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The Night of the Hunter (1955)
A Doomed Fairytale
The Night of the Hunter begins with a starry night sky and ominous music as the opening credits fade in and out. The ominous music changes into a slightly eerie, off-putting lullaby that contains the line, "Dream little ones dream." When the credits finish, a kindly old woman appears amongst the stars and begins teaching a Bible lesson to a group of young children. One of the Scriptures she's teaching from, Matthew 7:15-20 (KJV), reads, "Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Ye shall know them by their fruit. Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles? Even so every good tree bringers forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringers forth evil fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth evil fruit, neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit. Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. Wherefore by their fruits ye shall know them." The opening, feeling much like a storybook, sets the dreamy, fairytale-like atmosphere that the film contains throughout. The forbidding tone of the music, as well as the warnings about false profits, puts the audience on edge and foreshadows what is to come.
Beware of false prophets. Masquerading as a righteous, God-fearing reverend, Harry Powell was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He carried around his Bible and talked a good talk, getting people to trust him completely, but he was actually as evil and ruthless as they come. With money being his motivator, he would set his sights on the weakness and vulnerability of recent widows. In the story, he is kind and comforting to Willa, making her feel safe and secure in her time of need. Eventually, do to the pressure of raising two children on her own during the Great Depression, she gives in and accepts his marriage proposal. Only after their wedding does Powell reveal his true nature. He is a truly evil, vile man and the textbook definition of a false prophet.
Nine-year-old John Harper, the main character of the story, had it rough. Before his father's arrest, he was tasked with watching over his younger sister and mother and he was burdened with the secret of where the money his father stole was hidden. He was forced to grow up too fast. His change from a carefree, innocent boy to a young man with responsibilities happens over just a few seconds onscreen, but it works because it is executed very well. He's an attentive, obedient kid, and when his dad tells him to keep the money a secret and take care of the family, he takes it to heart. Despite the added responsibility that was thrust upon him, he was still a kid. A great scene that both demonstrates the childlike wonder he still possessed and offered some foreshadowing for the journey he was about to undertake was the first time he went to visit Uncle Birdie. There was a steamboat going by on the river and John looked at it with a deep, wishful longing. He wanted to escape the situation life had him in, and the boat could take him away to some place great, but it was out of his reach.
The kids in the film are completely misunderstood by the adults around them. They are repeatedly told to mind their elders and do what they're told. Nobody takes the time to really care about any of them except for Rachel Cooper. Understanding that being a kid isn't easy, she says, "It's a hard world for little things." She takes in kids that need help and guidance, and she cares for them and loves them. Not being too tough or too lenient, she firmly teaches them right from wrong. In many ways, she is Powell's opposite. Both know the Bible, but one uses it for good while the other uses it for evil.
A huge reason why The Night of the Hunter feels like a nightmare of a fairytale has to do with the stunning black and white cinematography and incredible sets. Shadows are used heavily throughout the film to partially block one thing out or shroud another in darkness. This often creates a sense of mystery and suspense, making the film to feel scarier than it actually is. One great shot that exemplifies this is the one of Cooper sitting in a chair with a gun across her lap and her head is completely covered by a shadow. Another amazing shot, which actually uses light rather than darkness to make it more chilling, is the underwater shot of the car. Also, many of the shadows in the film seem to be at slightly unnatural angles. This, along with the gorgeous sets that look very good but are clearly fake help to make the film feel like a storybook.
It's a shame that Charles Laughton never went on to direct another film because The Night of the Hunter is masterful. It is a frightening, suspenseful film. The characters are interesting and the story is compelling. It has a distinct look and feel that is unique to itself. Most importantly, across just a 93 minute runtime, it does a fantastic job of exploring some compelling topics such as childhood and false prophets. It's wildly impressive that Laughton only directed one film and it ended up being this great.
Civil War (2024)
Great In Numerous Aspects, but Left Something to Be Desired
Alex Garland's Civil War is both captivating and underwhelming--resulting in a good film that leaves something to be desired. There are good characters and interesting themes, but nothing ever feels as if it's fully developed. This is a film deserving of both criticism and praise.
Set in an America at war with itself, the film follows a group of wartime journalists in their efforts to photograph and document the horrors of a civil war. Remaining politically neutral (which greatly benefits the film), the story is entirely focused on the photographers and how they react to and navigate through the senseless, dehumanizing violence they witness firsthand. Each of the four main photographers are at different stages in their careers and lives; but, in the pursuit of capturing great shots, they've all been desensitized to the brutality around them. Jessie is an ambitious young woman who's attempting to get her career started. She's eager, wide-eyed, and innocent at the beginning. The horrific nature of the job heavily impacts her early on. As the exposure to savage violence gradually numbs her, becoming a full-blown, reckless professional who feels nothing by the last scene. Joel is a middle aged man who is already past the point of feeling anything emotionally, but he gets a massive adrenaline kick every time he steps foot into a war zone. Lee, a middle aged woman, is at a point where she no longer feels any emotion or adrenaline. However, she does seem to be in a state of internal conflict, questioning what she's doing. Sammy is an old man who is well past all of those stages.
The relationship between Jessie and Lee is one of the central components of the story. They were kind of the same character, but at different stages of their lives, which is an interesting dynamic to observe. Played brilliantly by Cailee Spaeny, Jessie's transformation from an eager, lively young woman into the cold-hearted, adrenaline-chasing professional she became in the last scene was sad to see. There was an excellent use of snapshots throughout the film that emphasized the photography was more important than life to the characters; and it increases the more hardened Jessie became. Lee had already gone through that regression long ago, but she was now on the verge of a mental breakdown. Having Jesse around seemed to ignite a sliver of something inside of her. It got her thinking about what she was doing and wondering if it was all worth it. Did taking the photos and "exposing the truth" actually make any kind of difference? Kirsten Dunst really nailed this role. She was stoic and lifeless most of the time, but she displayed just enough subtle emotions at just the right times to make the character work.
Unfortunately, like every other aspect of the story, the dynamic between Jessie and Lee could've had a lot to offer, but it was not explored near enough. Each of the main characters had a lot of potential as well, but they were all underdeveloped. Jessie in particular could've been a fascinating character, but her arc felt very rushed. The film didn't need to slow its pace down, but it would've greatly benefited from taking the time to better flesh out its characters. Nothing worked near as well as it could have on an emotional level because of how shallow the characters were explored. Even scenes that were great as is, such as the one featuring Jesse Plemmons's show-stealing appearance, could've been much more impactful had the characters been better developed.
Civil War is a good movie that could've been great. It's a mixed bag of both exciting and underwhelming moments. There's a lot to like about it, but there's also a lot to be frustrated about. It's an interesting premise, and the performances are outstanding; but in the end, it holds itself back from being something special.
M - Eine Stadt sucht einen Mörder (1931)
An Astounding Achievement In the History of Cinema
Fritz Lang was a true visionary. His 1931 thriller M was so far ahead of its time-the fact that it was made over 90 years ago is beyond wild. In many ways, it feels like a modern movie. The storytelling on display, the majority of the dialogue and line deliveries, the way the film was shot, and the themes it explores are all so advanced considering when it was released. M is nothing short of a monumental landmark in the history of cinema.
Centering around a series of heinous child murders that both disgusted and horrified the citizens, M focuses much of its attention on public perception and the mob mentality. The killings had the general public in a frenzy of panic. Wanting the killer out of the streets, they often accused any man who they saw interacting with a child, and others would quickly jump on the blame bandwagon. They blamed the police for failing to do their jobs while simultaneously flooding them with false tips, making their work nearly impossible. The masses did little, if anything, to help catch the murderer, and they did a lot to make things more difficult.
Considering when this film was released in the context of Germany's history adds another level of horrifying fascination to it. Due to some of the subject material related to public perception, mob mentality, and the way the masses deal with heinous acts happening under their noses, M could be seen as a grave warning that was not heeded by its national audience. Additionally, in the last scene, a frantic Hans Beckert pleads his case of insanity to a make-shift jury. Claiming that he has an uncontrollable compulsion to kill, he speaks with such strong conviction and confidence, and although the masses don't fall for his theatrics, the man acting as his defense (and presumably others in the audience) does seem to buy his rant. A great commotion is caused by Beckert's outburst, and it seems as though a number of crazy things may happen at the hands of the mob, but everything is brought back down to earth with the sobering final lines that were delivered by a grieving mother, "This won't bring back our children. One has to... Keep closer watch... Over the children! All of you!" It's a sad but true reality that the important messages behind the film was not realized in its time.
Zendegi va digar hich (1992)
Life Goes On...
It would be hard to find a more appropriately named film than Abbas Kiarostami's And Life Goes On. Taking place in the days following a massive earthquake, the film shows the people from the decimated area moving on and going about their lives despite the horrific tragedy they experienced and the harrowing challenges it brought about in their lives. Life goes on because it has to. Countless small moments of normalcy can be seen throughout the film. Whether it's two kids flipping a conversation from the destruction of the earthquake to who will win the World Cup, a son asking his father if he can stay some place longer to play with his new friends, or people getting together to watch a soccer game, each instance of regular, day-to-day behaviors are treated with a great sense of appreciation by Kiarostami.
The film is also sometimes known by another title, Life, and Nothing More..., which is just as fitting as the first title. It's a film about life and only life that Showcases and champions the resiliency of the human spirit. An elderly woman figures a way to dig a rug out of the ruins of her home by herself because she thinks everyone else is too busy with their own problems to help; a young couple married the day after the earthquake; a wide range of different people carry all sorts of different items (most of them heavy) that they found in the rubble far distances because their families need these things-there are so many examples of people just moving on and living their lives that highlight the extraordinary resolve that humans are capable of possessing. Much like how beauty is abundant in the film's cinematography despite the devastation of the landscape, life will always find a way to make it and flourish no matter how bad things may be.
And Life Goes On is the second entry into Kiarostami's Koker Trilogy, and it is an excellent companion to Where Is the Friend's House?. They are wildly different in terms of structure and narrative, but they both take place in the same area, and both contain themes surrounding childhood and explore the dynamic between kids and adults, though they do so very differently. And Life Goes On examines innocence and childlike curiosity by acknowledging the fact that young people aren't able to fully grasp the true weight of a tragedy. Primarily through the relationship between the filmmaker and his son, it also takes a deeper dive into the dynamic between the younger and older generations. While there was more understanding shown between the two than in the previous film, it still emphasized the disconnect that's present between them. At the very beginning, the director and his son, Puya, were riding together in a car for what seemed like a far distance. They talked, which mostly involved Puya bombarding his father with questions that were always answered patiently. During the ride, the film director rode was driving and Puya sat in the back seat-physically illustrating the slight disconnect and lack of total understanding between them. Later in the film, Puya is talking to one of the earthquake victims, and he repeats, nearly word for word, something his dad had said during their car ride. It's a rather small moment in the grand scheme of the film, but it is a great one because shows how much kids look up to their parents and how they so often absorb whatever is said. Kiarostami once again crafted a film with great care and attention to detail, making sure each moment is purposeful.
The biggest difference between And Life Goes On and Where Is the Friend's House? Is that this film is not entirely fiction. It is based off of a trip that Kiarostami and his son actually took to find the actors from Where Is the Friend's House? After they heard about the earthquake. While And Life Goes On is still a narrative feature, it is uncertain how much of it was real and how much was scripted. It feels completely real-almost as if it was a documentary. There is no telling how much of himself Kiarostami put into the film director's character, but it is interesting to think that he may have done a bit of a character study on himself. Regardless of how much is true or not, he was able to blend fact and fiction so seamlessly that it all felt entirely real. And Life Goes On is a powerful film about people finding ways to move on and live their lives in the wake of a devastating tragedy. It's a masterful piece of work by the great Abbas Kiarostami, but more importantly, it is a touching tribute to the victims of the horrific earthquake of Guilan.
Khane-ye doust kodjast? (1987)
Exploring the Dynamic Between Kids and Adults
Why is it that children are so often treated like they aren't normal people? Do adults not remember what it was like to be a kid? Society tends to set the younger generation aside and ignore them until they are absolutely needed for one reason or another. As sad as it is, there is commonly a disconnect between kids and adults that stems from the older generation's general lack of understanding towards young people.
Abbas Kiarostami's Where Is the Friend's House? Recognizes children as the complex beings that they are and explores the dynamic between them and adults. Crafted with a keen attention to detail, the film does an excellent job of capturing what it's like to be a kid. Not yet being worn down by and exposed to the cruelties of life, they look at everything through a lens of innocence and childlike wonder. Many of the struggles and hardships they face are unique to being young. They are often overlooked and under appreciated by adults who may only acknowledge them if they are needed to help with something or being punished for disobedience. The adults in this story (as is often true in real life) are more concerned with their children being "raised right" and "turning out ok" than they are with caring about them on a personal level.
Putting a great deal of thought and attention into each frame, Kiarostami was able to cover so much in such a short amount of time. The film is able to simultaneously move quickly and take its time because everything that happens is purposeful and has meaning. The opening scene demonstrates the intricate care and intentionality behind each moment. Taking place in a classroom, it establishes the youthful feelings of innocence, wonder, excitement, and it sets the atmosphere as one of childhood. The teacher arrives late, scolds the children for causing a ruckus while he wasn't there, and says something about how if he's late there's probably good reason for it. He gets on a kid for sitting in his chair funny, and when he says it's because his back hurts, the teacher dismisses it as a weak excuse. Also, when checking the students' homework, he harshly rebukes a boy named Mohamed for doing his work on loose paper rather than in a notebook, and he once again disregards the boy's excuse. He then goes on to lecture the class about how he requires them to do their work in a notebook so they develop good habits and learn how to keep themselves organized and disciplined. These interactions among the teacher excellently introduce the disconnect and lack of understanding between adults and children that the rest of the film explores.
The characters are also treated with the utmost delicacy and care, resulting in them being fully fleshed out very early in the film. When Mohamed is being chewed out by the teacher, the camera cuts back and forth between close-ups of Mohamed and Ahmed, the main character, providing the audience with reactions that both establish their characters and play into the themes surrounding childhood. There was timidity and sheepishness behind the way that Mohamed was responding to the teacher. He was gentle and sensitive, and as alluded to later on, he very well might've had a rough home life. Ahmed took in the whole exchange with a look of deep concern on his face. He clearly felt very badly for the predicament his friend was in and desperately wanted him to be able to get his homework done the right way so he wouldn't be expelled. More insight was provided into the two characters, especially Mohamed, when they were leaving school together. Once again keeping with the themes of youth, as the two carelessly and joyfully left school, it could be seen that Mohamed's clothes were a bit shabbier than Ahmed's, and the former carried his school supplied in a ziplock bag while the latter used an old briefcase. Although very little is revealed about the character after that, the information provided up to that point-along with the fact that nobody in the village seemed to know where his family lived-is enough to be reasonable sure that he had at the very best a rough home life and may not have even had a home at all.
Ahmed is a wonderful protagonist. He's an incredibly sweet and thoughtful boy. He cares about the people around him. When his friend trips and falls on the way home from school, he gently helps him up, he minds his mother and helps her out, and he's even obedient to his grandpa. He's a totally pure and innocent soul. The fact that he accidentally took Mohamed's notebook eats him away, and he has to get it back to him. He's conflicted, though, because his mom tells him to finish his homework before he can leave (she thinks he's just making an excuse so he can go out and play), but he's unable to because the notebook is weighing so heavily on him. He thinks taking Mohamed his notebook will be quick and easy because he knows which village he lives in, but he doesn't realize that the people there might not know him. The world is small and simple to a kid.
Aside from a couple other kids and a kindly old gentleman, Ahmed has a tough time finding anybody who will help him out on his evening-long journey. At one point, there are a group of men discussing business, and one of them approaches Ahmed to see if he can take a piece of paper from his notebook. Ahmed doesn't want him to because it's not his notebook, but the guy says it's fine and takes a piece anyway. After that, Ahmed tries to ask the man a question, but he's too focused on the importance of his business and completely refuses to acknowledge the boy. It's not until later that he meets an old carpenter who is willing to help him find his friend's house. In many ways, the old man can relate to Ahmed because he has also been set aside by society. As a carpenter, he used to build doors for a lot of the homes in the area. He put his heart and soul into crafting the best doors he possibly could, but in recent years, his wooden doors were starting to be replaced by iron ones. Though there was nothing wrong with the ones he made, people no longer had a need for his work. It can be assumed that helping out Ahmed was the most important he'd been to anybody in quite some time. He was kind, understanding, and patient with the boy. He did his best to be of help, but he ended up taking him to the wrong house. When Ahmed noticed this, he hid the notebook under his shirt and told the old man that he gave the book back to avoid making him feel bad and to help him maintain the momentary sense of importance that he gained. It was a precious moment that was heartwarming but also a bit sad.
A phenomenally executed moment from the film that illustrates Kiarostami's keen attention to detail occurs during the final scene. When the teacher is going around and checking homework, one student only got part of his work done. When the teacher asked why, he said it was because he had to help his dad on the farm. This was an unacceptable excuse to the teacher and he went on explaining that they must put their studies first and complete them before doing anything else. After that, a different kid didn't have any of his work done. The boy hesitated before responding to the teacher's inquiry as to why he didn't do it, but then he answered, "My back hurt." Unsurprisingly, the teacher was upset by this seemingly poor excuse and he thought that the boy was simply lazy. On the surface, the teacher most definitely appeared to be in the right; however, earlier in the film, when Ahmed was looking for Mohamed's house, he bumped into this boy, and he was helping out his dad by carrying a container of milk that was nearly half his size. Due to the fact that the boy before him was chided, he didn't want to say that he couldn't get his homework done because he was helping his dad, so he said that his back hurt which was a result of the work he was doing. This brief little sequence involving two minor characters brilliantly brought new meaning to a moment that once seemed insignificant while also adding additional layers to the exploration of the disconnect, hypocrisy, and misunderstanding that adults have towards children.
Abbas Kiarostami is a cinematic genius. He's truly one of the great masters of the art. With Where Is the Friend's House?, he crafted an outstanding film that explores several themes associated with the dynamic between kids and adults. Containing an atmosphere reminiscent of childhood, it tells the moving story of a young boy who goes on a profound personal journey. Where Is the Friend's House? Is nothing less than a masterpiece.
Nattvardsgästerna (1963)
The Excruciating Silence of God
The entirety of Ingmar Bergman's Winter Light is one big crisis of faith. While religion is the dominant theme, faith in God isn't the only type of faith to be in doubt. Character struggle with their faith in love, humanity as a whole, and themselves. Digging deeply into the silence of God, Winter Light closely examines religion, humanity, faith, and some of the ways the three overlap. It's a contemplative film that prompts intense thought and explores difficult material that should be internally wrestled with.
Opening with the morning service of a small town Swedish church, the film wastes no time in establishing its heavily religious tone. The sanctuary was small, and the group in attendance was even smaller, but they were all congregated there to hear the Word of God and partake in communion. While the pastor preached his message, the camera bounced around the audience, providing insightful close-ups of several characters. With the words of the sermon filling the room, the faces of the congregation showed people who may not have been fully present as they were silently fighting their own personal struggles. Though they were listening to what was being said, it's likely that most of them didn't really absorb much of it as their minds were occupied with their problems.
Tomas Ericsson, the pastor of the church, delivered his sermon in a lifeless, robotic manner. He was simply going through the motions with no passion or conviction. He had reached a point in his life where he was joyless and miserable-he was spiritually and emotionally dead. God's silence had been eating at him for quite some time, and it came to a head during the events of the film. After the service, a husband and wife, Jonas and Karin Persson, approached him because they wanted to talk about Jonas no longer wanted to go on living. Tomas started to go through the typical, scripted routine of telling Jonas that he had to have strength and trust God, but then he stopped himself. He realized the doubts he had about his faith in God during this moment, and he began spouting all sorts of questions and concerns-none of which helped the poor man in front of him. For the rest of the film, Tomas reconciles with his beliefs and doubts while continuing to wrestle with the silence of God. This silence is brilliantly illustrated in very clever ways. One example is when Tomas is standing outside in the snow while a ferociously howling wind drowns out all noise. Another is when Tomas and Marta are having a conversation in the car, but what they're saying can't be made out due to the sound of the engine. Sometimes God's silence is so intense that it's deafening.
Jonas Persson was also experiencing a crisis of faith, though his was different than Tomas's. During the morning service, Jonas looked sad, worried, and was a bit jittery. While he was talking to Tomas, he explained that he had completely lost his faith in humanity and didn't see any reason to go on living. His wife decides that his conversation with Tomas should be man-to-man, so Jonas, unsure if he'll return to finish the conversation, leaves to take her home. He eventually comes back, and when they resume their conversation, the pastor is a bit frantic and panicked. Rather than offering any real guidance and support, Tomas only asks more questions and raises more doubts. If anything, the conversation resulted in Jonas losing even more faith in humanity than he had before. Feeling as though his doubts about humanity had been confirmed, Jonas committed suicide after he left the church.
Interestingly, one of the members of the church congregation didn't believe in God. Marta Lundberg sat attentively throughout the service, gazing up at the pulpit with intent looks that often showed timid flashes of wishful longing. As it was later revealed, she did not believe in God, but she was in love with the pastor. Her love, however, was not reciprocated. Tomas's wife passed away five years ago, and effectively he did too. He was incapable of love and connecting with someone on a deeper level. Marta, on the other hand, was lively and full of love, but she didn't know how to properly express herself to him. In a gut-wrenching letter that's primarily read via a close-up of Marta that only adds to the heartbreak, she pours her heart out to Tomas. Her penetrating gaze revealed that she was serious about what she was saying, but she was also visibly doubtful, uncertain, and desperate. She loved and cared for him deeply and she had a great need to be loved and appreciated right back. She spends most of the rest of the film with Tomas, working trough the questions she had of her faith in love as he battled through his own crisis of faith.
Perhaps the most important character in the entire film was a partially crippled man named Algot who was only on screen for a few minutes. In addition to his physical handicap, he was treated as a bit of an afterthought by the other characters. Despite the hand he was dealt, he was the only one who seemed to be content and at peace with life. Early in the film, right after the morning service, he approached Tomas and said that he had something important to tell him. The pastor kind of brushed him off and said they could talk before the evening service that would be held in a nearby village. Algot wasn't seen again until the end of the film. When Tomas arrived at the other church, Algot was already there, eagerly getting things in order for the service. When he finally got the chance to talk, he explained that he was reading through the Gospels (at Tomas's suggestion) and thought that the focus on the physical pain that Christ experienced during the Passion was all wrong. He said that while it would've been excruciating, it would've been nothing compared to the emotional pain He had to endure. His followers turned on him, His disciples pretended they didn't know Him, and worst of all, God turned His back on Him. He was completely alone and abandoned by everyone. These observations from Algot-especially the fact that even Jesus had to face the silence of God-ignited something within Tomas. There was a subtle change in the way he began his sermon that night, it seemed that he actually felt and heard what he was preaching about for the first time in a long time. He lost the robotic behavior and began to speak with some conviction and belief behind his voice.
Winter Light is one of Ingmar Bergman's most profound and moving films. For a director who's known for creating deep, contemplative pieces of work, he might be at his most pressing and inquisitive here. With every shot and angle being meticulously calculated and the composition of each frame being immensely purposeful, the filmmaking he displays is brilliant. More importantly than the technical genius, the film offers an abundance of substance. Vehemently exploring faith, religion, doubt, humanity, and love, it's a film that should be thoughtfully pondered and will leave a lasting impact.
Oslo, 31. august (2011)
Soul-Crushing Honesty
Oslo, August 31st is as brutally honest as a film can be. It offers perhaps the most genuine and heartfelt portrayal of depression, loneliness, and feelings of inadequacy that I've ever seen. The sincerity of its characters makes the story so authentic, which causes the film to stir up a myriad of feelings. This is a tough one in various ways because of its heavy material that, more often than not, hits very close to home.
Taking place over the course of a day, Oslo, August 31st gives us only a brief glimpse into the life of a recovering drug addict named Anders. Lost and facing a painful existence that he finds meaningless, he's a man who's contemplating his life after he feels he's messed up too many times to ever be able to have a "fresh start." Despite having several people who care about him, Anders feels entirely alone. Not because he isn't loved, but because there's nobody who understands him. It seems entirely possible that he caused himself to grow distant from those around him (and himself) due to the fact that he was ashamed of how much of his life that he wasted. Whatever the case, he reached a point where he simultaneously feels deep emotions but is also numb to them and is largely unable to express them as a result.
This is a thoughtful film that was carefully and expertly crafted. It contains numerous fantastic moments that I found to be profoundly impactful. The solemn yet captivating opening, the one-on-one talk with Thomas, Anders sitting alone in a coffee shop, his breakdown at the job interview, and the devastatingly perfect ending just to name a few. The inner monologue that takes place around the middle of the film where he's thinking about his parents is the scene that stuck out the most to me. His parents provided him with an easy, privileged life. He loved them, but recalls that his they were less strict with him than with his sister. Although he doesn't directly say it, he wonders how his life could've gone differently if that wasn't the case. Maybe he would've turned out better, maybe worse, or maybe he would've ended up the same.
I really loved Oslo, August 31st. It explores some very heavy topics, but it does so in such a brilliant and thoughtful way. The film is entirely genuine, and its sincerity causes you to deeply empathize with Anders and his struggles. This is a painful film, but it is also profound, contemplative and moving; and it will stick with me for a long time.
Fa yeung nin wah (2000)
Regret, Love, Caution, and the Space Between People
"It is a restless moment. She has kept her head lowered to give him a chance to come closer. But he could not, for lack of courage. She turns and walks away."
In the Mood for Love has the ability to evoke such intense feelings that it is capable of manufacturing an emotional pain so powerful it can be physically felt. Crafted with a stunning vision and masterful direction, Wong Kar-wai tells a devastating romance of yearning and regret. As beautiful as it is painful, it's a sorrowful, lonely movie that poetically explores the distance between people.
Kindred spirits, Chow Mo-wan and Su Li-zhen seemed like a match made in heaven. If not for a combination of unfortunate circumstances and the moral code that bound them, they could've been the perfect couple. Honest and thoughtful, Mo-wan was an honorable and respectable man. Li-zhen was elegance and class personified. She was kind and caring, always conducting herself in a polite manner. Both were people of great reputations. Tony Leung and Maggie Cheung play these characters with a marvelous sense of authenticity. They hit every note--each expression, movement, and line of heart-wrenching dialogue is perfectly delivered. The emotions they convey are so genuine, the audience can almost feel them as if they were their own.
"We won't be like them."
They were only curious to know how the affair started. Finding solace and companionship in the upsetting situation they shared, they would never be anything more than friends in this time of need. For Mo-wan and Li-zhen, to be like their spouses would make them just as bad. The two had a lot in common. Realizing a shared interest in martial arts serials, he invited her to help him write one. They started spending more time together, but they were cautious. There was nothing going on between them, but they didn't want anybody to get the wrong idea. However, the more time they spent together, the more they wanted to spend time together. The hesitant, careful way they operated made it seem as if they had something to hide--like there was a big secret between them. It created a painful sense of longing that grew more intense with each passing second. A love developed between them, but it was something they couldn't act upon. They never wanted to be like them, but they didn't know that "feelings can creep up just like that."
Some people are cursed with the burden of thought. Both Mo-wan and Li-zhen were plagued by this throughout the story. The caution they acted with and the worry they had for what others might think stemmed from overthinking. They were so afraid of becoming like their spouses or doing something that might cause gossip that they missed out on the connection they had. Well after the events in Hong Kong, Mo-wan was wracked with regret. In Singapore, the agonizing conversation he had with Ah Ping about what people used to do when they had a secret they didn't want to share showed that he was still far from moving on. Some people are able to shake things off with little to no thought of the past. They go on to the next moment like nothing ever happened. Mo-wan was not one of those people. He had nobody to talk to about it and no way of getting over it. It seems that he thought long and hard about those past days; reliving the moments, wishing he could've acted differently, and carrying around with him the pain of regret.
Capturing gorgeous shots of vibrant colors and stylish imagery, the camera tells so much of this tragic story. No matter how close the characters may seem, there is always a distance present. Whether it's the narrow margin by which they avoid bumping into each other on the stairs, the mere centimeters between their shoulders as they sit silently in the back of a cab, or the literal wall separating them from leaning on one another, there is a space between them that can feel miles apart no matter how minute it actually is. The cinematography is also used to emphasize the nebulous nature of their relationship; and it can be seen in frames where one character is in focus and the other is slightly out of focus, one is sitting on a bed and the other is sitting just off screen but their reflection can be seen in a dusty mirror, and where one is facing the camera and the other's back is turned. Despite the nearly tangible feelings the two harbor towards one another, they never act on them. They only physically touch a handful of times. He gently reaches for her hand and she nervously pulls it away, he holds her in a comforting way as she weeps, she hesitantly rests her head against his shoulder, they embrace at the end of their last meeting. These moments are captured with an intimacy and vigilance that cause them to be more affectionate and impactful than maybe any on-screen kiss has ever been.
Functioning as a perfect compliment to the cinematography, the music featured throughout In the Mood for Love is used to amplify the emotions and themes that the film so eloquently conveys. Three of Nat King Cole's Spanish songs are included on the soundtrack, and the reminiscent, mournful sound of his voice works magnificently in the scenes in which his songs appear; but it's perhaps the heavy use of the devastating, remorseful "Yumeji's Theme" that has the most impact on enhancing the feelings stirred up by the film. The tune begins with several notes of curiosity and excitement, but that is quickly drowned out by a gracefully sorrowful sound that dominates the rest of the piece. The scenes that contain "Yumeji's Theme" should be considered among the best ever produced by cinema. Comprised of slow-motion moments; sparse, if any, dialogue; and eye-popping, lively colors, they document seemingly insignificant events that manage to depict a devastating beauty. Due to the brilliant, expressive camerawork and wonderfully heartbreaking melody, the scenes are overflowing with raw emotions-- yearning, loneliness, love, melancholy, pain, regret--that are heightened with each passing note of the haunting music.
"That era has passed. Nothing that belonged to it exists anymore."
Sometimes it just isn't meant to be. It can be so close and seem so perfect, but for one reason or another, it doesn't work out. Life doesn't hand out infinite chances. For Mo-wan and Li-zhen, they had only one opportunity. Held back by fear, caution, worry, overthinking, and the circumstances they faced, they missed their window of time. They were so very close, on multiple occasions, to reuniting and possibly having a second chance, but it never ended up happening. Hanging on to distant memories from that brief moment in time, Mo-wan was plagued with regret over what could have been. Having nobody to confide in, he turned to what the people in the old days used to do. In the gorgeous, dreamy landscape of Angkor Wat, he whispered his secret into a hole in the side of the temple. Finally sharing the burden he had been carrying all these years. It is a devastating, heartbreaking moment of letting go, but it is the perfect ending to the profound, poetic masterpiece that is In the Mood for Love.
"He remembers those vanished years. As though looking through a dusty window pane, the past is something he could see, but not touch. And everything he sees is blurred and indistinct."