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Paris, Texas (1984)
From surrogates to substance
The film is a deconstruction of the lies and fakes that human lives are built upon, functioning either as a compromise, or a compensation for their unresolved feeling of emptiness. There are several patterns of rehearsal and simulation in "Texas, Paris". To begin with, the very title gives the first hint and synthesis of imitation in the story. The original Paris, the idea and mirage the characters dream to live up to, confronted with the sadness and vacuum involved by the impossibility to recreate it. The characters are too absorbed in their incapacity to make their dramas intelligible to themselves and, therefore, too conflicted to be authentic in the hypostasis they are supposed to embrace. Consequently, they mime roles and concepts instead of accessing and revaluing their emotional potential within themselves. The fake family of Walt, Anne and Hunter, for instance. The two grown-ups are playing the parents instead of becoming biological parents themselves. Anne's despair in seeing Travis and Hunter, the real father and son, growing close, as well as her rhetorically articulated fear of what might happen to her marriage should Hunter join his real parents, could also be interpreted as a tentative of escapism from the problems and disconnections within the couple. A "borrowed" child and the picture of the dream-family living tranquilly in the suburbs might very well have worked as Prozac for the couple, since both of them seem to lack the inner instruments and resources to define themselves and their feelings in relation to each other in a marital context and build their marriage on real, solid grounds. When accusing her husband of "promoting the father and son business", she objectifies a highly humane, delicate and heart-felt subject approaching it in the cold terms of PR and soap-opera, which highlights the extent of her emotional numbness and self-alienation once more. She is more or less in the banner business together with her spouse. Certainly, Walt's particular line of work with banners is not an accident in the movie, but carries the same symbolical connotations of clichés unanimously accepted and imposed as reality. Travis buys a lot named Paris, hoping to settle down there with the woman he loves, but his real-life sentimental paraphrasing of the city of love ends up in a domestic ordeal, abandon and, eventually, loneliness. Having returned to his son, he doesn't know how to behave with him, wondering how a "Father" normally relates to his child. He tries on the "rich father" role, suit and hat involved, because he has no affective notion and practice of parenthood, at first. Then, when the father and son are walking on two parallel sides of the road on the way back home, Travis mocking his own clumsy father figure morgue and Hunter imitating him, we finally see the two of them in tune with each other, slowly growing out of the stern roles and pretense in their lives and coming to an emotional and authentic reconnection through game, humor and sound self-parody. From that point on, as the story progresses, Hunter undresses himself of his self-perception and experience as Walt's and Anne's surrogate son. The quick, amazing familiarization with each other leaves the viewer with the impression that there had always been a deep father and son complicity that was interrupted and now restored, put back in its rights, as Travis went back being his son's reference point on that street. Heart-broken after their romantic failure, Jane leaves her son in safer hands and reconstructs her particular connection with Travis in her imagination, since their relationship had become too self-destructive to be continued in real-life. Since her mind is no longer able to recreate her lost love's voice and features, she takes a job that consists of entertaining men whom she can't see behind a wall-mirror, identifying their voices with Travis's, and perhaps even hoping he was among them. She, too, elaborates her own substitute for her irreplaceable and impossible romance in a room that is essentially a pretense of intimacy and connection. The wall-mirror is a metaphorical separator of globular lives that can't find peace and a sense of fulfillment within themselves before opening up to one another, held captive within the tragic narcissism of their unhealed obsessions. Bottom line, the movie shows us a very realistic bunch of existentially disoriented people having their lives reduced to a void, striving to deny their sadness while manufacturing surrogates and more tolerable versions of their condition. Personally, I noticed some similarities between Wim Wenders and Jim Jarmusch as far as their theoretical approach on the human condition, loneliness and absurd are concerned. However, while Jarmusch leaves his characters in the uttermost meaninglessness and entropic alienation, this state is only the beginning of the characters' quest for truth and connection in Wenders's far more tender film, making the passage from fake and artificial postures to self-confrontation and blunt honesty, love and, eventually, some melancholic form of togetherness.
Stranger Than Paradise (1984)
Fatigues at slow pace
I found myself dazed and quite startled by this film. It's the kind of movie that haunts you with unresolved questions after it's finished and leaves you in a state of agitation and unease. This film was not intended to pose big, existentialist questions on the meaning of life, more specifically on the meaning of the characters' life, which is absent, by the way. No, their petty, stifling existence is boiling at small fire, and the futility of their lives does not end up in a grand shout for innovation and purpose, as it happens in Nikita Mikhalkov's films, for example in "An Unfinished Piece for a Player Piano" and "Five evenings", which I personally find pretty resembling to "Stranger than paradise", mainly the latter, in terms of black and white shooting and silent, pausing atmosphere. However, unlike with Nikita Mikhalkov's characters, the relationships between the characters in "Stranger than paradise" and their existential uselessness lack the tension and final outburst that might ultimately bring them to a sense and absolution. The smallness of their lives is plainly felt like an itch, discomfort, being perhaps intentionally reduced to the plain state of boredom and consciously avoiding the magnitude of anguish. Being set on this rather minimalist, superficial scale, their journey is not a quest for some revelation, self-awareness and connection, but a mere attempt to shake up their sleepiness and have fun, which results in a failure and an excessive, ridiculous airplane situation twist. But, since the characters regard their own stories in such low key, this is lamentable and perfectly bearable at once. Their search for a place filled with life, sun and colors, which is Florida, ultimately takes them to a secluded, empty beach, a metaphor for their lives. They are put together, which seems almost fated, perhaps in order to make the best of their interaction and evolve through it, so they might try to bond with each other on a deeper level; the problem is they lack emotional depth or cannot access more profound layers of being because they are too alienated from a fuller self-perspective and in comic self-denial of the sad nature of their condition. The mood of the film is perfect, slow paced and somewhat sensual with "I put a spell on you" playing in the background, the dialogs are abundant in pauses, interruptions and discontinuity, just as the three characters' stand in life is, and their absurd conversations and involuntary humor ("Hey, is Cleveland a little like, uh, Budapest?") gives more philosophical weight to the nonsense of their little "adventure" together to the outside viewer than to the characters themselves, who are too self-involved and stuck in their lives to acknowledge this mess they are in fully. A little masterpiece and a conceptual anticipation of "the show about nothing" brilliantly staged by Jerry Seinfeld.
Raport despre starea natiunii (2004)
Lamentable....
It's such a cliché to do movies about horrible, buried truths from the communist era that come out after the (apparent) fall of communism, shyly and in vague glimpses, but only for us viewers to find out that the truth is far beyond our reach, inaccessible since the fellas coming to power after the revolution are the very same people who had the power before the revolution, only now under the deceiving mask of democracy. So it is in their best interest to stop the furious Romanian national Zorro from piecing the puzzle of these horrid stories together and revealing the outcome to the public eye. The idea of the film is not so bad, but the fiery and slight avant-garde (oh, yes, the director lamentably flirted with such techniques) of its approach makes director Carmazan's efforts to reveal irreversible injustice in post-communist Romania look clumsy and ultimately insubstantial. Unfortunately for Mr. Carmazan, he is just another stereotypical, not particularly gifted director feeding masses with the same old, recycled and overly digested facts about post-revolutionary Romania. Thank God there's the new wave of talented Romanian film-makers, Cristi Puiu, Catalin Mitulescu, Cornel Porumboiu, etc, to ace his directorial pretense out. "Report on the state of nation" is no more than Reader's Digest Hamlet for high-school cheerleaders perfecting their reading. By the way, I don't think the journalist's name, Horia, is accidental, the director must have intended that Horia should remind us of Hamlet, so beware: the H letter is a METAPHOR in this film!!! And the director also intended that this cruel, awful and merciless reality he had portrayed in his flick should highly impress us, move us, strike us, give us something to think about that we never (or seldom) thought of before (excuse me?!?), and ultimately something to be depressed about, but the truth is that, at the end of it, I found myself not seeing the point in wasting time with it. And I am a highly sensitive person; it's just that I can think of much better and common-sensed Romanian movies that lack ostentation, which touched me deeply, just as I can think of much more talented and visionary Romanian directors than Mr. Carmazan. And thank God, there are plenty of them now! All in all, as a famous Romanian scholar put it, this flick is "a shape without substance".
Little Children (2006)
A witty character satire
The film is a drama, but it hardly touches the sensitive cords of drama until its final scenes, and evidently in the parallel episodes involving the lives of the supporting characters. The relationship between Sarah and Brad is not sensitive, and it lacks that dramatic vibe of "Madam Bovary's", which is consistently referred to in the movie. How come? Because the two of them are not really in love. Their summer fling is just a form of escapism for two people who feel trapped for various reasons. Taken separately, each of them has all the reasons to feel miserable about their lives and to earn our sympathy. Nevertheless, together, they both appear like absent-minded, insubstantial children trying to reinvent themselves and seeing each other as a projection of their own, egocentric needs. Each of them is no more than a momentary solution meant to reinforce the other's self-image. I personally didn't see a deep connection between the clandestine lovers, they simply reached a point of profound dissatisfaction with their lives and with the lesser roles they played in their relationships, so they avoided responsibility and threw themselves into the adolescent dream of the forbidden. I'm not a moralist, not one bit, but had I seen true love between two grown-up people, willing to give up their petty, loveless lives in order to be together, then the film would have had a clearly different tone and it would have inspired different feelings in its viewer. Their relationship with their spouses, mainly Kathy's reaction when suspecting Brad's affair, lack the depth and intensity that would have otherwise delivered some sense of emotional liberation from their mockery of marriage, which would have led to an open confrontation between the adulterous and the cheated, restoring the truth. However, Kathy does not have the initiative to bring up the subject and ask for some definite answers, she simply contents herself to calling her mother and thus preventing her husband from continuing his cheating, and this sheds light on the relationship of forces and on the moral values existent in her marriage. So, the story of the two couples and their derivations becomes a witty, pertinent story of mores, yet a bit shallow since their feelings of failure and uselessness is disregarded in favor of satire. But then again, this was exactly Todd Field's intention, to minimize the dramas of immature, self-absorbed people and to help them regain substance as they awaken in the end, confronted with the things that really are essential in their lives and finally able to cope with them, when Brad is injured after skate-boarding with high-school students, and Sarah finally sees her daughter as a real person who needs her love. As I mentioned before, the supporting characters gave me the impression that they were the ones who had the real issues. The performances of Jackie Earle Haley and Phyllis Somerville were truly heartbreaking, as their characters, and Haley gave a stunning performance as a sleazy, yet very conflicted man who could not escape his sexual compulsion even if he desperately wanted that. The scene when he was in the car with his date and couldn't help masturbating is pretty shocking, revolting and saddening at the same time. Larry Hedges, very well portrayed by Noah Emmerich, is another complex character who does all the wrong things in order to have a sense of adjustment. All in all, the movie is well-scripted, well-acted, providing a comic, incisive insight into the social suffocation and pretenses of life in the suburbs. I maintain my opinion that the supporting characters were the most substantial and moving in the whole picture.
Mountains of the Moon (1990)
Fascinating, to say the least
I hardly have the words to describe what I think and how I feel about this movie. Except that I find it stunning. The wild scenery where the two characters' friendship is shaped was splendid, absolutely breathtaking. It was so interesting and moving to watch Richard and John evolve around each other and get so close and united when confronted with life-and-death situations in the wilderness. The story revolves around great ideals and principles in an age of innocence, when human bonding, friendship, love, still had that touch of solemnity, honor and oath. It was very sad to see how John's deep feelings for his best, truest friend degenerate under the manipulation of a man with no scruples. The ending was heartbreaking and liberating, at the same time. The highpoint of the film was, in my opinion, when Richard is shown the unfinished bust of his late friend. The loving, nostalgic look and smile he displays while adjusting John's cheek-bones sums up beautifully the entire story of their friendship, and also suggests that John will always be in Richard's heart, as he knew him for real in Africa, when they went through so many things together, despite his naive, reckless betrayal and despite the games of interests that followed when returning to the civilized world. Truly excellent, I highly recommend it to everyone. It works magic for the soul.
Hercules (2005)
Interesting approach, disappointing story-telling
At the start of the movie, I was amazed by its bold and unique take on the legend of Hercules. The perspective from which the story was told is fairly nuanced and modern, insisting on the complexities of the immediate relationships between characters and their personal motivations throughout their interactions, rather than on their monumental proportions found in the original myths. Hercules, for instance, especially as portrayed in his teens, is such a refreshing, sweet boy compensating his feeling of loneliness and neglect with childish boasting. He appears far more human and familiar to us, with strong touches of self-doubt, clumsiness and endearing vulnerability. While still a boy, all he wishes is to be noticed and valued in equal terms with his half-brother. Therefore, he often takes foolish actions of so-called bravery and fails lamentably. Yes, he's someone any human being can identify with. Also, I liked the character of Deianeira, who is stronger in this directorial vision than the pale, innocent maiden in the myth, but also very feminine and helpful in responding to Herc's questions and concerns. What also captivated me was her particular knowledge of rituals, and her sad comment on how they degenerate in the hands of man and lose authenticity and spiritual meaning. It was clever and relevant for the way people have progressively lost ties with the sacred. Alcmena, too, is a very strong and complex character, and it was interesting to observe her relationship with her husband and the opposition between the two supreme gods each of them believed in, Zeus and Hera, which their marriage both entailed, and stood as a symbol for, at the same time. However, she later is pictured as closer to Satanism when desperately trying to kill her son, which is way too histrionic. Also, we see at first the passionate love between Alcmena and Amphitryon, then the twists and cracks in their relationship as they worship rival gods and relate in opposite ways to son Hercules, but we don't see her reaction, her grief when he dies, which is a huge flaw, as this detail is essential to shed further light on the dynamics of their feelings and bring them to an explicit climax and conclusion. And although it appealed to me in the first forty five minutes, it somehow got lost in the process, in very poor shooting and dialog and in far-fetched, overly dramatic and unconvincing acting. Most actors were far too exaggerated and insubstantial, Paul "Hercules" Telfel above all. From a certain point on, I was under the impression that the film had become a playground for kids who wanted to play roles from the movies. The best acting is provided by Timothy Dalton and Elizabeth Perkins, the two jewels that almost validate this flick. Too bad, with such an approach and a much better director, better-chosen actors, and more focus on particular details that were ignored or in disproportion throughout the movie, it might have actually been great.
Caraibi (1999)
Thrilling pirate flick
The first time I watched the mini series I was 17 and absolutely fascinated by how exotic and bright it looked and by the whole twist of fate story. I am crazy about period dramas and wild stories about pirates, and the actors were incredibly beautiful and quite talented. I watched each episode over and over whenever the series was on television, and in time I've come to be less subjective and face its flaws. Many scenes were poorly shot, the dialog and situations were often naive and not too credible, the score, although brilliant, was most of the time redundant and not masterly distributed throughout the movie. However, this is a flick that once captivated the dreamy teen-ager in me, and for this reason it's still very close to my heart, despite its defects. All in all, it's a very enjoyable movie if you don't analyze its technique too much. I'm only sorry because it had great potential to reach perfection in better directorial hands and vision, and certainly with a bigger budget.
Loved (1997)
A film about tragic ideas of love
I was absolutely fascinated by the story and its characters, mainly Hedda, of course. It was quite a challenge, both intellectually and emotionally, to step in this odd version of love and romantic connection and see the way the characters relate to love and their strange definition and understanding of emotional bonding, which takes extreme, violent turns. What I find striking is that there are many who might identify themselves with Hedda's ex-boyfriend in terms of all that longing for flawless complementing and wholeness with the loved one, however, it is the specific expression of this feeling, as well as a certain healthy state of passivity, that makes the difference and separates people on the safe side of the edge from those on the other side, who fall, hurt and get hurt because they no longer possess an objective sense of what is tangible. When Hedda says: "The table was no longer a table", we may as well understand that her skin was no longer skin, a matter of skin tissues, when his ex was battering her, it may as well have been paper or cotton, and that the pain she was feeling in the process was not actually pain, but equaled love and reaching out for it. So, the limits between concepts like love, pain, sharing and intimacy, and their definitions, as well as the usual adjectives/ stereotypes attached to them get just as fuzzy and confused as the characters. The characters are placed on the scene and left on their own to grow throughout the story and to reveal themselves progressively, quite similar to a canvas painting process. The movie has a beautifully slow, bluesy rhythm, with moving flash-backs and a heart-breaking climax when Hedda makes her final confession regarding her personal feeling of privilege in the context of her ex-lover's violence. Robin Wright Penn makes a terrific job of portraying Hedda as a graceful, pretty fragile and floaty presence of a kind, tender nature, a woman who would have been just a regular person if it hadn't been for her past relationship and the emotional and psychological entanglements derived from it. Her ex is not the bad guy of the story, but a tragic soul who simply doesn't know where to stop and can't conceive drawing lines between the separate selves and territories when loving someone deeply.