wearying through the constancy of its emphasis – the images of garbage, vermin, filth and indigence becomes all consuming. But with that said, Ramsay's aesthetic approach is always interesting and at times incredibly poetic and beautiful. Some scenes of whimsical fantasy may seem laboured but they do lighten the load of the film's relentless social-realist agenda.

"Le Secret" is a fairly mediocre French film which focuses on a woman's attempt to find some existentialist truth, or some such crap, through the exploration of rather graphic sex. In that sense it is a little like Brellait's "Romance" but it seems to lack that film's intensity of design. So for the most part it seems distanced and closed. There is an expectation of the conclusion which is not met and the film is to some extent redeemed by this (unexpected?) ending but what has come before makes the film as a whole unbearable. Also, the acting and writing is pretty average.

"One Day in September" is an interesting documentary exercise; favouring a thriller structure it seems dismissive of any pretense to objectivity (a quality that is incorrectly expected of the documentary form). I think the problem lies in just how unbalanced the representation is, and I think the film would have benefited from a more rounded view. The film is heavily weighted to a representation which condemns the German authorities and sanctifies the terrorists' victims. The hatchet job done on the Germans is pretty rough – given they were in a fairly untenable position, it's terribly unfair to condemn them in hindsight. This aspect of the film displays remarkable petulance. I have fewer reservations about how the Israelis and the Palestinians are each represented, I guess I don't expect it to be any other way. It's the kind of documentary that demands a responding documentary, but alas, I don't see one forthcoming. With all that said the dynamic structure of "One Day in September" is its most impressive aspect. With all the political implications surrounding the film the best moments are those sequences when the sportsmen and women are set to music. They're invigorating moments and perhaps overshadow the significance of the terrorist incident by contrasting man's evil doings to the eternal beauty of mankind in the pursuit of the limits of his physical capabilities.

"Seul Contre Tous" is a pretty effective examination of male alienation and paranoia in the vein of "Taxi Driver". But, it's much more about testing the parameters of modern cinema, not just in relation to violence and sexual sadism, but rather with respect to audience reception. Gaspar Noe executes myriad devices which confront the viewer-shock cuts, inter-titles, loud non-diegetic sounds accompanying rapid, jumpy zooms-in an effort to p***-off the spectator. It is provocative to some degree but not half as much as I think the filmmaker hoped. To be truthful the best aspects of the film have little to do with this agenda. The central performance is outstanding and the moment of redemption (complex, manipulative and contrived as it might be) is really something quite beautiful.

In "Repulsion" the gorgeous Catherine Deneuve suffers from an industrial-strength case of sexual repression, coupled with a hefty dose of sibling rivalry which foists upon her a succession of rape fantasies and delusional hallucinations. Polanski's direction is unparalleled as he elicits a creepy terror through the use of some fairly unconventional special-effects. The subjective world created for the heroine is a series of dreams and visions of a decaying apartment and psycho-sexual fantasy and this is what the film seems to be about. The cracking walls are perhaps one of the most ingeniously horrifying special-effects in cinematic history. The lack of dialogue that runs throughout complements the restrained narrative design as the neurotic obsessions remain largely unexplained. But for better or for worse, I think better, Polanski's final frame settles on an image which cryptically resolves the entire enigma with a kind of devastating efficiency. All in all, one of the great films of the 1960s.

"A Bug's Life" is a Disney adaptation of Karl Marx and Frederick Engels' Communist Manifesto.

Basically it's about how the proletarian worker ants unite to fight the oppressive bourgeois grasshoppers who control the means of production. In doing so the ants learn the valuable lesson of unionism and equality as they seek to alleviate power from the autocratic grasshoppers.

Once the totalitarian regime is destroyed-no thanks to tricks or chicanery, but rather due to the imposition of democratic principles-then we learn that all the ants live happily ever after. The end.

"All Things Fair" is a strange kind of film because it is always transforming itself. While it always remains a coming-of-age film it ranges in its focus, touching on many different expressions. Obviously this makes it hard to categorise, hard to follow, hard to analyse, and all this seems to add up to a good thing. It starts out so luridly that I thought I was in for a Swedish version of "Private Lessons" but somehow it manages to continually evolve into something quite else. The changes in pace and locus give the narrative a certain elliptical feel which consolidate the nostalgic representation. Pretty good performances all round and some unexpected twists in the tale make it well worthwhile.

I used to think "True Romance" was pretty cool, now I just think it's dross. Tony Scott's high concept direction seems to be the film's most notable flaw. He's an earnest filmmaker and what this film needed was some tongue-in-cheek attitude enabling it to conquer the incongruity inherent in the narrative. The only high-point in the film, a film marred by too many brain-dead violent sequences, is the scene involving Dennis Hopper and Christopher Walken. It's the closest the film comes to anything like decent acting. Arquette's tits are pretty respectable too. The allusions to Malick's "Badlands" are singularly farfetched and this film doesn't even deserve to exist in the shadow of Malick's masterpiece. Very disappointing all ‘round.

Videodrome deals with the nature of the human body and its relationship to new technology expressed through gory special effects and loaded with vaginal imagery; in short, your typical Cronenberg movie. As is the case with most of his films, Cronenberg seems to deliberately confound the viewer as though he wants no one to understand the point. Yet, so often his highly intriguing themes are overshadowed by a juvenile desire to be challenging and obscure as well as distasteful. Interesting theories about hyperreality, the postmodern condition, and a world fueled by the image are only half-developed and then in a manner which only makes them half-accessible. What you are left with is a quarter of a good film.

Voyous voyelles is a quite dull meditation on the affect that absent father's have on the lives of three girls. They film is not really realistic as the rebellious crimes two of the girls are involved with don't really seem to carry much authenticity and they seem merely functional to the theme. Nevertheless there are some french beauties in the film, Audrey Tatou looks as radiant and adorable as ever and she does a reasonable job with her character. Though, as a whole, the film seems to be a whole lot of nothing.

"Angel Express" is a silly little German film which thinks it's better than it is. Centered around the very chic underground culture of drug fiends, hookers, pimps and clubbers this is too cool for school. Directed with all the self-conscious stylings you'd expect from an inexperienced filmmaker this is pretty much just a mess. The narrative is strained through one of those everything and everyone is connected concepts and rather than elucidating this point, this idea merely serves to expose the film's shortcomings. Little less cool and a lot more character and scene development and this may have been passable.

"After the Harvest" is merely an extension of the well-worn concept detailing the need to rally against conservative tyranny. It's dull and predictable and Sam Shephard's domineering father is so extreme he's like a combination of Nurse Ratchet and John Lithgow's 'dancing is for the devil' dad from "Footloose". The film's only virtue is Liane Balaban's sensual beauty.

Accattone is a relentless study of the suffering that accompanies poverty. Pasolini utilises the well worn techniques of the Italian neo-realist moment to represent the depressing and oppressive life of a pimp - Accattone (played by the astonishing Franco Citti) - in the slums of post-war Rome. His life is beleaguered by guilt and self-disgust; his occupation, which is ostensibly the exploitation of women, causes the titular character untold despair. Ultimately he is unable to rationalise his need to eat with the suffering he causes to the women who work for him; they are, after all, also his lovers. Yet, Pasolini is careful to maintain the humanity of his protagonist by representing his hopeless situation as equally a result of his own doings as that of the social environment. Pasolini's Accattone is a masterful debut which expertly calls into service the devices of the cinema to convey a depressing but also compassionate narrative. His style is equal parts poetry and melodrama; a tough combo for any director. Some moments of this film are as tragically lyrical as those to be found in a film by Robert Bresson or Roberto Rossellini. Accattone is a commendable combination of style and substance which will leave few viewers unaffected.