My Favorite Movies

"Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields... and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"



THE LORD OF THE RINGS: THE RETURN OF THE KING (2003)



Director: Peter Jackson

Country: New Zealand / Germany / United States of America

Genre: Action / Adventure / Fantasy

Length: 251 minutes







Since this is one of the most critically acclaimed and successful trilogies ever created in filmmaking history, I dare to start this review by stating a fact, and not an opinion: The Lord of the Rings is a masterpiece, admirable in all respects. Now, I'll add an opinion: The Lord of the Rings is three of the best movies of all time, fame that has acquired not for free.



The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Two Towers (2002) and The Return of the King (2003) accumulated a total of 19 Academy Awards, 207 awards and 227 nominations, internationally speaking, in period of 4 years, including Grammies and Golden Globes. The Fellowship of the Ring received 13 Academy Award nominations for Best Actor in a Supporting Role, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Costume Design, Best Editing, Best Music, Original Song, Best Sound, Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published, Best Director, Best Picture, Best Cinematography, Best Effects, Visual Effects, Best Makeup and Best Music, Original Score, winning the four last Oscars. The Two Towers received 6 Academy Award nominations for Best Sound Editing, Best Visual Effects, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Editing, Best Sound and Best Picture, winning the first two awards. The Return of the King, definitely the best part of the trilogy, broke the box office record of $250,000,000 collected in a single weekend, and was the second movie that actually achieved to reunite a billion dollars in cinemas around the world (the first being Titanic [1997]). Besides, The Return of the King (2003) was the main protagonist of the Academy Awards ceremony in the United States, winning 11 Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Achievement in Sound Mixing, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Costume Design, Best Editing, Best Makeup, Best Original Score, Best Original Song, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Visual Effects, not to mention another 106 international awards and 68 nominations. It is one of the most brilliant, unprecedented and groundbreaking trilogies ever made in the entire motion picture history.



Leaving figures such as money and awards aside, we will start with the adaptation. What a film critic should definitely do is to see a film and experiment it as an independent story, like a personal vision of direction for adapting a story, which is normally found in a book. This means that the adaptation of a book to a film will end in a different result in the hands of a particular director, in case another director had not made it in the first place. Consequently, a film should not necessarily be entirely faithful to the original novel, mainly because of aspects such as length or deletion of scenes that end up being unnecessary for the screenwriters or the director, among many other variables. Judging The Lord of the Rings negatively because of its drastic differences with the original novel is a mistake, as it is with all of the films. A fact of the film is that many elements have been modified or even removed, a fact that should not originate any kind of complaint. The adaptation is beautiful and faithful to J.R.R. Tolkien's style and literary vision.



In The Fellowship of the Ring we are introduced to a fantastic Middle-Earth world wonderfully brought to the big screen, not just considering the visual aspect, such as the costume design and the setting, but also the characters and events that take place from the beginning until the last minute, which are perfectly created. The story basically tells the story of Sauron, the Dark Lord that forges The One Ring, a ring that has the power of enabling its possessor to conquer Middle-Earth through the enslavement of the bearers of the Rings of Power... bearers that belong to the races of Dwarfs, Elves and Men. At the base of Mount Doom, the Last Alliance of Elves and Men gathers forces to fight against Sauron and his army. In one battle, Isildur, using the mighty sword of his father, cuts the fingers of Sauron, destroying his army and removing the ring out of him, but not entirely, since their existence is eternally linked to the ring unless it is completely destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. 2,500 years later the ring is found by the creature Gollum, who keeps it in his possession for 500 years, giving him an unnatural, prolonged life. When the ring is lost, the little hobbit Bilbo Baggins finds it and returns to the Shire with it. In his 111th birthday, he gives it to his nephew Frodo Baggins, and with the help of an old Bilbo's friend, the wizard Gandalf the Grey, the truth about the ring is discovered and Frodo accepts the responsibility of carrying the ring in order to destroy it in Mount Doom, located in Barad-Ûr, territory conquered by Sauron's forces, and Saruman under his command. The Two Towers continues the story with Saruman's army growing stronger and stronger, leading to an intense battle held in Isengard, while Frodo is guided by Gollum with his best friend Sam to Mount Doom. The Return of the King is the conclusion of the story as the heroes of the film fight in a gloriously epic and decisive final battle in order to defeat the extensive forces of Sauron and destroy The One Ring for all times.



The first part of the trilogy is principally focused on the introduction and explanation of the story. It is widely considered as the best part of the trilogy. Its emotiveness and brilliance irradiate amazement to the audience, and it belongs to one of the best films of the decade, not to mention of all time. Betrayal, romance, departures and the power of human relationships play both implicit and explicit roles thanks to the multitalented and multiphacetic vision of Peter Jackson. The sequel opens with a key moment of the first film, introducing us to a tense moment and a great portrayal of superiority craftsmanship. It is principally divided in two parts: the presentation of an upcoming conflict and the final battle, which covers a great part of the film's running length. The third film is a towering achievement in cinema history and quite possibly the best film ever made, being one of the strongest candidates for such a legendary honor. Despite its action-oriented nature, these sequences do not overshadow the masterful direction and the extraordinary final result of the film. Words can't suffice for fairly explaining the grandiosity of such gigantic magnum opus. The first three years of the new millennium witnessed one of the most significant and relevant miracles of cinema itself.



The Lord of the Rings sets a new standard in direction and creation of epic fantasy filmmaking. What this trilogy achieved is to conglomerate every single detail and quality characteristic that the filmmaking process involves so it could transform them into an unparalleled experience. It draws the marriage between cinematic perfection, perfectly held ambition, philosophy and literary poetry. Just like there were giants of the genre, such as Gone with the Wind (1939), Ben-Hur (1959) and Lawrence of Arabia (1962), just to mention a few astonishing Hollywood epic examples, The Lord of the Rings surpassed any possible expectation and kept it alive for the early years of the new millennium in both fans and critics. One of the most amazing facts is the trilogy's completion time: 7 years (unlike other Hollywood hits, not all of them necessarily good). Each year, the promise of bringing the next chapter of this fantastic story to the big screen was fulfilled, and fortunately all three parts were kept under Peter Jackson's direction, with the same cast.



The cinematography is stunning and all of the angles and shots are extraordinarily taken care of, providing vast views of landscapes and a magical world depicted in its most detailed and grandiose form. The film never became tedious and even some scenes were worthy of being paused to admire their beauty. The special effects are some of the best that have ever been created, and despite this, The Lord of the Rings completely stands out from the common and usually mediocre Hollywood films that are based merely on special effects randomly thrown throughout, since The Lord of the Rings is superior to those. Accompanied by the scenes, the musical score created by Howard Shore is beautiful and never distracts the viewer from the scene he/she is watching because in this type of filmmaking (epic) music is a rather delicate detail, and The Lord of the Rings takes it into consideration. The editing deserves the applause of worldwide masses, since not a single sequence is particularly tedious. The battle choreography and the story's pace, besides being excellently divided into three parts, follow a phenomenal and highly appropriate rhythm. The battles that take place in the trilogy are absolutely breathtaking and the technique that I particularly love which consists in removing the musical score in this kind of scenes in order to appreciate technical aspects such as the special effects, the editing, the sound effects and their editing was perfectly implemented by Peter Jackson. In the cases where he does not employ this technique, Howard Shore's musical score plays its role, adding emotiveness and intensity in the finest way possible.



One of the incredible aspects, which is at the same time surprising, is that one is able to identify with a certain character, and even to develop empathy and concern towards all of them, if not the majority of them. In fact, the spectator does not want to miss what this or that character is going through after the story divides them at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring, which makes the story even more interesting. The performances of Elijah Wood (surprisingly), Ian McKellen, Liv Tyler, Sean Astin and Cate Blanchett are worth a powerful mention, and they were able to create well-defined characters, which is not an easy thing to do. Viggo Mortensen, Orlando Bloom, Sala Baker, Sean Bean and Christopher Lee gave pretty decent performances as well.



Despite the constant criticism I usually get from hundreds of people when they see The Lord of the Rings as one of my favorite masterpieces, this trilogy is one of the most memorable and spectacular contributions in movie history, technically and artistically speaking. It is perfection, visionary poetry and compelling beauty from wherever it may be seen. A new category of cinema for the new century has finally been reached, and the task has been successfully accomplished by one of the most unexpected directors: a filmmaker that used to make splatter feasts in his early days. Almost no one could see such phenomena coming along the way, but The Lord of the Rings steals the breath, fills the eyes with spectacle, rushes the adrenaline, conquers hearts, makes love to the ears and makes the heart to beat in the strongest way possible.



100/100

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

GONE WITH THE WIND (1939)

Director: Victor Fleming, George Cukor & Sam Wood
Country: United States of America
Genre: Drama / Romance / War
Length: 238 minutes



Victor Fleming achieved what had never been achieved in filmmaking before, and definitively would not be achieved until decades later within the genre of epic cinema; neither the world was ever so majestically amazed on the level this film did 70 years ago. Regardless of the fact that Fleming had amazed all types of audiences in the same year, including both young and old people and critics with Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz, he gave birth to one of the best movies of all time, and certainly the best American classic ever made.

Gone with the Wind has been recognized as the best classic film, as well as one of the most moving and romantic stories ever brought to the big screen, worshipped generation by generation. Nowadays, the film still keeps astonishing new generations definitely. It was a work of art that fitted perfectly with general audiences, especially American. Back in the year of 1940, the film won 8 Academy Awards for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress in a Leading Role, Best Actress in a Supporting Role (I will focus on that too), Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Cinematography (Color), Best Film Editing and Best Screenplay and was nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role, Best Actress in a Supporting Role, Best Special Effects, Best Original Score and Best Sound.

Gone with the Wind is set in the times of the Civil War, one of the most turbulent, tragic, difficult and chaotic periods of American history, as well as during the following Reconstruction. Such turmoil and tragedy are brilliantly maximized and emphasized by the direction, cinematography and acting provided. Scarlett O'Hara is a young woman of particular class and elegance, deeply in love with Ashley, but soon finds out that he will be getting married with her cousin, Melanie. Totally heartbroken and without illusions, Scarlett implores Ashley to choose her instead of Melanie, since she loves him profoundly; unfortunately, his heart already belongs to another person. After such discussion, the real male protagonist appears: Rhett Butler. From this point, the film will portray, mostly through Scarlett's eyes, the romance that these two characters will have through such difficult times.

The performance of Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O'Hara is definitely unparalleled. She managed to create a totally identifiable character, characterized by her constant changing range of emotions and by the incredible strength she acquires through life, since she must escape from the disasters caused by the war until she's forced to grow her own food in incredibly tough life conditions in order to survive. Somehow, when Scarlett swears "she'll never be hungry again", the moment turned out to be so inspirational that she awakened the hearts of millions of people, and if some were not awakened, these were definitely moved permanently to an impressive level. It ended being a reflection of how thankful we should be with what we have in our daily lives and the negative effect (or devastating effect, depending on the degree) that may be caused in us if we lose the object or even our loved one before we really knew how to be thankful and make the best use of it. This is how the first half of the film ends, which decades ago ended up being the famous intermission. Both the intermission and the ending were perfectly planned. Scarlett O'Hara was an effective model of strength and perseverance, no matter if the audience were male or female; the moral of the story stroke in a very inspiring and direct way, and the intermission as well as the last shot of the film are two of my favorite scenes in movie history for my taste.

The already famous and handsome man of Hollywood Clark Gable, who got a considerable amount of popularity since 1934 with the Academy Award winning movie It Happened One Night, portrays a completely different and opposite character: a liberal, not-so-romantic person, a drinker who enjoys the good life, as well as a wealthy and completely unpredictable man. Despite Gone with the Wind being a romantic epic movie, it is not the typical romance one expects since the beginning. The ending, despite providing one of the most famous (and brilliant) dialogues in cinema history, was not predicted by anyone. It definitely wouldn't have been the same if it hadn't been spoken by Clark Gable himself. Love, tragedy and disappointment are presented from beginning to end. It is mandatory to emphasize the performance of Hattie McDaniel, best known for her performance as "Mammy," the colored maid of Scarlett. Her performance is simply sublime. It is not so surprising that she became one of the favorite characters of the story for so many people. Not only she is funny and nice, but she also acquires a very important influence in the story because of the righteousness and seriousness she has since the beginning, because of her capacity for empathy towards Scarlett and because of the responsibilities she acquires, the majority of these being unpredictable for her considering the difficult times in which Gone with the Wind is set. Obviously Hattie McDaniel won the Oscar for Best Actress in a Supporting Role, becoming the first Afro-American actress with such honor. Fair enough. Racism and prejudice lost that time.

The last insuperably beautiful technical aspects that must be highlighted are both the cinematography and the original musical score. If there is something characteristic and true about Gone with the Wind is the fact that both aspects, masterly brought to the big screen, (in full color when talking about the cinematography) create art when put together. The shots are beautifully taken care of, offering beautiful landscapes, open fields and a sunset that is in the end highly inspiring to the human eye, including Scarlett's figure and the tree next to her, both completely and contrastingly covered in shadows. "After the night, the dawn comes." This marks a new beginning in the life of Scarlett, since "tomorrow is another day." The music is beautiful, worthy of a soundtrack. I can't understand why it didn't won the Oscar for Best original Score, especially since listening to its music 70 years later brings us beautiful memories of the past which are summarized in this film of 238 minutes.

As a conclusion, Gone with the Wind is the definition of cinema. From the technical aspects such as special effects, sound and musical score to the cinematographic aspects such as the photography, direction, screenplay and acting, Gone with the Wind is an unparalleled, unprecedented, beautiful, inspiring, thoughtful and legendary classic, unique in its genre, brought to the big screen for the audiences of the world in a time when the world needed a breath of life, an inspiration that could bring warmth to the heart of the world, on the eve of World War II.

99/100

"Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth and the thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth. Walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes but know that for all these God will bring thee into judgment. Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth before the difficult days come and the years draw nigh when thou shalt say "I have no pleasure in them." Remember thy creator before the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken or the pitcher shattered at the fountain or the wheel broken at the well. Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. "Vanity of vanities," saith the preacher; "All is vanity.""



ANDREY RUBLYOV (1966)



Director: Andrei Tarkovsky

Country: Soviet Union

Genre: Biography / Drama / War

Length: 205 minutes







Thanks to the power and humanism of a gripping anti-war manifesto called Ivanovo Detstvo (1962) directed by Andrei Tarkovsky, his next epic project Andrey Rublyov had a considerable amount of high expectations from the Russian audience. Naturally, something that continues happening even nowadays, the film surpassed any possible human expectation, being the cinematic result a politically brutal and violent motion picture with a highly sexual tone. The most obvious consequence was the film being prohibited by the Russian government for approximately three years, complicating a wider worldwide distribution while being subject to several edited versions mostly removing every scene involving profanity, its greatly predominant Catholic influence and the noticeably violent torture and battle sequences. Decades had to pass so the actuality audience could witness the full masterpiece of Andrei Tarkovsky completely restored in its 205-minute length. Objectively speaking, most of the films that are considered too violent, too scandalous and utterly disrespectful in their respective eras worry both partially and totally totalitarian governments for the political ideas it presents, including their particular depiction relying on the filmmaking style and auteur vision. The most honest truth is that Andrey Rublyov belongs to a superior category within the art of filmmaking because of its pure sheer brilliance, its dominative skepticism and, ultimately, because of Andrey Tarkovsky, a cinema master.



Andrey Rublyov unfolds its story in the 15th Century, one of the most tragic and catastrophic periods of Russian history where numerous battles against Tatar invasions predominated. The film focuses on the icon painter Andrei Rublev from the very beginnings of his artistic influence in town, traveling and hiding from the Tatars and being asked to paint a fresco of The Last Judgment in the Church of the Annunciation in Moscow while the scaffolding was still being built. Despite that the audience was prevented from seeing the film, which was screened during very early hours of the morning, the film won the FIPRESCI prize in 1969 at the Cannes Film Festival.



Andrey Rublyov is the film that primarily showed the upcoming filming style of Andrei Tarkovsky for the first time. The political content and the strength Catholicism had already acquired were the principal motors that justified and beautifully unfolded the plot of the film which was abundant in substance and in philosophical depth. Both Andrei Tarkovsky and Andrei Konchalovsky developed one of the most complex, provocative and poetic screenplays that could ever give birth to an epic motion picture. The lack of music can be immediately compared with the lack of inspiration that Andrei Rublev transmitted through his paintings, a possible immediate consequence of such turbulent times, resulting in a struggle for maintaining faith in God. When music is employed, its quiet and mystic beauty and tranquility allow both the protagonists to physically take a break from the events they inevitably were meant to go through and allow the spectator to psychologically be hypnotized with the visual style and the gorgeousness of vast landscapes and the love of God.



Evidently, Tarkovsky utilizes lengthy shots that let the time pass like life itself. The editing is effective enough to guarantee a visually pleasant watch, but the cinematography and the length of every single shot acquire an independent timing that allows the film to offer a skeptic perspective. This is the skepticism that Andrei Rublev has gained through his spiritual journey from a religious point of view, but not necessarily questioning the existence of God and a universal truth that governs the world. The frequent questionings arise from unperceived motives that should guide his actions through the right path. Tatar invasions are raping the peacefulness of the Soviet Union while he, ironically, is asked to paint the Last Judgment in the ruins of a church that has not yet been fully built... nor has he. No matter how inexperienced the performances may seem, it even suddenly transmits a rather odd neorealist feeling, and the most believable reactions one is expecting from the characters clearly should lack exaggerated displays of strong emotions and spiritual perdition.



Andrey Rublyov possesses one of the most interesting and haunting scenes ever filmed. An intentionally historically-inaccurate sequence depicting the crucifixion of Jesus Christ is presented while the main character considers the possibility of His death as being divine plan that was meant to reconcile man. His ideas and interpretation of the meaning and influence of Jesus Christ in the existence of the human race are already torn up; therefore, the inaccuracy of the aforementioned scene is justified, since it is a peculiar characteristic that can be immediately contrasted with how life tribulations tend to weaken the faith we should eternally keep towards God. Andrei Rublev is an individual representation of a personal tragedy and of an almost unstoppable loss of religion because of man's constant and never-ending territorial and political wars. This tragedy is implicitly mirrored with the brutality the whole nation was going through. The consequences of irony are a factor that could not be omitted.



Thanks to all of the characteristics mentioned above, a high display of graphic violence and orgiastic rituals were the elements that caused so much controversy back in the 60's. However, a politically correct film must not necessarily be a kind movie towards its audience. It must clearly show to what band the director decided to belong if neutrality is not part of his main ideals. Tarkovsky fulfilled such task and had enough guts to throw in a very powerful religious perspective that would help in every single artistic, cinematographic and plot aspect. The final outcome is one of the most audacious and provocative magnum opuses ever committed to celluloid.



Andrey Rublyov is not only the director's best film, but one of the strongest candidates for the best film ever made, literally speaking. It is a direct message towards the Catholic worldwide population and an undeniable masterpiece towards atheistic and agnostic people. Captivating epiphanies, a riotous conclusion and one of the most visually beautiful and haunting sequences ever filmed in full color are just some of the elements that the movie presents. It is the trademark of a genius, a brave effort at creating a grandiose testament more epic in philosophical depth than in its mere running time and quite possibly the best foreign film ever directed. Words won't suffice for writing a proper review rather than expressing one's amazement, but it is a film almost as big as life itself and a dream come true for anyone who supports expressive art forms and the complexity of existence itself, subjectively speaking. Finally, it is a masterwork that has the divine ability to transform people and to make them see life differently. I do now.



100/100

"Open the pad bay doors please, Hal."



2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968)



Director: Stanley Kubrick

Country: United Kingdom / United States of America

Genre: Science Fiction / Adventure / Mistery

Length: 148 minutes







This is, probably, the most complicated review I will ever make about a movie. 2001: A Space Odyssey is definitely a new wonder of the world that goes beyond the definition of cinema itself. 2001: A Space Odyssey is pure art... cosmic art. Because of its majesty, among many other aspects that will be treated in a moment, it became in what many people consider "the mother of sci-fi films". For me, the real mother of sci-fi films is Metropolis (1927), so we'll consider 2001: A Space Odyssey as the mother of space sci-fi films and Metropolis (1927) as the true mother of sci-fi films. Undoubtedly, not even a single written review on this planet does complete justice to what 2001: A Space Odyssey manages to transmit to worldwide audiences if we do a full recount of what this masterpiece accomplishes. This is the most beautiful proof of the famous phrase "an image is more worthy than 1,000 words", so 2001: A Space Odyssey should be a seen and heard experience, but not only spoken or read about without seeing it.



2001: A Space Odyssey is a masterpiece ahead of its time. That's a fact. Stanley Kubrick's direction is so unique and brilliant that despite the fact that he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Director, lost to Carol Reed with his charming, yet inferior musical Oliver! (1968), which is incredibly stupid. However, the 60's can not be entirely put to blame. Thank God the Academy was not so blinded with so much majesty and glory on the screen 40 years ago and awarded the film for Best Special Effects. I'll write a paragraph specifically about that aspect as well. The awards for Best Screenplay Written Directly for the Screen and Best Art Direction-Set Decoration were not won by the film either: it just won an Oscar... Undoubtedly, 2001: A Space Odyssey has redefined both the genre itself and the definitions of "cinema" and "direction".



2001: A Space Odyssey tells the story of a mysterious artifact that is discovered buried on the moon, which, curiously, is estimated to have been buried about 4 million years ago. Eighteen months later, once that a signal being sent to Jupiter from the moon is detected, a team is sent to investigate along with the computer HAL-9000. Being more honest about this, the plot is the least important thing about the film, since it only helps to get to the point the film tries to make and to establish the theories that the film exposes.



Since the first seconds of the film run, Stanley Kubrick shows his ability to create art with cinematography. From the prehistoric Africa to the confines of space, every shot, every angle, every camera rotation, every sequence is incredibly filmed and taken care of, adjusting themselves to a stunning and unparalleled perfection. That's why, cinematographically speaking, 2001: A Space Odyssey is one of the most beautiful and sensual experiences I've ever had: a true, authentic odyssey. The fact that the film wasn't nominated for Best Cinematography either is beyond me. To all of the things we've mentioned, we'll talk about two mire essential aspects in Kubrick's filmmaking style: the music and the pace.



The music of Johann Strauss is one of the most elegant and harmonious choices for the creation of atmospheres in a film that I have ever seen. Songs like "The Blue Danube" and "Thus Spoke Zarathustra," beautifully performed by the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, makes us feel like dancing in the stars throughout space like if we were little children. The rhythm and pace of each sequence has a specific purpose, transforming each shot into something that must be admired at its fullest, never losing their original meaning; not one single shot is a leftover since everything forms part of a gradual process of transmitting a message. The pace is obviously not fast. Nor is it slow. It is just the best for a story of such uniqueness and depth.



Finally, talking about the cinematographic and technical aspects of the film, one of the most amazing and innovative characteristics for the year of 1968 (analyze that number, please) were the special effects. The way these were created, the creativity that required bringing them to the screen, are details that ultimately end up being completely irrelevant. What really matters about the special effects is that they can create and portray a universe, the emotions they cause in us (including travelling to infinity), the brilliance they have, the genius they represent, the way they hypnotize us, and the beautiful, wide range of colors they include. Just take a look at those colors! I even dare to say that those are the best special effects I've seen in my life.



Well... it's time to actually start talking about 2001: A Space Odyssey:



2001: A Space Odyssey is more than just a trip or a simple odyssey. It is a reflection, a commentary... one of the most chilling and true commentaries I've seen in my life, by the way. Neither the 60's nor subsequent decades were ready for such a complex message. In fact, they were so unready that almost nobody really understood the film. The movie was called "tedious," "boring", "stupid", and it was said that "it didn't make sense at all". There was so much anger that even nowadays people can't understand why 2001: A Space Odyssey is considered one of the best films of all time. Therefore, these people show and express their anger calling it "the worst / most boring movie of all time." Why do they do that, you ask? They do that because they don't want to feel stupid. I'm not saying that people are stupid if they do not get the film, but that's how they usually feel. What they do not understand is the fact that the film itself is not easy to watch, and if a person does not prepare to watch the film with an open mind and fails to receive the beauty that 2001: A Space Odyssey ends up transmitting, admiring its majesty in the way that Stanley Kubrick planned since the beginning, and neither the person prepares to see a whole new, deep, complex experience, different from the usual garbage that modern cinema represents nowadays (especially the sci-fi genre), the experience becomes into a more tedious, longer and never-ending one, until the glorious moment finally arrives: "THE MOVIE ENDS!" Unfortunately, we do not live in a society that is eager to see new and different forms of art with an open mind; on the contrary, the modern society doesn't read, neither bothers to decompose something into different layers, neither applies critical thinking (just like when we were apes). Ironically, that is one of the main themes of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Funny, isn't it? What people see nowadays is "a bunch of dumb apes jumping for 30 minutes" and "see the same spaceships over and over again in endless sequences".



Another key topic in 2001: A Space Odyssey is the evolution of mankind. A highly relevant element within the plot is a deliberately placed monolith in the most important evolutionary stages of man. It is first seen in the prehistoric Africa, 4 million years ago when the man was an ape: "The Dawn of Man." The reactions the apes show are exactly the same ones that we as fully evolved and rational beings would show nowadays: fear, curiosity, astonishment. From this moment on, the man discovers the use of tools that are at his reach and the creativity to create new ones according to their specific survival needs. However, as time went by, such tools ceased to serve these purposes and they became artifacts that made of our lives something a little bit easier and comfortable. Finally, when man is at the top of his evolutionary process, the second part of the story begins. The brutal development of technology allowed us to know a little bit more about the visible Universe that man has acknowledgment of, until now...



It is exactly at this point when Kubrick expresses his opinion about man and his possible role and relevance in the Universe. In 1997, Robert Zemeckis directed a film called Contact, in which a thoughtful comment is made near the end of the film: since the size of the Universe goes beyond our imagination, it makes our size and the space Earth occupies look almost meaningless, which makes us think that we are talking about an immense waste of space. Kubrick exposed this idea in a more brutal and direct manner 30 years ago. Just like when we were apes, just like when we were born and just like when we grew up to be just children at some point, man finds himself in a condition of similar vulnerability and dependence (towards technology) one more time once he is in space. Man requires special grip shoes in order to walk due to the lack of gravity, requires of a deep hibernation state in order to assure a longer survival period and requires food literally turned into pulp so he can provide his organism with essential nutrients. The music of Strauss and the way the Universe (in fact, only the Solar System, a tiny part of the Universe itself) is represented makes us look SO small, that we do not know if our reaction should be based in fear or laughter. In fact, we are nothing. We are just a race in charge of getting rid of a planet located in the Solar System the best way we can, a race so curious that ends up ambitioning space travel in order to explore and builds a base on the moon.



Just as we mentioned, the monolith appears during the most important evolutionary stages of man: firstly 4 million years ago, then in the future (as the film in 2001) where we are capable of exploring the space and walking on the moon, and finally both in the infinity of space and in the death of man. Whether the monolith has a particular meaning or not, the truth is that the monolith is placed there more than just deliberately. It is present in the biggest challenges of man and has a notorious influence in our evolutionary process. That is a fact.



The antagonist is one of the cruelest and coldest "villains" I have ever seen. The most chilling part is that the antagonist is a technological creation of man. The same man, blinded by industrialization, commerce, a faster technological development than those of the most powerful countries in the world, among other things, make him build machines that can amaze each new generation and each new millennium even more intensely, and (the worst of all) that can "imitate" human reasoning and emotions that distinguish us as human beings. That is the element Kubrick uses to create chaos. Although it ain't the first time that the concept of conflict between man and machines has been portrayed on a film, 2001: A Space Odyssey has definitely one of the most memorable, making HAL-9000 to become aware of its existence and to believe that it is "alive". Some may say that HAL-9000 won the battle but not the war, so man triumphs in the man-machine conflict. Obviously, this is totally untrue. If that were true, the man would not have taken his own spaceship and the thousands of artifacts in it to travel to Jupiter afterwards. We are incredibly dependent of technology and machines so greatly that it is laughable.



Another complicated issue treated by the film is the anxiety and curiosity that has always distinguished man for the comprehension of all phenomena around him so he can get to know what the human eye can't perceive or isn't able to see. Therefore, man is divided into two categories and creates two ways of thinking: science and philosophy (somehow linked with religion). That's why human beings are an agnostic and existentialist race in the deepest part of their being. We all have thought at least once about the classic 20 million dollar questions: "What are we?", "Where do we come from and where are we going?" and "What is the meaning of life?". The protagonist has a journey so intense and revealing, and experiences a rebirth so special and meaningful (becoming a very special being himself) at the end of the film, that, within the film, he's probably the only human being that ends up receiving the answers to these questions in a very direct and supernatural way. I'm definitely not suggesting that 2001: A Space Odyssey has the definitive answers to these questions, questions that I think we should not fully understand yet (what would be the purpose of life if we already understood them beforehand?) but the director definitely expresses his own opinion and what he thinks about the topic.



The last scene, which takes place in a very particular scenario of a very peculiar silence and a color that is so peaceful that one feels like floating when walking, is completely symbolic. There are different theories about what actually happened since the monolith made its penultimate appearance near Jupiter: the monolith opened a black hole; the protagonist travels to the fourth dimension where the schemes of time and space are broken; the protagonist meets God at the middle of his travel and he starts to have visions. Regardless of what actually could have happened, it is pretty obvious that the monolith had a big influence on it (once again), being a crucial element for concluding the story. We shouldn't take this scenario (the room) in its most literal form; it just shows the fragility of man and how vulnerable he can be specifically talking about the container of both the spirit and soul (the religious part and the emotional one) that is the body itself. The cup didn't just "fell accidentally". It tries to represent that our "container" may break at any time. "Death has its victory so assured that it gave us a whole life of advantage. Live it." Death can reach us at any time, an event that represents the final challenge of man: the transition to another life, or if you prefer it, the discovery of events that follow death if there is actually a new life.



The ending scene, which is one of the best scenes in movie history for me - just like the opening scene, the scene with the ape and the bone throwing, and the space sequence which begins with a bone thrown to the air which is transformed into a satellite - shows the rebirth of man as a very unique and special being: the Star-Child. That's the most perfect way to conclude all the theories and opinions that Kubrick showed throughout 2001: A Space Odyssey for me. "We are star dust." We just became into a star between millions of stars, having literally the same size we had when we were humans in comparison with the existent, infinite Universe and space.



Not even this review does justice to what 2001: A Space Odyssey really is. Stanley Kubrick was one of the best directors of cinema history that has ever lived and this is his most representative work of art of the genius he was. Forty years later, he continues to cause controversy and place new questions in his films, which are left to interpretation and have open endings. 2001: A Space Odyssey belongs to a category of superior cinema to almost any other and has the honor of literally being one of the best films of all time, of using a new way of narrating an epic story and of revolutionizing the genre, influencing hundreds of filmmakers in the future. Glory on the screen, and a feast for the senses, 2001: A Space Odyssey is the definitive masterpiece of a genius, and a rather interesting comment of what we are and represent, and the meaning of life itself.



100/100

"- Hi-ro-shi-ma. Hiroshima. That is your name.
- Yes, that is my name. Your name is Ne-vers. Nevers in France."

HIROSHIMA MON AMOUR (1959)

Director: Alain Resnais
Country: France
Genre: Drama / Romance / War
Length: 90 minutes



Whereas in France back in the 50's and having its greatest peak in the 60's with films from highly recognized and talented directors such as Jean-Luc Godard and François Truffaut a cinema movement called The French New Wave was born, Alain Resnais took a completely different path. Hiroshima mon Amour is not only critically acclaimed and recognized because of being a classic and complex masterwork within the genre or because his complex narrative structure, but also because it established an important and notorious benchmark within French cinema, making a greater emphasis in the psychology of the characters which are found in rather pretentious environments. Another excellent example is the film that Resnais directed two years later, called L' Année dernière à Marienbad (1961), making a major analysis of the details of the small world that surrounded each character.

Hiroshima mon Amour is set in the Japan of 1959, where a French woman is filming a film about peace. One night, she meets a Japanese architect and has an intense affair with him for a whole night. Once these events conclude and once she has finally finished her job, he asks her so stay with him in Hiroshima because of his fear of not seeing her again. Hiroshima mon Amour got an Academy Award nomination for Best Writing, Story and Screenplay - Written Directly for the Screen and was nominated for a Golden Palm in the Cannes Film Festival of 1959.

Alain Resnais stepped away from any possible cliché before actually finishing his film, which is among the most remarkable aspects that can be found in his style of direction and in his vision. It ain't surprising that in the first 15 minutes of the film the disasters that Japan went through at the end of World War II and the horrendous results that several populations had are shown in a documented style. In fact, Hiroshima mon Amour was planned as a documentary in the first place. Marguerite Duras had a pretty much heavy influence for constructing this gem and turning it into a feature film with a plot, creating one of the most beautiful scripts I have ever seen in my whole life. The power of words can really be very impressive, even in a movie.

The style of filmmaking that the introduction of the film had is very faithful to the filmic style of the documentary called Nuit et Brouillard, which was directed by Alain Resnais 5 years before and is one of the most important and powerful documentaries about the Holocaust, being filmed in Polish concentration camps. I agree with the fact that, somehow, adding documented sequences of real footage adds a lot of emotional weight to the atmosphere of the story. The art of creating these sequences comes from the care the director has with adding real footage and/or images and from noticing if these really fit in the story and the plot that you as a filmmaker are treating. Alain Resnais really hit the nail in this aspect.

The cinematography is really spectacular. There is not a more beautiful thing than appreciating a good cinematography that goes hand in hand with a director who has a well established vision behind a camera with a varied, epic and deep perspective about life and about how beautiful or devastating reality can sometimes be. This is definitely the director's most representative masterpiece even nowadays, being his last directed film Les Herbes Folles (2009). Although the edition is not a relevant element within the filmic style of this gorgeous golden jewel, the photography, the direction, the two leading performances, the screenplay and even the original musical score make up for it. Both performances by Emanuelle Riva as "Elle" and Eiji Okada as "Lui" are outstanding, each one of them focusing on their characters in the most possibly believable way.

The camera work is extremely beautiful. Besides the already mentioned cinematography, it is the camera work itself the one that transports us to the streets to Japan back in the 50's, moving along with such harmony and simplicity that it ends up being fascinating. Only a genius could have seen so much artistic beauty even in the cruelest and most depressing images, just like Pier Paolo Pasolini managed to do it in his film Salò, o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma (1975). Stepping away from the French New Wave, Alain Resnais is clearly influenced by the neorealism developed in Italy during postwar times thanks to giants of cinema such as Federico Fellini (La Strada [1954]), Vittorio de Sica (Ladri di Biciclette [1948]) and Roberto Rosellini (Roma, Città Aperta [1945]).

Finally, the time has arrived to start talking about what Hiroshima mon Amour really is:

The filmic beauty of Hiroshima mon Amour emanates from the fact that the film can be interpreted in almost any way; any theory one may have about what actually is being portrayed on the screen, or a simple version of a spectator about what is the real subject matter of the film, or a recount one may make of all of the events that took place in the film, can be either correct or put to discussion by anybody. More than just a film, Hiroshima mon Amour is a gorgeous piece of art.

Hiroshima mon Amour portrays, as far as my taste dictates me, two main tragedies: a global, wide tragedy and a personal tragedy. One of the main topics of Hiroshima mon Amour is catastrophe depicted at both levels. On one side, the internal tragedy of Elle is portrayed. She is a 32 year old woman lost in herself, a more seductive than a beautiful one, who feels an impulsive necessity of being totally dominated by his Japanese lover. This is most noticeable when she speaks the phrase: "Deform me to the point of ugliness". A sense of perdition, of an anxiety of surrendering to the emotional abandonment of her existence and of being completely conquered is present in her the whole time. The loss of her first lover, a German soldier she fell in love with back in World War II is the obvious ending of a stage of her life so she can start a new one. From all of this one can also come to the conclusion that all of what she says may not be entirely true, but she may not be completely lying either. What probably the film insinuates is that she wants to add extra drama or tragedy to the unpleasant (and somehow traumatizing) moments she once lived, or to the ones that had a bigger impact in her life.

On the other hand, we have the character of Lui, a Japanese engineer involved in politics who is around his forties. He is a man who doesn't entirely believe in romance or in love affairs, but definitely believes in opportunities. The opportunity of having an intense romance with Elle that is given to him is so strong, that he takes full advantage of it, discovering along the way that the emotions can lead anybody to an endless and unpredictable turmoil of unique consequences, and to a dependence towards our feelings that sometimes may lead to impulses that we as humans do not know how to control. He comes to a point where he creates such an obsession, that he blindly and desperately (without mentioning erroneously) discovers that she belongs in his life and discovers a new "meaning" of love, so he constantly follows our lost and confused female protagonist wherever she goes. He probably knows just as well as she does that such "relationship" can't fully work, but the anxiety that distinguishes their psychology for trying to find out where they may en up being once that they are controlled by such a unique and powerful thing that probably he never felt in his life before is so strong, that he is blinded from all possible rational perception and applies for a reality based on fantasy.

When both characters are together, they share and exploit a common characteristic: the desire of being completely conquered, not only romantically, but rather they prefer being dominated. Dialogues such as "You saw nothing at Hiroshima", in spite of the fact that she has actually been there, simply show that both characters want to hand themselves in oblivion, each one of them having their personal particular reasons which they don't really want to discover, nor precisely remember what actually happened during the war, what actually happened in Hiroshima, what actually happened in Nevers, what actually happened with their respective childhoods, and how their romantic relationships have been so far independently of the other person.

Just like Hiroshima mon Amour shows tragedy on different levels, the film shows two noticeable endings, very different between them, regarding the subject matter treated in the film. The first ending is shown once the first 15 minutes of the film have ran, which put together form one of the best scenes in movie history that I have ever seen: Hiroshima's reconstruction and the search of peace from the people, event in which is Elle is involved. It could be said that that's her excuse for being there. The second ending happens in the last scene of the film, where the most controversial dialogues are spoken: "Hi-ro-shi-ma. Hiroshima. That is your name." He responds "Yeah, that is my name. Your name is Ne-vers. Nevers in France". The symbolic-psychological context that these dialogues contain may lead us to think that both characters accept a new, fresh start, a new beginning, which is exactly the same process that Hiroshima is going through. It's like if the film went around in circles, reason why I think that Hiroshima mon Amour ends with the opening scene. That's why Alain Resnais assured that time in his film is shattered and randomly scattered throughout from beginning to end; it is not a chronological story.

The music employed in the film adds mysticism and an extraordinarily mysterious beauty. It is definitely the first film of this kind that Alain Resnais ever made. I dare to say that it has the most beautiful original musical score I have ever heard in a film, since it is perfectly related with catastrophe, peace, perdition, the emotions of the characters, with the beginning of a new life, with a lost love. The score is just outstanding. I recommend hearing it for the first time within the context of the film rather than listening to it separately, so in that way we can really understand the musical's score meaning. One can really be hypnotized and forgets about the rest of the world for a couple of minutes.

For all of the reasons above, Hiroshima mon Amour is more than just cinema. It is an artistic form of showing a reality that can even probably go beyond our own comprehension, and the complex range of emotions that distinguishes us as rational, romantic and cruel human beings. This is the most beautiful film ever made.

100/100

BARAKA (1992)

Director: Ron Fricke
Country: United States of America
Genre: Documentary
Length: 96 minutes



In order to start with my Baraka review, I definitely must make myself clear with the following point: My evaluation standards for a film are completely different from those I have for grading a documentary. Since both belong to totally different categories, documentaries can't be really considered as movies. In fact, a documentary is a genre itself. Whereas films are useful for narrating a particular story, being either original or based in any bibliographical or artistic source (including autobiographical portraits), through acting, directing and a prior screenplay, the magic of documentaries come directly from the fact that they represent a small portion of reality of a small part of the world seen through the eyes of a director. There is no acting nor script whatsoever... A documentary counts with a rather small filming crew willing to show their own vision to the rest of the world.

The complicated part of making documentaries is the total money won once it is finished and released in specific movie theatres and festivals, if possible. Not all of them have the luck of being released to a considerably wide audience. The most famous case I know is Michael Moore, whose documentaries like Bowling for Columbine (2002), Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) and Sicko (2007) are among the most famous modern ones and among the most seen as well, not to mention the Academy Award he won for Bowling for Columbine. However, you don't always have the necessary support from the government so you can document any ideas that you want to show to general audiences. This is what "totalitarian control" means.

Baraka is the most beautiful, sensual, relaxing, moving, touching, inspiring and epic experience I've ever lived in my whole life. That's right: Baraka is the most beautiful film (documentary, actually) I've ever laid my eyes on. Moreover, it is the best achieved and most ambitious project that has ever been made. Ron Fricke proved his talent as a filmmaker for the very first time with the short documentary called Chronos (1985), and then consolidated it in the year of 1982 being the screenwriter and cinematographer of Koyaanisqatsi (1982), documentary that would be a part of a trilogy directed by Godfrey Reggio. Ron Fricke finally shows through Baraka that his cinematographic ability is capable of adapting itself entirely to what his senses perceive with Baraka.

The most impressive aspect is that this golden jewel was filmed by a crew of just 3 people in a 14 month period in 24 countries which are the United States of America, Kuwait, Cambodia, Poland, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Ecuador, China, Nepal, Brazil, Egypt, India, France, Israel, Iran, Turkey, Japan, Argentina, Kenya, Tanzania, Saudi Arabia, Vatican City and Italy, all of them covering 6 out of 7 continents that can be found on Earth. Analyze these numbers, please! It ain't only an exhaustive, constant and arduous work, but it may have also been the most meaningful and ambitious transcontinental experience this crew could ever have in their lives. I bet anybody would do almost anything so he/she could have such a unique experience.

Baraka has no plot, nor actors, nor a single spoken dialogue; none of those things were really needed. Baraka is about the world itself. It doesn't include any kind of propagandistic material or scandalous commentaries about the destruction of the world, the cruelty of man, racism, war, racial prejudices or any kind of violence and discrimination because of races or religion. The only thing Baraka does is to travel to the confines of the world to show the beautiful, natural and artistic side of the flora and fauna present on the planet, the impressively vast diversity of existent customs and habits around the globe, the contrast of life conditions in different regions of the world, the various faces of several races that human being has created as millennia have gone by, the architectonic beauty that some wonders of the world have in and out of them, and the colossal contrast that nowadays exists between rural zones, sylvan areas and completely industrialized cities, ruled by constant work, traffic, noise, pollution, lights and technology. If we put all of that together in a documentary, Baraka is what we get. And no, I'm not talking about the Mortal Kombat character.

The first detail that mandatorily must be mentioned is the musical score. Besides being incredibly relaxing, inspiring, reflexive and harmonious, it has also diverse styles and suits perfectly for each region of the world portrayed in all of the sequences. It could be said that it is the music itself the one that divides the documentary in its parts: nature, developing countries, developed countries, the world's most powerful nations, eastern culture, the wonders of the world, among others. Occasionally, the musical score is completely omitted in order to add greater emotiveness and a feeling of void or sadness in some particular scenes. Baraka is perfectly synchronized.

The second detail of greater relevance is the photography. Baraka has the definition of cinematography written all over it throughout. Baraka consists of expertly photographed images. In fact, the essence of the documentary couldn't have been more beautifully captured if it wasn't because of Ron Fricke. The reason why I do not dare to mention some of the best cinematographers in cinema history is simply because Ron Fricke wanted to express an infinite number of ideas through the use of spellbinding images so they could talk by themselves. It is the most evident proof that "an image is more worthy than one thousand words". Each image has the most appropriate length and each sequence has the necessary emphasis so they can transmit the emotion to the viewer that precisely was pretended since the beginning.

The magic of Baraka emanates from the fact that it gives to the viewer an experience that must be lived so it can be fully appreciated. Baraka shouldn't be seen; it should be lived. The bigger your screen is, the more your screen will literally swallow you. The full description of what Baraka ends up transmitting goes beyond words; therefore, I find a little bit of inconvenience when I express the majesty that this almost-lost gem involves.

Baraka is the only documentary with the length of a feature film that has received a perfect score from me. If we considered short documentaries, the one that achieved this honor is Nuit et Brouillard (1955), directed by Alain Resnais, of which I will write another review someday. Baraka has reached the pinnacle of perfection in cinematography and harmony. Baraka is progress, evolution, the world itself, or at least the healthy part of it that still breathes. In fact, "baraka" is an ancient Sufi word that means "as a blessing, or the breath, or the essence of life from which the evolutionary process unfolds".

100/100

"There can be no understanding between the hand and the brain unless the heart acts as mediator."

METROPOLIS (1927)

Director: Fritz Lang
Country: Germany
Genre: Action / Adventure / Drama / Fantasy / Romance / Sci-Fi / Thriller
Length: 153 minutes



Metropolis is much more than just a sci-fi film. Certainly, we are talking about the most astonishing project of a German genius named Fritz Lang, who definitely had the guts of experimenting with something different in order to create cinema. What Fritz Lang offered to the world in 1927 became one of the most ambitious and fascinating cinematographic projects in cinema history, not only because of its thematic elements, but because of its visual style. Basically, Metropolis created a whole new world, a world that opened some people's eyes, and inspired other people start to reconstruct the world that existed by then, taking it to a higher industrialization level. The most characteristic aspect about Metropolis is the fact that it was done in a key historical moment of humanity. The First World War had already ended, and since the Industrial Revolution (and even before), the world structure started to divide itself into international great powers (which are nations capable of exerting their influence on a global scale) that sought for competition against the world in order to become the most advanced countries, socially, economically and technologically speaking. What Metropolis achieves towards its audience is to offer a chillingly accurate vision of a director about the path that the actuality (the actuality of the 20's, that is) was following by then. More than a simple sci-fi film, the movie constituted a controversial social commentary towards slavery caused by endless work and the nonsense this work caused in humanity.

Metropolis is set in the year of 2026, in a futuristic city completely ruled by technology, constant work and the colossal influence of industry, and is divided into two main social classes: the city planners, who really don't know how anything works and who live on the surface, and the working class living underground in the machine level, which although it establishes and accomplishes its goals, it doesn't posses a vision, since the very social structure prevents it from doing it. The true plot of the film starts when the son of the city's mastermind visits the underground where the workers toil, and after being astonished by what he sees, falls in love with a working class woman who prophesies the coming of a savior that would act as a mediator between the differences among the social classes.

The movie speaks like a person thinking out loud, like a hair-rising commentary towards modern society. It is curious how elements such as fantasy, society's constant riots and religion come to a point where they form a part of a whole and combine themselves in a very catastrophic way. The scenes including the workers walking together towards the machine level are pretty peculiar. The musical score is very attractive, and somehow represents irony contrasted with harmony. The rhythm in which the working class walks makes it seem like cattle, and like if it were conformed by inferior human beings.

The cinematography alongside with the editing created a world that had never seen before, a world which is not based in real life, but in the possible consequences of the events that took place back in the 20's. That is why I consider Metropolis the mother of sci-fi films, and it is officially one of the first movies that were made concerning that genre. Another giant icon within the sci-fi genre is the short film Le Voyage dans la Lune (1902), directed by George Méliès. Metropolis is brilliant in every single aspect, and both the art direction and set decoration is ultimately unparalleled. In fact, both the art direction and the constructed sets for the film are the most impressive ones I've seen in cinema history. Also, Metropolis was one of the first feature films that handled scenes with great amounts of people in its shots. The movie included 37,000 extras including 25,000 men, 11,000 women, 1,100 bald men, 750 children, 100 dark-skinned people and 25 Asians. These scenes were extraordinarily shot and made. Certainly, Fritz Lang was the best director for the job.

Metropolis also possesses the best special effects I have ever seen. Just like Le Voyage dans la Lune (1902), The Ten Commandments (1956), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Star Wars (1977), Aliens (1986), Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), Jurassic Park (1993) and The Matrix (1999) are films that I particularly admire because of their special effects and because they are the best representations of what technology can achieve in movies, Metropolis also has the best visual effects in the history of cinematography, as far as my opinion and taste go. Please consider that the technology that exists nowadays for creating some special effects in particular (such as the overused CGI) didn't exist in those times. We are talking about 1927! Analyze that figure. The most astonishing special effect of the film is some rings spinning around a machine up and down that transformed it into a guise of Maria. Audiences back then were left amazed, and I definitely felt the same way 4 years ago.

As mentioned before, Metropolis is one of the best social criticisms ever made about automation along with Modern Times (1936), by Charles Chaplin. However, while Chaplin used a comical tone accompanied by irony, the purpose of Metropolis scatters terror. It is a very-well structured opinion, but very direct for its audience, especially for the 20's. Probably for those times the message of Metropolis wasn't understood in its totality. It is a film ahead of its time. One interesting trivia about the film is that reportedly it is one of Adolf Hitler's favorite films. Carefully analyzing the subject matter and the narrative structure utilized by the film, it isn't so surprising that one of the cruelest and greatest leaders that humanity ever had in its existence had favorite this film.

Metropolis is, without a doubt, the best film by Fritz Lang for my taste, even better than his next sci-fi film Frau im Mond (1929), Dr. Mabuse, der Spieler - Ein Bild der Zeit (1922), which is the longest movie I have seen so far, M (1931), Le Testament du Dr. Mabuse (1933) and Fury (1936). Metropolis may go beyond our own comprehension; its incomparable dystopian and apocalyptic vision influence several artists and filmmakers in the future, specially within the cyberpunk movement that was highly promoted in Japan, being the best examples Akira (1988) and Kôkaku Kidôtai (1995), which influenced The Matrix (1999). Also, it is one of the first films that masterly established and portrayed the concept of the conflict between men and machines. Too many directors have paid tribute to Fritz Lang and his masterpiece for literally redefining a genre that really isn't so easy of treating. That is why Metropolis, being one of the most ambitious projects in movie history and the best sample of German Expressionism, is one of the best films of all time, and one of the best proofs of how a big budget can be productively used for a movie. The budget was around 5,000,000 marks which, adjusted for nowadays inflation, represents an approximate amount of $200,000,000. Finally, this was the first film (being the second one Los Olvidados [1950]) that was registered in the "Memory of the World-Register" of the UNESCO.

100/100

"Will they... open fire? --- Brothers!"

BRONENOSETS POTYOMKIN (1925)

Director: Sergei M. Eisenstein
Country: Soviet Union
Genre: Drama / War
Length: 75 minutes



Besides being officially and several times declared as the best movie of all time, Bronenosets Potyomkin is probably one of the most important movies ever created in the history of humanity. Sergei M. Eisenstein became one of the best geniuses of cinema for those times along with giant cinema icons such as F.W. Murnau and D.W. Griffith. Also, Eisenstein transmitted highly controversial, catastrophic and totally revolutionary ideas for those times, like if he stood for the population of the Soviet Union in its totality trying to speak out loud. With a movie like Bronenosets Potyomkin he didn't only create a masterpiece establishing his own filmic style which would be recognized for several decades to come, but he also was one of the few directors that actually understood the meaning of the terms "cinema" and "filmmaking" completely, as well as all of the elements that conform cinema. The technical aspect that distinguishes most of his films is, without a doubt, the editing. That's the magic word when talking about Eisenstien: editing. Thanks to his first patriotic gem Bronenosets Potyomkin, he became one of the most important and influential filmmakers that cinema could ever had given birth to.

The story is set on the year of 1905 in the Battleship Potemkin, where the unbearable life conditions the sailors are exposed to by the officers of the ship, including rotten meat declared "safe to eat" by the ship's doctor, caused that the crewmembers started to buy provisions at the canteen in a show of protest. Once that the Admiral finds out about it, he organizes a reunion for both the crewmembers and the officers of the battleship, and tests everybody's loyalty. A riot is originated aboard the ship, generating several victims, including sailor Grigory Vakulinchuk. When the body of Vakulinchuk is placed on the docks in the Odessa harbor as a symbol of revolution holding a sign that reads "For a spoonful of soup", the population of Odessa is deeply shaken by the news, and a massacre from Cossak soldiers takes place, who mercilessly slaughter the helpless citizens in one of the most famous scenes in cinema history. The guns of the ship are used in reply to the massacre.

Bronenosets Potyomkin is one of the most influential historical films for cinema. The vision and genius of Eisenstein can be appreciated in this intense and revolutionary epic from beginning to end. Within his own filmmaking style, he created and popularized the use of several filming techniques, like shooting any scene in particular and repeating it from different angles in order to obviously increase dramatic quality. He was probably the first director that ever used this technique, and it was obviously employed and copied by several directors afterwards. Nowadays, many filmmakers and cinematographers owe full credit to Eisenstein. On the other hand, he established the idea that one of the most important elements for adding intensity, rhythm and life to a feature film is the good use of a brilliant editing. While the attack of the battleship towards the Odessa Theater is being portrayed, a lion statue is shown through a very unique edition, making it seem that the lion itself reacts to the catastrophe that is taking place at the moment. In fact, his next film called Oktyabr (1928) contains the best editing worldwide masses could ever witness in a film, and deals with a very similar historical subject matter than the one shown in Bronenosets Potyomkin in documentary form.

The directing is extraordinary. As it has been already mentioned, thanks to Bronenosets Potyomkin Eisenstein became a legend and an incredible cinematographic inspiration. One of the most famous scenes ever filmed consists in a baby carriage dramatically falling throughout the staircase of Odessa while several victims suffer their deaths in the hands of the Cossaks. Such event is preceded by a boy who is brutally crushed and stepped on by the panicked crowd. The boy's mother, scandalized, carries her son between her arms and cries out for mercy while walking towards the soldiers. As expected, the mother ends up being the first victim along with her dead son, and total hysteria ensues. Several reasons exist so that such scene can be considered among the best scenes ever filmed, besides being a cinema icon itself. First of all, the editing adds an impressive dramatic quality. Each angle and shot is extremely well-planned, considering the fact that it is a very delicate scene. The way Eisenstein wanted to show the horrors of war contrasted with such an innocent, pure and beautiful symbol (the baby) is very powerful. When the film was completed back in the 20's, it was banned because of its "excess of inhumanity" and was heavily censored in some other countries. This scene has been referenced and paid homage to in numerous films, being the most famous and remarkable example The Untouchables (1987), by Brian de Palma.

The movie has some extraordinary shots of cinematography and a revolutionary and innovative camera work. The panoramas shown both on the sea and on earth, such as the docks and the staircase, are vast and beautifully captured. Despite the fact that the acting is an element which can't be fully analyzed in silent films as well as it can be in modern films nowadays, the power of the scenes completely transmit the emotions of the characters, such as sadness, anger, deception, tragedy, cruelty, pain and desperation. The spectator feels like he/she was aboard the battleship itself, and/or running quickly down the Odessa staircase.

That is why Bronenosets Potyomkin is one of the best foreign films ever directed, arguably the best war film ever committed to celluloid, and one of the best movies with a historical subject matter after Andrey Rublyov (1966) and Le Passion de Jeanne d'Arc (1928), which are biopics. The way it was done and directed makes it an epic film. Eisenstein was very careful with the details and although its length could have been longer considering its plot and genre, it doesn't disappoint in any way, not even in the entertainment value. Its importance has reached such a high level for both film critics and film students that some still images of Bronenosets Potyomkin have appeared in History text books that talk about the Russian Revolution and the creation of the USSR. There are no heroes in the film; it simply shows the atrocities of the events that ended up causing the Russian Revolution of 1917. Although Eisenstein directed several remarkable masterpieces afterwards such as Oktyabr (1928), Ivan Groznyy I (1944) and Ivan Groznyy II: Boyarsky Zagovor (1958), Bronenosets Potyomkin is his best and most representative masterwork, and a legacy that will last until the wonderful art of movie creation perishes.

100/100

"Will I be with You tonight in Paradise?"

LA PASSION DE JEANNE D'ARC (1928)

Director: Carl Theodor Dreyer
Country: France
Genre: Biography / Drama
Length: 114 minutes



If any critic, filmmaker or movie lover were ever put in a situation where he/she needs to prove to someone else that cinema was once an art form and that, nowadays, cinema actually ends up being a true art form several times, mostly because of the pretentious and empty garbage that has been made principally for the last two decades which has given the impression that cinema was only created for entertainment purposes, the silent classic that this person needs to show is La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc, from the acclaimed director Carl Theodor Dreyer. La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc is a classic and a cinematographic legend in absolutely every single aspect. It represents the maximum capacity of perfection that the Seventh Art can really reach. It is not only one of the best movies of all time, but it is also the saddest and most depressing, heartwarming and uplifting (probably spiritual as well) personal experience that cinema could ever offer, belonging to a superior and hardly reachable category of cinema.

Joan of Arc (1412 - 1431) was a French national hero and a Catholic saint. Being a peasant born in eastern France, she led the French army to several important victories during the Hundred Years' War, claiming that she had divine guidance. She was also indirectly responsible for the coronation of Charles VII. At the age of 19, Joan of Arc was captured by the English, tried by an ecclesiastical court and burned alive under charges of heresy. Her innocence was later confirmed by the Spanish Pope Callixtus III (Alfonso de Borja), who posthumously reopened her case in 1456 after the death of Nicholas V, officially declaring the jurists that had condemned her as heretics. Finally, Joan of Arc received beatification by the Pope Pius X in 1909, and in 1920 she was canonized (therefore declared saint) by the Pope Benedict XV. La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc is set on the trial of 1431, where she was put under a lot of pressure and received constant brutal criticism because of the divine visions that Joan of Arc had.

Carl Theodor Dreyer had a very well established vision before creating this immense golden jewel. Primarily, the grandiosity of Joan of Arc's character, despite the fact that she only lived until the age of 19, is clearly shown through the peculiar handling of an earthly divine cinematography. The image of Joan of Arc that Maria Falconetti accomplishes to bring to the screen is among the most staggering things that human eyes could ever have the pleasure of seeing. The shots, very intelligently taken care of and brilliant planned, clearly film Falconetti from a low angle, like if the spectator was meant to be looking towards the sky, giving us the impression that God was with her the whole time and that we are each time closer to the sky where eternal life awaits her. Moreover, the ecclesiastical court is captured from a high angle, making us feel it is conformed by inferior and inhuman beings ultimately submitted to the will of Satan.

Dreyer didn't only direct this masterpiece, but he was also in charge of the editing with the help of Joseph Delteil and elaborated the screenplay alongside with Marguerite Beaugé. Consequently, the editing is magical. Besides transporting the audience to the 14th Century along with the incredible costume design and the style of the art direction and set decoration, it makes the necessary transitions between the faces of the cruel jurists and Joan of Arc which are powerful enough to make us aware of the colossal amount of humanity that our main character had from beginning to end. This film has arguably the most beautiful musical score ever committed in a silent film as well. It is definitely superior to classics such as Bronenosets Potyomkin (1925), Metropolis (1927) and any Charles Chaplin movie, considering the fact that it was Chaplin himself the one who composed the music of all of his films. Objectively speaking, the musical score of La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc is the one created by Ole Schmidt in 1982, which is utterly spectacular. A new score was made two years ago by Jesper Kyd, but missed the predominant spirituality of the film and the influence of Joan of Arc in humankind's history, not to mention the original approach by Dreyer to the plot.

Specifically talking about the acting, the show is completely stolen by Maria Falconetti. There are people who claim that her performance is the best female leading performance in cinema history, and I am proudly included in that majority. The face she possesses is so beautiful, so revealing, so depressing, so divine, so beautiful and so heartbreaking that people who even consider themselves as atheists and agnostic persons cannot find difficulty in admiring this film at least because of its technical aspects, the editing, the cinematography and one of the most wonderful leading performances ever seen. Maria Falconetti was the living proof that an awesome makeup, an elegant and expensive costume design, shouting and exaggerated dramas or endlessly long dialogues aren't required for offering unparalleled performances. Acting involves going deeply into the mind of a particular character, whether it is real or fictitious, dead or alive, and portraying it in the most natural possible way. Maria Falconetti is the only woman that has actually achieved to accomplish such grandiose task.

I differ with the opinion of several film critics that state that La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc is not the best film by Dreyer. Several people affirm that Ordet (1955) is his most masterful work, and some others that Vredens Dag (1943) is superior. However, La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc is one of the greatest achievements of cinema history technically and artistically speaking. The film was directed before the horror gem filmed in Germany called Vampyr - Der Traum des Allan Grey (1932) was made. Some audiences also prefer Robert Bresson's Procès de Jeanne d'Arc (1962) over Dreyer's version, which reconstructs the whole trial of Joan of Arc, starred by Florence Delay. Even so, Bresson's vision missed to effectively depict the tragic sensation transmitted through the silent classic film and to masterfully contrast such great beauty with powerful brutality. Dreyer's version ends up being far way better in every single aspect. Despite being his most famous and most seen feature film, it is the best movie within his filmography and arguably the best silent film ever made, obviously excluding the extremely blasphemous, action-oriented version of Luc Besson starred by Milla Jovovich.

La Passion de Jeanne d'Arc not only helped masses, myself included, to strengthen their faith in God, to look at life with optimism, to appreciate the beauty of things that life includes and shows everyday and to defend religious ideals, but also helped them, no matter what their ages were, to recognize an artistic and cinematographic masterpiece when it is released, and, on a personal note, it is literally one of the few films that have changed my life. More than admiring Dreyer because of his achievement, more than admiring the film because of its majesty, and more than admiring Falconetti because of her acting, we should be really grateful. It is one of those meaningful epitomes of cinematic perfection.

100/100

NANOOK OF THE NORTH (1922)

Director: Robert J. Flaherty
Country: United States of America / France
Genre: Documentary
Length: 79 minutes



Nanook of the North is the second and last documentary that can be found on my favorite movies' list. There are several reasons why Nanook of the North became one of my favorite movies ever, making emphasis on the fact that I have already mentioned the differences of my evaluation standards for both feature films and documentaries before. Without a doubt, Nanook of the North is officially considered as one of the best documentaries ever made in cinema history, and it is definitely the best classic documentary I have seen with the length of a normal movie. Whereas giant cinema icons such as F.W. Murnau, D.W. Griffith and Sergei M. Eisenstein were establishing themselves as memorable legends of silent classic cinema mainly through their work, Robert J. Flaherty was one of the first and most important filmmakers that understood that movies could provide much more than just a story of fiction, and that it could portray a portion of an existent and actual reality of any part of the world, in this case the North Pole. It was precisely Nanook of the North the first anthropological documentary with the length of a feature film that was released in the history of cinema... ever.

Nanook of the North tells the real story of Eskimo Nanook and his family and documents it for a whole year, including the way of life they had for hunting, searching for food and preparing it, and the migrations they made to other places in the area, considerably far away from a world governed by modern technology. The igloo in which they lived is also shown here.

The project was sponsored by the French fur company Revillon Freres, which provided around 50,000 dollars to the filming crew and to the director so the making of the documentary could be possible, including the fact that they had to organize an expedition to the North Pole that would last approximately 16 months. They resorted to those means because they naturally didn't have the required amount of budget which would be mostly earmarked for the journey itself. Once that the documentary about Nanook and a sample of his way of life was completed, it was rejected by five different distributors, but due to the huge success it had in Paris and Berlin when it was first released, the film went to New York City movie theaters as well, gathering around 40,000 dollars in its first week, which already made evident that the amount of used budget would be promptly gotten back.

Independently of the reasons that general audiences and film critics may have for considering Nanook of the North one of the best documentaries ever made in cinema history, my reasons are the following. Nanook of the North was the first project that actually ambitioned to show a part of the world from a different perspective, this means, not portraying it through a fictional story or through a plot adapted from literature, but from real life. This was a concept that, besides having an enormous influence in modern filmmakers and directors, created new genre itself which can be completely separated from the definition of cinema. Nanook of the North has most of the elements that a documentary possesses even nowadays. From the moment that Robert popularized the genre through his projects such as Nanook of the North, which was the first documentary he ever directed, and the least popular but also influencing Man of Aran (1934) and Louisiana Story (1948), movie for which he got an Oscar nomination along with his brother for Best Writing, Motion Picture Story, a new form of narrating a story through films had been born.

However, there is a lot of controversy in whether if Nanook of the North is really a documentary or not. The idea of making such a filmic project came originally from Robert's brother, Frances H. Flaherty, and it was Robert who elaborated the script. Why did he have to elaborate a script if we are talking about a documentary in the first place? He did it because although Nanook of the North gave birth to a new genre, it wasn't really a documentary per se. Each and every one of the scenes were staged and simulated, and the way of life of Nanook that was portrayed in here wasn't accurate at all. The igloo isn't the original one he lived in. Robert wanted the half of an igloo of 25 feet in diameter to be built because the crew found several difficulties while filming some scenes caused by lightning problems, so the igloo was constructed so the actions that took place inside it looked more believable and had natural light.

Despite the details mentioned above, Nanook of the North effectively works as a documentary that depicts the way of life that Inuits have even nowadays. One sad aspect of it is that Nanook died of starvation months after the film was completed. Nanook of the North is also one of the most critically acclaimed and respected documentaries and in 2002 it was considered as the 6th best documentary ever made, just after Bowling for Columbine (2002), The Thin Blue Line (1988), Roger & Me (1989), Hoop Dreams (1994) and Salesman (1968). The seventh spot is proudly occupied by masterpiece Nuit et Brouillard (1955).

Nanook of the North may not completely belong to the genre, but it undoubtedly created it, and if it hadn't been because of Robert J. Flaherty the documentary genre wouldn't have been created in the same way it was or perhaps it would have been born much more lately. Moreover, many documentaries that nowadays exist would have never been created in the first place. Nanook of the North is a gorgeous piece of art with a perfectly adequate length, detail, depth, some extraordinary cinematographic shots throughout and it is pretty much accessible and easy to watch. It is also very informative, not only with the Inuit way of life, but also with the fauna that inhabit the North Pole. It may also serve well for educational purposes. That is why we owe total credit to this documentary, because besides being one of the most influencing feature films ever created by mankind, it is an invaluable treasure that even nowadays is still seen and worshipped.

100/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

"So. Again we are defeated.
---
The farmers have won. Not us."

SHICHININ NO SAMURAI (1954)

Director: Akira Kurosawa
Country: Japan
Genre: Action / Adventure / Drama
Length: 207 minutes



Akira Kurosawa is one of the most critically acclaimed directors in the history of cinematography, and he undoubtedly became in the most influential filmmaker for the future generations to come since he started to construct his extraordinary and enviable filmography. Kurosawa considerably popularized the samurai genre within the Seventh Art and his incomparable stories achieved to inspire several directors such as John Sturges with The Magnificent Seven (1960), Sergio Leone with Per un Pugno di Dollari (1964), Sergio Corbucci with Django (1966), George Lucas with Star Wars (1977), Walter Hill with Last Man Standing (1996), John Lasseter with A Bug's Life (1998), Quentin Tarantino more notably with Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003) and Kill Bill Vol. 2 (2004), and Takashi Miike with Sukiyaki Western Django (2007). Every single avid fan of epic filmmaking will find Shichinin no Samurai as one of the most outstanding, powerful and unique epic stories that cinema could have ever offered. Although Kurosawa has been considered as the Japanese father of Blockbuster films several times because of the high entertainment quality that his timeless gems have provided throughout the past decades, he was definitely one of the greatest directors that had ever lived and, being Shichinin no Samurai his most representative epic masterwork in his whole filmography, it is arguably the best film he ever made.

Akira Kurosawa edited, wrote and directed this story that deals with a poor village that is under constant attack by a bunch of bandits who steal their rice. The village hires seven unemployed samurai that can help them to fight against the bandits. The film received two Academy Award nominations including Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Black-and-White losing against Somebody Up There Likes Me (1956) and for Best Costume Design, Black-and-White losing against The Solid Gold Cadillac (1956). Although the category for Best Foreign Language Film was not officially created until the year of 1947 when it began to be given as an Honorary Award to films that were released outside of the United States with a predominant foreign language, it was precisely in the year of 1956 when the category was formally created. La Strada (1954), the legendary neorealist masterpiece by Federico Fellini, was a strong competition for the award of Best Foreign Language Film, but the injustice of this topic can be found in the fact that Shichinin no Samurai had not even been considered for this category.

Despite the obvious simplicity of the plot, Shichinin no Samurai did not win the title of "one of the best movies ever made" for free, which it definitely is. It is the narrative structure and the way the story is handled what make of this film a giant epic. The degree of entertainment that Shichinin no Samurai ends up having is pretty high, and that is one of its main characteristics. However, this is not an aspect that ultimately affects the film in a negative way. The story is told with such originality, style, power and glory that one can even conclude that the most adequate way to see such an unparalleled cinematographic project is on the big screen. Toshirô Mifune is one of the best and most talented foreign actors that ever graced the screen, ranking along the sentimentalist Max Von Sydow. Akira Kurosawa would assign him several roles in the future that would be characterized by their cold-blooded, arrogant, calculating and relentless personalities in films such as Kumonosu-Jou (1957), Kakushi-toride no san-akunin (1958) and his immortal character Sanjûrô in both Yojimbo (1961) and Tsubaki Sanjûrô (1962), becoming a cinematographic legend and conforming one of the best pairs that cinema ever gave birth to alongside with Kurosawa. Nonetheless, this time Mifune interprets a committed, stubborn, obstinate, loyal, childish and hyperactive samurai with the correct amount of craziness, a more similar character to the one he interpreted in the complex film Rashômon (1950). Undoubtedly, he offers the most outstanding performance out of the whole brilliantly chosen cast. The performances of Takashi Shimura as the boss, Yoshio Inaba and Seiji Miyaguchi are pretty impressive as well, forming part of a rich character variety that includes the compassionate boss, the problematic member, the confused warrior and the humorous rest of disciplined fighters.

Kurosawa was trained as a painter before becoming a director, and Shichinin no Samurai is definitely the very first action-oriented film where he employs an extraordinary cinematography. The handling of open and closed spaces is marvelous, and that aspect accompanied by the editing used to construct a splendid choreography which made the battle scenes easier to follow, concluding in an astonishing result which was useful to appropriately handle the action that the film contains. The rhythm of the story is neither fast nor slow, but the most possibly adequate. We as spectators do not really feel those 207 minutes lasting an eternity. This gives to the story a much more realistic and more human tone. The movie takes the time it needs to present us the psychology and to let us understand the behavior of the most important characters to an adequate degree, making us to create empathy and interest towards all of them. Kurosawa was also very careful with every detail that composes this masterpiece, not forgetting the wonderfully written screenplay by Akira Kurosawa and Shinobu Hashimoto, combining ingenious humor and Eastern wisdom.

The balance of the action is satisfyingly realistic. The battle scenes are very characteristic of how Kurosawa tends to create action in his epic films, which reached their maximum expression in Kagemusha (1980) and Ran (1985). The fact that there is a lot of action from beginning to end cannot be denied, culminating in a final battle that involves 40 bandits attacking the village, but there is solid substance behind it, clearly justifying it and never losing its credibility. Both the sound and the editing could not have been created in a better way considering that the relatively low budget of Japanese cinema. The music is spectacular as well as it is classic, and very characteristic for both the period it was made and the country where it was directed, the most notorious piece of music being played during the opening credits.

Shichinin no Samurai is defensively one of the most absolute masterworks of its genre. The grandiosity of Kurosawa's jewel is undeniable, and it has been one of the major influences in cinema history. It deserves both the admiration and the credit from the people that get the chance to see it and from the numerous directors and filmmakers that were influenced by this eternal gem in any way, not only considering the remarkable technical aspect, but also the plot elements and a grandiose, solidified filmmaking style.

100/100

"The suspicious mind conjures its own demons."

SEPPUKU (1962)

Director: Masaki Kobayashi
Country: Japan
Genre: Drama
Length: 133 minutes



Masaki Kobayashi's spiritually redeeming tale of feudal authority and hypocritical corruption is widely considered not only as a masterful cinematic project and a landmark of Japanese cinema, but as the director's towering achievement as well. Resorting to a stunningly poetic cinematography, a brilliant direction, a dramatically compelling and shocking plot, and political and moral elements that, put together, form part of a whole social commentary that significantly searches for the release of the soul and the epiphany of the conscience, Seppuku achieves to reach a new level that cinema had not accomplished before. Introducing a direction style that would use the honor code of the Samurai genre set in past times, top-notch casts, a darker overall atmosphere and brutal conclusions, Kobayashi started with Seppuku an audacious form of filmmaking that sought for justice in unfair situations and a general public's reaction towards the abuse of authority and the unjust empowerment of man, contrasting turbulent war times with new peace times that would start complicated life modifications in the life of the overall society. This is the first attempt of the director to employ a different narrative structure composed by facts that would lead to a single conclusion, leaving the existentialist subject matter used in the Ningen no Joken (1959-1961) trilogy behind. It may also be considered as the greatest samurai film ever directed.

Set in 17th-century Japan during the Shogunate's breakup of warrior clans due to a newly born peace period, several thousands of samurais are thrown to a new life of unemployment and poverty. Causing many ronin to emerge, they start seeking for the most honorable way to end their lives by the ancient and violent ritual of seppuku, consisting in a disembowelment. Hanshiro Tsugumo, an elder warrior and former retainer of the Lord of Geishu until the abolition of the Geishu Clan in 1619, arrives at the gates of the official residence of Lord Iyi asking for admittance so he can perform seppuku and end his life as a worthy samurai. However, he soon finds out that his son-in-law arrived there first under the false pretense of committing seppuku with the hope of obtaining money but was forced to commit the act with a bamboo blade due to the clan's questioning about his intentions. Consequently, Tsugumo starts to plot revenge against the house, revealing the truth about the acquaintance he had with him. The film won the Jury Special Prize of the Cannes Film Festival in 1963, which tied with the film Az Pridje Kocour (1963), directed by Vojtech Jasný. Kobayashi was also nominated for a Golden Palm, which lost against Il Gattopardo (1963), directed by Luchino Visconti.

Kobayashi's direction has finally taken a new course. Inserting cold characters, a brutal plot and an accurate historical context, Seppuku managed to appeal modern audiences in a disturbing, yet fascinating way. The film itself seems to be like a perfect painting, beautifully illustrated with Eastern imagery, extraordinary shots of vast landscapes and cloudy natural terrains, and artistic close spaces. The cinematography reaches a certain degree of human perfection, like trying to convince the world that cinema is indeed an art form. Cinematographer Yoshio Miyajima, who had previously made an astonishingly poetic work in the Ningen no Joken (1959-1961) trilogy and would later work with Kobayashi once more in the horror film Kaidan (1964), offers a complete delight to the senses, compensating the implied brutality of the feature film with heavenly visual tranquility. Talented screenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto isn't exempted from contributing to the creation of one of the most majestically crafted films of all time thanks to the screenplay he elaborated with Yasuhiko Takiguchi, which is, once again, an inspirational and marvelous mix of poetic words and dialogues with the particular characteristics of a theater play.

Seppuku is a work of art by itself, like a cinematic place where heaven and hell meet and battle an endless war of love and hatred, trust and deception, family bonds and tragic losses. The whole brilliant and truly first jaw-dropping performance of Tatsuya Nakadai portrays a cold-blooded, yet human character whose motivations have been completely destroyed. In his search for finding the most honorable ending to his life and his past duties, he inevitably has to face the hypocrisy and cruelty of the feudal authorities against his will. Irony is used as a powerful tool that would eventually lead to certain events that were predestined to happen, thus preserving eternal honor. Justice, at the expense of probably necessary sacrifices, is served once again. However, it is the own personality and the very foundations of our moral values and empathetic abilities the ones that complement the partial goodness of the society. As if hardships of life weren't enough, life itself needs a balance in a similar way the peace in Japan, which had just started, opened ways to new forms of cruelty and destiny's irony.

The film heavily relies on flashbacks and memories that may serve as a psychological preparation for the chaotic finale and the predictable conclusion, being "predictable" a positive aspect since the main purposes of the film are strengthened. Tatsuya Nakadai represents a whole society in search for hope and a new beginning that will eventually lead to a general reconstruction of customs, ways of living and deserved peaceful times. Japan may have been represented as the mansion of the clan, and the population as the members of the clan, a population encapsulated between four walls. The typical depiction of the characters' ancestors is also added as a key element in the film, an icon that is ultimately destroyed, bringing death all along, which is ironically symbolized by three muskets carried by coward platoon, thus showing the death of the samurai era and introducing an upcoming period of constant progress and industrialization.

Seppuku tries to avoid controversy and constitutes a complete piece of filmmaking that, nowadays, forms part of Japan's most representative forms of cinematic expression. Despite being the first true samurai film by the Japanese master, it curiously portrays the end of an era, thus transmitting the nostalgia of the dramatic quality that predominated in his films during the 50's. Resorting to the climatic ending tradition, this prime opera culminates in a well-choreographed battle scene which horror and intensity relies on how a single person bravely stands up against a plurality. Being the best film by Masaki Kobayashi, Seppuku shares the epic levels shared in his previous films and contracts them in a 133-minute art piece which violence represents life, equality, honor and ultimate redemption.

100/100

"You must drink. I'm not paying for your art."

DER BLAUE ENGEL (1930)

Director: Josev von Sternberg
Country: Germany
Genre: Drama / Musical
Length: 124 minutes



Der Blaue Engel is, perhaps, one of the most dramatically influential movies of all time. It is certainly not universally acclaimed as the best film ever made, but it is, in my honest opinion, an extraordinary achievement of classic cinema. Der Blaue Engel was the immediate ticket of Josef von Sternberg and Marlene Dietrich to Hollywood stardom. Josef von Sternberg would be afterwards nominated for two Academy Awards for Best Director for his films Morocco (1930) and Shanghai Express (1932), precisely starring Marlene Dietrich. Der Blaue Engel and Blackmail (1929), by Alfred Hitchcock, introduced the use of sound for talking pictures in European cinema, just like The Jazz Singer (1927) did for American classic cinema. Despite it is not one of the most thought-provoking and complex films directed by a giant of cinema, it is a wonderful feature film that appealed audiences will find hard to forget considering the honesty with which it is portrayed and the brilliant psychological analysis it represents.

Der Blaue Engel tells the heartbreaking story of Immanuel Roth, a university professor who finds out that his pupils tend to frequently go into a speakeasy called "The Blue Angel" after class every night in order to see a singer named Lola Lola to perform. After deciding to confront his pupils one night searching for the speakeasy, he inevitably falls in love with Lola. Once that he is submitted to the power of attraction, his personal and working life begins to descend into a catastrophic turmoil of depression and a weak emotional dependence.

The movie is well-filmed, making it seem very simple. Der Blaue Engel is the most personally powerful film I have ever laid my eyes on, since it touched and broke my heart like no other, thoroughly identifying myself with the main character. These aspects turn this film into one of the most beautiful ones I know, considering the fact that the term "beauty" is alarmingly subjective and can be appreciated and interpreted in various forms. I suddenly felt I could see myself on screen, not necessarily because the character is found in a situation where he falls in love of a considerably younger singer in a speakeasy, but because of the most identifiable characteristics and human flaws of his personality. This is, arguably, the best character analysis ever directed in cinema history along with the German silent classic Der Letzte Mann (1924). The movie had several remakes. Besides having an alternative American (English-language) version also directed by Sternberg in the same year, it had another American remake directed by Edward Dmytryk in the year of 1959 that was highly inferior to the original.

Emil Jannings, who actually also was the main protagonist in Der Letzte Mann (1924), portrays the professor Immanuel Roth, one of the most human and well-interpreted characters that ever graced the screen. Jannings literally redefines the meaning of the term "acting". The character starts to develop an overwhelming emptiness in his soul which possibly was caused by an illusion of something missing in his life. He may live alone and may also lack of a dreamed life, but he is one of the most honest and graphical representations of the consequences an individual must face when the feelings are allowed to govern over reason. Roth apparently looks for an exit that seems the easiest one possible for him: love. Evidently, love was not the need nor impulse that made him pay a visit to "The Blue Angel" club, but something more... perhaps the lack of feeling of authority over his pupils and the difficulty that involved facing the emptiness of his existence which was tragically introduced with the death of his bird, symbolizing the beginning of the loss of hope and utter disillusion. This is the instinct that urges him to defy a nonexistent paternity between him and the only people that seem to be close to him: his class students, who pay no respect to Roth, and a passionate feeling towards the symbol of beauty and seduction was the drop of water that overflowed the glass.

Very much to his surprise, he finally metes Lola, a highly, yet intentionally stereotyped female character, and inevitably beautiful. Lola is the living illustration of the fact that a person, who is initially external to our lives, can make us become irrationally and emotionally blind beings, provoking us to fall into the most degrading humiliations. Unfortunately, people tend to be like that, making Immanuel Roth a very complete character from which numerous conclusions that will aid us to reflect over our own personality and to take precautions against our own emotional dependencies can be obtained. Lola, on the other hand, finds only one single useful usage for a person that even she considers pathetic an inferior: to make him be part of an act for attracting people. The illusion of being with Lola is utterly destroyed and, perhaps, forgotten. The tremendous whirlpool of negative emotions and the resulting low self-esteem pushes Roth to his limits.

Despite its modest and complicated use of sound and its overall visual quality, Der Blaue Engel tops the genre with some other universal masterpieces and can be considered as a totally brilliant and heartbreaking requiem for the soul. The screenplay based on Heinrich Mann's novel leaves a lot of room not only for knowing the character's true motivations, but perhaps of the director as well. The musical numbers presented throughout are a small, contrasting previous psychological preparation aimed towards the audience for the personal chaos that is about to be witnessed, having its major opera number during the last ten minutes of the film. Sternberg achieved to gain fame, but also to give to the world a wonderful and reflexive drama to humanity where the birth of stereotypes first happened in a fashioned, yet masterful way. With one of the best performances of cinema, a gorgeous starring girl, a gripping story, heartbreaking and shocking sequences and a well-written script, Der Blaue Engel has become an immortal German treasure.

100/100

"¡Ojalá los mataran a todos antes de nacer!"

LOS OLVIDADOS (1950)

Director: Luis Buñuel
País: México
Género: Crimen / Drama
Duración: 85 minutos



SPANISH REVIEW:

Luis Buñuel es otro de mis directores gigantes del cine, y estoy orgulloso de presentarles la primera mejor película de su entera filmografía, la cual está considerada también como una de las mejores películas mexicanas de todos los tiempos por una versión de la revista "SOMOS" publicada en 1994, ocupando el segundo puesto justo después de ¡Vámonos con Pancho Villa! (1936), de Fernando de Fuentes. A pesar de que Luis Buñuel haya nacido en España, me enorgullece decir que Los Olvidados es un verdadero tesoro nacional cuyas generaciones posteriores preservarán afectuosamente con admiración y respeto. Los Olvidados se ha convertido en un ícono del cine nacional y es una de las mejores películas de todos los tiempos. Ésta fue la primera obra maestra que dirigió en México siendo las primeras Gran Casino (Tampico) (1947) y El Gran Calavera (1949), la cual es una película extraordinaria, después de haber dado a luz al surrealismo en Francia con su cortometraje Un Chien Andalou (1929) y su largometraje L'Âge d'Or (1930).

Los Olvidados se sitúa en el Zócalo de la Ciudad de México, la cual es la ciudad más grande del mundo, y retrata la historia de varios jóvenes viviendo en los barrios más pobres de la ciudad en un ambiente lleno de violencia, delincuencia y familias y padres irresponsables. La película fue nominada a 13 Premios Ariel ganando 11 de ellos, uno siendo un Ariel de Oro para Luis Buñuel, los cuales son otorgados por la Academia Mexicana de Ciencias y Artes Cinematográficas enfocándose específicamente al cine mexicano. Las nominaciones de Ariel de Plata que recibió fueron para Mejor Dirección, Mejor Fotografía, Mejor Edición, Mejor Argumento Original, Mejor Escenografía, Mejor Adaptación, Mejor Sonido, Mejor Coactuación Femenina, 2 para Mejor Actuación Infantil, Mejor Actuación Juvenil y Mejor Música de Fondo. Solamente perdió un premio para Mejor Actuación Infantil (Alma Delia Fuentes) y Mejor Música de Fondo. Asimismo ganó el premio de Mejor Director en el Festival de Cannes de 1951.

Los Olvidados es uno de los precursores del movimiento neorrealista que fue creado en Italia en épocas de posguerra, el cual tuvo como mayores exponentes a Roberto Rosellini (Roma, Città Aperta [1945]), Vittorio de Sica (Ladri di Biciclette [1948], Umberto D. [1952]) y Federico Fellini (La Strada [1954], Le Notti di Cabiria [1957]). Los Olvidados es una obra maestra neorrealista. Las condiciones de pobreza son mostradas en su máxima expresión, y la inocencia y las medidas desesperadas de delincuencia y violencia a las cuales los jóvenes recurren sin ningún tipo de ayuda a su alcance ni ninguna autoridad existente que cuide de ellos contrasta grandemente con el ambiente en el que se encuentran. Son estos elementos los que principalmente hacen de Los Olvidados una película difícil y/o deprimente de ver para alguna gente, especialmente si nos remontamos a las épocas de estreno de esta joya.

Ésta es de las primeras películas dentro de la filmografía de Buñuel donde filmó la mayor parte en espacios abiertos. La Ciudad de México siempre se ha caracterizado por su colonial belleza arquitectónica, la cual ha preservado casi completamente incluso hasta nuestros días. Desafortunadamente, cuando antes conformaba un lugar en el que uno podía correr libremente y sentarse en cualquier acera después de haber comprado un helado con los amigos sin ningún peligro, se convirtió en un lugar donde los padres temen mandar a sus hijos solos por los altos índices de secuestros y delincuencia especialmente a partir de los 80's. No es algo que me enorgullezca decir, pero son los elementos realistas que son presentados en Los Olvidados, y la gente no estaba acostumbrado a ver y digerir completamente una realidad tan cruda en la pantalla grande, especialmente cuando por esas épocas el cine retrataba exclusivamente historias (la mayoría de ellas ficticias) que servían al público para escapar u olvidarse de la realidad y de sus vidas temporalmente.

A pesar de que Buñuel contrató a un reparto muy joven y sin experiencia, las actuaciones de cada uno de ellos son extraordinarias. Alfonso Mejía brinda lo que creo que es una de las mejores actuaciones infantiles que he visto en la historia del cine, creando a un personaje cuya alma grita por amor, atención y por ser sacado del enorme abismo de confusión que su corta vida ha conformado hasta ese punto. Curiosamente me recuerda mucho al personaje "Chava" de la película de Luis Mandoki Voces Inocentes (2004). Roberto Cobo, quien juega el papel del personaje antagónico "El Jaibo", crea un personaje crudo, frío, quien nació para vivir y ajustarse a la cruel realidad que la Ciudad de México encierra. Alma Delia Fuentes también brinda una actuación digna de mención honorífica en su papel de "Meche".

Lo impresionante de Los Olvidados no es su guión ni su trama necesariamente (la cual de por sí es bastante buena), sino la dirección que Luis Buñuel llevó a cabo, y el esfuerzo por parte del reparto que la película requería. El manejo de cámara en los espacios de la ciudad así como en los sets es fenomenal. La música no será extraordinaria, pero es bastante memorable y tiene un toque bello a la vez. El guión está lo suficientemente bien estructurado como para llevarnos con efectividad de un evento a otro. Naturalmente, el surrealismo de Buñuel se hace presenta en la famosa secuencia del sueño que Pedro tiene, y es una de las escenas simbólicas más poderosas que se encuentran en la película. Como es de esperarse, el final es devastador. Por supuesto que se filmó un final alternativo, el cual había sido clasificado como "feliz", pero dado la naturaleza de la película, obviamente no funcionaba. No es que no sea partidario de los finales felices, pero simplemente deben funcionar si van a ser usados.

Definitivamente el neorrealismo no es un género del cine que sea alentador u optimista de ver, ni uno puede salir del cine sonriendo o con un buen estado de ánimo. Tampoco es deprimente; es simplemente reflexivo, y en un alto grado. ¿Qué tanto debería valorar mis condiciones de vida actuales? ¿Qué tanto se asemeja la realidad retratada en el neorrealismo a la vida real, y a mi época actual? ¿Qué es lo que puedo hacer yo para mejorar la situación en caso de que esté en mis manos? A pesar de que alguien pueda dar respuestas que él/ella clasifique como universales, la verdad es que la respuesta que más nos convenza y motive está en nosotros mismos. La respuesta que más me convence es que lo que está en nuestras manos es luchar por un México mejor dentro de la medida de lo posible. Podemos hacer de nuestro país un lugar mucho mejor para vivir aún si no se pertenece a la política. La política misma es la que se ha convertido en un monstruo que la sociedad debe de combatir con el paso de las décadas, lo cual es un hecho tanto triste como aterrador. Sin embargo, la victoria nos puede pertenecer, no con guerras, sino con la propia convicción y fortaleza de espíritu que cada uno de nosotros tengamos. Los Olvidados puede clasificarse de alguna manera como una llamada de atención al país (y a bastantes partes del mundo también) para abrirles los ojos a la realidad en que vivimos, y a mejorar el futuro del mundo, el cual son los niños.

Estoy completamente orgulloso de decir que Los Olvidados es la mejor película mexicana de todos los tiempos y es uno de los mejores ejemplos de lo que el cine pudo brindar en su tan famosa y aclamada Época de Oro. En realidad no me importa que Buñuel, siendo uno de mis directores gigantes del cine, haya sido el responsable de la creación de esta joya, la cual también fue considerada como Patrimonio de la Humanidad por parte de la UNESCO, junto con la obra maestra Metropolis (1927) de Fritz Lang. Todos los departamentos de cinematografía, maquillaje, dirección de arte, edición, manejo de cámaras, música y dirección, sin mencionar los escritores del guión que no recibieron crédito con Buñuel, son en su mayoría mexicanos, así como el maravilloso reparto. Es más, debo agradecerle. ¡MUCHAS GRACIAS BUÑUEL! ¡VIVA MÉXICO!

100/100

ENGLISH REVIEW:

Luis Buñuel is another giant director of cinema for me, and I am proud to present to you the first best film out of his entire filmography, which is also considered as one of the best Mexican films of all time by the 100th edition of a Mexican magazine called "SOMOS" published in the year of 1994, reaching the 2nd spot just after ¡Vámonos con Pancho Villa! (1936), directed by Fernando de Fuentes. Although Luis Buñuel was born in Spain, I am really proud to say that Los Olvidados is a true national treasure of which its future generations would affectionately preserve with admiration and respect. Los Olvidados has become into an icon of our national cinema and the best part of all of this is that it is also one of the best films ever made. This was the first masterpiece that Buñuel directed in Mexico being the first ones Gran Casino (Tampico) (1947) and El Gran Calavera (1949), which is an extraordinary film, after he gave birth to Surrealism in France with his short Un Chien Andalou (1929) and his feature film L'Âge d'Or (1930).

Los Olvidados is set on the main square of Mexico's City better known as the "Zócalo", which is by the way the biggest city in the world, and portrays the story of several young children and teens living in the poorest neighborhoods of the city in an environment full of violence, delinquency and families with irresponsible parents. The film received 13 Ariel Awards winning 11 out of all of those, one being a Golden Ariel for Luis Buñuel, which are awards given by the Mexican Academy of Cinematographic Arts and Sciences that specifically focus to Mexican movie industry. The Silver Ariel nominations it received were for Best Direction, Best Cinematography, Best Editing, Best Original Story, Best Production Design, Best Screenplay, Best Sound, Best Supporting Actress, 2 for Best Child Actor/Actress, Best Young Actor/Actress and Best Score. Los Olvidados lost only the awards for Best Child Actor/Actress (Alma Delia Fuentes) and for Best Score. It also won in the Cannes Film Festival of 1951 the award for Best Director.

Los Olvidados is one of the precursors of the neorealist movement that was created in Italy during the post-war period , which had as its most relevant authors Roberto Rosellini (Roma, Città Aperta [1945]), Vittorio de Sica (Ladri di Biciclette [1948], Umberto D. [1952]) and Federico Fellini (La Strada [1954], Le Notti di Cabiria [1957]). Los Olvidados is a neorealist masterpiece. Te poverty conditions which are shown in the film at their most graphic detail, and the innocence and desperate measures of delinquency and violence to which the young characters resort to without any kind of help that is at their reach and without any existent authority that is able to properly take care of them greatly contrasts with the environment and the world they live in. These are the elements which mostly make of Los Olvidados a difficult and/or depressing film to watch for some people, especially if we consider the period in which this gem was released.

This film is among the first movies that can be found in Buñuel's filmography where he shot most of the scenes in open spaces. Mexico City has always been characterized by its architectonic colonial beauty, which has been almost completely preserved even nowadays. Unfortunately, when it was once a place in which one could freely run in the streets and sit down on the sidewalk eating an ice-cream with your friends without any danger, it has become a place of which the parents fear to send their children alone because of the high kidnapping and delinquency rates which started to increase around the 80's. That's definitely not something I'm particularly proud of saying, but those are the realistic elements that are depicted in Los Olvidados, and people were not used to see and completely digest such a crude reality on the big screen, especially when cinema exclusively portrayed stories (most of them ficticious) that allowed the public to temporarily escape from reality or to forget about their lives for a moment by those times.

Although Buñuel hired a very young and inexperienced cast, the performances of each and every one of them were extraordinary. Alfonso Mejía offers what I think is one of the best child performances I've ever seen in the history of cinema, creating a character whose soul desperately screams for love and attention so he can be rescued from the enormous abysm of confusion that his life has led him to so far. He oddly reminds me a lot of the character called "Chava" from the film Voces Inocentes (2004) directed by Luis Mandoki. Roberto Cobo, who plays the antagonic character's role "El Jaibo", creates a crude, cold-blooded character that was born to live and to settle in the cruel reality that Mexico City contains. Alma Delia Fuentes also gave a performance worth mentioning thanks to her role as "Meche".

An impressive aspect about Los Olvidados is not necessarily its script or its plot (which is spectacular, by the way), but the direction by Luis Buñuel and the effort put by the whole crew which the film required. The camera work within both the city's open spaces and the constructed sets in phenomenal. The music may not be extraordinary, but it is pretty memorable and has a beautiful touch at the same time. The script is so well-structured that it effectively takes us from one event to another. Naturally, Buñuel's surrealism is present in the famous dream sequence that Pedro has, and is one of the most powerful symbolic scenes that can be found in the movie. As expected, the ending is devastating. Of course that an alternate ending was filmed, which had been classified as "the happy one", but due to the nature of the film, it obviously didn't work at all. It's not that I'm not in favor of happy endings, but these should just fine if they are going to be used.

The neorealism is certainly not an encouraging or optimistic cinema genre to see, so you just can't get out of the movie theater smiling or feeling with a great enthusiasm. It is not depressing either; it's simply a reflexive one, and at a high level. How much should I value my current life conditions? How similar is the reality portrayed in the neorealism to both real life and my current time? What can I do to improve such situation in case that it is under my control? Although somebody may end up giving answer to this questions that this person classifies as "universal" or "general", the truth is that the right answer lies beneath our very conviction and is the one that truly motivates us. The answer that convinces me the most is that fighting for a better Mexico within the range of the possible is in our hands. We can make this country (even this world) a better place to live in even if we are not related to politics. Politics is the one that has transformed itself into a monster which society most fight against with the pass of the decades, a reality that is sad just as it is terrifying. However, victory can belong to us, not through wars, but through our own conviction and inner soul strength that each one of us has. Los Olvidados can be somehow considered as a wake up call for our country (and for several parts of the world as well) so they can open their eyes to the reality we live in and improve the future of the world, which is the children.

I'm completely proud of saying that Los Olvidados is the best Mexican film of all time for my taste and is one of the best examples of what cinema could offer in its famous and acclaimed Golden Age. I actually don't care that Buñuel, who is one of the best directors of movie history that ever lived, had been responsible for the creation of this timeless masterwork, which was also registered in the "Memory of the World-Register" of the UNESCO alongside with Fritz Lang's Metropolis (1927). Every single department including cinematography, make-up, art direction, editing, camera work, music and direction, without mentioning the screenwriters that didn't receive credit along with Buñuel, are most of them Mexican, just like the cast. In fact, I should thank this guy. THANK YOU VERY MUCH, BUÑUEL! ¡VIVA MÉXICO!

100/100

"Why should I kill myself worrying when I'll end up just as dead?"

LADRI DI BICICLETTE (1948)

Director: Vittorio De Sica
Country: Italy
Genre: Crime / Drama
Length: 93 minutes



While the worldwide general situation was in an extremely tragic state, the economy was alarmingly delicate, several millions of people had died in one of the greatest and most catastrophic wars human ever made, and major cities were in a reconstruction period, a new form of filmmaking was being born in Italy, adopting totally new perspectives. A movement called Neorealism was created, which was mainly characterized by its portrayal of common citizenship living in extreme poverty conditions surrounded by delinquency, violence and considerately high economical needs. Inexperienced actors were used for trying to depict a story in the most realistic way possible and it exposed existentialist ideas, like the fact that society led a tragically boring life everyday, causing it to resort to its own imagination and fantasies for making of life something more meaningful. Vittorio De Sica was precisely one of the most important directors of the genre back in the 40's. Ladri di Biciclette is not only considered among the best movies of cinema history, but it can also be found among the best neorealist feature films ever created, without mentioning the fact that it was the best and most representative director's masterwork. It could even be said that it was his most personal project.

Ladri di Biciclette is set on the city of post-war Rome and tells the story of a father who possesses a very humble job which consists in pasting posters of Rita Hayworth all over the streets of the city and requires a bicycle so it can be done. One day, his bicycle (as implied by the title) is unfortunately stolen, making him fall into despair, so he sets out on an endless search for his bicycle along with his son. However, he just can't seem to find it and the whole situation is starting to get worse and worse for his whole family. Will he become himself into a bicycle thief, or will he take another drastic decision? The movie was nominated for an Academy Award in 1950 for Best Writing, Screenplay and received the Honorary Award for being the Best Foreign Language Film released in the United States, since the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences were still giving Honorary Awards for 1950, and the category for Best Foreign Language Film wouldn't be formally created until 1956.

Ladri di Biciclette is one of the most honest and sincere films I've ever had the honor to see. The chemistry between the father and his son is extremely powerful, and is one of the protagonistic pairs that I remember the most in cinema history, probably being my personal favorite. The filmmaking style is utterly beautiful, since the Italian neorealist classic cinema possesses a humble magic in the camera that just can't be adequately described with simple words. The editing is sufficiently effective for making us create empathy towards the characters and the difficult situation they are in. One as a viewer of the film simply wishes for everything to end well.

The script is decently written, and something that I have to recognize is that the Italian cinema had numerous extremely talented screenwriters during those decades. The performances by both Lamberto Maggiorani and Enzo Staiola are extraordinary, and Enzo Staiola certainly deserves an honorific mention, since I have always admired the work put by infantile and juvenile casts in masterpieces such as Los Olvidados (1950), by Luis Buñuel, Miracolo a Milano (1951), by Vittorio De Sica, and Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959), by François Truffaut. The music may not be a remarkable aspect, but it is definitely classic and very characteristic and suitable for the film. It just takes to listen to its first notes so we can have our heart broken once more without even seeing the film again.

The movie couldn't have worked in the same way it originally did without Vittorio De Sica's direction, who is a director that I highly admire because of his filmography and work throughout. Being I Bambini ci Guardano (1944) his first well-known film he ever directed, Ladri di Biciclette is perhaps his most famous and seen film, and arguably his best, with Umberto D. (1952) as strong competition, which also is an incomparably beautiful piece of art.

Although the sad and tragic thematic elements that the film (and the genre itself) has, it is one of the most beautiful movies I have seen in my life so far, artistically speaking. The power that it causes in the spectator's heart goes beyond words, and just like Neorealism focuses on the simplest and most beautiful aspects of life, that's how we should act in our daily life. We as materialistic and avaricious people tend to not value the possessions that belong to us, and once that we lose them we don't do anything more productive than complaining and to regret our loss. Nothing lasts forever, and it is our own preparation towards the obstacles of life the one that improves us as imperfect human beings depending on the maturity, rectitude and strength we are willing to use so we can fight them. This is an attitude that Antonio Ricci and Bruno Ricci end up assuming and learning in a very direct, strong and humiliating way towards the ending. That is why the ending of the film, which I won't dare to mention, is completely devastating and also partially unpredictable. Although we clearly know how the film will end since the half of the film (perhaps even since before), we don't really know the way the ending will be handled, nor which the last shot (which, by the way, is beautifully captured) will precede the "The End" title.

Ladri di Biciclette is art. There's no doubt about it. Because of all of the reasons mentioned above, I consider Ladri di Biciclette as a magnificent cinematographic treasure of humanity which originality, inspiration, influence, editing, directing and artistic beauty will never be equaled. Few times have I seen so much perfection and beauty falling in love within cinema, since it is very difficult nowadays to find such a beautiful piece of art nowadays that has both characteristics at the same time. Vittorio De Sica managed to create one of the most important films in the history of humanity, and the best part is that it is still considered as such nowadays. The reconstruction process that the post-war period was going through is exactly the same process the protagonists should start at a personal level. There is always a new beginning for everything, and independently of the difficult events we may have to go through, the eyes with which we decide to see every single detail of our lives is what makes of our existence something relevant. It has been said that the eyes are the windows to the soul and I completely agree with that statement. Ladri di Biciclette is one of the very few films that have changed my perspective towards life, just like Los Olvidados (1950) did, talking about films of the same genre. A beautiful, legendary treasure.

100/100

"It's there all the time, driving me out to wander the streets, following me, silently, but I can feel it there. It's me, pursuing myself! I want to escape, to escape from myself! But it's impossible. I can't escape, I have to obey it. I have to run, run... endless streets. I want to escape, to get away! And I'm pursued by ghosts. Ghosts of mothers and of those children... they never leave me. They are always there... always, always, always!, except when I do it, when I... Then I can't remember anything. And afterwards I see those posters and read what I've done, and read, and read... did I do that? But I can't remember anything about it! But who will believe me? Who knows what it's like to be me? How I'm forced to act... how I must, must... don't want to, must! Don't want to, but must! And then a voice screams! I can't bear to hear it! I can't go on! I can't... I can't..."

M (1931)

Director: Fritz Lang
Country: Germany
Genre: Crime / Film-Noir / Thriller
Length: 117 minutes



Just after the extraordinary cinematographic movement denominated "German Expressionism" was originated around the year of 1919 and flourished at its maximum expression in the decade of the 20's, Europe (Germany above all) would become one of the precursors of film-noir cinema and a great influence for the United States, subgenre that includes incomparable crime films which directors would become in legends of classic cinema, such as John Huston (The Maltese Falcon [1941]), Billy Wilder (Sunset Blvd. [1950]), Howard Hawks (The Big Sleep [1946]), Alfred Hitchcock (Notorious [1946]) and even Fritz Lang himself. Fritz Lang took the most fascinating and characteristic elements of the German Expressionism, such as the chiariscuro (Italian term for the light-dark mix) technique and the predominant tenebrism that were present in various art forms such as architecture, sculpturing, painting and the theatre, and gave them a new style in one of his best and most famous and critically acclaimed films of his entire filmography: M. Film-noir is characterized by its representation of a totally corrupt society where crime is a predominant thing in each corner of the streets. It also gets rid of the typical stereotypes that belong to the "good guy" and the "bad guy" when talking about the protagonist and the antagonist. Both the main and the supporting characters are inevitably involved in the most relevant events of the story's plot, and it resorts to the flashback technique for narrating past events, clearly indicating that the most important action of the plot has already happened, offering to the spectator a present time that can no longer be fixed. Normally, each shot of the film is wonderfully created and play with the tones of light and darkness from beginning to end, especially for adding dramatic quality and for highlighting the evilness of a particular character. It also has the participation of a femme fatale, a woman who believes that she perfectly knows her ambitions and motivations but she, in fact, doesn't, a woman that tends to be seductive and that despite her inoffensive appearance, can lead her victims towards danger and even death. The truth is that M has all of the characteristics mentioned above except maybe for the use of a femme fatale inside the plot and the flashback technique, although the main character makes references to past actions that keep haunting his mind. That is why M became in the principal and most notable influence of film-noir cinema, and I dare to say that it is even better than any film-noir movie that the United States ever made.

M has a completely original, creative and stylish plot, and depicts the story of a psychotic criminal who has been assassinating the children of a German city, and has the peculiarity of whistling the tune of "In the Hall of the Mountain King" while he is walking through the streets looking for more innocent children. The police start a brutal and exhaustive search which diameter of investigation increases gradually, house by house and establishment by establishment. However, this ends up being very inconvenient for the underground organized crime, complicating their operations considerably, so both the police of the city and the organized crime begin a search on their own, independently of the others. The police do it under the motive of achieving well-being for the population and that the children of the city stop disappearing. The organized crime does it under the motive of keeping the police far from their businesses and avoiding the bad reputation that the murderer is giving to them.

Although this is a crime film, each aspect of it is sensational, from the cinematographic aspects to the technical ones. Fritz Lang was one of the very first directors that completely understood the meaning of filmmaking and that a masterpiece can be achieved thanks to the team work of every single department, so let's start with the screenplay. The screenwriters were Fritz Lang and Thea von Harbou, and both of them clearly made sure that the structure of the story was well-planned. If you allow me to be honest, M is one of my favorite screenplays in the history of cinema just after 8½ (1963). The grandiosity of its structure goes beyond what words can describe and it is extremely careful with every single detail, including the dialogues, the scene changes and the loyal representation of the nature of each group that forms part of the whole society, including the gangsters, and the common citizens and local authorities. It is extraordinary how Lang reunited these elements so he could create a society with different motivations but with a common objective. The magical editing transports us from one place to another, narrating each event, with great precision and with the necessary emphasis so the film doesn't become into something tedious and boring to watch. The most wonderful aspect about Fritz Lang's direction is the fact that although it is a crime film full of style and suspense, he put a lot of effort so the film seemed like a very realistic one, and for me, it actually is one.

The camera work is extraordinary, not only having shots with complicated angles, but also long sequences where the camera elegantly and harmonically strolls through in and out of closed spaces capturing an alive and active world. All of the personifications are magnificent, and it is here where we must make the appropriate emphasis in one of the best short performances I have ever seen in my entire life: Peter Lorre as the assassin Hans Beckert. There was not a better actor that could give so much life to such a mentally disturbed character, not only because of his acting, but also because of his physical appearance and his facial gestures. His big eyes and his expression full of terror denote his dependence towards his own insanity, an undeniable factor that is part of his own self. I had never seen a character that was so well-created and so representative of the involuntary madness of his personality. It is in the last 15 minutes of the movie when the perspective of the villain that Hollywood cinema normally tends to ignore even nowadays is shown. This is achieved through the final speech he gives in front of the spectators of the trial he is taken to which, judging by his personality, we don't even have the certainty that he is talking with the truth. It is possible that he even may not be capable of distinguishing the truth because of his low self-control that his psyche has caused in him. Peter Lorre was simply genius and it was definitely the best performance he ever achieved.

The cinematography is marvelous. Although most of the time the story takes place inside of the city at midnight, the police investigation is at some point extended outside of the city, perfectly capturing the landscapes and the cast that is found within the camera shots. The direction of Fritz Lang is extraordinary and, considering that the film was completed in the year of 1931, I seriously doubt that any director had been capable of creating a story of such caliber and quality with so much spectacularity. Also, considering that cinema was barely beginning a new era of sound in films, silences are used in a very effective way in order to add much more suspense to the atmosphere of the film and the sound effects appear when they are required.

M is, without a doubt, one of the most influential films in cinema history, not only within the genres of film-noir, crime and thriller, but also for the creation of characters, the breaking of protagonistic and antagonistic stereotypes, the handling of the camera, the editing and a new way for making films. Acclaimed films that are directed in the 21st Century frequently homage and give total or partial credit to M. Called by many as the best Fritz Lang film, it is for me also one of the best feature films created in the history of humanity. A masterpiece in both the technical and cinematographic aspects, M is and will be remembered by future generations as one of the most ambitious and best-achieved projects within the crime genre in German classic cinema.

100/100

"I understand, all right. The hopeless dream of being - not seeming, but being. At every waking moment, alert. The gulf between what you are with others and what you are alone. The vertigo and the constant hunger to be exposed, to be seen through, perhaps even wiped out. Every inflection and every gesture a lie, every smile a grimace. Suicide? No, too vulgar. But you can refuse to move, refuse to talk, so that you don't have to lie. You can shut yourself in. Then you needn't play any parts or make wrong gestures. Or so you thought. But reality is diabolical. Your hiding place isn't watertight. Life trickles in from the outside, and you're forced to react. No one asks if it is true or false, if you're genuine or just a sham. Such things matter only in the theatre, and hardly there either. I understand why you don't speak, why you don't move, why you've created a part for yourself out of apathy. I understand. I admire. You should go on with this part until it is played out, until it loses interest for you. Then you can leave it, just as you've left your other parts one by one."

PERSONA (1966)

Director: Ingmar Bergman
Country: Sweden
Genre: Drama / Mystery
Length: 85 minutes



Being one of my "giants of cinema" and officially one of the best directors in movie history, Ingmar Bergman created in 1966 what ended up being his most deep and complex movie he would ever dare to create. It is not only his most controversial masterpiece, but it is also the most notorious influence within the genre of psychological thrillers (and probably horror as well) for directors such as Takashi Miike, David Cronenberg and David Lynch. Persona is more than just a simple drama; it is one of the most fascinating psychological studies that worldwide classic cinema could ever offer to mankind.

The plot is "simple", or that's what it seems to be when we are given a brief summary of the film at least. A nurse called Alma is put in charge of Elisabeth Vogler, an actress that doesn't physically or mentally seem to be sick or have an illness, but completely refuses to speak a single word. Once that Alma begins to talk about herself alongside with some pretty strong confessions to Elisabeth, she begins to find out that her own personality slowly starts to merge itself and combine with the personality of Elisabeth in a gradual sort of way.

From the first moments since the screen brings us its incredible cinematography, variety of images and its unparalleled edition, we enter into a dream; we find ourselves bound to a symbolic and probably incomprehensible nightmare of which we hardly want to wake up in order to find answers as soon as possible. It merely consists in real animal executions, the process of moviemaking seen from the side we usually tend to ignore once we see a movie as a final result brought to the screen, a crucifixion, a tarantula, a forest, silent cartoons and movies, among other stuff. Despite the particular meaning this sequence has or whichever the meaning we want to attribute to it, what really matters is that it prepares us for one of the most intense and brilliant psychological voyages that we could ever travel through while discovering the wonderful and vast world of movies.

This is probably the movie that possesses the most prolonged, mysterious and exasperating silences in comparison to any film that Bergman had ever directed throughout his whole filmic career. The magic of this film emanates from the fact that it can be seen from several points of view, and no matter which is the one we choose to considerate in the end, the movie ends up being utterly spectacular. On one hand we have the dramatic point of view, in which we are witnesses of the merging process through which the leading protagonists slowly go through in an inevitable and supernatural way. The performances from Bibi Anderson and Liv Ullman are unforgettable and I dare to say those are two of the beat female leading performances I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. Whether it was because of their beauty or their acting talent, it is not so surprising that the director Ingmar Bergman had fallen in love with Liv Ullman when he made Persona.

On the other hand we have the surrealist point of view, like if it had been directly born from the work of Buñuel. You could just turn off the volume of the film and let the imagery and unforgettable sequences talk by themselves. Probably no other director from those times could have created such a beautiful and unique story in the chilling, surrealist and horrifying way it was treated. The cinematography is extraordinary and Persona has the best taken-care-of shots of his whole filmography, capturing the atmosphere and the physical world found in the surrounding of the characters just as well as the one found inside the head(s) of the protagonist(s). The editing is outstanding and transports us to both worlds in an attractive and hypnotizing way, again and again.

Specifically talking about Persona, it gives a particularly existentialist approach. The name of Alma, from my own point of view, is not there by chance. In fact, the name "Alma" is the Spanish word for "soul". It can be a symbolism representing the fact that several times throughout our lives we are so focused in the simple act of living without any responsibility established as a priority that evil, whether it is a harmful vice, violence or the lack of love or respect towards society, takes control of our lives and we can't tell the difference between good and evil, right and wrong. No matter how many times our conscience tries to warn us about our actions, we keep corrupting our soul and continue ignoring the damage we cause to it, when it actually forms part of our own existence.

However, it is our own conscience, faithfully represented by Alma, the one that is constantly seeking answers to its being for our own sake. It is a part of ourselves that we will never be able to reject, and neither the eternal search for answers about everything that is around us. The more evident scenes depicting the ideas that Bergman wanted to transmit through the performances of Bibi Anderson and Liv Ullman are magisterially shown when Elisabeth's husband appears for the first time, and while he is speaking, the situation makes you wonder whom he is really talking to. The shots were so impressively achieved that, thanks to them, a new question is arisen, which is referent to who really are the protagonists and what is it that they really represent.

Persona has also a highly sexual connotation, noticeable from the first 15 minutes of the film. Sexuality isn't portrayed from a perverted perspective, but from a dramatic and symbolic one. From the infamous superimposed penis during the first scene of the film being shown in an almost subliminal way for the viewer to the locked up girl trying to reach the face of a woman which eventually disappears, all of the content put in the film represents, somehow, the controversy and the beauty that maternity can have for a woman. The desire of having a baby which was later rejected could have been represented by the girl locked up in the mind, since the only thing that she wanted was to meet her possible future mother. However, since her existence didn't mean more than just a plain idea, the image of her mother disappears, and the protagonist's problem is finally concreted.

Although the film received constant comparisons with modern directors such as David Lynch and his masterpiece Mulholland Dr. (2001), Persona is a work of art, analyzable from both the cinematographic and artistic points of view, and it is obviously superior to any other possible comparison. I have never seen a film that could be such a personal experience for any individual like Persona was; neither have I seen a more revealing film for an audience. Persona is officially considered as one of the best movies ever made, and although it is not the most appropriate and adequate film to start with Ingmar Bergman's filmography and certainly is the most complex film by his, it is an obvious successful achievement in cinema history that will never be forgotten, no matter the numerous different interpretations it receives when a person finishes watching it.

100/100

"Asa nisi masa! Asa nisi masa! Asa nisi masa!"

8½ (1963)

Director: Federico Fellini
Country: Italy
Genre: Drama / Fantasy
Length: 138 minutes



No matter how complicated and uncommon may accurately portraying metafilm be, few directors have accomplished to totally comprehend what filmmaking really means. The power of the words in a well-developed script, a cinematography and an editing that can go beyond our own words, a sublime direction like the one that could only come from a "giant of cinema", performances that are so great that they end up seeming extremely natural and the use of a beautiful original musical score that works for every scene of the film are characteristics that rarely can be found in a single movie. Federico Fellini, being one of my favorites "giants of cinema", directs what for many people's opinion (including mine) is his definitive masterpiece and the most representative sample of his visionary capacity of filmmaking, without mentioning that it is one of the best movies ever made by mankind.

8½ depicts the story of a director named Guido who is retired from the movie business and who starts to turn to the past memories of his childhood and youth, coming to a point where he combines reality and fantasy. The movie won two Academy Awards for Best Costume Design, Black-and-White and Best Foreign Language Film, and had 3 other nominations for Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Black-and-White losing against America, America (1963), Best Director losing against Tony Richardson for Tom Jones (1963) and Best Writing, Story and Screenplay - Written Directly for the Screen losing against How the West Was Won (1963). I totally disagree with the Academy Awards' choice for giving Tom Jones and How the West Was Won their respective Oscars.

There are many important points to emphasize about the direction. In order to give such grandiosity like the one given to 8½ Federico Fellini was the only and most adequate director for the job back in the 60's. His spectacular vision inspired several filmmakers and directors in the future. On the other hand, this is his second movie that shows the total change that Federico Fellini gave to his filmmaking style since he left the neorealist subgenre, being his most prominent and famous films La Strada (1954) and Le Notti di Cabiria (1957), both having the wonderful leading performances of one of my favorite actresses: Giulietta Massina. Once he concluded this stage, he directed his second best film called La Dolce Vita in 1960, where it is clearly shown how he stops portraying the constant struggle of the society that lives in poor life conditions which was represented in a single person in postwar times (unlike the society shown in its totality, like the one Roberto Rosellini brought to the screen in Roma, Città Aperta [1946]) and starts to depict high class society in a very artistic and comical way. Whereas Fellini's neorealism focused on the struggle for survival in difficult life situations, La Dolce Vita and 8½ make emphasis on the existence of the individual, which normally relies on the role of the protagonist of the story.

This movie has one of the best screenplays I have ever seen in my entire life. Besides being complex, poetic, intelligent and well-structured, it significantly helped the film to create particularly difficult and elaborate scenes concerning the appearance of the characters on the screen with their respective dialogues and the surrealism that some of these contained. The script also helps us distinguish between the fantasy and the reality that govern Guido's mind, constantly mixing each other. Federico Fellini created the story of 8½ with Ennio Flaiano, screenwriter that worked with Fellini several times in the past, and they both created the film's screenplay with the help of the talented screenwriters Tullio Pinelli and Brunello Rondi. These 4 brilliant writers worked together for the first time with the screenplay of La Dolce Vita. The fact that the screenplay of 8½ hadn't won an Oscar is beyond me.

The grandiosity of most of the scenes in 8½ comes from the script, but if it hadn't been because of the brilliant edition, these would have never resulted the way they ended up being. The cinematography is outstanding, offering a vast variety of landscapes and both open and closed spaces, and the shots are incredibly constructed. If you put all of these elements together alongside with Fellini's vision, 8½ ends up being one of the most poetical and beautiful films ever made in cinema history. The camera seems to play with the actors and with the different filming locations in which the story is set, dancing to the sound of the wonderful musical score created by Nino Rota. 8½ is brilliance taken to the extreme; it is like if literature and cinema had fallen in love.

The performances were excellent. Marcello Mastroianni, playing the protagonist's role once more, brilliantly performs the confused, depressed, lost and nostalgic mind that Guido possesses from beginning to end. The famous actress Claudia Cardinale and Academy Award nominee Anouk Aimée also did a splendid job as supporting actresses. The cast was excellently chosen.

8½ focuses on the human side that very few films focused for that time, and that even nowadays modern directors find difficulty in portraying correctly, just like Woody Allen paid homage to Fellini with his movie Stardust Memories (1980). Guido is found in a constant fight against his own emotions and memories in order to give his life sense and a meaning, and more than knowing what it is that he should do next with his life in order to be happy, what he really seems to be looking for the whole time is the very meaning of his actions and how these are related with the meaning of his existence. The constant failure leads him to perdition and to confuse reality with fantasy. That is why in the end of the film, which I will not dare to mention, is very revealing, not mentioning that several times we are also going through that difficult phase of confusion and loss of faith.

Something that is very characteristic from Guido's psychology is that he finds (or tries to find) comfort with his own filmic creations, like if these actually existed and had played a very important role in Guido's real life. He comes to a point of such low self-esteem that the simple fact of starting again distinguish his own characters from the people he knew in real life terrifies him. He doesn't know whom to ask for help just as he doesn't know where to find consolation. Incredibly enough, the movie feels like if it were talking to the majority of its audience, since statistically speaking most of the people worldwide have been in that situation at least once. That is why 8½ is for me and for many people a masterpiece that can really move us in a very personal way.

Another slightly treated topic in 8½ is the controversy that we as persons find when we disguise our own depression and/or the effect that personal problems we have, whether these are small or big or whether they have a possible solution or not, may have in us, without knowing if we are doing the right thing or it should be considered as hypocrisy. Although the film does not give a straight and concrete answer, it is left to the viewer's own interpretation. In my opinion, Guido could have prevented losing himself to such degree once he abandoned one of his greatest passions, and that is precisely what we also incorrectly tend to do. Life is characterized by the constant changes that our life plans suffer and the numerous obstacles it presents so we can strengthen ourselves as human beings: No matter how difficult it may be to believe, life will never put us into situations that we can't handle or overcome. If it did, then why were we born in the first place? Where would the purpose that God assigned us when he gave us the beautiful gift of life be?

Ironically, a possible title that had been planned for 8½ was "La Bella Confusione", which means "The Beautiful Confusion". That working title makes us think that the magic of life comes from our constancy of making of our lives something wonderful, unique and different from the life of anyone else. It is definitely the most beautiful confusion we may ever have, and more than a "confusion", it is a search.

Although the title of 8½ caused controversy even among film critics because it was interpreted as a way Fellini used to show off, considering that the title came out from the fact that this is the eighth movie that Fellini directed including a segment of the movie Boccaccio '70 (1962), that doesn't stop 8½ from being one of the most personal and complete cinematographic masterpieces. Its brilliance goes beyond what words could describe for themselves. Whether you like cinema or not, I can't conceive the idea of someone who spent his whole life without seeing 8½.

100/100

"Krtko!"

OBCHOD NA KORZE (1965)

Director: Ján Kadár & Elmar Klos
Country: Czechoslovakia
Genre: Drama / War
Length: 128 minutes



The ones that have actually dared to go deep enough into the world of cinema have surely realized of the fact that the Seventh Art can be one of the most extraordinary wonders if one is willing to look for lost masterworks scattered worldwide. Unfortunately, classic art cinema is not disseminated in my country as much as I would wish, and Obchod na Korze was a film which I had an enormous luck of discovering on television one day after midnight. That's right: I discovered it being aired after midnight. That's one of the best nights I have spent alone staying up late. Was it worth it? Instead of exaggerating my feelings in an excessive way as I normally tend to do it while writing my favorite films' reviews, the following review will be partially characterized by its simplicity, tranquility and honesty of its structure and grammar, so I really hope that my reaction towards the film is interpreted correctly. Have you ever had that beautiful feeling of watching any favorite movie of yours which is so great that from the moment that the "The End" title appears on screen in any language you like you feel like your life should immediately go through a brief reflection process? Has your life ever been literally changed by a movie? All of this has happened to me, and Obchod na Korze is definitely the most powerful and honest movie I have seen in my entire life, dramatically speaking.

Obchod na Korze is set on the Slovakia of World War II where the Arian protagonist Antonin Brtko, who lives in poverty, receives the opportunity by the authorities of becoming the owner of a Jewish old widow that works on a small sewing material shop. This confused and charming old lady hires Brtko under the belief that he was seeking for a job. Once they start to live together and let time go by, their unusual relationship starts to become a friendship, soon after the authorities decide to expel the Jewish people from the city. What decision will Brtko take under that critical situation? The movie received two Academy Award nominations including Best Foreign Language Film in 1966 and Best Actress in a Leading Role in 1967. I'm so glad that it received the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, not only because it obviously was the best film among the nominated ones, it had serious competition. Among the nominated films were Matrimonio all'italiana (1964) directed by Vittorio de Sica and Kaidan (1964) directed by genius Masaki Kobayashi. Onibaba (1964) directed by Kaneto Shindô was also released that year, which was certainly a splendid movie, but it wasn't nominated.

Obchod na Korze is mainly characterized because of being one of the most humanly honest films ever created, instantly becoming the best movie in cinema history about the Holocaust. People that claim Schindler's List (1993) and The Pianist (2002) as the best movies about World War II should alter their viewings and they are several miles away from getting out of their tiny little bubble called "Hollywood" in which they are in. The narrative structure of the film is managed with a high realism degree, which adds a lot of quality and credibility to this work of art. Very few films have this talent, so that's why Obchod na Korze is among the top 5 most realistic films that I have seen so far. The screenplay is beautifully crafted and effectively written, not only for narrating the events that take place in a World War II Slovakia, but also for creating completely human and real characters who have a wide range of feelings, emotions and reactions towards the lessons they learn during course of the war.

The protagonistic combination of social classes is brilliant just as it is controversial. An Arian, a race that considered itself as the superior and perfect race over any other, befriends the most adorable old lady in the city, who ironically is Jewish. The concept is extremely effective and highly unusual. The show is completely stolen by Ida Kaminska, who interprets Rozalie Lautmann, one of the tenderest and most human and innocent characters cinema ever gave birth to. The fact that she hadn't won an Academy Award is beyond absurd, without mentioning that the same film received both Oscar nominations in two different years. The capacity she had for totally becoming a character who, if analyzed deeply enough, wasn't so easy of portraying is absolutely brilliant. I agree with Elizabeth Taylor's performance in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) being fabulous and deserving the Oscar, but Ida Kaminska's performance was superior to the one by Julie Christie in Darling (1965). Unfortunately, realistically speaking, even if Ida Kaminska had been nominated in 1965 and Julie Christie hadn't won the award, the Oscar would have gone to Julie Andrews for The Sound of Music (1965), which would also have been an erroneous decision. The acting by Jozef Króner as the Arian Antonin Brtko is decent enough as well, making of his emotions, established priorities and the aspects that motivated him to take some decisions in particular something very clear.

This is the only movie among my favorites that has two persons in its directing. Both Ján Kadár and Elmar Klos had a very well established vision of the portion of the world they wanted to portray, and it is remarkable in its set decoration and in the general atmosphere creation. The costume design was also a considerate aspect. The use of music was very adequate and it was occasionally beautiful, especially the music that is used in the final scene. The pace the events have is hypnotizing without being hasty at all, and the editing is pretty decent overall.

Obchod na Korze deals with the struggle for getting rid of the boundaries and differences imposed by society between different social classes, and describes tragedy to a high degree without resorting to extremely dramatic and sentimental scenes and/or sequences; it simply required a magisterially achieved directing and performances so it could cause the desired effect in worldwide audiences of any generation, and not only the Czech audience. That is why it is a very powerful anti-war statement without using brutal sequences of violence and action. It simply shows its devastating effects seen through human eyes, just like the ones we own, the side which is normally ignored. The movie does not focus on battlefield heroes or in magnificent deeds of popular characters, but in common people admirable because of their own qualities and personal attitude towards life. These are the kind of people that are the true heroes in real life.

Obchod na Korze is the most powerful and realistic drama film I know, and the best film I have seen from Czechoslovakia. As it is expected, the ending is brutal, but totally unexpected and unexplainably beautiful. It must be seen to be believed. A gem that, as my opinion goes, is about to be lost and forgotten, Obchod na Korze is one of the most brutally honest commentaries against war of classic cinema, followed by Hadashi no Gen (1983), Idi i Smotri (1985) and Hotaru no Haka (1988).

100/100

"Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?"

A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971)

Director: Stanley Kubrick
Country: United Kingom / United States of America
Genre: Crime / Thriller / Sci-Fi
Length: 136 minutes



Stanley Kubrick is one of my giant cinema directors and A Clockwork Orange is, without a doubt, one of his most disturbing, scandalous, brilliant and controversial masterworks that he ever created. Thanks to this work of art, Stanley Kubrick finally consolidated himself as an inventive, original, creative and visionary director. Whereas 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) permitted him to expand his artistic vision to extremes lightly limited by the cinematography, creating one of the best and most profound and complex cinema stories, A Clockwork Orange focused more in both the filmmaking and direction styles that had already been born in him some years before. The magic of this film originated from the fact that the director achieved the impossible in order to create one of the most beautiful and profound movies known by mankind despite that the main thematic elements are based on crime, sex, violence and Beethoven, being successful at it.

The movie takes place in a Britain set in a not-so-distant future in which a group of young and mentally disturbed savages leaded by Alex goes out to the streets every night for beating and raping all types of innocent victims. One night, the group of criminals gets tired of the authority that Alex was constantly imposing over them and ends up betraying him, causing the police to arrest him and put him in jail. In order to shorten his sentence, Alex decides to voluntarily participate in a rehabilitation and conduct modification program organized by the government that is supposed to change the horrible behavioral tendencies of Alex. However, once that Alex completes the program, a new world and a new life, which he had left behind not to long ago, will come back and haunt him, causing catastrophic results. A Clockwork Orange had the bad luck of being released the same year as the inferior Hollywood film The French Connection (1971) directed by William Friedkin. The movie received four Academy Award nominations including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Film Editing and Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium. Stupidly enough, he lost all of the aforementioned Oscars precisely against The French Connection (1971), a film in which Gene Hackman won an Oscar for Best Actor in a Leading Role because of a performance that, in my opinion, was considerably inferior to the one by Malcolm Mc Dowell, who didn't even receive a nomination. However, we must take into consideration the controversy this film caused due to two principal factors: the early decade in which it was released, becoming a film considerably ahead of its time, and the chillingly accurate prediction of the violent behavior of modern society based in its most primitive instincts.

We will start with the direction. Trying to avoid repeating most of the aspects about Kubrick that have already been mentioned in the first paragraph, he established a new vision for creating suspense cinema. If we closely analyze the plot and the atmosphere, the movie does not belong to a clearly defined genre. The subject matter possesses a heavy influence of sex and violence, elements that are depicted in the most beautiful and provocative form, something that almost no director can achieve nowadays. It is impressive how the acts of man most rejected and repulsed by common society are transformed in poetry found within a film directed almost 40 years ago. That is why we could associate this film with the crime genre, but it actually goes beyond the genre of crime in a similar way that 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) surpassed the sci-fi genre, finding innovative expression forms. Since the story is developed in future Britain, we could relate it with the sci-fi genre as well. However, despite the great amount of style added to the film by the fact that it takes place in the future, specially considering the set decoration and the creative interior design of some houses, the story could have been told in a present-day atmosphere (this is, 1971). Even so, the genius of the narrative structure and the predominant perturbing elements of this violent story predicted, in a considerably correct form, the increasing of the different types of violence in present society. This is the definition of vision, and Kubrick had it since he grabbed a camera for the first time in his life. He simply just kept improving it, cinematographically and artistically speaking.

This particular screenplay is one of my personal favorites in cinema history. The creation of new terms in the language of the protagonists is a highly creative, poetic and stylized concept, and the most surprising aspect is that it is not totally incomprehensible. Kubrick's adaptation of the famous novel written by the author Anthony Burgess is extraordinary. I comprehend the vast difference between the novel and the film, especially considering the contrasted endings they both have, which suggests that the film had a completely different approach. I dare to say that this is one of the cases where cinema surpasses literature, just like in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), The Exorcist (1973) and the trilogy of The Lord of the Rings (2001-2003), for mentioning few famous examples. The pace of the movie is exceedingly accelerated, but pays attention to all of the details shown in every shot. The camera work is incomparable, probably the best I have ever seen since the decade of the 70's. The angles are perfectly balanced without any single touch of uncomfortable inclination and the camera has perfect filming locations for capturing the world that A Clockwork Orange attempts to portray. The editing is equally majestic, being, probably, the best editing I have ever witnessed in a film. I think my favorite scene talking about editing would be Alex being locked up in his room and listening to Beethoven; pay attention to the editing in that particular sequence. Every single technical aspect of the film will never be equaled, especially when the direction was in charge of a master of cinema. Words can't describe the superiority of the cinematography of this feature-film.

The performances are very peculiar, creating differentiated characters between each other. Alex is one of the most awesomely horrific and terrifying villains I have ever seen on screen. Malcolm McDowell gives away one of the best samples in the history of cinema about what "acting" is supposed to mean. Acting is neither about exaggerated dramas nor senseless screaming, but about becoming the character. McDowell doesn't play Alex; he is Alex. I even thought that the real personality of the actor was being portrayed in the film for a second, which is a terrific achievement. McDowell occupies a spot among the best performances I have ever seen. The supporting cast did a remarkable job as well, from the former partners of Alex (Pete, Georgie and Dim) to his parents, who had undeniably comical behaviors and, to some extent, unrealistic and impossible as well. The overall atmosphere of the film possesses surrealist elements, which adds a considerable quantity of gloominess and fantasy to the plot. The mood that was created in A Clockwork Orange is certainly impressive, never staying away from the fact that the film takes place in England, something that the audience must believe while watching it.

A fascinating and memorable aspect is the music employed. From the exquisite and majestic melodies of one of my favorite music composers, Ludwig Van Beethoven, to the original musical score, a wonderfully orchestrated and dazzling experience is provided. One thing that Kubrick always knew how to do is to correctly choose and add incredible music, adding a very identifiable style, just like Woody Allen did. The music that introduces the opening sequence and that later is constantly repeated throughout is as marvelous just as it is dismal. It could be said that the spectator goes through the same nostalgic feeling when hearing the music of the opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), or even the classic macabre tune of The Exorcist (1973). Overall, it is a wonderful musical score, perhaps one of the bests of all time.

A Clockwork Orange generates various polemic ideas and questionings. To what extent one as a person requires causing (and even receiving) physical, sexual and psychological violence? How much dependence does modern society possesses towards its controlling government? Is violence a naturally imposed balance among humanity? How serious can the lack of self-control over our impulses get? How much can a superior power brainwash us and literally take control over our minds? More than a brilliant psychological analysis, A Clockwork Orange is also a social criticism towards governmental authorities. That is why it is considered a film ahead of its time, not comprehended by then. It is also the most disturbing and beautiful piece of cinematic art I have ever laid my eyes on, having both contrasting qualities at the same time. Some scenes are so perturbing that I was fascinated by them. Was it guilty pleasure, or the primitive, dark side we all have sleeping within us most of the time? Perhaps it was a peculiar mix of both. It is a natural thought to reconsider the movie as "entertaining" due to the polemic elements treated throughout. A beautiful essay about the most brutal sickness of man who doesn't seem to be capable of finding an exit to his eternal psychological abysm, A Clockwork Orange is a true masterwork that shall be remembered for its great influence in cinema and for the controversy it inevitably caused in worldwide audiences from different generations, without having mercy on the age you may have.

100/100

"Frontiers are an invention of men. Nature doesn't give a hoot."

LA GRANDE ILLUSION (1937)

Director: Jean Renoir
Country: France
Genre: Drama / War
Length: 114 minutes



La Grande Illusion allowed director Jean Renoir to acquire worldwide cinematic recognition including Hollywood fame, without mentioning the private screening President Roosevelt was shown at the White House in the year of 1937. La Grande Illusion is much more than a film hailed as one of the greatest masterpieces of all time, but it is a beautifully composed and directed essay through the eyes of experience and a humanly accurate perspective, which belonged to Jean Renoir, a cinema giant that achieved to become an astounding auteur with a poetically well-established vision through one of the most expressive visual arts ever conceived by mankind: the 7th Art. Such project, evidently, would be subject to several reactions, from heartwarming acceptance to complete rejection. Whereas Benito Mussolini banned it in Italy and German politician Joseph Goebbels prohibited its national distribution, a film that was thought either lost or destroyed would be reconstructed by Renoir himself during the 50's. Nowadays, its historical importance has reached strikingly relevant levels, considering the fact that the film portrays both sides of the war in the most possible and empathetic way, culminating with an extraordinary ending sequence.

La Grande Illusion is set during World War I where two French officers are captured in Germany by the Captain Von Rauffenstein. Whereas Lieutenant Marechal used to be a mechanic before the war, Captain de Boeldieu belonged to aristocracy, who has a brief friendly encounter with Von Rauffenstein. They are later taken to the Hallbach POW under the German constant surveillance, where both de Boeldieu and Marechal meet several other characters from different backgrounds, such as Rosenthal, son of a wealthy Jewish family. Because of an escape attempt, among other discipline violations commited in Hallbach, destiny makes these characters be transported to the Wintersborn POW camp, where Von Rauffenstein is now in command. However, Captain de Boeldieu is put within a moral plot when he has to decide whether to remain with his fellow companions or to understand and reassume his true position among with the other POWs and his newly formed special relationship with Captain Von Rauffenstein. La Grande Illusion is one of the few foreign films in the history of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to receive an Oscar nomination for Best Picture. Jean Renoir was ironically nominated for the award called Mussolini Cup - which lost against Julien Duvivier's Un Carnet de Bal (1937) - and won the award of Best Overall Artistic Contribution at the Venice Film Festival in the same year.

Having served in the air force during WWI, Jean Renoir completely understood the implications of the concept of humanity and masterly applied it to a timeless and hauntingly inspirational classic where the utterly astonished audience is left the choice of either supporting the humanistic ideas portrayed in the film or adopting a particular side, whether it was of a Jewish, a German or a French character. Thanks to the brilliant and tranquilly built direction, such mentality is impossible to accept, since the worst enemy against a soldier is war itself, but not the opposite side or the army of an enemy country. The brutality of war is compensated with the underlying sensitive layers of the psychology of each character, each one of them realizing they have a different and independent role once these individuals with so varied backgrounds are put together under the same circumstances. Normally, Germans, French and Jews would endlessly fight with their respective armies in a battlefield. In La Grande Illusion, they form a fiercely cohesive group with a single purpose, independently of the fact that destiny had a personal plan for each and every one of them. This aspect, of course, comes from the comprehension Renoir had towards the human condition and how the senselessness of war itself affects our love towards sanity, resulting in cinematic neutrality.

La Grande Illusion effectively works more as one of the most influential films of all time than just as one of the very first prison break films, since it surpasses that concept. Man's humanity to man is the most benign and sociable characteristic war itself brings out, thus exterminating almost any possible social and political boundary existent between mankind and daringly defying racial and discriminatory statements, taking the relevance out of them. The fulfillment of personal duties is a habit originated from the feeling of membership towards a particular country or group, whether it is political or social; consequently, it plays an important role within the film. Romance is not an absent characteristic in La Grande Illusion, thus perfectly illustrating the most profound and yet desperate yearnings of the human heart. A German widow, mother of a little girl, disinterestedly receives a Jew and a French officer, and even ends up starting an emotional relationship with one of them. Destiny is an unstoppable force; however, the events portrayed throughout lack a sense of irony, clearly establishing the astonishingly true connection between cause and consequence.

The scenario and dialogue originally written by Jean Renoir and Belgian screenwriter Charles Spaak necessarily had to resort to a classic structure, yet with several poetical touches throughout in order to emphasize mankind's irrefutable nobility. Cinematographer Christian Matras wonderfully captures the POW camps and natural spring and winter landscapes without a predominant sensation of awkwardness, thanks to the balance and detail each shot contains. The musical score offers inspiration and a rebirth, suggesting a new beginning for the soul. La Grande Illusion is the conglomeration of all the elements that put together are capable of creating a powerful and everlasting feature film with a message aimed to the masses.

Before John Sturges' The Great Escape (1963) and Frank Darabont's overrated The Shawshank Redemption (1994), La Grande Illusion is not only the best film of such a legend of cinema, but also a reminder to worldwide nations to reflect and deeply analyze the complexity of the spirit and what empowerment and tragedy really mean, not mentioning how both terms unfortunately tend to intertwine, bringing along catastrophic results, despite that honor and justice will always prevail. A film which historical importance has nowadays been honored and highly respected, La Grande Illusion pushes the limits of the genres of war and drama, and takes them to never imagined epic levels. It is cinema at its best.

100/100

"I am a Catholic priest. I believe that those who fight for justice and truth walk in the path of God and the paths of God are infinite."

ROMA, CITTÀ APERTA (1945)

Director: Roberto Rossellini
Country: Italy
Genre: Drama / War
Length: 100 minutes



The neorealist Italian cinema has been one of the most inspiring, powerful and brutally honest artistic movements that have ever been orchestrated in cinema history. While an economically and socially destroyed world caused by one of the greatest wars in the history of humanity was searching for hope and a new start, Roma, Città Aperta was released in Italian movie theatres in September once that World War II had ended. It was precisely with the masterwork Roma, Città Aperta that the Italian neorealism achieved to acquire world fame as a revolutionary protest movement towards the crude reality people constantly lived in. Despite the fact that the film didn't quite possess absolutely all of the elements that characterized neorealism, the way the common Italian citizen, who constantly struggled for survival under the German occupation in Rome, was affected by the horrors of war is explicitly shown. In my honest opinion, this is one of the best films of all time, and both the performances and filmmaking quality should not be underestimated considering the tragic economical condition which was already present in most parts of the world by those days. That is why I think Roma, Città Aperta does not get the full credit and appreciation it really deserves. It is frequently considered as an irrelevant feature-film that, although significantly influenced the Italian neorealism, did not achieve to stand out so grandiosely in a similar way like the films of the biggest filmmakers of neorealism such as Federico Fellini (La Strada [1954], Le Notti di Cabiria [1957]), Vittorio de Sica (Ladri di Biciclette [1948], Umberto D. [1952]) and Luchino Visconti (La Terra Trema: Episodio del Mare [1948]) did.

The story is extraordinary and well developed. During the German occupation in Rome in the year of 1944, Giorgio Manfredi, the leader of the Resistance, is being chased by the Gestapo, so he decides to ask for help to his friend Francesco who is about to get married with the widow Pina. Along with the priest Don Pietro Pellegrini, they search for a procedure that allows Manfredi to acquire a new identity so he can escape from Rome. However, Marina Mari, Manfredi's lover, plots to betray him so she can ruin his plan. The film received an Academy Award nomination for Best Writing, Screenplay in 1947 losing it against The Best years of Our Lives (1946). I agree with the fact that the wonderful screenplay could have been better developed, and even the movie Brief Encounter (1945) directed by David Lean had a simpler screenplay, yet with a better structure. It also won the Grand Prize of the Cannes Film Festival of 1946 along with directors like Emilio Fernández for María Candelaria (Xochimilco) (1944), David Lean for Brief Encounter (1945) and Billy Wilder for The Lost Weekend (1946).

The influence that Roma, Città Aperta had over the newly originated Italian neorealist genre is very clear, and more than calling it "neorealism", we could simply consider this film as a cinematic source of realism. Roma, Città Aperta is one of the most realistic and honest masterpieces I have ever seen in the history of cinema. Its talent comes from the fact that the film represents the voice of a town that has been devastated by the Germans in exceedingly tragic times speaking out loud, causing the film to be banned in several countries throughout Europe. Roberto Rossellini literally had the guts to portray a reality that society was determined to reject, forget and surpass so the process of literal reconstruction the whole world was going through could have a new beginning in a much easier way and with a significantly greater amount of enthusiasm.

The screenplay was written by Roberto Rossellini himself with the collaboration of Sergio Amidei, a screenwriter that would work along Rossellini in several future projects such as Paisà (1946), Germannita Anno Zero (1948) and Stromboli (1950), and of Federico Fellini just before his directorial debut with his film Luci del Varietà (1950). The overall structure it possesses is beyond decent, but due to the complicated plot the film had and the various characters that portrayed specific and important roles, it lacked the necessary effort put throughout it so a beautiful script could be created. The performance of Anna Magnani, who is one of my favorite actresses just after Giulietta Masina, is extraordinary. I have always admired her acting talent and her role of Pina in this film is, by no means, an unusual exception. In fact, Roma, Città Aperta does not stand out as a film specifically because of the technical aspects, since not even Roberto Rossellini had the required budget and means necessary to complete it in the first place, but because of the subject matter implied.

The direction is considerably remarkable since a simple, noncreative story was not told in order to justify the neorealist genre. Something that added a heavy dose of realism and effectiveness to the plot is that the spectator gets to know the motivations of each character considering the fact that Roberto Rossellini was one of the first directors who employed a mostly inexperienced acting cast for obtaining the most natural and believable human reactions that were possible. Since the subject matter irrevocably appeals to society in a very direct form, one as a spectator is offered the feeling of being shared the same anguish the protagonists are going through and of walking through the streets of Rome. However, the film itself offers, from the very beginning, a devastated landscape that stinks of tragedy. Consequently it would seem evident at this point that Rossellini was psychologically prepared for a specific audience's rejection. Picture the similar consequences of Goodbye Lenin! (2003) being released in the year of 1990. This is where the cinematography, which caused mixed feelings, plays its role. At some points it is spectacular, especially when vastly showing open spaces such as in the beginning and ending of the movie, but sometimes it gave the impression that a different person was in charge of the camera work. Ubaldo Arata did a good job, which made me get to the conclusion that his cinematography could be bitterly appreciated in a considerable way if the film received an adequate restoration.

Overall, Roma, Città Aperta has actually passed the test of time and should obtain more recognition and consideration based on what it achieved in cinema history including the creation of the most memorable Italian cinematic trend. I dare to say that it is one of the most important feature films ever conceived, and one of the most tragic, realistic and controversial as well. Despite its highly violent tone, this is the definitive masterwork by Roberto Rossellini and, inevitably, will remain being spoken about by critics and cinema lovers for several future decades to come. Besides establishing a new subgenre, it opened the eyes of the world towards the cruelty that mankind can perform towards human beings themselves.

100/100

- ¡Mira allí! No... ¡En la cumbre! ¿Lo ves?
- ¡El Papa!
- Sí, él es. ¡Qué lleno de majestad; qué solemne! Se diría un guerrero.

EL ÁNGEL EXTERMINADOR (1962)

Director: Luis Buñuel
País: México
Género: Drama / Fantasía / Misterio
Duración: 95 minutos



SPANISH REVIEW:

Si bien alguna vez he visto en mi vida una directa y brillante crítica social hacia la clase alta y la burguesía, Luis Buñuel, quien es uno de mis directores gigantes del cine, es a quien debería agradecer. Me resulta un concepto bastante inteligente y bien pensado el hecho de que Buñuel, quien básicamente creó el surrealismo en el cine con su cortometraje Un Chien Andalou (1929) y con su largometraje L'Âge d'Or (1930), mezclara dicho género con su incomparable talento de dirección para crear una de las más astutas críticas a la clase alta que jamás he visto en el Séptimo Arte. El Ángel Exterminador es ciertamente la primera película surrealista de este tipo, temática que después usaría en su filmografía francesa que incluye la obra maestra Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie (1972) y Le Fantôme de la Liberté (1974). Asimismo, El Ángel Exterminador difiere de cualquier otro proyecto cinematográfico que Buñuel haya realizado en México, pues a pesar de que tenía la costumbre de añadir pequeñas pizcas de surrealismo en películas como Los Olvidados (1950) y Subida al Cielo (1952), éstas eran básicamente melodramas y El Ángel Exterminador cae ya en el género de fantasía.

La película cuenta la simple historia de una lujosa fiesta exclusiva para la clase alta que se llevará a cabo por parte de Leticia, a quien comúnmente se le llama "La Valkiria". Una vez concluida la cena, los invitados desean salir de la mansión, pero para su enorme sorpresa les resulta imposible salir. Sus estándares sociales y elegantes costumbres y forma de comportamiento se ven reducidos gradualmente a los instintos más primitivos del hombre cuando se ven forzados a sobrevivir con animales y como animales con el paso del tiempo. La película fue nominada a una Palma de Oro en el Festival de Cannes, y definitivamente fue una batalla dura. Luis Buñuel merecía la nominación, pero dado el hecho de que directores como Agnés Varda por Cléo de 5 à 7 (1962), Pietro Germi por Divorzio All'italiana (1961), Michelangelo Antonioni por L'eclisse (1962) y Robert Bresson por Procés de Jeanne d'Arc (1962) competían por el premio, comprendo que no haya ganado. Sin embargo, no estoy de acuerdo con que Anselmo Duarte haya ganado por O Pagador de Promessas (1962).

El Ángel Exterminador posee una dirección simplemente extraordinaria, y es en su dirección donde uno como espectador siente el completo control creativo y libertad artística de Buñuel sobre la película a diferencia de las que dirigió anteriormente. El guión y los diálogos también fueron creados por Buñuel, y funciona de una manera fantástica. Cada escena no está de sobra y, gracias al altamente adecuado ritmo de la película, encaja perfectamente en la historia. La edición es bastante decente, incluyendo en la secuencia del sueño que uno de los personajes tiene, la cual es tanto tétrica como cómica. La película posee un buen manejo de la cámara, aunque la mayoría toma parte en un espacio cerrado, el cual es la mansión de la cena. Todos los detalles están sumamente cuidados, considerando el hecho de que hay bastantes actores en escena a la vez realizando actividades diferentes antes y después de la ridícula situación difícil en la que finalmente se encuentran. Las actuaciones son muy acordes al tipo de personas que están retratando, y el show es obviamente robado completamente por Silvia Pinal, quien va adquiriendo distintas facetas conforme pasa el tiempo. A diferencia de Viridiana (1961), su personaje de "La Valkiria" se aleja del aspecto espiritual y adopta uno mucho más elegante, pero ególatra y cómico a la vez.

El Ángel Exterminador es una sátira trágica llena de simbolismos e imposible fantasía. La película tiene tantas interpretaciones como número de personas que la ha visto, y es ése el tipo de obras maestras que funcionan a la perfección, sobre todo cuando es decisión misma del director dejar el significado a la interpretación abierta de cada persona. Es por ello que haré énfasis en un punto importante: Todas las ideas que esté a punto de expresar en el siguiente comentario son mi propia interpretación del filme, las cuales pueden ser puestas a discusión, pues gran parte de la magia de este maravilloso proyecto surrealista se origina de esa posibilidad.

La trama no solamente está manejada con un humor sofisticado, sino con una irreverente absurdez de los aspectos más bajos de la sociedad lujosa. Nosotros siendo tan inactivos mentalmente y menos críticos con el paso del tiempo, Buñuel probablemente utilizó elementos exagerados (algunas veces hasta infantiles) para clarificar el extremo ridículo que quería representar, convirtiendo a la burguesía que los estándares sociales han hecho "respetable" en algo de lo que todo mundo podría burlarse. La incapacidad de los burgueses de salir del cuarto puede ser interpretado como un elemento cómico que involuntariamente "justifica" las atrocidades que la Iglesia ha cometido durante tantos siglos en la historia de la humanidad, pues a pesar de que dentro del grupo podemos encontrar a doctores y coroneles de guerra, la Iglesia tiene una pesada influencia como protagonista implícito. La religión no se salva de la blasfemia. En los libros de Moisés en el Antiguo Testamento principalmente, se hacen constantes referencias al ritual de sacrificios llevado a cabo por los sacerdotes, lo cual conllevaba a un proceso de purificación. También se menciona como la gente sin la presencia de Dios en su vida suele ser como ovejas sin pastor. Ello me trae a la mente la escena final, en donde una masacre está tomando a lugar en las calles mientras la Iglesia se ve sujeta a la misma maldición, así como sus seguidores, estando separados de la sociedad. La pérdida de la virginidad resulta en liberación y epifanía, y las ovejas pueden simbolizar a la gente literalmente dirigiéndose hacia un matadero. Asimismo, esta incapacidad simboliza la idiotez sin fondo en que la clase alta suele caer una vez que sus propias personalidades permiten ser absorbidas en el orgullo y en la falsa imagen de superioridad que ciegamente consideran tener sobre el resto de la sociedad. Cuando se ven forzados a salir de sus propios mundos, los cuales son representados físicamente en el cuarto en el que se encuentran atrapados como leones enjaulados, simplemente se niegan a hacerlo y recurren a todo medio posible, sin importar qué tan ridículo éste resulte ser, para permanecer en ellos. La principal razón puede ser el orgullo que poseen, a pesar de que las motivaciones de los personajes jamás son explicadas claramente.

El Ángel Exterminador puede resultar una película controversial y sumamente ofensiva para cierta gente por su alto grado de burla y sátira brillante. Es interesante el contexto en que Buñuel dirigió esta película, pues justo después de haber representado la pobreza en su más gráfico detalle, se va al extremo opuesto, tratando la constante lucha entre clases sociales como un tema principal. Buñuel consideró a El Ángel Exterminador como uno de sus fracasos, pues afirma que de haberla podido hacer en París, hubiera hecho que los personajes incluso llegaran a extremos más intensos. Sin embargo, la idea claramente se entiende, y considero a esta película mejor que cualquier otra surrealista que haya realizado en el futuro sin considerar al corto Un Chien Andalou (1929). Gracias a Viridiana (1961), Buñuel se convirtió en uno de los directores blasfemos más controversiales de su época siendo censurado (irónicamente) por la Iglesia, y con El Ángel Exterminador sus ideas son establecidas y fortalecidas justo antes de que volviera a Francia. El Ángel Exterminador es una obra maestra maravillosamente absurda y graciosamente única en su género.

100/100

ENGLISH REVIEW:

If I have actually seen a brilliant and very direct social criticism about the upper and bourgeois class before, Luis Buñuel, who is one of my giant directors of cinema, is the guy who I should really thank. The fact that Buñuel, who basically gave birth to surrealism in cinema with his short film Un Chien Andalou (1929) and his feature film L'Âge d'Or (1930), mixed this genre with his incomparable direction talent for creating one of the smartest criticisms aimed towards the upper class I have ever seen in the history of the Seventh Art is a highly intelligent and well-thought concept for me. El Ángel Exterminador is certainly the first surrealist film of this kind, a thematic element that he will later use frequently in his French filmography which includes the masterpiece Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie (1972) and Le Fantôme de la Liberté (1974). Also, El Ángel Exterminador differs from any other cinematographic project that Buñuel completed while being in Mexico, since although he had the habit of adding little and brief sequences of surrealism in his films such as in Los Olvidados (1950) and Subida al Cielo (1952), these movies were basically melodramas and El Ángel Exterminador falls already into the genre of fantasy as a film.

The movie itself has a very simple story about a luxurious party, exclusively aimed for the upper class that would be organized by Leticia, who is commonly named "La Valkiria" for funny reasons mentioned in the film. Once that the dinner has concluded, the guests desire to leave the mansion, but as surprising and unbelievable as it may seem, they just find it impossible to get out. Their social standards and elegant habits and behavior manners are gradually reduced to the most primitive instincts of man when they are forced to survive like animals and with animals with the pass of time. The movie was nominated for a Golden Palm in the Cannes Film Festival, and it was definitely a very tough battle. Luis Buñuel deserved the nomination, but since directors such as Agnés Varda for Cléo de 5 à 7 (1962), Pietro Germi for Divorzio All'italiana (1961), Michelangelo Antonioni for L'eclisse (1962) and Robert Bresson for Procés de Jeanne d'Arc (1962) were competing for the prize, I understand that Buñuel hadn't won. However, I disagree with Anselmo Duarte winning the award for his film O Pagador de Promessas (1962).

El Ángel Exterminador has a simply extraordinary direction by Buñuel, and it is in his direction where one as a spectator is able to feel the complete creative control and artistic freedom that he had over the movie unlike the films he previously directed. The script and the dialogues were also created by Buñuel and all of them work fantastically. Each scene was necessary and, thanks to the highly adequate pace of the film, perfectly fit into the story. The editing is pretty much decent, including the dream sequence that one of the characters has, which is dismal just as it is comical. The movie has a great camera handle considering that most of the film takes place in a closed space, which is the mansion where the dinner was held. Every single detail is extremely taken care of, considering the fact that there are several actors in a scene at once making different activities before and after the utterly ridiculous and difficult situation in which they finally end up being. The performances are accurate according to the kind of people the cast is portraying, and obviously the show is completely stolen by Silvia Pinal, who begins to acquire several facets as time goes by. Unlike Viridiana (1961), her character of "La Valkiria" steps away from the spiritual aspect and adopts a much more elegant, but self-worshiping and comical one at the same time.

El Ángel Exterminador is a tragic satire full of symbolisms and impossible fantasy. The movie can have as many interpretations as the number of people that have seen it, and that is the kind of masterpieces that work at their most perfect way, especially when it is the director's decision to leave the meaning of the film to the open interpretation of its audience. That is why I will make emphasis in a very important point: Every single idea that I am about to express in the following review are based on my own interpretation of the film, which can be, of course, put to discussion, since most of the magic of this wonderful surrealist project comes from that possibility.

The story is not only handled with a sophisticated humor, but with an irreverent absurdity about the most degrading aspects of the luxurious society. Due to the fact that we get more mentally inactive and less critical with each new generation, Buñuel probably utilized exaggerated elements (some of them even childish) for clarifying the extreme ridicule he wanted to represent, converting the bourgeoisie that the social standards have turned it into something "respectable" into something that the whole world could laugh at. The incapacity of the bourgeoisies to get out of the room can be interpreted as a comical element that involuntarily "justifies" the atrocities that the Church has committed during several centuries in the history of humanity, since although inside the bourgeois group people such as doctors and war coronels can be found, the Church has a very heavy influence as an implicit protagonist. Religion isn't excluded from blasphemy. Principally in the books of Moses found in the Old Testament, constant references towards the rituals of sacrifices executed by the priests are made, which lead to a process of purification. It is also mentioned how people tend to be like lambs without a shepherd when absent from the presence of God in their lives. This detail brings to my mind the final scene, in which a massacre is being held in the streets while the Church is being subject to the same curse, just like its followers, being separated from the rest of the society. The loss of virginity ends up in epiphany and liberation, and the sheep can symbolize the people literally walking towards an abattoir. Likewise, this incapacity symbolizes the bottomless idiocy in which the upper class tends to fall into once that their own personalities allow themselves to be literally absorbed by pride and by the false image of superiority that they blindly consider to have above the rest of the society. When they are finally forced to get out of their own little worlds, which are physically represented in the room in which they are trapped just like caged lions, they simply refuse to do it and resort to any possible solution in order to avoid doing it, no matter how ridiculous it ends up being. The main reason may be the pride they possess, although the motivations of the characters are never explicitly shown.

El Ángel Exterminador can be a very controversial and extremely offensive movie for certain kind of people because of its high level of mockery and brilliant satire. The context in which Buñuel directed this film is interesting, because right after he represented poverty in its most graphic detail, he goes to the extreme opposite, treating the constant struggle between social classes as a main topic. Buñuel considered El Ángel Exterminador as one of his greatest failures, since he affirms that if he had done it in Paris, he would have taken the characters towards much more intense extremes. However, the main idea is clearly understood, and I consider this film better than any other surrealist film he had directed in the future without considering his short film Un Chien Andalou (1929). Thanks to Viridiana (1961), Buñuel became one of the most blasphemous and controversial directors of his time being (ironically) censored by the Church and, with El Ángel Exterminador, his ideas were solidly established and strengthened right before he returned to France. El Ángel Exterminador is a marvelously absurd and hilariously unique comedy masterpiece, unique within its genre.

100/100

"The awful thing about life is this: Everybody has their reasons."

LA RÈGLE DU JEU (1939)

Director: Jean Renoir
Country: France
Genre: Comedy / Drama
Length: 114 minutes



After having a considerable amount of success with his prewar films La Grande Illusion (1937) and La Bête Humaine (1938), Jean Renoir, a cinema genius that did not receive the recognition he deserved in the 30's and 40's, brings along his second masterpiece and what is widely regarded nowadays as one of the greatest films ever made. Despite that Jean Renoir's take on the French upper-class society resulted, naturally, in outstandingly complete rejection, hatred and public insults, La Règle du Jeu is a film that constitutes the most complex and multifaceted critique towards the bourgeoisie of its time, brilliantly juxtaposed with absurd and profound elements, yet not resorting to the fantasy genre in a similar way Luis Buñuel (El Ángel Exterminador [1962], Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie [1972]) would do. The films by Renoir always had the peculiar and interestingly-enough characteristic of being damaged and destroyed, but reconstructed during the 50's under the director's approval, what may lead modern worldwide masses to believe and reconsider their true artistic and cinematic purposes. The magic of his epic and human masterpieces originates from the fact that their striking honesty and renewed vision appealed not only to past generations, but to modern society as well in the sense of having historically important subject matters and morally everlasting messages concerning equality and ethicality.

La Règle du Jeu centers on a big group of upper-class people who attend the huge party invitation of Christine and his aristocratic husband named Robert. What follows is an extraordinarily accurate and overall stylish depiction of their typical signs of racism and discrimination towards those who do not belong to their particular social status, snobbish life styles, romance, and infinite love triangles, ensuing chaos and an extreme dose of moronic absurdity. The film received no attention from any international film festival after its initial release, but got its negatives damaged during the German occupation in France during the Second World War. It would not be until 1966 that Jean Renoir received a Bodil Award for Best European Film at a festival held in Copenhagen, Denmark. This is a clear sign that audacious and controversial (under the standards of a coward and democratic society) film projects are most likely to transcend over time and acquire a considerably high historical relevance.

Jean Renoir showed an extremely confident vision towards the bourgeoisie. Mirroring the experience he acquired serving in the air force during World War I, his direction style denotes veracity and politically correct accuracy. If the results of its screening ended up in an almost burned-down theater, its banning in French cinemas for about a month after its initial release, the accidental destruction of the original negatives and in its banning by the Nazi party, not to mention many burned prints by the Germans, it is clear that the commotion it provided had more serious reasons than just for preserving the morale of the country due to imminent war. The audacity of the film could finally establish Renoir as a representative auteur, providing a totally identifiable and effectively ambitious direction style without overly resulting to disrespectful pretentiousness in a similar way D.W. Griffith did with The Birth of a Nation (1915). It is, fortunately, a perfectly filmed social criticism, and not an insulting essay towards the mores of the entire country. The characters represented the extreme opposite of those portrayed in La Grande Illusion, the people that had caused such a lamentable and disastrous European situation already present in 1939, especially with arguably the greatest war humanity has gone through in its history coming along the way.

Once more, Jean Renoir develops the scenario and witty dialogue, counting with the collaboration of the (ironically) German screenwriter Carl Koch. The brilliance of the resulting screenplay is notorious throughout, originating several critique branches concerning love, romance and poverty mockery, but always preserving the main purpose of the film, making it one of the most extraordinary and well-developed screenplays in the history of the motion picture. Providing fully rounded characters, an unstoppably entertaining pace and unforgettable hypocritical one-liners, and dialogues that ultimately end up being hilarious because of the conviction with which they are naturally spoken, La Règle du Jeu does not have a main character, but several main characters. We have a collective protagonist, each of its members having peculiar characteristics that, as a whole, give birth to the everlasting defects present in the past and modern aristocracy. These are the same defects that put a tragic end to the personality's psychology, thus causing the sensation of not being able to tolerate oneself. Such repulsion towards life and towards everything that does not belong to the bourgeoisie is unconsciously reflected on them, which explains the catastrophe that they unleash upon them. The mansion only serves as the vehicle that drives them to insanity, especially when their own pride and ego are accentuated when becoming a "national hero" just because of setting a flight record, an undeniably human deed that does not contribute to the progress of humanity. Mass media is the one that slows it down in front of our very faces.

From lovable and attractively expert long shots that tend to last more than a minute to a high amount of quick shots during the chaos sequences, the cinematographic technique has been noticeably perfected since La Grande Illusion (1937), their racism being illustrated by one of the most haunting and memorable scenes ever filmed: the rabbit hunt, a scene that was beautifully referenced in Robert Bresson's Mouchette (1967). Slightly and almost unnoticeably resorting to surreal elements typical of Luis Buñuel, the absurdity of the film is undeniable, but arguably realistic. The mansion room from which the dinner guests are unable to leave in Buñuel's El Ángel Exterminador (1962) could be a direct reference to the bear suit Renoir's character (Octave) wears without anyone helping him to remove it. Members of the upper-class are incapable of helping each other to get out of their blind world of hypocrisy, let alone getting out of it for themselves.

As a character study it wonderfully works, using smart comedy and love triangles only to enlighten the human condition. As a social criticism, it also works, being arguably the best and most intelligent ever directed, as well as an influential one. Goodness and justice exists in this world in the sense that Renoir's definite masterpieces were about to become lost arts, but were reconstructed (perhaps) for the sake of humanity. Hated before and worshipped now, Renoir is one of the best filmmakers of French classic cinema, depicting the human being in its most complex, complete, accurate, natural, ambitious and empathetic way possible.

100/100

Review coming someday...

100/100

"You mean more to me than any scientific truth."

SOLYARIS (1972)

Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Country: Soviet Union
Genre: Drama / Mystery / Romance / Sci-Fi
Length: 165 minutes



Cinema giant Andrei Tarkovsky always had a very characteristic ability to explore the vastness of the human mind, moving from religious agnosticism to philosophical existentialism. Applying a massive modification in his filmmaking style since his previous film Andrey Rublyov (1966), Solyaris is often considered as the Russian response to Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), an immediately superior film. Despite the fact that Tarkovsky himself was not particularly fond of Kubrick's science-fiction magnum opus, specifically considering it slow and dull, Solyaris does not deviate from the spellbinding technical perfection and cinematic beauty the sole premise of the film originally required. Being slightly better and more solid than his upcoming utopian cyberpunk precursor Stalker (1979), Solyaris is one of the most complex and thought-provoking sci-fi dramas ever filmed by mankind, a film that welcomes the human mind to personally interpret endless symbols, to comprehend surrealistic elements and sequences, and to slowly digest, through its visual style and its as-delicate-as-a-flower direction, a shocking perspective of the utterly meaningless influence we, as human beings and breathing entities originated from stardust, can have on the undetermined size of the Universe.

Bases on a science-fiction novel by Polish writer Stanislaw Lem, the film focuses on a scientist who is called by the Solaris mission, which has established a base on a planet surrounded by a vast and mysterious Ocean that seemingly holds a bizarre kind of intelligence. When he arrives, he does not only witness the strange behaviors of some scientists and the suicide attempts of others, but he encounters his wife that had been dead for several years. The scientist will soon be facing a downward spiral of insanity, hallucinations and predominating disillusions inserted into the subconscious of his mind mixed with those of other human beings. The film won both the FIPRESCI Prize and the Grand Prize of the Jury at the Cannes Film Festival. It was also nominated for a Golden Palm, losing it against Francesco Rosi's Il Caso Mattei (1972) and Elio Petri's La Classe Operaia Va in Paradiso (1972).

Andrei Tarkovsky is, undoubtedly, one of the few directors that completely understood the meaning of cinema filmmaking. It is an art that, either explicitly or implicitly, must congregate the talents of several technical departments and a solid, argumentative powerful substance behind it. Fully applying an existentialist and catastrophic vision to the improving science fiction genre, Solyaris is a cinematographic manifesto of those mental characteristics that make us undeniably human disguised as a captivating masterpiece that deals with complicated subject matter, ranging from life and death to curiosity and ambition, elements that would also be present in Stalker. The effectiveness of the motion picture is completely strengthened with a slow, poetic pace that does not transform it into pretentiousness or dullness, but has the harmonic ability to become like life itself. Evidently, the film by itself had to lead its audience to a spectacular show of subjectivity and, consequently, a dead romance, one small factor that illustrates how man can have a strongly emotional connection to any material belonging and human relationship, our definitive Achilles' heel.

Vadim Yusov applies a cinematography that is so perfect, so ambitious and so hypnotizing that it allowed Tarkovsky to take the spectator into an unforgettable journey, perhaps even spiritual. When being on the surface of the beautiful Solaris Ocean, every mathematical and scientific law and logic sense are lost into oblivion. It is not an entity that assassinates; it ultimately awakens the deepest fears and desires of the soul and the unfulfilled longings of the heart and transforms them into impossible illusions. What is the location of the planet? What are the main components of the Solaris Ocean? Tarkovsky feels free enough to leave several events and sequences unexplained. Why should he offer an explanation? Magic is irradiated from both relativity and the exceptionally edited musical score. The opening sequence portrays an earthly perspective of nature and contrasts it with outer space; scientist Kris Kelvin and his acquaintances are similarly contrasted with the possibly non-physical beings that he finds in the space station. Attractively, another unavoidable questioning is born: Is our mind even more complex than our own consciousness?

We are merely instruments of God fulfilling his will... or trying to step away from it. Thus, the Solaris Ocean uses people as puppets to play with no apparent purpose, although nothing is clear when being "up there". There is a fact that states that our subconscious mind perceives and translates several sounds, images and words to a subliminal extent, causing their effect in our brains. The Solaris space station could be easily explained as a symbol of the brain with the Ocean as every single unperceived and unexplained aspect surrounding it. It functions as a machine, yet nothing is predetermined. It is a chain reaction that unleashes psychologically unprecedented reactions that not even we may be able to comprehend at their fullest. We cannot refuse such authoritative power, so it makes us surrender to hallucinatory submission. The realm of dreams and reality collide, but we are not capable of stopping neither the reactions nor the consequences of what our consciousness can construct; we cannot choose our dreams... not always. No matter how many times the main character, perhaps knowingly, tried to get rid of his wife despite that he knew, deep down, that she could not be real. Why does he keep trying? Why does he want to get rid of her? A deep fear of returning to Earth is the most humanly possible answer. It is a nightmare.

Solyaris has as one of its main final intentions to generate several questions. The only question that a film fan has before seeing the film is: "What could the film be about?" The questions that a film fan has after finishing the film cannot be listed here, but they may be endless. The characters suffer exactly the same cathartic process, from asking themselves "what possible explanation could be given to the strange events reported in the Solaris base"? to actually making an investigation in the aforementioned place and unleashing a living nightmare. However, science, a human discipline characterized by its agnosticism and ego, has not the answers to every single aspect of the existence and its space. Therefore, the film could be also subject to a religious perspective, interpreting God as an implicit character. Why not? Andrey Rublyov (1966) and Stalker (1979) did.

Solyaris is one of the most perfect and ambitious films ever committed to celluloid. It is an empathetic masterwork that makes an invitation to deep thinking and analysis, with a possible cathartic risk. The human condition is emphasized throughout, contrasted with the pride of man thanks to its technological inventions. A film open to any explanations, it is a journey that has something special prepared for every pair of human eyes.

100/100

"The Zone wants to be respected. Otherwise it will punish."

STALKER (1979)

Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Country: Soviet Union / West Germany
Genre: Adventure / Drama / Fantasy / Mystery / Sci-Fi
Length: 163 minutes



Slowly following the masterful filmography of the best Soviet director since Sergei M. Eisenstein, Stalker is the cinematic project we should encounter. This time, Tarkovsky leaves aside the strongly spiritual Catholic influence he applied in Andrey Rublyov (1966), the philosophical approach of the insignificant effect of the human being in the Universe he depicted in Solyaris (1972) and the patriotically nostalgic approach he used in Zerkalo (1975) for the sake of the Russian nation. The final result is quite possibly the most ignored precursor of the cyberpunk genre, engaging by its own merits and as ambitious as the questionings of the meaning and origin of life. Stalker is truly one of the first films of its kind, influential because of its technical aspects but never equaled because of its originality, apocalyptic vision and extreme philosophical depth, truths that ultimately remained unexplained. Moving from the physical size of the human being to its most primitive behaviors and reactions, such as curiosity, material and spiritual insatiableness, agnosticism and ambition, Stalker is a challenging piece of filmmaking at its finest form of stillness expression.

For making a brief description of the plot, the most basic question is originated: What is a stalker? We must first understand that the film is set in an apocalyptic and undetermined future, a time where the Zone is located. The Zone is a place which origins remain mysterious enough to awaken the curiosity of man. It is an alien place surrounded by barbed wire and soldiers. A stalker is a man who has been given the mental gift of illegally conducting people into the Room, a place located within the Zone where all wishes come true. Stalker tells the story of a man who, despite the several objections of his wife, decides to conduct a popular writer and a scientist to the Room, but a crisis will eventually ensue. Tarkovsky attracted the attention of the Cannes Film Festival once again in 1980, winning a very special award: the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury along with Krzysztof Zanussi's Constans (1980).

Undoubtedly, this is Andrei Tarkovsky's most ambitious film. His masterfulness and utopian brilliance prevented the film from falling into a vast realm of pretentiousness. Once more, Stalker is technical perfection at its most spellbinding, haunting and captivating form. Lengthy shots and perfectly balanced cinematography are the technique used by Tarkovsky in a much more noticeable way, sometimes surpassing the total time of 7 minutes for one single take. A color differentiation is utilized for distinguishing the unidentified city and the personal thoughts and flashbacks of the characters with a sepia tone, and the Zone with full, harmonic color. The camera placements and the editing justify such human cinematic perfection and psychologically prepare the audience for a philosophical, deep, complex, unexplainable, chaotic, epiphanic, cathartic, existentialist, slow-paced, ambitious and divine ride.

Stalker erases all human names and any possible identity. The stalker is Stalker. The writer is Writer. The scientist is Scientist. Stalker's wife is Stalker's Wife! Man is depicted not as a faceless entity, but as a primitive creature, reducing it to a living thing whose ego, pride and agnosticism leads him to question everything he sees, anything that can't be seen nor understood at first glance. Such stubborn attitude causes him to venture into the realm of the prohibited, of the mysterious. This basic and hard-to-direct premise immediately justifies the existence of a place that can grant any wish. The magic lamp is materialized into a desolated, ultimately cubic space. How does man can reach the magic lamp? What is the physical appearance of the lamp genius? How can man manipulate his supposed three wishes?

These means have never been clear and are naturally transformed into myths and tales of the popular culture. However, what happens if a master of cinema takes this longing disillusion of man and transforms it into a film which is an utter mix of fantastic genres? As a necessary consequence, the Zone, the only path to the Room, possesses a mathematical nature of its own. "The Zone wants to be respected. Otherwise it will punish." Those two sentences are strictly told by the stalker, a man who cannot understand the supernatural nature of the Zone, yet understands the respect that it deserves to an extent of admiring it. Several possibilities of the origin of the Zone are explained, which remain irrevocably human. "It is a sign of life outside the planet." "It is God's punishment for mankind's present evil and maliciousness." "It was originated from a meteorite." These assumptions were originated from man. The Zone, with the Room as its "heart", is mainly depicted either as a living entity or as an inert place full of life. It has a conscience. It defies even any logic sense. Going straightforward is no longer going straightforward. It can also be implied that if you are not meant to reach the Zone, you will never reach it. God's will is an implicit factor when the film starts to resort to the Holy Bible, emphasizing the wrath of God interpreted through the eyes of the prophets and the words of David's Psalms.

Interestingly enough, Tarkovsky offers several clues throughout that could explain the origin of the Zone. A nearly four-minute shot emphasizes several objects underwater that could have been caused by an apocalyptic war. World War III, perhaps? Shortage of water or territorial conflicts could have been the actors behind the curtains once again. Perhaps we are even facing a scarily cinematic prediction of a future that patiently waits to unleash a catastrophe, such as Metropolis (1927), a movie that demonstrated a society completely ruled by totalitarian control, industrialization and technology, characteristics of modern real life.

This film is as relative as philosophy itself. The conclusion of the film illustrated with Ludwig van Beethoven's Ode to Joy, an ending scene which I will not even dare to mention here, could be compared with several things, from the humanization of the robots and androids shown in films (like Metropolis [1927]) to the early events mentioned in the book of Genesis, when angels and demons procreated monstrous beings. It is like remaking the same event or idea several times throughout the pass of the decades. Although a stalker still remains human, it surpasses the human race with a single mental ability. After all, Martha has a name. She is not Stalker's Daugher, although she is, but she is Martha, who she really is as well. Is she a new beginning for the human race? Is she determining our fate, or our future mental and physical capacities? Is she a human being, or an anomaly, a mistake of nature? Is the Zone a place that originates hallucinations in a person, like a mental drug? Is it also an anomaly and a mistake of nature?

A film that creates more questions than answers, Stalker is one of the most ambitious works of art in motion picture history. It is also one of the most influential. This is Tarkovsky's last humanly-perfect masterpiece that uses the science-fiction genre as a perfect excuse for enlightening both the beauty of cinema and the vastness of the human mind. The Zone is just the quiet motor that symbolizes the rabbit hole. Perhaps that is why the film is not completely considered as a cyberpunk film. It surpasses any film of the genre. Masses applauding Alien (1979) as one of the best films (if not the best film) of the genre will be mentally challenged and inevitably bored by this visual treat, a call to intellectualism and a staggering approach to the usefulness of human existentialism, including the meaning of believing in God. If you ever think Monkey is a symbolic name, you are absolutely correct...

100/100

"Ya decía yo que mi prima Viridiana acabaría jugando al tute conmigo."

VIRIDIANA (1961)

Director: Luis Buñuel
País: México / España
Género: Drama
Duración: 90 minutos



SPANISH REVIEW:

Ser un personal admirador de Luis Buñuel conlleva, de alguna manera, demasiada responsabilidad en cuanto a admiración artística y estética se refiere. Prohibida en España y totalmente denunciada por el Vaticano, Viridiana es una de las mejores películas mexicanas de todos los tiempos, una coproducción escandalosa con España que alude al despertar del espiritualismo del ser humano y referencia las emociones más controversiales que una persona, independientemente de sus creencias y posturas religiosas en particular, suele guardar en las capas más íntimas de su persona. Buñuel aún se aferra a La Edad de Oro del cine mexicano y le añade simbolismos pequeños encarnados por objetos que todo el tiempo estuvieron ahí, hasta que se decide mostrarse en pantalla de manera repentina. Probablemente sería este estilo de filmación y misticismo parcial el cual inspiraría a Tarkovsky optar por su profunda religiosidad y crear una de las mejores películas en la historia del cine: Andrey Rublyov (1966). Sin embargo, el maestro Luis Buñuel conglomera símbolos misteriosos y los esparce en cada escena mostrada a través de una cámara que, implícitamente, lleva al espectador a la epifánica conclusión de que la película tiene demasiados ideales anárquicos que mostrar, una vez más atacando a la institución de la Iglesia Católica y a la pretenciosa gente que la conforma.

Viridiana es una monja idealista que está punto de tomar sus últimos votos. A petición de la Madre Superiora, Viridiana visita a su tío Don Jaime, un hombre quien le proveyó de bienes y financió su educación. Ella posee una opinión considerablemente baja acerca de su personalidad; sin embargo, acepta finalmente la petición antes de consolidar su carrera religiosa. Cuando llega a su mansión, se encuentra simplemente con un conserje, un ama de llaves y con un hombre viviendo solitariamente, afligiéndose constantemente por la muerte de su esposa, una mujer quien poseía una gran semejanza física con Viridiana, lo cual causará que ella se enfrente a un destino brutal. Luis Buñuel ganó una Palma de Oro en el Festival Internacional de Cine de Cannes de 1961, la cual empató con Henri Colpi por su película Une Aussi Longue Abscence (1961).

Dos leyendas inmortales del cine, una mexicana (Silvia Pinal, quien interpreta a Viridiana) y otra española (Fernando Rey, quien interpreta al tío Don Jaime), colisionan en un choque masivo de alegoría religiosa, temas delicados vistos desde un punto de vista blasfemo y escándalo sexual. La delicadeza de Buñuel para dividir la historia de la monja Viridiana en diversos capítulos puede ser una estructura narrativa cuyas principales características puedan ser comparadas inmediatamente con cualquier texto bíblico que use a la prostitución, el rechazo de la sumisión personal a la voluntad de Dios y la falsa ilusión del hombre en cuanto a que él es el dueño de su vida como sus elementos epifánicos principales. Es ésta estructura narrativa la que divide a la historia en diferentes capas, cada una de ellas representando distintas debilidades de la irrevocable y fácilmente corruptible condición humana. Más que un ataque indirecto a la institución de la Iglesia, lo cual resultó en una reacción violenta y más que obvia por parte del Vaticano, el personaje sumamente femenino y parcialmente estereotípico de Viridiana puede ser contrastado con la forzadamente incrédula personalidad de Nazarín, un hombre que debía presenciar hechos increíbles y ser objeto de visiones reveladoras para poder justificar la Fe, algo que no requiere de dichos elementos. Viridiana, por su lado, expresamente intenta alejarse de la voluntad de Dios pese a las advertencias de la Madre Superiora, explicándole claramente la soberbia que dicha decisión implicaba.

Por las características previamente mencionadas, Viridiana se divide en dos capítulos, los cuales podrían ser titulados como "La Pasión de Viridiana" y "La Última Cena". En el primer capítulo, es su propio egoísmo y orgullo, los cuales son probablemente involuntarios en ella, lo que la hacen decidir alejarse de la voluntad de Dios, tomar decisiones por su cuenta y hacer justicia por sus propias manos. Sin embargo, esta falsedad es enaltecida por la perspectiva idealista que posee hacia el mundo. Esta visión es rota en pedazos a partir de la violación que sufre por parte de su tío, un hombre cuyos deseos carnales eran su máxima prioridad y, una vez satisfechas en el proceso de llenar un vacío insuperable según su mentalidad, acaricia su navaja con forma de crucifijo y se suicida antes de que pueda ser denunciado a las autoridades. Este hecho insólito arranca el segundo capítulo, donde Viridiana decide aceptar a una amplia comunidad de indigentes a la mansión que ahora ha está siendo envidiada por su brusco primo Jorge, interpretado por Jorge Rabal, culminando en una de las más blasfemas representaciones de La Última Cena jamás filmadas. Por consiguiente, la película no posee una sola secuencia climática, sino dos. La justicia adquiere un alto tono de relatividad. Desde un punto de vista católico y posiblemente cristiano, el final devastador que muestra a Viridiana completamente perdida, alejada de Dios, es certero. El Dios representado por Buñuel no necesariamente se interpreta como un control de población o como el opio de las masas, sino como el único camino para lograr alcanzar la divinidad que humanamente no es posible conseguir. Materialismo contra la religión es un concepto cuya ambición sobrepasa los límites de cualquier expectativa, especialmente las expectativas que se tenían en los sesentas. Dicho esto, las principales ideas expresadas por Viridiana forzosamente debían poseer cualidades catárticas, principalmente estableciendo el hecho de que la caridad no puede ofuscar la corrupción de una sociedad tan degradada y que el hombre, por su propia cuenta, jamás podrá alcanzar la vida eterna, no importa cuántas normas y conductas supuestamente religiosas y universalmente correctas uno aplique en su vida. El único juez es Dios, no el orgullo humano proveniente de un ateísmo incorregible.

El homenaje de Luis Buñuel a un neorrealismo deprimente resulta en una de sus películas más brutalmente honestas y memorables. Viridiana es más que un llamado a la vida; es una invitación a remover la venda que nublan los ojos humanos de cualquier forma de comunicación que Dios pueda tener con nosotros. En este caso, una actuación magistral y poderosa por parte de Silvia Pinal era necesaria para fortalecer las conclusiones a las que Viridiana, pese a su corta duración, logra llegar sin la más mínima dificultad. Buñuel aún no tenía un completo control artístico sobre sus producciones, algo que sucedería hasta El Ángel Exterminador (1962), pero la poética cinematografía y las locaciones fílmicas de España añaden efectividad al trabajo de un elenco mayormente mexicano, convirtiéndola en un orgullo para México. Su poder puede causar revelaciones difíciles de aceptar la primera vez, pero ése es uno de los mensajes más verdaderos que a Dios mismo se le ha ocurrido transmitir a través de la magia del cine.

100/100

ENGLISH REVIEW:

To be a personal admirer of Luis Buñuel somehow entails a great deal of responsibility, particularly concerning artistic and aesthetic admiration. Banned in Spain and utterly denounced by the Vatican, Viridiana is one of the best Mexican films of all times, a scandalous Spanish coproduction that alludes to the awakening of the spiritualism of the human being and references the most controversial emotions that a person, independently of the beliefs and religious opinions he or she may particularly have, is used to hide inside the deepest layers of his/her persona. Buñuel is still attached to the Golden Age of Mexican cinema and he adds to it rather small symbolisms that are embodied by objects that were there all the time until he decides to show them on screen in a sudden way. This filmmaking style and partial mysticism were the ones that would probably inspire Tarkovsky to opt for his profound religiosity in order to create one of the best films in cinema history: Andrey Rublyov (1966). Nevertheless, master Luis Buñuel conglomerates mysterious symbols and scatters them throughout each portrayed scene through a camera that, implicitly, leads the spectator to the epiphanic conclusion that the film has several anarchic ideals to show while attacking the institution of the Catholic Church and the pretentious people that constitute it.

Viridiana is an idealist nun who is about to take her last vows. At the request of her Mother Superior, Viridiana visits his uncle Don Jaime, a man who provided for her and founded her education. She possesses a considerably low opinion regarding his personality; however, she finally accepts the petition before consolidating her religious career. When she arrives to the mansion, she simply finds a caretaker, a housekeeper and a man living solitarily, constantly getting upset because of the death of his wife, a woman who had a high physical resemblance to Viridiana, a fact that would cause her to face a brutal destiny. Luis Buñuel won a Golden Palm at the Cannes Film festival of 1961, a prize that he shared with Henri Corpi and his film Une Aussi Longue Absence (1961).

Two inmortal legends of cinema, one of them Mexican (Silvia Pinal, who plays the role of Viridiana) and the other one Spanish (Fernando Rey, who plays the role of uncle Don Jaime), collide in a massive clash of religious allegory, delicate subject matter seen from a blasphemous point of view and sexual scandal. The delicacy of Buñuel for dividing the story of the soon-to-be-nun Viridiana in several chapters can be a narrative structure which main characteristics can be immediately compared with any biblical text that uses prostitution, the rejection of the personal submission to the will of God and the false illusion of man concerning that he is the owner of his life as its principal epiphanic elements. This is the narrative structure that divides the story in different layers, each one of them representing different weaknesses of the irrevocable and easily-corruptible human condition. More than being an indirect attack towards the institution of the Church, an attack that resulted in a more-than-obvious violent reaction from the Vatican, the exceedingly female and partially stereotypical character of Viridiana can be contrasted with the forcedly skeptical personality of Nazarín, a man who had to witness unusual events and to be object of revealing visions so he could justify Faith, something that does not require such elements. Viridiana, on the other hand, expressly attempts to stay away from the will of God despite the warnings she received from her Mother Superior, clearly explaining to her the haughtiness that such decision implied.

Because of the aforementioned characteristics, Viridiana is divided into two chapters, chapters that could be titled as "The Passion of Viridiana" and "The Last Supper". In the first chapter, it is her own arrogance and pride, characteristics that are probably intentional within her personality, the ones that make her to stay away from the will of God, to take decisions by her own and to make justice with her own hands. Nonetheless, such falseness is enhanced by the idealistic perspective she possesses towards the world. This vision is shattered into pieces since the moment she is raped by her uncle, a man whose carnal desires were his most relevant priorities and, once that they were satisfied in the process of filling an insurmountable void according to his mentality, caresses his crucifix-shaped knife and commits suicide before he could be reported to the authorities. This shocking event marks the start of the second chapter where Viridiana decides to invite a wide community of poverty-stricken individuals to the mansion that is now being envied by her brusque cousin Jorge, played by actor Jorge Rabal, culminating in one of the most blaspheme representations of The Last Supper ever filmed. Consequently, the movie does not posses one single climatic sequence, but two. Justice acquires a high tone of relativity. From a Catholic point of view and possibly also a Christian one, the devastating finale that shows Viridiana as a completely lost and estranged-from-God woman, is accurate. The God represented by Buñuel is not necessarily interpreted as a population control or as the opium of the masses, but as the only path in order to reach the divinity that, humanly, is not possible to gain. Materialism against religion is a concept which ambition surpasses the limits of any expectation, especially the expectations that were held in the 60s. Having said this, the main ideas expressed by Viridiana forcedly had to possess cathartic qualities, principally establishing the fact that charity cannot dazzle the corruption of a much diminished society and that man will never be able to reach eternal life by his own, no matter how many norms and supposedly religious and universally correct conducts one applies in his life. The only judge is God, not the human pride that comes from an incorrigible atheism.

The homage of Luis Buñuel to a depressing neorealism results in one of his most brutally honest and memorable feature films. Viridiana is more than a simple call to life; it is an invitation to remove the bandage that clouds the human eyes from any form of communication that God may have with us. In this case, one masterly powerful performance from Silvia Pinal was necessary to strengthen the conclusions to which Viridiana, despite its relatively short running time, achieves to reach without the slightest difficulty. Buñuel had not a complete artistic control over his productions, something that would happen until El Ángel Exterminador (1962), but the poetical cinematography and the filming locations of Spain add effectiveness to the work of a majorly Mexican cast, converting it into a prideful success for Mexico. Its power may cause revelations that will be difficult to accept when witnessed for the first time, but that is one of the most truthful messages that God Himself has thought of transmitting through the magic of cinema.

100/100

"- I didn't know that chivalry still existed in your semi-savage country.
- Sir, you just insulted the Republic of Miranda!
- I don't give a damn about the Republic of Miranda!
- And I shit on your entire army!"

LE CHARME DISCRET DE LA BOURGEOISIE (1972)

Director: Luis Buñuel
Country: France / Italy / Spain
Genre: Comedy / Drama / Fantasy
Length: 102 minutes



Ahhh, yes... Luis Buñuel. This genius actually made a sequel of the events that were depicted in the supposedly unintentional dark comedy El Ángel Exterminador (1962), one of the best Mexican masterpieces ever made. Perhaps it was the disappointment he felt after directing that surrealist gem without taking it to the extreme events he wanted to show because of the lack of means what motivated him to make one of the best surrealist movies ever committed to celluloid: Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie. This revolutionary French manifesto still attacks, degrades and depicts the bourgeois class in the most honest and truthful manner, upsetting the conventional moral code and resorting to extraordinary sequences of pure absurdity. However, his attention to detail and the complex plot web make of this movie a comedy in the strictest sense of the word. Considering his past magnum opuses, it is not a repetitive concept. It still works, it sill makes laugh hard, only this time, he applies a very strong signature, a sign that would lead the audience to think that this was supposed to be one of the director's last works. It was. It still is a revolutionary concept and an audacious portrayal of liberalist ideas that shatters the moral of the modern society and lowers the dignity of the bourgeois class to a repugnant, hilarious level.

The characters we left in El Ángel Exterminador (1962) are now living in Paris. Also, their numbers have been reduced. We now deal with six protagonists whose constant attempts of having dinner together are endlessly interrupted by a bizarre sequence of real and imaginary events within dreams within another complex web of dreams. The film received an Academy Award nomination for Best Foreign Language Film, winning the award. It was nominated for Best Writing, Story and Screenplay Based on Factual Material or Material Not Previously Produced or Published, unfairly losing it against The Candidate (1972).

In Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie, we are offered an extraordinary cast with wonderful performances that play the roles of extremely retarded, snobbish, socially eccentric, morally racist and unbelievably stupid and perfectionist characters. However, it is impossible to hate them. The abundant defects of their respective personalities form a huge monster that could symbolize the totalitarianism of the Catholic Church and the structure of a governmental dictatorship when put together. They are part of a societal monster that slowly eats the guts of the remains of the positive moral conducts. Even so, the delusional events they are found in, the absence of total credibility one as a cinematic viewer may have towards the spectacular events they go through, and the bizarreness of their dreams explode in a cataclysmic outcome of hard guffaws. These sequences are not meant to be taken seriously, nor analyzed in their most literal form. In the same way, the characters are not meant to be important. Nothing around their environment, an environment that consists in tiny little worlds of mansions, snobbishness and ego, is taken seriously by them; nor should we. The complexity of the mind and the subjectivity of the dream realm are the motor that deliciously emphasize the idiocy of their attitudes and the sphere that encapsulates them from living in an honest and respectful manner. In El Ángel Exterminador (1962), their physical antagonist was a room inside the mansion. In this case, the antagonist does not possess a physical form. It has a deeper meaning that explains their utter incapability of bringing down those mental barriers that cause them to be so narrow-minded.

Of course, one element is missing in this delicious satire. They need a motive, an objective that must be constantly interrupted in the most ludicrous way possible. That is the purpose of the dinner. Murder, sex, the lack of coffee and tea, a randomly traumatized soldier who tells his story, a schedule misunderstanding, arrests, the death of a restaurant's manager and other ridicule factors are the ones that end up affecting either the small delicacy of a female protagonist or the food ambition of another male protagonist. Fernando Rey plays the role of the ambassador of Miranda whose name is Don Rafael Acosta, a delusional and self-centered man whose main priorities are the defense of his country despite his dependence on lies and socialism, and to always eat expensive meals. When either his persona or his country is attacked, he immediately arrives to the conclusion that he does not particularly fit in the group of people he is currently having a reunion with. Another comical aspect is the idolization of religious images and how the Catholic Church constantly assumes the role of God performing their own justice, a justice that may not concord with God's will, forgetting they are also humans and sons of God. This is especially highlighted in a scene where a bishop, under the excuse that the church is under constant modifications, asks for the position of a gardener. When he sneaks into the garage and wears the clothing of the gardener job he wants, he is kicked out of the house. However, when he changes to his bishop clothes, he is offered respect and welcome. Once again, the bourgeois class is disguising their horrendous beings with false signs of education towards wealthy social classes and a polite vocabulary, all of this handled with a brilliant sense of humor by Buñuel.

This wonderful auteur is back in his second last surrealist and mindless journey. One cannot deny the brilliance of relativity that Buñuel, after understanding such concept, applied to Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie. Comedy is based on an exaggerated depiction of the defects of man. Comedy appeals to audiences. That is why Viridiana (1961) was banned by authorities. That is why El Ángel Exterminador (1962) was wrongfully criticized. That is why L'Âge d'Or (1930) was forgotten for several decades. It lacked more childish humor so that wealthy social divisions could vociferate "OK, it is a spoof. We may laugh with the film." Moreover, censorship has been under constant modifications, although it still is a problematic factor in the process of filmmaking with evident financial reasons behind. Luis Buñuel is an expressionist. The screenplay he made in collaboration with Jean-Claude Carrière allowed him to exploit the universally accepted moral standards through fully-developed and painfully realistic characters, combining the twisted humor hidden behind a torture scene with a rare mixture of urban, ghostly myths and an orgy of falseness, while the characters blindly think they are walking in a straight line and will get to the end of a path full of flowers and a nice weather. The truth is that they will never arrive to a certain place. The path, full of little obstacles that attract their attention and keep delaying them, will keep going on and on and on... They will never be capable of taking a smarter detour, not to mention a more convenient transportation vehicle.

100/100

"I'm not dying yet. I have to kill quite a few men first."

Yojimbo (1961)

Director: Akira Kurosawa
Country: Japan
Genre: Action / Comedy / Crime / Drama / Thriller
Length: 110 minutes



Famous movies like Sergio Leone's Per un Pugno di Dollari (1964), Sergio Corbucci's Django (1966), Walter Hill's Last Man Standing (1996), Paul McGuigan's Lucky Number Slevin (2006) and Takashi Miike's Sukiyaki Western Django (2007) have two things in common: the first one is that all of the were directly inspired from Dashiell Hammett's suspenseful novel "Red Harvest", and the second one is that all of them borrowed elements present in one of the most celebrated and worshipped films by Akira Kurosawa. The film was also subject to a sequel, also directed by Kurosawa. Yojimbo, however, has a substance that few "cool" and action-oriented films have been able to nail effectively. Consequently, it can be found among the most innovative and undeniably influential samurai films of Japanese cinema. Quentin Tarantino admits it, and Johnnie To acknowledges it. With a powerful leading role, surprisingly dark humor, a brutally hilarious story and a very adequate pace, Yojimbo is one of the several masterpieces by the director, and its mercilessness is highly provocative. Even without the "cool" factor, what remains is an uncompromising work of art.

A wandering, lawless ronin named Sanjuro Kuwabatake arrives in a small village in the late 19th-century Japan. After arriving to an inn, he learns from the innkeeper that the town has been divided between two lords: Seibei, producer of Silk, and Ushitora, producer of sake. Both are constantly fighting against each other while using gangster means in order to protect their respective business. Sanjuro offers his service as a former bodyguard and, while expecting the best offer, he unleashes a violent chaos between the two rival clans. The film received an Academy Award nomination in 1962 for Best Costume Design, Black-and-White, losing the Oscar against La Dolce Vita (1960). Director Akira Kurosawa was nominated for a Golden Lion, which lost against Alain Resnais' L'Année Dernière à Marienbad (1961), and Toshirô Mifune won a Volpi Cup for best actor at the Venice Film Festival of 1961.

When talking about Yojimbo, the first fact that must be clarified about the film is that it is not a usual masterpiece. A samurai film is the least thing that Yojimbo is. The conventional definition of a samurai is broken and it is replaced with a ruthless and crafty masterless, expert swordsman. The only boss of Sanjuro is Sanjuro himself, an appealing concept that Melville would later apply in Le Samouraï (1967). His priorities do not include the option of premeditating his actions before committing them. His neutrality may seem primarily inoffensive, yet his past life remains unknown to the viewer, making of him a completely terrifying and unpredictable character. Since the beginning, he had no predetermined direction. The screenplay suggests that, for some reason, the particular town depicted was the one that fate condemned (perhaps even punished) because, out of "coincidence", Sanjuro had to stumble upon it. Through the eyes of Sanjuro, events happen and they need a solution. His decisions may be confused with motivations of morality; however, such theory is discredited throughout the development of the plot. Justice becomes less interesting than vendetta.

The reasons and intentions behind the famous ronin are unexplainable; they were meant to remain that way. His cold-blooded and attitude that lacks any sign of scruples is masterly propelled through an extraordinary performance by Toshirô Mifune, perhaps even the best performance of his entire filmography. Giant Japanese cinema stars Tatsuya Nakadai and Takashi Shimura also make unforgettable appearances, assuming the roles of Unosuke, the gunfighter and deadly sibling of Ushitora, and Tokuemon, the sake brewer, respectively. Kurosawa's breathtaking art direction that illustrates the lifestyles of the past centuries in Japan has always been a visually astounding achievement. Unlike its incredibly fun sequel, this film is extremely focused on the character development, becoming a film rich in analysis and poor in action. Naturally, ludicrous measures of mindless action were unnecessary, but when Sanjuro enters into action, his skillfulness and cinematically unparalleled ability of swordplay leave audiences gasping for breath. The couple of action scenes are as incredibly, precisely and carefully edited as the suspenseful pistol showdowns of the spaghetti westerns by Sergio Leone.

The principal cultural context of the film is no longer a feudal Japan. Instead, Yojimbo follows the devastating tracks that the Shogunate's breakup of warrior clans in 17th-century Japan had caused, throwing several samurais into poverty and forcing them to continue an aimless destiny. The majority of them had to face undesirable and almost unbearable life conditions; some others were lucky to find individuals who sought for bodyguard protection. Sanjuro does not belong to any of those categories. He blindly sought for his fate and found it. The comedy touch can be appreciated in Sanjuro's emotionless one-liners and memorable dialogues. At some point, Sanjuro saves a family who is crying out of gratitude. After Sanjuro has quickly killed two men and cutting the arm of a third, being the most entertaining and famous scene that features a rather graphic sword dismemberment, he speaks the dialogue "Cooper. Two coffins... No, maybe three." He sais to the family "Stop. Stop crying. It's pathetic." When the family keeps crying with no response, he then sais "I hate pathetic people. I'll have to kill you." Unosuke, on the other hand, is his counterpart, a character that specifically indicates how he feels naked if he goes out without his beloved gun and showing false signs of a supposedly badass personality shooting the town bell.

Yojimbo throws the typical, moralistic samurai code to the garbage and Hammett's novel receives a unique and very original treatment. This time, the nature of the film demanded a minimalist perspective, being massively successful in such task. Just like Mifune's character is uninterested towards the connection existent between actions and consequences, Kurosawa asks us for the first time to leave strict realism aside and to let our minds be captivated by one of the most genius, stereotypical performances of cinema history. Before Clint Eastwood became a famous gunman, Akira Kurosawa is the mastermind behind this delicately existentialist film and Toshirô Mifune is THE man, portraying a character that resembles his past role in Kumonosou-jou (1957) and that leaves the hyperactive stubbornness he had in his persona when he was still the member of a group of seven samurai that helped a hopeless town which rice was constantly stolen by bandits.

100/100

"The failed mind sees the heart's failings..."

RAN (1985)

Director: Akira Kurosawa
Country: Japan / France
Genre: Action / Drama / War
Length: 162 minutes



Ran is a triumphant masterpiece for the modern era. Following the steps that Akira Kurosawa had left behind since 1957 when he had adapted Macbeth in his film Kumonosu-jou (1957), Ran is noticeably different. Both projects are quite commonly compared, yet their respective focus and intentions are highly independent. It is also considered as one of the best and most ambitiously groundbreaking Shakespeare adaptations ever committed to celluloid. Such statement is not derived from the truth, and the main reason can be found in Kurosawa's visionary brilliance and inspirational originality. The attention towards action has considerably increased, imitating the epic samurai films he had created in the past; however, the power of this arguable opus has certain moralistic lessons that can still be applied to the audiences that nowadays abound in the world. That is the main source of Shakespeare's transcendent talent, and that is the main source of Kurosawa's unparalleled direction. With theatrical performances, thought-provoking brutalities and accurately sincere truths, it is one of the best Japanese films ever made, leaving aside its notoriously tragic atmosphere.

Ran is Kurosawa's treatment of King Lear set in sixteenth-century Japan. The Great Lord Hidetora Ichimonji decides to abdicate to his three sons, Taro, Jiro, and Saburo, dividing his fief among them. His last wish is to live out his remaining years as an honored guest in the castle of each of his three sons in turn. However, the older brothers Taro and Jiro conspire against their father, trying to take advantage of Hidetora's retirement and attempting to even take his title while vying for power. On the other hand, the younger and honest son Saburo warns his father and receives hatred and mistreating for trying to confess the truth. The film received 4 Academy Award nominations for Best Costume Design, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Cinematography and Best Director, winning the first award and losing the last one against Sydney Pollack for his overrated film Out of Africa (1985). Surprisingly, the film won 25 wins in total and received 15 other nominations in several film festivals around the world.

This could be fairly called as Kurosawa's last masterpiece. During the 80s, he had the specific characteristic of making each subsequent film as if it was his last one. In Ran, we witness the graciousness of a talented adaptation in order to represent the usual human faults that have always plagued the human nature throughout the decades. However, the typical introspectiveness of Kurosawa is lost; we are no longer taken into the middle of the action, and the minimalism of his past projects has been transformed into cinematic ambition. The main thematic elements of the film are mindless governments, the senselessness of careless overpowerment, madness, ambition, the power of family and the tragically negative implications of the lack of loyalty towards the family. Ran incarnates a modern society where the very nucleus of the society, that is the family, is destroyed, ensuing unstoppable and painful chaos and destruction. Tragedy derived from betrayal is portrayed as a monster that does not need any clear motivations whatsoever; the inexplicableness of human cruelty is the main source.

As Kurosawa explained in a 1985 interview, the secret subject of Ran is the threat of nuclear apocalypse, treating such subject matter as a contemporary edge. It is suggested that the totalitarian control of masses and a violent war as the most necessary and supposedly adequate means to gain power, control, influence, admiration and land are the events that have led the characters (and us) to an inescapable catastrophe and a cruder recent reality. The glorious colored cinematography tries to retake the marvelous technical roots that always mostly defined action-oriented films like Shichinin no Samurai (1954) and the more contemporary Kagemusha (1980), fusing the dazzlingly varied colors of the last film mentioned with the tragic self-destruction of Kumonosu-jou (1957). Moreover, such tragic proportions have been ultimately maximized to an almost never-imagined degree, adopting a filmmaking style of noticeable stillness derived from prolonged shots. These shots hide a very discreet, yet very precise editing, this time taking us out from the middle of the action and witnessing the bloodily visual spectacle from an omniscient point of view, like if God was judging every single action of murder, betrayal, deception and developed warfare.

As one may be led to think, the film is heavily oriented to action, and the notorious dose of violence display is visually charged with spellbinding artistry and significant substance. However, audiences curiously looking after this film specifically because of the action will be disappointed because of their interest being based on the wrong reasons. It is mainly composed by two major battle scenes. Usually the most famous scene and the one that usually stands out is the destructive attack at Saburo's castle. Ran is a parable for the actuality set in the Sengoku period of predominant civil wars, contrasting gorgeously-looking blood sprays with undeniable philosophy and hidden layers of complexity. In the process, a perfect balance between analytical character development and breathtaking action is created, spending more time in the first difficult task. However, the film adopted a much more tragic tone, even scratching the typical realm of melodrama. This outcome is not distractive, and the fact that this masterpiece is directly implying that, considering humankind's lust for power, we could be driven today to similar events to the consequences depicted here, is the true source of terror that asks us to consider that the technological advancement is a much bigger threat than it was before. Madness and insatiable power is just trigger's sparkle.

The extraordinary costume design and the spellbindingly colorful art direction are just visual incentives that end up strengthening the ideals of Ran, "Ran" standing for "chaos". Once more, the concept of "antagonist" is subject to debate and the film itself is an extensively provocative analysis of the implications found inside a lustful, bad-intentioned family. Remarkable and theatrical performances decorate the madness and mayhem ensued from the decisions taken by the three sons, including the one that incarnates human's sincerity, not to mention the makeup that enhances Tatsuya Nakadai's desperation. It is also a testament against political insanity and the ridiculousness that the desperate attempts of family and social redemption involves, especially when an unstoppable chain of reactions has already been irreversibly unleashed. Despite the fact that Kurosawa was aiming towards a much more pretentious material, the power of Ran and its influential capacity has remained intact, orchestrating an opera of heavenly collisions between violins and pianos, and warfare of steel, fire and powder. It is one of the best films of all times. This is Kurosawa's furious manifesto.

100/100

- Isn't life disappointing?
- Yes, it is.

TÔKYÔ MONOGATARI (1953)

Director: Yasujiro Ozu
Country: Japan
Genre: Drama
Length: 136 minutes



Japan may be the superlative country for creating timeless masterpieces, which may be a daring and controversial statement that may originate debate. However, Yasujiro Ozu reportedly belongs among the greatest directors of all time, exposing simple and honest ideas about life itself in the purest form possible. Tôkyô Monogatari officially ranks as one of the best films ever made in cinema history. The reasons are as abundant and justifiable as they are commonly accepted. In a time where Eastern culture was inspired by tales regarding honor, bravery, existentialism and a strong Buddhist influence in films (specially since the 50's), Ozu directs a strong contender for the most heartwarming, reflexive, humanist and quietly peaceful drama ever conceived within cinema.

Tôkyô Monogatari deals with a pretty simple plot set in postwar Tokyo, where an old couple decides to take a vacation and visit their children and grandchildren in the city: the Hirayama family. However, they soon find out that their own children have no time for them, seemingly due to their busy and productive lives. Since the parents unintentionally are in the way of the children the whole time, they end up being sent to a health spa in an attempt of getting rid of them. Epiphanic self realizations and haunting consequences torment all of the characters in their own way according to their role within the family and particular actions once that tragedy inevitably ensues.

The humanist vision and unique direction of Ozu has always been admired and this is, perhaps, his most representative and personal classic film. The contrast present between the parent's home and the city is perfectly synchronized with the contrast between their tender, mature and loving personalities and the selfishness, ingratitude, egocentrism and emotional insensitivity of their own family with which they are horribly welcomed. There is no acting in this film, but just characters. The actresses and actors become their own characters to portray and add an incredible dose of credibility and naturalism. From the selfish and uninterested characters to the loving and caring ones, including a compassionate and beautiful widowed daughter in law who smiles with every phrase and statement she makes until she submits herself to the healing and moving power of tears, we are offered a complete and compelling dramatic story that invites to deep reflection, a characteristic that was successfully represented through the performances of the brilliant cast.

The cinematography is as peaceful and harmonic as the pace of the film. Both are slow, but enchanting, and enhance the ironic beauty of life itself. The camera, instead of focusing on "where we are", shows "what is there" and explains the emotions that can be found in both the characters and the environment. It doesn't require a hyperactive movement throughout, but an emphasis on the hypnotic power of locations and landscapes and on facial expressions, as if they were prioritized. Kojun Saitô's lovable work for the musical score is relaxingly respectable, an effort that allowed maximizing the emotions and ideas transmitted through the film including its technical aspects, which is as simple and classically common for its time as the story. The screenplay developed by Yasujiro Ozu and Kôgo Noda is fascinating, not because of its poetic brilliance and simplicity, but because of its effort to create completely human characters and for adding a tremendous power to the overall cinematic feeling of the film, which resorted to situations that, ironically, may appeal to modern audiences in even a more significant way that it did back in the 50's.

At first glance, Tôkyô Monogatari may not seem the great masterpiece it really is. Stereotypes and clichés in modern films, among several other negatively affecting influential factors, have deteriorated not only the classic and decent form of filmmaking and direction that existed in the first decades since cinema was created, but also the very image of cinema itself. Cinema was originated from the use of a camera that documented seconds of real-life events, until the idea of fiction came up, allowing the birth of a genre called drama, as it was an already existent concept since theatre and literature were existent arts. The purpose of drama was to depict fictional stories with empathetic characters that, thanks to the unstoppable force and irony of destiny, had to face determined believable situations, some of them which mirrored real life. That was exactly the purpose of Yasujiro Ozu through Tôkyô Monogatari, among other drama artworks that he had already done and would do later, from dramatic comedies like Otana no Miru Ehon - Umarete wa Mita Keredo (1932) to dramas like Ukigusa (1959).

Tôkyô Monogatari naturally deals with common topics such as self-acceptance, family's love and rejection and the possible outcomes of mortality, topics which supposedly prioritized importance are frequently ignored. It is a social criticism set in times of destruction and necessary reconstruction, where the catastrophic consequences of war, politics and the thirst for power caused such a wonderfully intellectual and artistically cultured country to plan a new beginning for itself after a noticeable economical, social and spiritual downfall. The parents unconsciously represent the past and classic lifestyle of Japan, where the simplicity of life predominated and irrevocably included family love without excluding the possible purposes of life, whereas their younger family and children portray the lost hope of a nation submerged in modernism. The roots (that is, origins) of a life style are always homage around the world according to the customs of every country and region, and Tôkyô Monogatari perhaps does the same thing, establishing a connection to the past and the changes and modifications that actuality has forced humanity to go through and assimilate.

Tôkyô Monogatari is a modest, yet gigantic triumph, as well as a landmark in Japanese cinema. The greatest masterpiece of Ozu according to the majority's opinion, including mine, has left a legacy that will be kept for decades to come, just like it has been kept until nowadays. Although it may not exactly be the most accessible film for Western culture, it is undeniably moving and inevitably appealing, like a screaming wake-up-call for modern audiences who have forgotten faith and hope and lost the original vision we as human beings had towards the world when we were kids and, interestingly, people from past decades, where existence seemed to have enough challenges of its own with a fast and modernized constant progress. It works as a drama film, as a morality story, as a reflection on mortality and life purposes, as a family tale, as a heartwarming piece of cinema, and, ultimately, as a Tokyo story.

100/100

"The finest silk / Of choicest hue / May change and fade away / As would my life / Beloved one / If thou shouldst prove untrue."

UGETSU MONOGATARI (1953)

Director: Kenji Mizoguchi
Country: Japan
Genre: Drama / Fantasy
Length: 94 minutes



Kenji Mizoguchi's quiet, yet hauntingly inspiring introduction to his epic tales of gigantically epic proportions set in ancient times begins with Ugetsu Monogatari, a film unanimously hailed as one of the greatest cinematic masterworks in the history of the motion picture and a landmark in Japanese cinema, becoming Mizoguchi's most extraordinary achievement. Resorting to a high dose of humanism, euphoric nostalgia, imaged illusions and blind ambitions, Ugetsu Monogatari is the classic cinematic ghost tale of Japan, a story of unparalleled power and underlying shocking messages aimed towards worldwide masses. Introducing a filmmaking style that would just happen to be completely perfected in a future cinematic project called Sanshô Dayû (1954), which is his most powerful and redeeming odyssey of unequaled existentialist and dramatic proportions, Ugetsu Monogatari, a film which title was widely popularized as "Tales of a Pale and Mysterious Moon After the Rain" with the possible purpose of enhancing the natural and implied mysticism of this prime opera, constitutes a true homage and a poetic reminder of the ancient Japanese society and the most human factors that weaken our condition and increase our tendency to perdition, confusion, non-prioritized personal wishes and to walk through the paths of inevitable consequences. Beauty, once again, falls in love with a predominant hell.

Opening in a small village set in times of the civil wars of 16th-century Japan, two peasants, Genjuro and his brother-in-law Tobei, ambition to build their own fortunes despite the constant warnings of their respective wives. Whereas Genjuro dedicates his life to the business of pottery, Tobei wants to become a world class samurai. After their village is attacked by plundering armies and the kiln of Genjuro is unbelievably left undestroyed, they decide to escape from their home and try to make fortunes in the big city, which is already a risky decision. While Tobei decides to accompany Genjuro so he can buy a spear and a samurai suit for himself, Genjuro leaves Miyagi and his son in the middle of their journey, sending then home and promising to come back. Later on, Tobei abandons his wife, splitting the family business plan and starting to slowly unfold catastrophic consequences. It is here when Lady Kasaka, a wealthy and certainly creepy noblewoman, becomes interested in Genjuro's pottery and asks him to visit the Katsuki mansion. The movie received an Academy Award nomination for Best Costume Design, Black-and-White in 1956 and Kenji Mizoguchi won the Silver Lion at the Venice Film Festival in 1953.

Perhaps this film being the 78th piece of filmmaking by Japanese master Kenji Mizoguchi implies experience. It certainly is a towering achievement, which ultimately would be surpassed the next year. The direction, as simple as it may seem, starts to evolve through quietness and hypnotic visual cinematography with prolonged sequences of silence, songs, dancing, nature, drama and water, thanks to its classic and haunting plot. Kazuo Miyagawa, talented cinematographer of films by Akira Kurosawa and Yasujiro Ozu such as Rashômon (1950), Ukigusa (1959) and Yojimbo (1961), shows the first sign of poetic brilliance through the construction of beautifully captured frames and wide shots, providing an aesthetically balanced feeling of tranquility and increasing tension, culminating in nostalgia. Mizoguchi seemingly felt necessary to portray a very Japanese atmosphere adapting, with the screenwriter Yoshikata Yoda, two ghost stories from the eighteenth century by Akinari Ueda called "Tales of Moonlight" and "Rain", adding personal elements of his own. This is the point where the screenplay becomes an inspirational piece of writing which perfectly fitted into the film and where the direction of Mizoguchi is split into two visionary styles. On one hand, we can fully appreciate the classic Japanese society at its fullest expression with a predominant feeling of homage towards the beauty of ancient times, thus exalting the sympathy towards the characters. On the other hand, we have various camera angles depicting the otherworldly, the supernatural concept applied by Eastern culture to the term and definition of ghost, relating it to an evil and malicious entity since it does not belong to earthly life anymore, as well as the consequences of submitting our conscience to false illusions.

This is where the haunting introductory soundtrack, which is used in ghastly sequences throughout the film later on, prepares the viewer for a supernatural experience dominated by beauty. It is true that Ugetsu Monogatari depicts characters whose false decisions become the very foundations of their respective epiphanies and culminating personal dooms, not to mention the ignorance towards the truth and the rejection of past errors. However, the story and main purpose of the film ends up focusing on Genjuro, the man who witnesses a supernatural event. Illusions, being these material or imaginary, are the ones that tend to blind and seduce our own consciousness, separating the soul and the mind from what should be important and prioritized, from a pottery business to the unconditional love of a good wife.

Irony is present all the way through, especially at the end. The typical ambition that complicates the successful and honorable achievement of personal goals was a vital aspect for the plot's development, particularly for enlightening the precarious decisions made from beginning to end that would result in tragedy. Even if we put an imaginary shield in front of us in order to avoid being attacked by strong and unbearable consequences, the effects of our actions will never go away if we are not willing to reject evil once and for all. Although unfaithfulness pushed the limits of Genjuro so he could fall in love with a gorgeous and seductive ghost, he decided to write a sacred text tattoo all over his body so he could push the whost away despite being warned about his situation and him having a wife. This decision does not make any sense at all, and it is not far away from believability since we consider that the ambition for richness was a principal motor that moved the wheels of the vehicle of destruction.

The movie itself is timeless and uses fantasy as a false image of the mind, a reality of a society set in any time in history. Mizoguchi understands this concept and applies it to cinema in a feast for the senses, relying on the beauty of every frame the film contains instead on a dose of terror. Family bonds and the supposed relevance of family union aren't excluded as key elements of the plot, but Ugetsu Monogatari, deservingly referred to as one of the best films ever made, is cinematic brilliance turned into gold for the soul, a cathartic experience of powerful influence.

100/100

Review coming someday...

100/100

"Drinking this expensive sake is like paying myself back with poison for the way I lived all these years."

IKIRU (1952)

Director: Akira Kurosawa
Country: Japan
Genre: Drama
Length: 143 minutes



Leaving the crime moviemaking aside and focusing on effusive sentimentality, Japanese master Akira Kurosawa continues with the films that may be interpreted as the fortunate and the equivocal foundations of the human nature. This time, Ikiru is the ultimately heartbreaking masterpiece he directs, accompanying his visionary talent with nearly unparalleled cinematographic dramatism. Establishing the cathartic bases that would influence Ingmar Bergman for directing Smultronstället (1957), we are confronted with a heartbreaking and spiritually challenging journey of deep reflection and self-discovery. Introspectiveness is the main keyword that defines the filming style, almost reaching a neorealist tone. Despite this, it is Kurosawa's brilliance and delicacy the ones that allow Ikiru to hold an eternal and immortal remembrance, not only as a groundbreaking project of humanism, but also as a benign model of influential standards of a healthy and productive lifestyle. With an unforgettable leading role, it is considered, fairly enough, as one of the best films that Kurosawa ever directed, not to mention one of the best made dramas in cinema history.

The film takes place in post-war Tokyo and focuses on the story of a bureaucratic chief of department of the City Hall named Kanji Watanabe. As several members of the office, he spends his life doing relatively nothing. He is forced to reflect on the meaning of his existence when he is diagnosed with stomach cancer, trying to reestablish communication with the members of his family and finding companionship with a town novelist and with a peculiar young woman from his office. Latterly, his sudden change of attitude and his assertiveness in his job is discussed, utterly influencing other workers. Director Akira Kurosawa won the Special Prize of the Senate of Berlin at the Berlin International Film Festival of 1954.

Unlike in Bergaman's Smultronstället (1957), the transformation that the main character experiences in Ikiru is subject to an irreversible fate. Isak Borg experiences an epiphany derived from a sequence of surrealistic, horrific dreams; Kanji Watanabe has the certainty of his death, even owning an approximate idea of his time left. During his final days, his conscience urges him to obtain moralistic and spiritual redemption through the reestablishment of communication with those that had a determined relevance in his life. The fact of him being a chief of department enhances the idea of the futility of his life, living encapsulated in a scheduled and habitual sequence of meaningless actions. The first questioning that the film imposes to audiences of any generation is: "What do you need to wake up, open your eyes and start living?" Living through constant exhibitions of gratitude without being too effusive or sarcastic is the main message. Is a terminal cancer diagnosis the only means to begin finding significance in the existence of oneself? A deep analysis follows.

As an examination, its attention to the psychological detail of the protagonist is very thorough. It is thanks to the masterful performance by Takashi Shimura that we realize of his true troubled, existentialist nature. The remaining parts of his past attitude is scattered throughout the opinions that several of the workers provide. However, the heavy dose of drama the film acquires is finally strengthened during the most heart-wrenching "happy birthday" sequence ever filmed. People start to remember the predominant faults of Watanabe and the consequences they had in his life; perhaps unintentionally, they proceed to describe his sudden assertiveness in his seemingly boring and senseless work and realize the influence he started to have on them. The strongest cathartic element may rely on the fact that there are still several Kanji Watanabes propagated throughout the globe, some of them experiencing the futility of depression and anger unfairly executed on others, and the rest drawing a new map of their lives. A curmudgeon old man is transformed into a man who forcedly had to gather the pros of his life, the cons, and weigh them on a balance. We know the result, yet we are not capable of understanding it. We do not have the exact measure either. However, we do get to see a particular consequence: Watanabe singing a personal tune while sitting and going back and forth on the swing under the heaviness of the night rain.

The nearly two-and-a-half-hour length is justified since it even provides the time rapidness of life. When we look back, our destiny has set a certain course. Consciously or not, we either took an appropriate one or a self-destructive one. Akira Kurosawa and his movingly talented screenplay collaborators Shinobu Hashimoto and Hideo Oguni perfectly nail the message of the film without being too melodramatic, yet assigning the correct dose of heartwarming thoughts, even inducing the viewer to shed tears more than once. It is a strong learning experience which effectiveness still applies to the modern era. A gorgeous black-and-white cinematography maximizes an unbearable depression while we see the last chapters of the protagonist's life. Visiting a renowned novelist and finding emotional void and disappointment, walking through the local post-war streets of Tokyo, spending time with a young woman from his office that shows him a toy rabbit, exploring the city hall and playgrounds while dedicatedly designing a city park as the last meaningful action before departing, we are invited to contemplate the adventures and misadventures of a human being... and nothing more.

With a memorable musical score and a neorealist photography, this extensive analytical masterpiece is a reminder of a simple fact: the cycle of life is unstoppable. However, this cycle is an immediate object of our crassness and our preposterously blind lack of optimism. Joy can be found in every corner, from the personal testament of a mistreated child that is now living a much happier and fulfilling life to a toy rabbit that may constitute the missing spark of happiness. Death is not presented in a macabre tone; instead, it is presented as the vehicle of a meaningful epiphany, as the promoter of a healthier lifestyle, as the flame that triggers the rope of a megaton of never-ending life appreciation. Exalting the human condition and condemning the loss of time derived from a spherical group of habits that, when put together, form part of a psychologically claustrophobic whole, Ikiru is one of the most outstanding pieces of Japanese cinema that could have only been orchestrated by a master of visual tragedy. After all, the literal translation of "Ikiru" is "to live"...

100/100

"God does not foresake forever. He may punish, yet he will have compassion. He does not willingly afflict the children of men."

AU HASARD BALTHAZAR (1966)

Director: Robert Bresson
Country: France
Genre: Crime / Drama
Length: 95 minutes



Before the French New Wave could be formally established, a director named Robert Bresson suddenly appears for the sake of French cinema and starts to consolidate his overwhelmingly unusual direction style, a style that would earn him worldwide recognition and a strong Catholic sensation throughout his filmography that first began in 1951 with his film Journal d'un Curé de Campagne (1951) and that would be utterly strengthened with a possibly intentional human condition trilogy consisting of his three most powerful masterpieces: Pickpocket (1959), Au Hasard Balthazar and Mouchette (1967). Au Hasard Balthazar is arguably his definite and most representative cinematic masterwork and his most emotionally compelling piece of work. Representing the second part of a trilogy, Bresson, perhaps forcedly, attempts to create an epiphany and self-reflection for the film's varied and challenging audience through an element that could be related to the religion of Catholicism and that could easily be a reflection (or a clear representation) of purity, innocence and transcendence, a main purpose that would be mirrored with the character Mouchette in his next film.

Intentionally, Au Hasard Balthazar follows the story of an unfairly mistreated donkey, initially christened under the name of Balthazar, that goes through different hardships it inevitably has to face as it is being passed from owner to owner, becoming a beast of burden. Its chaotic events that lack all sense of peace and justice are paralleled with those of Marie, the first owner of Balthazar, who also is brutally injured, physically and psychologically, by the force of fate. Robert Bresson won the OCIC Award at the Venice Film Festival in 1966.

Bresson's seemingly simple direction style can be justly classified as an underlying epitome of giant dramatic proportions rather than unrealistically dull. His beautifully composed frames and almost surrealistically written screenplays consequently represent the complexity of life itself, a life that tends to be crueler and more complicated as our own preconception tends to perceive it. Perhaps unconsciously having directing characteristics of the ones Jean Cocteau (La Belle et la Bête [1946], Orphée [1950]) and Henri-Georges Clouzot (Le Salaire de la Peur [1953], Les Diaboliques [1955]) possessed, Bresson focuses more on the plot development and the catastrophic consequences that human actions tend to attract, whether we are ready to accept them or not. Just as the proudly European filmmaker Bresson is, his greatly noticeable Catholic influence is used as a positively cooperative factor that only serves to enlighten its shocking, but true message. Purity and innocence will have everlasting life.

The witty and skillful editing present in Pickpocket (1959) is finally simplified, but beautified at the same time, contrasting its natural fluency with an even improved cinematography, thanks to the remarkable work of Ghislain Cloquet (Nuit et Brouillard [1955], Love and Death [1975]). A most poetical soundtrack is offered for the first time within Bresson's filmography, resorting to both cinematic classical music and the Piano Sonata No. 20, by Franz Schubert, an unusual technique considering the director. This element only helped to heighten the honesty of the feature film, contrasting the modern times (in the case of the film, the 60's) with rural landscapes depicting a simpler life, yet also irrevocably corrupted, thus daringly portraying the human nature. Once more, Bresson seeks naturalness in his cast formed by nonprofessional actors. Curiously enough, the performances did not end up in stiffness and unrealism, but in honesty and fully developed characters, including the untrained donkey, an animal that became a real challenge for the director to handle.

Stepping aside from the French New Wave in a similar way Alain Resnais (Hiroshima mon Amour [1959], L'Année Dernière à Marienbad [1961]) did, Bresson intended to construct an influential and independent oeuvre. Passing from Dostoyevskyan literary inspirations to the undeniable power of the true religion, Au Hasard Balthazar is no more than a powerful essay on saintliness and Catholicism, not mentioning a project that passionately supported transcendence and virtue. Without being a strictly religious film, the donkey Balthazar is used as an element of injustice, resembling a Christlike figure, a living being that suffered and was mistreated thanks to the sins of man, but that bravely and nobly accepts its unstoppable destiny. Marie is not a character name being by coincidence, since such statement is strengthened by the fact that Marie is its first owner, the one that baptized Balthazar and is inevitably separated from his "son". The fortitude of the easily corruptible human soul is masterly mirrored by an animal, leading to the conclusion that human beings are animal beings as well from a biological (and spiritual) point of view, despite our ability to develop intellect. It is this same intellect and exaggerated feeling of self-empowerment the one that leads to a catastrophic corruption of the spirit, thus executing a fascist and manipulative will over those individuals that, under our false and pretentious perspective, are inferior to us.

As a part of a trilogy, it is a very interesting chapter. Culminating with one of the most beautiful endings ever filmed along with Mouchette (1967), Au Hasard Balthazar has two very different protagonists. Whereas the fate of Marie is left unclear, the fate of Balthazar is not, a fate that is completely surrounded by a Gospel-like symbolic connotation where the lambs seemingly accompany Balthazar in a heartbreaking ending sequence. People are described by Jesus as confused lambs without a shepherd, being God the shepherd of his sons. Mary does not accompany Jesus during his passion; Marie departs ways with Balthazar. Whereas Michel's fate in Pickpocket (1959) is also left to uncertainty, Mouchette's fate is tragically shown on the face of the spectator in a wonderful parable form of trial and error. Skeptical people also sought Jesus in order to see Him perform miracles and understand what they were not meant to understand, Faith being a concept that surpassed their comprehension. Balthazar is, in one particular sequence, used as a form of circus entertainment and amazement.

As an obvious middle chapter and certainly the most reflexive, Bresson wrote and directed a powerful commentary against the non-modifiable influence of a surrounding society, no matter where it is located. It is the saintliness and the strength of the human spirit the one that can be used as the most powerful and non-harmful weapon against a world that has already submitted itself to sadism and injustice. That is why Au Hasard Balthazar is one of the most heartbreaking and influential French films of all time. Ultimately, it is an unforgettable movie and a strikingly prophetic filmmaking sample of Claude Berri's Jean de Florette (1986).

100/100

Review coming someday...

100/100

"I'm an unstable psychotic individual with perverted tendencies."

LES QUATRE CENTS COUPS (1959)

Director: François Truffaut
Country: France
Genre: Drama
Length: 99 minutes



François Truffaut's first feature is perhaps his most famous one. You may attribute this fact to its very characteristic melodrama, a similarity it shared with several worldwide movies of the same year. However, Les Quatre Cents Coups is arguably the director's best film, a gorgeous piece of art that combined the devastating proportions of the Italian neorealism and the innovative features of the French New Wave. This time, the element used to contrast the humankind's original state of purity with the adulthood's moral corruption is an adolescent, a little young man whose perspective towards a brighter world is not compatible with the present reality. The result is a heartbreaking drama as honest and sincere as it can get. Complexity, once more, is originated from simplicity. The nature of the film has been numerously referenced even nowadays, but its sheer power and realistic depiction of the consequences of an abandoned soul since its youth is what gives Les Quatre Cents Coups the great honor of belonging to a list where the best films of all time can be found.

Antoine Doinel is a 14-year-old Parisian boy who constantly lacks the proper attention and love of his parents; consequently, he keeps skipping school so he can go to the city?s fair and to the movie theater with his friends. However, he soon discovers that her mother has been having an affair. Under so much pressure and lack of comprehension, he decides to steal a typewriter and is suspended from school. This particular chain of events will have a very important meaning in the life of Antoine, a meaning he will understand sooner or later. The film received an Academy Award nomination for Best Writing, Story and Screenplay - Written Directly for the Screen, losing it against Pillow Talk (1959). François Truffaut was nominated for the Golden Palm at the Cannes Film Festival of 1959, losing it against Marcel Camus for his film Orfeu Negro (1959). However, Truffaut won the OCIC Award and a prize for Best Director.

The streets of Paris are represented from a dramatic perspective. A full French society ? its capital city ? is represented so its degrading characteristics and the already-decaying innocence of Antoine can be utterly contrasted. An immediate comparison with Robert Bresson's Pickpocket (1959) may inevitably arise because of its Dostoyevskyan approach to the topic considering his novel "Crime and Punishment". On a personal note, it is a very interesting analysis since both films have as its main character a person who decides to take the criminal, yet seemingly easiest path with the sole purpose of fitting in their surrounding environment. Nonetheless, whereas Michel makes a living out of it, Antoine has not the proper age for becoming an independent person yet. His main problem is his family, the relevant nucleus of the society that hides him some truths and treats him unfairly without any significant love. A very accurate psychological reaction the youth have under these circumstances is to gain attention through any means possible. That is why the final decision of Antoine is plot wise justified, despite being a universally rejected action under determined moral standards.

Unlike neorealism, Paris is not represented as a city in chaos. It may mirror the depiction of the village Bresson decided to film in a more recent movie: Mouchette (1966). French drama as a genre always showed a conflict through a very cathartic symbol, which would be either a boy or a child. They are put in very peculiar situations that are out of their reach for controlling the upcoming consequential events. In the case of Antoine, he consciously kept making decisions: to skip school, to go to the movies, to steal. On the other hand, he never decided when and where to be born. He wasn't given the choice of deciding his biological family. None of us can. Because of the treatment and humiliation he receives, the parental figures lose any sign of authority and positive influence over him. Such events are not easy to show on a film, but Truffaut was very aware of the fact that a character study implicates several varying factors that directly depends on the individual's unrepeated personality. He is emotionally forced to perform actions he may not have wanted to perform in the first place. A movie theater cannot fill the emptiness inside him. Mechanical games and the fun of having friends will never compensate the absence of happiness his parents stand for, since they are the most important human relationship he will be able to have in his life.

Because of this intense cause-and-consequence relationship portrayal, the film presents its conclusion with one of the most surprisingly beautiful and arguably devastating endings ever put to film, a long shot that does not have to show any single frame more. The ending may symbolize the search of hope and freedom that material means never allowed him to obtain. Whether a worse fate still waits for him or he manages to acquire independent liberty, it is an irrelevant fact. The religion that heavily plays its implicit role may also be a factor the viewer will want to take into consideration. The purpose of the poetical cinematography is to reflect either the ugliness or the visual beauty of the landscapes and the filming locations, not to mention the strong tension of the atmospheric family dinner scenes. The modesty of the screenplay, a modesty that hides a great amount of literary talent, enlightens the weakness and the corruptibleness of the human condition. A fully-developed character is offered to the film thanks to an extraordinary performance by the young actor Jean-Pierre Léaud, a performance which talent and effect where relied on believable and natural reactions and facial expressions rather than screams, tears and endless monologues. The technical aspects did not precisely ask for an exaggerated perfection. It is the Italian feeling the plot itself provided to the film the one that makes Les Quatre Cents Coups to shine.

François Truffaut managed to construct a grand drama masterpiece in his first attempt. Cinema could not have offered him a better welcome to the fantastic world of moviemaking. The Parisian streets weep and the sound of the waves run along Antoine in Les Quatre Cents Coups, perhaps his most successful, popular and groundbreaking feature film. The people have the least interest in surrounding Antoine, but the film surrounds him. It protects him. It understands him. This experience may also provide a strong cathartic epiphany throughout its running length; it is one of the main risks the viewer will be subject to. Even so, it is not a negative aspect. Les Quatre Cents Coups makes the French New Wave to show its sentimental side, and it ends up being an adorable film, an easy-to-treasure European gem. 1959 is one of the best years cinema has ever experienced, and this is just one more solid proof.

100/100

"I can finally quit my job as a fruit seller due to ths job that I have done which I am not proud of but has improved my style of life, no?"

MAMMA ROMA (1962)

Director: Pier Paolo Pasolini
Country: Italy
Genre: Drama
Length: 110 minutes



Scandal and controversy always pursued him, recognized because supposed cinematic obscenity and constantly attacked by both the Left and the Right, Italian auteur Pier Paolo Pasolini always prioritized the expression of his ideas through an early neorealist style and a latter politically shocking form throughout his filmic career. The underrated and charmingly effective Mamma Roma is his second feature film, an Italian gem that resorted to the classic Italian neorealism, paying a gorgeous homage to the works of Vittorio de Sica (Ladri di Biciclette [1948], Umberto D. [1952]), Federico Fellini (La Strada [1954], Le Notti di Cabiria [1957]) and Roberto Rosellini (Roma, Città Aperta [1945], Germania Anno Zero [1948]). The techniques would be repeated, yet majorly perfected in Il Vangelo Secondo Matteo before reaching the level of his famous Mythical Cycle. As amateur and referential as it may seem at first glance, this catastrophically gorgeous Italian gem reflects the ability of past filmmakers of accurately portraying on screen the devastating effects of a massive war, the resulting spiritual perdition and a much more stronger influence of Catholicism, a characteristic that would clearly distinguish Pasolini through his projects, not to mention it mixed such concept with predominately Marxist ideals. This time, a melodramatic tale is transformed in a nostalgic tale with that notoriously moving power of human relationships.

Extremely talented Italian actress Anna Magnani returns to the big screen of Europe and brilliantly portrays the character of Mamma Roma, a middle-aged whore of the capital city of Italy. Destiny partially favors her and allows her to buy a fruit stand and an upper class apartment so she can move with her 16-year-old son Ettore, retiring from the prostitution. However, Ettore is a rebel young man who has no interest towards studying and having healthy relationships, causing her mother to revive some tragic consequences of her past life. Pier Paolo Pasolini was nominated for a Golden Lion at the Venice Film festival, losing it against Andrei Tarkovsky's Ivanovo Detstvo (1962) and Valerio Zurlini's Cronaca Familiare (1962).

Despite the genre and the filmmaking branch it directly belongs, the film corrects most of the justified technical failures that films of past decades had precisely because of the effects of the Second World War. It intentionally adds the cinematographic charms of the most significant and relevant neorealist movies and Pasolini establishes his trademark from beginning to end, thus indicating a new period in his direction. It was a clear and simple sign of a search for the correct style for expressing his perspective towards an anarchic world. Mamma Roma is a sample that homages can be moving pieces of art, and that experimentation has always been a daring branch of filmmaking that can either bring brilliant or terrible results, with no middle ground. Despite its melodramatic touch and a very characteristic Oedipal approach, a controversial feature that would be present in his latest films like Teorema (1968) and Il Fiore delle Mille e una Notte (1974), the emotional empathy it provides is an everlasting result to remember for the rest of the days of cinema itself.

The brilliantly executed camera work gently oscillating from street to street compensates an average, but pleasurable black-and-white cinematography. Anna Magnani radiates an enormous presence throughout the film?s length, providing one of the best and most memorable female leading roles in cinema history, a statement that is no exaggeration. Her talent is still present and makes both the character and the plot work completely. Despite being a very dedicated woman who somewhat represents prostitution as a job worth of respect and a deplorable one under the standards of society, she is still the model mother that the world universally accepts as admirable. Having a son that is going through the tight path, she puts every single sweat drop so she can correct his path before it?s too late. He represents her pride, joy and fortitude; he is the strongest human connection she will ever have and, as the responsible mother she wants to be, she would be capable of going through any hardship so his son can learn the best qualities of the world in a hostile environment. Mamma Roma can be interpreted as the incarnation of a destroyed Rome trying to raise its sons: the citizens of Italy through times of hardships and constant moral and financial obstacles.

The screenplay of the film has a notorious talent. It is poetically written and makes the best possible transitions between scenes and close-ups to the characters, one technique that Fellini began to learn how to perfect it in 1960 with the film La Dolce Vita. It draws a marriage between the camera and the dialogues, like if the film were trying to imitate the joy that life can transmit. It has an effective story development and it has a strong climax, with an ending scene that does not need to show one more single frame than the ones it shows. More than an open ending, it is a direct invitation to the viewer to reflect the correctness of the moral that is mainly accepted as "right". What gives the write to man to take vengeance and justice into his own hands? The motives remain unclear, but an explanation is not required. Man?s cruelty and incomprehension of others? problems is the main issue treated throughout. It costs a lot of effort and guts to wear the shoes of any other person that has to face several hardships and lives under inferior life conditions, especially when we are not meant to live them, either because of divine intervention, how prepared we would be for it, psychologically speaking, or just because we would miserably fail.

Mamma Roma is an underrated masterpiece. Its merits acquitted Pasolini delayed fame and recognition. It is a powerful manifesto of the people surrounding a wealthy and morally incorrect society judging lower classes with neither solid nor valid arguments whatsoever. Pasolini was still constructing a vision, but he left several masterpieces along that complex road and Mamma Roma is not an exception. It can be rightfully considered as one of the best Italian films of the decade, wonderful in its own sense and wittily naïve talent through an experienced scope.

99/100

"Oh Jeanne, in order to reach you... what a strange way I had to take..."

Pickpocket (1959)

Director: Robert Bresson
Country: France
Genre: Crime / Drama / Thriller
Length: 75 minutes



Pickpocket is definitely one of the most attractive and appealing masterpieces of Robert Bresson, not necessarily his most accessive. The first part of an (unintentional?) human condition trilogy set on a modern France, treating themes such as the corruption of a society and the powerlessness solitude causes in the soul, is a powerful call to human epiphany about his social status and the purity of the mere spirit, where either goodness or hipocrisy predominates.

Pickpocket is the seemingly simple (but emotionally compelling) story about Michel, a common crook who quietly walks through the streets and public spaces of France. After being released from jail and serving a sentece for thievery, he resorts to the questionale art of pickpocketing as a means of survival, teaming up with two other small time thieves. The question that remains is whether he will choose an honest life in the future or submit his soul to his overwhelming addiction. The film was nominated for the Golden Berlin Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival in 1960, losing against El Lazarillo de Tormes (1959), directed by César Fernández Ardavín.

This is the first time Robert Bresson shows his slow-paced direction with such style that it is almost impossible to empathize with the main character in a similar way Bresson implicitly suggests its omnipresent audience to despise and reject all forms of dishonesty.Naturally, this lead Bresson to resort to an adaptation of Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, developing the screenplay for himself, a script that cautiously follows the step of Michel (Martin La Salle) through his complete transfrmation.

The type of thievery depicted in the film is not, by all means, a completely rejectable act. It sure is a voluntary form of corruption and thievery which procedure totally lacks moral, but thanks to its quick and unusually stylish editing, it is portrayed almost as an artful activity. Michel's is inevitably submerged into the unfairness of his surrounding society, mirroring his future projects Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) and Mouchette (1967), but the "Crime and Punishment - Bresson style" urges the audience to face any hardship life dares to present rather than to submitting our souls to obvious upcoming tragic consequences.

It was rather necessary to leave Michel's fate unexplained at the end. It is shown what it was meant to be shown, offering a terrific and open-to-interpretation final one-liner, a perfect film's closure for the character's personality and overall psychology. Bresson had a terrific purpose in mind, going beyond the simple cause and consequence relationship, paralleled with the crime and punishment connection Dostoyevsky primarily showed in his masterful novel. A masterpiece in its own genre and a daring adaptation, Pickpocket is a compelling drama with a resulting unconventional romance, despite the stiffness of the performances.

93/100

"New York Herald Tribune!"

À BOUT DE SOUFFLE (1960)

Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Country: France
Genre: Crime / Drama / Romance / Thriller
Length: 90 minutes



The title of "Breathless" is pretty self explanatory. The French New Wave had barely begun approximately five years ago, and Jean-Luc Godard was audacious and adventurous enough to portray his cinematic style in its most complete way in his first film. À Bout de Souffle contains every technical aspect, every charming detail and every single auteur frame that distinguished Godard as a revolutionary of cinema. At the end of terms, it may be referential cinema. However, its quirkiness and extreme improvisatory feeling allowed the art of filmmaking to be capable of taking elements that clearly distinguished the pop culture of the time, referencing famous stars and personalities and applying a unique signature. The cinematic movement that allowed France to be recognized as a stylish and gorgeously stereotypical country through its films was subject to an extreme boost precisely with À Bout de Souffle, a film that celebrates the unexpected outcomes of life, the animal and irrational impulse that love may cause (thus erasing any possible logical consequence) and exalting the human condition in the most romantic way possible, not necessarily resorting to an exaggerated portrayal of romance and melodrama, but relying on the effect that incongruent, yet realistic reactions of the film protagonists may ultimately cause on an audience.

The film opens with an impulsive and careless sociopath named Michel Poiccard, a man as passionate as love itself who loves to imitate the characteristic facial gestures of the famous actor Humphrey Bogart. He makes a living stealing cars and reselling them to Paris. After stealing a car and murdering the motorcycle policeman who had been pursuing him without any premeditation of his actions whatsoever, he flees to Paris and asks for money to an old girlfriend of his. However, he soon renews his relationship with a beautiful American girl. Her name is Patricia Franchini, an aspiring journalist who will be under the constant flattering and unprofessional romantic behavior of Michel despite his face being on the media while being chased by the authorities. On his plan of performing a getaway to Italy, the lives of the protagonists will soon be facing an unpredictable series of inevitable events. Director Jean-Luc Godard won a Silver Berlin Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival of 1960. He was also nominated for a Golden Berlin Bear, losing it against César Fernández Ardavín for his film El Lazarillo de Tormes (1959), a rather ingenious Spanish comedy.

Rumors ensued regarding Godard shooting the film without a previously elaborated script. Although this statement was not precisely truthful, the extreme improvisatory ability of Godard of writing scenes in the morning and shooting them the same day may be a factor that can be immediately contrasted and even compared with how life is never premeditated. Life is portrayed as a game and as a series of incidents that may surpass its old interest and usual importance if a daily routine is constantly broken. The film challenges the stereotypes of modern culture, urging them to test their audacity. Everything is subject of mockery and Godard does never hesitate to depict the people who constantly try to follow them, especially the ones that are principally disseminated through movies and mass media, and to make these people to question how honest and original this kind of attitudes really are regarding their particular personalities. The performance of Jean-Paul Belmondo is the source of this vision, a man who is subject to the influence of the popularity imposed by the mass media thanks to the motivations of financial aims. Moreover, he applies a personality that does not entirely belong to him and lets it take over his conscience, consciously. Opposite poles attract; therefore, a lovable and patient femme fatale was required. Although her highly Americanized appearance may seem to hide a tender and weak female personality beneath her persona, she ironically is a stereotype herself. A conceited criminal meeting a lover of artistic values strongly promises a cinematic explosion. It is like if the story by the already acclaimed director François Truffaut (Les Quatre Cents Coups [1959], Tirez sur le Pianiste [1960]) with the aid of the poetical screenplay by Jean-Luc Godard introduced reality with the fantastic realm of cinema. It provides the sensation to the viewer of suddenly being sucked by the screen and fulfill his/her dream of becoming (or living with) the characters that one may particularly love or be a fan of. This makes À Bout de Souffle easy to admire.

Godard scatters layers and stylish shots and unites them into a single fluent scene. This is where the editing plays its magical role, constantly jumping from scene to scene and cutting them with no remorse. This highlights life's subjectivity, an element beautified by the extraordinary musical score composed by Martial Solal. Although its repetitiveness is a noticeable feature, it effectively works to provide a fast-paced rhythm to the film, like if prophetically celebrating an upcoming sexual liberation and an anarchic lifestyle. Moral standards are broken and the sexual content is very present, a possible fact that may have caused the banning of the film for almost four years. His constant use of editing and changes in the use of music seemingly takes a break with a wonderful cinematography that gives life to shots that last nearly three minutes. The joyous and sexy feeling À Bout de Souffle provides the 75% of the time is partially interrupted by sequences that evoke romance and tranquility, a daring transition for the early days of a director. The film does not deviate from its nonstop emotiveness and its positive pretentiousness, giving away as a final outcome a scandalous commentary towards conservative values and supposedly unnecessary censorship.

It is the audacity of the film and its attempt of staying away from a high possibility of intentional banality what makes À Bout de Souffle the definitive manifesto of the French New Wave. Making homage to the genres that made American cinema and culture famous, it is a very important piece of filmmaking that ambitiously works as a testament towards the beauty of life and the negative implications of the human impulses. Godard was careful enough to add an internalized purpose of scandal into the film. Therefore, the sensations the movie caused worldwide are nowadays considered as the result of a landmark film. Long shots contrasted with discontinuity, a supposedly impossible romance, a man looking under the skirt of a woman and enjoying the consequent slap in the face, the unintentionally intentional comedy, a blasphemous depiction of the concept "popularity", the attack against conservatism and the aid that it shows towards liberal ideas with an anarchic touch, this is much more than the definition of "cool". It is a sexual liberation, cinematically speaking, and the director's best film, a task that very few filmmakers have achieved during the history of cinema.

100/100

"A minute of silence can last a long time... a whole eternity."

BANDE À PART (1964)

Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Country: France
Genre: Crime / Drama
Length: 97 minutes



The French New Wave is, once more, applying a homage style to the crime genre. Only this time, Jean-Luc Godard redefines it and establishes a nostalgic feeling towards the American crime films of the Golden Age that established a landmark mainly in film-noir filmmaking. With Bande à Part, possibly one of his most accessible films, he takes the viewer to an ultimately nostalgic trip with a realistic touch. Random humor and improvisatory sequences are still the spices that decorate the dish, but he applied a concept that had never been used before in its fullest form: to depict unprofessional, amateur criminals who just happen to be fans of tons of B-movies and gangster cinema. Thanks to the stereotypical influence these films executed in their personalities, their self-centeredness leads them to plan one of the most basic and literally retard robberies that could ever be performed, which obviously goes wrong at the end, or does it? With witty editing, an enchantingly cartoonish introduction to the characters and the story, and with a basically simple premise transformed in a multitalented film, Bande à Part stands as one of the most referenced and influential crime films of France, as well as the director's most underrated feature.

Once more, we are dealing with a triangle: two crooks who mimic American movie tough and ruthless guys named Franz and Arthur, and a languages student named Odile. They meet at an English class and the male characters fall for the gorgeous Odile. When Odile happens to mention to Franz that she lives in Joinville with wealthy benefactors and that she keeps a pile of 10,000 francs notes unlocked, Franz mentions it to his friend Arthur, who has a constant pressure from his uncle who is in a need of money. Naturally, they plan the robbery and try to convince Odile to help them in the act. Will the moral of Odile surpass this decision or will she let her mind be puzzled with confusion and commit a stupidity?

As it may seem at first glance without even seeing the film, one may arrive to the conclusion that Bande à Part did not receive the recognition it deserved. Of course it is a simple film, of course it has a supposedly lazy Godard scattered throughout its running time; however, it is audacious enough to establish a landmark. What landmark? It may be a relative discussion, but it contains countless times of random and improvised events that allowed the film to spin the genre 180 degrees and to let it dance without caring about possible future cinematic outcome. That is the definition of audacity. It is not to lack interest, commitment and style in the process of entertainment filmmaking, but to endure the test of time and become a referential feature film. Godard had this in mind, and he takes the "love" triangle he first imposed in Une Femme est une Femme (1961) and transforms the characters into stylish portrayals of reality with a very good and convincing excuse of a crime film. All of the characters have, again, different interests that collide in undeniable intelligent humor and a marvelous dose of ridicule. These characteristics, of course, cannot be entirely blamed. They are found within the main purpose of the film, making it a complete masterpiece because of the wrong reasons. On the process of spoofing the genre, it unintentionally became one of Godard's most enjoyable and empathetic feature movies released at the right time.

The screenplay is decent enough to keep the story solid and the performances, no matter how referential they may be at the end, are fantastic. It is typical Godard, yet it is not. Their incapability of making the best decisions and to stop living under the illusion that they can be television characters are symbolized with unexpected events that even cause the viewer to think they were never written in the screenplay beforehand? or perhaps they were. One may blame the complete nonsense of the stubbornness the criminals possess being demonstrated with a "minute of silence" that lasts only 36 seconds because they are the ones who surrender to such eternal discomfort, ironically speaking. However, such scene was clearly illustrative and did not miss the point, a fact that Ingmar Bergman understood and showed in Vargtimmen (1968). One may even blame the culmination of the aforementioned shot: a Madison dance sequence to enlighten their predominant slovenliness while Anna Karina's role makes her to question herself if her breasts are very much noticed or not with the sweater she is currently wearing. That scene belongs to one of the most nostalgic and memorable ever filmed, not only because of its comical nature, but also because of its intentional multiphacetic awkwardness, a hard-to-portray filmic characteristic.

Bande à Part shines because of its editing, its vision and the fact that Godard moved once more from color to an overall cool black-and-white cinematography. That was the only effective way his homage could work. To be a Godard fan implies too much commitment. He has not a single style. He does not feel in the necessity of possessing one of his own. He makes explosions of sensations that fly above the air. Freedom is the key term. A possible interpretation of another "love" triangle is that this shape points in three different, opposite sides, being an emotionally irritable romance, a band with lovable and lonely members. A band that is an outsider of the truthfulness and hardships of reality without being depressing is one of the purposes of it. A woman is a woman, and a pair of pretentious crooks is a band of pretentious crooks. Their motives are perfectly clear and go beyond pride. If they belonged to a wealthy social class, perhaps romance would be the only thing that remains. The language class where they meet has no subsequent importance, arising the questioning of its representation. A language allows a person to be merged in another culture who possesses different forms of expression; therefore, the need of an identity is a topic that suddenly pops out. Godard still divides the film in layers, but Franz and Arthur are the incarnation of mass media disillusions and Odile alone is a reminder of a superficial state of innocence. A dynamic duo would not have been efficient enough in Bande à Part, nor in Une Femme est une Femme (1961). It required something more. The film breaks the rules and it is shamelessly proud of it. In the way, it turned out to be a film that would receive homage if its own. That is the location of Godard's genius, a director that is still misunderstood nowadays. His next film, Alphaville, une Étrange Aventure de Lemmy Caution, would share similar characteristics hidden beneath its complexity, dividing audiences. All in all, Bande à Part is a partially unique masterpiece.

99/100

"I've already repented. I want to be excused by society. Yes. I want to confess today the sin I'll commit tomorrow. One sin atones for another. It is the price I must pay society. And I shall pay it."

IL CONFORMISTA (1970)

Director: Bernardo Bertolucci
Country: Italy / France / West Germany
Genre: Drama / Thriller
Length: 111 minutes



Bernardo Bertolucci is a passionate sensationalist. The remarkable Italian auteur ventures into the never-ending realm of romance, sexuality, broken hearts and political Fascism. Therefore, Il Conformista is immediately positioned among the most brilliant and intelligent political thrillers of modern cinematography, even reaching the filmic category of Costa-Gavras' Z (1969). Moreover, the unparalleled and poetical vision of Bertolucci give a very different twist to the genre, from being a smartly shot direct criticism towards Fascism to becoming a wonderful essay on the human condition and the corruptibility of socially influential overpowerment. To call it influential may be a partially misleading statement; it relies more on the film-noir visual style without the black-and-white photography, the bourgeois and elegant approach established by Federico Fellini (La Dolce Vita [1960], 8½ [1963] and Michelangelo Antonioni (La Notte [1961], L'Eclisse [1962]), and old criminal stereotypes than executing a noticeable influence among its genre. However, it IS influential. Bertolucci's definitive work of art and best film of his entire filmography is an absolute masterpiece, a feast for the senses and a strong questioning towards the veracity of politics.

The story is set in the pre-war, 1938 Rome where Marcello, a submissively operational man, courts a young woman and both organize a honeymoon in Paris. There, he slowly starts to become a fawning fascist after accepting a job from Mussollini contacts that consists in assassinating an old professor of his, now a political dissident, who had fled Italy when Fascism had already been established. Being troubled by the memories of a pedophilic, homosexual encounter he had in 1917, a tragic event that is shown through flashbacks, Marcello's loyalty and prioritized necessities will be put to a hard test, unleashing catastrophic and unforgettable consequences. The film received an Academy Award nomination for Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium, stupidly losing it against William Friedkin's The French Connection (1971). Bernardo Bertolucci won the Interfilm Award - Recommendation and the Journalists' Special Award, and was nominated for the Golden Berlin Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival of 1970.

In order to fully appreciate such a unique masterpiece like Il Conformista, it is always a mandatory necessity to analyze both the previous political context of Italy before and after the Second World War and the possible intentions of the director. Fascism was an authoritative and nationalist power which tremendous force was executed in order to give false promises about the utter extermination of a disorganized anarchy through a corporatist economic system, yet such persecution of an ambitious order ensued violent means because of the resignation of relevant political liberties. The main character Marcello, a heavily influenced man who works for Mussolini and whose weak will and low capacity of decision-taking symbolizes the Italian society, is a political puppet. Of course, a natural and humanistic perspective had to be applied to a conventional, male character. However, it is the very submission he presents to his bosses and, quite possibly yet not justifiably, the psychological trauma because of what he went through during his childhood the elements that strengthen the mental connection he slowly built towards sex and violence. The sex and violence, therefore, are the bases of his impulses, impulses that are challenged when he experiences an encountering with a romantic relationship that had failed in the past. The job for which he is assigned for is the emotional motor that is supposed to trigger the dependence of his will.

The pace is undeniably demanding, but rewarding during several enchanting sequences throughout. The events slowly unfold in front of our eyes with a very striking poetry, deliciously orchestrated through a considerably powerful, gorgeously balanced and ambitiously vast colored cinematography thanks to the work of Vittorio Storaro. The attention to detail from inanimate typical objects to the emphasis put to a floor full of autumn leafs dancing with an aggressive, yet peaceful wind constructs a visually beautiful experience. A celebrative musical score is displayed, most of it consisting in background and partying music, highlighting the absolute charm of the sequence where Giulia, brilliantly interpreted by actress Stefania Sandrelli, disseminates joy and convinces several people, under the influence of a total state of alcoholism, to hold hands and start dancing together, exiting and reentering the bar. The main performance of Jean-Louis Trintignant as the troubled assassin Marcello is decent enough to guarantee a full analysis of his personality and the societal condition that surrounds him. The calculated editing and a wonderful, brutally painful climax are offered in order to close another chapter of a solitary existence.

Technically speaking, cinema was entering a period of fully explicit and audacious expression. The standards of worldwide censorship were ultimately challenged in the same way Il Conformista, among other scandalous, controversial and cult films, raised the bar for the creation of ideas that generated important debates. The Seventh Art was already a more financially successful art form than literature by that time; therefore, the extraordinarily talented adaptation that Bernardo Bertolucci made from Alberto Moravia's sensational novel was full of poetical elements that disguised a possibly dangerous political and anarchic nature. The explicitness of the sexual content and the mercilessness of graphic violence had been enhanced, adapting a role of meaningful substance and maximizing the intentions of the movie aforementioned magnum opuses rather than serving the purpose of senselessness and perversity. Nevertheless, the original roots and influences of the twist that Bertolucci gave to the genre are still present, like if the French New Wave and the Italian neorealism had a cataclysmic encounter. Thus, the massive explosion of sensations instantly erased the relevance of the audience belonging to any particular party or trend. Il Conformista is neutral; nevertheless, the conformism of the main character is the aspect that is immediately questioned. With some symbolisms, references towards totalitarian governments that even resemble dictatorships and a unique direction, the film is one of the greatest achievements within its genre, a movie that has the capacity of shaking the floor of a conventional code of ethics and a tormenting, instrumental sonata where the most basic human impulses and colossal governmental monsters collide.

100/100

"He was exactly like me. A naked sword. He didn't stay in his sheath."

TSUBAKI SANJÛRÔ (1962)

Director: Akira Kurosawa
Country: Japan
Genre: Action / Adventure / Comedy / Drama
Length: 96 minutes



Thanks to Yojimbo (1961), Kurosawa consolidated his name as the Japanese father of blockbuster cinema, transforming his film into a commercially famous masterpiece. Perhaps it was the sensationalist popularity that Toshirô Mifune's sole performance achieved because of his groundbreaking style and emotionless attitude. With Tsubaki Sanjûrô, Akira Kurosawa proves his ability to construct an opera of genius comedy, breathtaking, bloody action and senselessness irony. It is virtually a sequel to the original film; however, the only similarity that both movies share is the main character, taking into consideration that Tsubaki Sanjûrô takes place a century earlier. They could be bloodline relatives for what we know. After seeing this little flick, one may come up to the conclusion that Kurosawa decided to take a break and have fun? creating an outstanding samurai masterpiece in the process. After all, if he was able to redefine the samurai code of honor and transform it into a massive dose of male stereotyping and sarcastic comedy, to make a film that is more oriented to action and comedy is not such a daring thing to do, attracting a much bigger audience.

The film takes place somewhere around the eighteenth-century Japan, and tells the comical story of nine young and naive men who decide to present an accusation of the corruption they suspect that exists within the leadership of their clan. However, when they submit it to the local superintendent, they are betrayed by his men. The young men decide to secretly discuss their problem at a temple, until the famous ronin Sanjuro makes an appearance and explains the stupidity and naiveté of their decisions to them. The plot starts to unfold since Sanjuro decides to rescue the uncle leader of the rebel clansmen and his family, who all have been kidnapped.

If we had to empathize with a brazen and masterless ronin in the first film, this time we have to accept the involuntary comedy that ensues, primarily, from nine young characters that were possibly meant to be aided by the doubtful techniques and means of Sanjuro. Just like in Yojimbo (1961), the psychological background, the whereabouts and the motivations behind this soon-to-be immortalized Japanese character of cinema are not explained. They do not have to be. He appears out of nowhere, abruptly and without knocking, interrupting the inexpert plan of the youthful and immature samurai, who seem to resemble barking puppies along the dragon that Sanjuro represents this time. He makes compliments through insults since he cannot afford politeness in his personality. If this amount of comedy wasn't enough, at some point, the wife of the chamberlain is finally rescued, but she is still a woman who is fully unaware of the danger that surrounds him. Sanjuro, comically enough, suddenly assumes the role of a father of careless, younger members, while rescuing a man he has never met before.

Tsubaki Sanjûrô has an interesting piece of trivia information. In Yojimbo (1961), the translation of "Kuwabatake" was "mulberry field". This time, "Tsubaki" is translated as "camellia". Should Kurosawa's directly environmental references be interpreted as clues for unraveling Sanjuro's personality? Both characters portrayed by Mifune, who are supposedly the same in different time periods, actually are contrasted with light differences. Yojimbo (1961) took us inside the mind of an expert and brutal assassin whose primitive instincts of brilliant swordplay defense were activated when a brusque external fact stumbled upon him. Here, we see the antihero from outside, that is, a more exterior perspective, while he faces strong challenges along his undeniably hard journey. This Sanjuro has also several counterparts, not only attitude-wise, but also because, once again, the righteousness, moralistic behavior and disciplined beliefs of a conventional samurai are mindlessly shattered and scattered throughout the winds. Moreover, the viewer must keep in mind that, in this sequel, the feudal times are recovered for displaying them as a cultural background, thus requiring a different atmosphere.

The first samurai fight shown in the film makes a staggering promise about the violent mess that lies ahead. Directly (and reportedly) inspiring Tarantino's filmmaking style for directing Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003), the protagonist's final body count is 27 men (!) After all, what could be expected in a film that makes a samurai fight against a corrupt government? Solidifying his style, Kurosawa magisterially composes heart-racing action sequences, this time not censoring exaggerated blood sprays, cuts and dismembered limbs, and even so the merciless tone and dark atmosphere that Tsubaki Sanjûrô adopts is lightened by its not-so-common hilarity. Such underrated masterpiece had to culminate in a memorable way and, Kurosawa acknowledging it, shoots one the best final duels in cinema history seconds before the film ends, especially when it has two giant legends like Toshirô Mifune and Tatsuya Nakadai... fighting against each other! On top of that, Takashi Shimura is back once again in the role of Kurofuji, belonging to the cast we all had wholeheartedly loved last year.

Tsubaki Sanjûrô is obviously less serious in tone, but the massive amount of quality entertainment it provides has been few times equaled. Sharing the exact same technical aspects with its predecessor regarding an artistic costume design, incredibly fun performances, a talented screenplay loosely based on a novel that was initially never meant to attack a particular form of government, and a more ancient, but equally spellbinding art direction, this film is much more than a guilty pleasure. It is a brilliant piece of samurai filmmaking with the same sarcastic and brazen audacity that the previous installments had, erasing all signs of realistic action and replacing it with the explicit ability of Kurosawa of getting rid of the villains through one single male protagonist. Of course, he leaves the place in the exact same way he did in the last film: aimlessly and uninterested, after having fulfilled the job of the week. Boy, oh boy... what a fun adventure this was. Kurosawa can be seen in every single suspenseful duel featured in the westerns by Leone.

99/100

"Time is the substance of which I am made. Time is a river which carries me along. But I am time. It's a tiger, tearing me apart; but I am the tiger."

ALPHAVILLE, UNE ÉTRANGE AVENTURE DE LEMMY CAUTION (1965)

Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Country: France
Genre: Mystery / Sci-Fi / Drama / Romance / Thriller
Length: 99 minutes



Alphaville, une Étrange Aventure de Lemmy Caution is one of the most misunderstood, yet undeniably influential precursors of the visionary cyberpunk genre with a brave mix of dystopian science fiction and film noir. It is still one of a handful of homages that Godard has made throughout his filmic career concerning American crime movies with a twist of dark humor; however, not even Godard fans are ready for this visceral journey of extreme egocentric cockiness, a grim portrayal of the human condition and an apocalyptic manifesto. It basically surpasses most of the top box-office science fiction films representing an abundant influence of technology over the rational way of thinking the humankind supposedly possesses. Even the French New Wave movement has been surpassed, leaving room for new forms of cinematic expression and a liberal depiction of open-minded ideas, ideals that stand for the morally correct necessities of any democratic society and for the consequences that any misconception of human error its inhabitants have may cause, resulting in totalitarian control and dictatorships, even of the proletariats. Revolution has come.

The popularized American private-eye agent Lemmy Caution, a character that appeared in a long series of kiss-kiss-bang-bang French films such as La Môme Vert de Gris (1953) and  Toi de Faire... Mignone (1963) is back, Godard style! This time, our character, once more played by Eddie Constantine, arrives to a futuristic city located on another planet where all forms of liberal expression and all human emotions have been suppressed and forbidden. Lemmy Caution tracks the inventor of the fascist computer, Alpha 60, and attempts to destroy it, restoring balance to the city. Director Jean-Luc Godard won the Golden Berlin Bear at the Berlin International Film Festival, beating his strongest competition: Roman Polanski's Repulsion (1965).

Alphaville, une Étrange Aventure de Lemmy Caution implicitly does not elude the German Nazism and Communism. Logical thinking, mathematics and robotic behavior have replaced a man weeping for the death of his wife and a kid being happy when finally owning an ice-cream. Science and technology predominately govern the human race and the hidden references towards the WWII regime dwell under a stylistic vision of madness and male stereotypes, all of them congregated in Lemmy Caution's persona. Since he is the only hope of the city, a place that immediately makes the viewer to question whether it is really located on another galaxy or not, his character represents the most positive human qualities that can be found in a man and a woman despite his potential egocentrism, cold-blooded attitude and his only previously-established priority: to fulfill his mission and escaping from there alive. Rational thinking encounters a technocratic and fascist dictatorship originated from a machine.

Godard's particular perspective towards a society under a brutal and constant utopian control is set on a futuristic society, yet the filming locations were existing locations of Paris. He reportedly explains the lack of necessity of building a visually futuristic set when the future has finally arrived. This mirrors his prophetic capacity of predicting the industrialization rate and the rapid and constant growth of technology, thus replacing obsolete instrumentation and the incorrectly called "old-fashioned habits". This truth is seen today. The infrastructure of a city does not fully represent the technological improvement of an organized society, since it is the infrastructure the one that still holds its original purpose: to provide shelter. Computers are being improved, technology in schools is increasing, and wars are caused because of man's ambition to own the resources of a foreign nation, stupidly affecting the capital, the ultimate source of the exploitation and use of these resources. Alpha 60 is the father of his little son HAL 9000. It imposes his ways of thinking, brainwashing the minds of the inhabitants in the process, ideas that come from anti-Nationalism and the poetry of fantasist Jorge Luis Borges that attack the benign concept of Capitalism.

The name of the inventor of Alpha 60 has a symbolic connotation. He is known as the Professor von Braun, whereas his real name is Leonard Nosferatu. This references the German American rocket physicist Werner von Braun, the astronautics engineer who served as the director of NASA's Saturn V launch vehicle, the superbooster that would propel the Apollo spacecraft to the moon. The name of Leonard Nosferatu is a tribute to F.W. Murnau's masterful and legendary horror silent film Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922). Since both reference the German culture, it is natural that the final result of a German scientist's work would be a ruthless, totalitarian computer that would only lead to apocalyptic results, a machine that even can surpass the vast complexity of the human mind, something that not even the concept of android humanization will ever reach. The film is like the most chaotic representation of the vision that writer H.G. Wells ("The Time Machine") applied. A piece of literature that exterminated literature itself and poetry as clichéd and senseless means of dissemination of a person's mentality is a daring concept. Even so, cinema is not absent from such danger, since it is a form of expression as well. An inevitable anarchy starts to be born after "order" is challenged, and humans, who had been recently sent to other galaxies in order to start revolts and obtain more natural resources, are now a racer in danger of extinction.

Despite this pretentious thematic material, Godard is present throughout the movie's length. Abrupt silences, a strong voiceover and a constant narration of Alpha 60 explaining his composition and his vision towards religion, human relationships, the structure of time and the uselessness of oral communication is heard several times. Perhaps the film was not meant to be taken serious, it has been taken serious. It has been subject to multiple personal conclusions and several utopian versions around the world. Alphaville, une Étrange Aventure de Lemmy Caution is science fiction at its most mysterious. The camera work is noticeably different for the first time, smoothly travelling across building corridors and small departments, simulating a combination of Fritz Lang's M (1931), Jean Cocteau's Orphée (1950) and George Pal's The Time Machine (1960) that few directors would dare to construct. Can poetry really destroy technology? How, and to what extent? Underlying layers of wisdom rest beneath the words of wise men; perhaps even a more powerful knowledge than science and perfect equations. It is all relative, but it is not. It is all an illusion as well, but it is real.

100/100

"We should boycott women who don't cry."

UNE FEMME EST UNE FEMME (1961)

Director: Jean-Luc Godard
Country: France / Italy
Genre: Comedy / Drama / Musical / Romance
Length: 84 minutes



Nouvelle vague acquires a significant meaning again, and French auteur Jean-Luc Godard is the mastermind behind the camera. Une Femme est une Femme is basically his third feature after the three-year delay of his film Le Petit Soldat (1960) had to go through, and it is also an intelligently precarious portrayal of reality. Godard attempted to construct a sexually-liberalist neorealist experiment so he could express his perception towards the mysteriousness and eternal secrets that involve comprehending a woman through a contradiction of terms. It is impossible to build a neorealist musical in its literal form just as it is impossible to comprehend the actions and thoughts of a woman, especially when her particular beauty, both physical and spiritual, surpass our blind, male judgments and impulsive acts. Ultimately, it is another tribute towards the most famous American genres, thus becoming a musical film in the least conventional sense. It doesn't really matter what point of view the film is subject to. A true fact is that Godard is back in his most scandalous, audacious and joyous form possible with a celebrated film that awakens the deepest mindless passions of a man and the everlasting ego of a woman without insulting any of those races.

Une Femme est une Femme funnily deals with Angela, an exotic dancer who eagerly attempts to convince her boyfriend Émile to have a baby with her. After the response she receives is pure mockery and rejection, she is torn between him and his best friend Alfred, since Alfred is in love with her. The results unfold in an extraordinary display of surrealistically comical events regarding their particular passions, forming a rather unusual love triangle. The film was greatly received at the Berlin International Film Festival of 1961 with Godard winning a Silver Berlin Bear and Anna Karina winning another one for Best Actress. Godard was also nominated for a Golden Berlin Bear, losing it against Michelangelo Antonioni's La Notte (1961).

Une Femme est une Femme plays with the musical genre, consequently questioning every single element portrayed in Hollywood musicals of the time. This questioning is clearly illustrated with the overabundant, stereotypical portrayal of the woman through the constant interruption of the music displayed, like if the colors of different lights, the colors of the set decoration and the music had lees importance than her mere presence. These elements dance to the cinematic rhythm, accompanying her presence on screen and shutting up when she starts to sing. Effectively enough, these constant alterations of colors and music contrast with the undeniable ugliness and tension of the pre-matrimonial situation she has decided to be involved in: the decision of having a baby. The lack of interest of her boyfriend towards her particular desires is a common topic among couples. However, this difficult-to-treat issue is not a complicated task for Godard. The most important part of his overall perspective was to assign the similar unrealistic, glamorous roles that could be found in a Gene Kelly film or in a musical of the 50's with Leslie Caron (An American in Paris [1951], Lili [1953]) to the cast and transforming them to real-life characters that the majority of the audience could relate to.

The omniscient direction lacks a narrator. It is not a necessary complement to illustrate the comedic ideas of the film. It lets the actions flow by themselves, once again, in an unexpected way, adding intertitles in sequences of silence to clearly explain the current thoughts of the characters, such as cinematic literature. This, of course, does not diminishes the importance of women and their influence on a bourgeois society, nor insults men that are in an abrupt state of hypnotism because of a woman's physical attractive. The love triangle, conformed by an extraordinary and already-popular cast, represents the artistic, the narrow-minded and the superficial sides of an individual's personality. They complement each other, even against their own will, unwillingly participating in an intentional parody of marriage... a marriage that hasn't even taken place yet. Anna Karina brings an extraordinary performance and her character could be interpreted as the symbolism of a woman's inability to take decisions of her own against an authoritarian and manipulative man.

Most of its parody-related feeling comes from the characters' constant false decisions and the way the subjectivity of the term "beauty" is handled. The longings of the characters may accomplish an ambitious extent, yet they inevitably live encapsulated in a limited reach of possibilities and consequences as implicitly explained by the apartment, an ultimately physical space. The screenplay is masterfully written. Some scenes may have been originated out of the blue inside Godard's mind, mirroring the improvisatory nature of life itself. It doesn't portray musical numbers under the excuse of being a musical film. It just presents humor in an effectively random way, sometimes without eluding the subgenre of slapstick comedy. Godard's love towards cinema is still present, making constant references to movies such as François Truffaut's Tirez sur le Pianiste (1960) and Jules et Jim (1962), and Jacques Demy's Lola (1961), films that had not even been released yet, sometimes featuring famous cameos.

Une Femme est une Femme is a provocative jewel of the French New Wave, not necessarily constituting the best and definitive sample of it, but certainly being a clever twist of a considerably popular genre. It celebrates cinema and the people behind the curtains making fun of the human condition under a terribly influential circumstance: love. Love and all that is around it gain cinematic life through vivid colors, a quick editing, a splendid cast, a witty screenplay and a stylish portrayal of the streets of France, a city that hides the mysteries and gossipy of endless different stories of its inhabitants. Improvisation and happiness are the main ingredients of this unusually characteristic magnum opus, but auteur Jean-Luc Godard achieved to obtain cinematic recognition thanks to only three masterful films... and he was barely beginning. So what if it parodies to a cathartic extent? So what if a delicious suburban satire is the dish of the day? Godard strikes, films and laughs through his cinematographically influential lens. Colors conquer the screen and guffaws propel through the air. Don't feel guilty about it. It is natural. It is in you. If not, what else?

100/100

"A lover of darkness, it burrows under stones to escape the glare of the sun. Antisocial, it ejects the intruder on its solitude. Such lightning strikes, such virtuosity in attack! Even a rat, for all its fury, falls prey to it."

L'ÂGE D'OR (1930)

Director: Luis Buñuel
Country: France
Genre: Drama / Romance / Comedy / Fantasy
Length: 63 minutes



One year ago (1929, that is), the world witnessed two highly important events in cinema history: the birth of cinematic surrealism and the rise of a genius. The title of the short film is Un Chien Andalou (1929) and the name of the master behind the camera is Luis Buñuel. Juxtaposing incongruent elements with extreme depictions of absurdity along with the vision of the famously unique artist Salvador Dalí, Buñuel decides to construct his first feature film, a landmark in surrealistic filmmaking. L'Âge d'Or ventures into the never-ending realm of the mind's subjectivity and the blaspheme world of the bourgeois class, an aspect that Buñuel would find rather funny during the upcoming four decades, turning it into a filmic habit. Its power and controversy have effectively stood the test of time and it still functions as the masterful work of an audacious machinist of sexual impulses and the morality decadence of man. Despite the huge criticism and the wide banning the film was subject to, Buñuel's first masterpiece has been revived and disseminated through the world as a reminder of how expressive and talented cinema tended to be when the sound was even firstly introduced.

L'Âge d'Or could be referenced as a virtually plot-less and incongruent film, although it mainly deals with a man and a woman who passionately love each other. However, they face problems with their respective families, the surrounding bourgeois society and the Catholic Church when they want to consummate their passion. The film is partially based on Marquis de Sade's "120 Days of Sodom", as clearly implied in a particular orgy sequence. The film was subject to heavy censorship and banning, periods that lasted almost 50 years, such as in France, Australia and Portugal.

Despite being amateurishly shot, cinema itself was in its earliest stages. Surrealism is a cinema branch that has been under constant renovation, innovation and even intentional degradation, thus creating other forms of imaginative visual expressions. For Luis Buñuel, cinema was a cathartic instrument through which he could express ideas that had to be either revealed or morally accepted under a conventional societal code. The main attack would be strictly aimed towards the privileged social classes who would drown in money and hide their stupid and pretentious personalities under false conducts of fanciness and etiquette. As if this scandalous idea, especially for the 30's, wasn't enough, he also throws in a groundbreaking criticism towards the Catholic Church as an institution, rather than insulting a particular religion. With these two huge monsters combined, the missing element is immediately added: a normal couple that is deeply in love. More than interpreting this couple as a rather simple symbolism of the standard citizen of any particular society, the main focus of L'Âge d'Or is the moral extermination of the human race through the blasphemous idolization of religious imagery and a very prophetic portrayal of sexual depravation.

The film opens with a documentary segment of a scorpion, a living being that possesses five prismatic articulations that culminate in a sting. Then, the scorpion proceeds to commit suicide with its own poisonous sting. Are we humans so different, possessing five extremities including the arms, the legs and our twisted heads that originate the ideas of a literal assassination of our own kind? We are reduced to an almost insignificant being that can pass unnoticed, but the truth is divided in layers. On one hand, we have religion, on the other hand, we have a ludicrously wealthy society, and on top of the head we have an atheistic science that denies the real existence of God. All of these elements intertwine in an explosive orgy of bad manners, masturbation, kissing of a religious statue, cadavers and ridiculous suppers, not to mention the Duc de Blangis and his physical resemblance of Christ. Sexual repression is an imminent factor in the development of the events, consequently showing a rather excruciating conclusion if the final sequence is deeply analyzed.

Love is not the principal motor. There is no motor whatsoever. What keeps the engine of the plot running is its spoof nature. To fully comprehend the film, one must understand that the film is an ultimate spoof of every degrading and insulting defect of the world we live in and how, when shown to our very faces, the result is rejection. Why was the film banned by Fascists? Why were Judaism, masonry and revolutionary sectarianism immediately blamed? The answer is rejection. Another answer is hypocrisy. And yet another answer is pride. If the film was not supposed to provide an utterly cathartic feeling to a particular audience, then the outcome came from the very minds of the conservatives. Perhaps Buñuel never intended to insult; he let the scenes of the film to be interpreted in any way the world wanted them to be. Can the consequences of such open-minded attitude be so strong? Naturally, they can. They were. Just like Un Chien Andalou (1929), L'Âge d'Or raped social standards and raised necessary questionings about the people's latter conduct. After all, not a single person can deny its high sensibility, the characteristic that identify us as supposedly rational and emotional beings. The power of this testament was not properly executed because of the particular perspective it was seen with, but Luis Buñuel cannot fully be blamed.

Whereas Jean Conteau's (Le Sang d'un Poète [1930]) surrealist vision abounded in theatrical poetry and occasionally quiet delicacy, Luis Buñuel was far more aggressive and expressed his liberal ideas with an anarchic style while slapping the cheeks of much bigger societal entities. Those are the main reasons that make his first feature film a timeless masterwork of the surrealism genre. It has no scruples and there are no strings attached. The film opens, shows, laughs, shocks and puts the "The End" title on the screen. One could say this is the process that life itself should assimilate, according to this magnificent auteur. It easily belongs to the greatest films ever made and the overall visual style and an elegant cinematography, accompanied by a jovial music, make of this mindless journey a delicious piece of insanity to taste.

100/100

"Tell me, muse, of the storyteller who has been thrust to the edge of the world, both an infant and an ancient, and through him reveal everyman. With time, those who listened to me became my readers. They no longer sit in a circle, bur rather sit apart. And one doesn't know anything about the other. I'm an old man with a broken voice, but the tale still rises from the depths, and the mouth, slightly opened, repeats it as clearly, as powerfully. A liturgy for which no one needs to be initiated to the meaning of words and sentences."

DER HIMMEL ÜBER BERLIN (1987)

Director: Wim Wenders
Country: West Germany / France
Genre: Fantasy / Drama / Romance
Length: 128 minutes



Wim Wenders is a director of remarkable talent. With his absolutely gorgeous and inspirational German masterpiece Der Himmel Über Berlin, he has established himself as an inventive poet. Few films of this caliber have ever been made, and its strong influence and astonishing success had, as very obvious outcomes, a sequel directed also by Wenders called In Weiter Ferne, so Nah! (1993) and the hideous remake City of Angels (1998), a film by Brad Silberling that starred two retarded actors. However, the experience that Wender's most astonishing masterpiece offers to a modern audience is absolutely breathtaking, following the footsteps that Alain Resnais left behind after directing Hiroshima mon Amour (1959) and reinventing the same human nostalgia with a more celestial approach. The final outcome of this multilayered journey is one of the most provocative and thought-provoking masterpieces of the decade, and even one of the most heartwarming and reflexive films of all time. Before the Berlin Wall was destroyed, West Germany found an extraordinarily charming form of artistic expressionism and visual beauty in their purest forms.

Two angels named Damiel and Cassiel wander through the streets of Berlin, constantly hearing the thoughts of disillusioned and brokenhearted people and giving them invisible comfort in order to lighten their respective emotional burdens. Damiel's wish for becoming human in order to feel, taste, see, perceive and appreciate life as the human beings do grows significantly stronger when he falls in love with a beautiful, mortal acrobat. Unbeknown to her, he follows her footsteps, constantly listening to her desires and urges, until the day Damiel is granted the honor of being human and seeking unconditional, romantic love. Wim Wenders won an award for Best Director and was nominated for a Golden Palm at the Cannes Film Festival of 1987, losing it against Maurice Pialat's Sous le Soleil de Satan (1987). The film received 4 European Film Award nominations for Best Camera, Best Film, Best Supporting Actor and Best Director the next year, when Krótki Film o Zabijaniu (1988) was considered as the best film.

The most significant symbol within the plot is the fact that angels cannot experience the emotions, the pain and the perception of life like humans can do. Consequently, the graphical means used to portray this aspect is a poetical, brilliantly shot black-and-white perspective. It is not until Damiel receives the opportunity of being human when a colorful and glorious colored cinematography is depicted. Der Himmel Über Berlin owes a significant amount of cinematic credit towards the previous works of Alain Resnais. It explores the city of Berlin through a divine, heavenly and omniscient approach, like if we were the immediate god of the film. Eagle-eye shots and delicately crafted voiceovers of the lost and confused citizens are added in order to maximize the absolute mysticism of this gorgeous work of art. Throughout, several strokes of complex human expression are painted, and the uniformly superb performances surround a very solid and believable Bruno Ganz.

The camera travels from the top of the buildings and the famous monument in which Damiel stands to the most hidden, poverty-stricken and devastated urban landscapes of the famous European city. Der Himmel Über Berlin does not necessarily commit a blasphemous commentary towards Catholicism or religion... not even remotely. On the contrary, it exalts and glorifies the human condition. It has the capacity of changing lives, increasing the optimism and to psychologically build a bigger appreciation of a surrounding environment. This audacious and rather difficult task is not achieved through pretentious grandiloquence, but expresses it through a multitalented screenplay with a huge substance of philosophy hidden within. The film opens with the diary of Damiel, immortalizing the thoughts a child had and expressing his desire of being a human being, referencing the magical innocence that the soul loses with the passage of time and the corruptibility of the society. We then see Damiel standing atop a large statue and, slowly, his wings start to dim, along with his hope.

All of the aforementioned elements and possible objectives of Der Himmel Über Berlin is shown through the simplest of all plots: a romance story. However, this particular romance is conditioned. It can't be consummated, nor can it be corresponded. It is just an invisible element of unfulfilled dreams and impossible realizations while Damiel mindlessly stares at her inside the circus and accompanying her to her room. Voyeurism is the closest connection he can establish with the trapeze artist since the physical contact equals painful impossibility. Regardless of the fact that he supposedly comprehends the importance of his role as an angel, it seems that the slow construction of an existential emptiness is an aspect that not even angels can avoid. The angels themselves are incarnated in anthropomorphic forms, but it is not precisely a stereotypical representation. Instead, it alludes to the physical form of a typical person, like attempting to sympathize with depressed masses and culminating in a journey of self-discovery. What better filming location could have been used that could properly emphasize the delicacy and the positive message aimed towards a modern audience if not an industrialized and modernized capital city?

Technically and cinematographically speaking, this masterpiece is a shining triumph. Long takes and an inspiringly sharp quality image enhance how jubilant this depiction of life can be. The writing collaboration between Richard Reitinger, Peter Handke and Wim Wenders is outstanding, reuniting a massive collection of expertly spoken words and phrases, and giving them a comprehensible structure in order to create a haunting and memorable piece of filmmaking. Several ethnicities are bounded through a single connection, and the unpredictability of the problems that the angels will have to face is the substance that keeps this marvelous engine running. Romance is the sympathetic machinist and the illusion of living is the attitude that will allow anybody to obtain a more divine catharsis than any Shakespeare masterwork could offer. Cinema is an art form consisting of moving images with a nature of its own. Der Himmel Über Berlin gathers nostalgic images of inexplicable inspiration and grants them a very well defined meaning. When put together, they form a peaceful and cataclysmic explosion of sentimentalism and positivism. It is a symphony of undeniable power and unrepeatable humanism. The ways of looking at the film are numerous. It can be seen as a criticism towards spiritual inconformity, as a tragic tale of unrequited satisfaction or as a monumental landmark of the depiction of the soul when our mind lives encapsulated in a giant sphere of improbable wishes. Dear reader: entrust your life to God and stop thinking... just act.

100/100

Review coming someday...

100/100

"We Fascists are the only true anarchists, naturally, once we're masters of the state. In fact, the one true anarchy is that of power."

SALÒ O LE 120 GIORNATE DI SODOMA (1975)

Director: Pier Paolo Pasolini
Country: Italy / France
Genre: Drama / Horror / War
Length: 116 minutes



In the process of finding the correct first sentence to begin with a proper review of Pier Paolo Pasolini's last film Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma, I failed miserably. In fact, I have already written it... it's somewhat hilarious. Words cannot and will not suffice for properly describing the artful subjectivity and political power of this extraordinary piece of art. Open-minded masses, supporter of all artistic expressions and, specifically, Pasolini fans cannot avoid the great personal amazement, pride and joy towards a director that never hesitated to express his anarchic, totalitarian and Marxist ideas through his religious and political manifestos, his daring and controversial magnum opuses, his visionary and influential masterworks. Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma is definitely one of the most audacious films ever conceived by the hands, the mind and the guts of an auteur. On a personal note, I have always classified and identified the decade of the 70's as the most influential era, cinematically speaking, for expressing ideas in expressionistic ways. Directors like Dusan Makavejev (W.R. - Misterije Organizma [1971], Sweet Movie [1974]) and Nagisa Ôshima (Ai no Corrida [1976], Ai no Borei [1978]) sought for the most shocking and graphically scandalous ways to depict socially accepted ideas that the totalitarian control and the limited liberty of expression did not allow to be portrayed nor propagated. Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma is arguably Pasolini's best film, the brave motion picture that caused him to be persecuted and presumably assassinated under mysterious circumstances.

The film is set in the Fascist, Nazi-controlled northern part of Italy during the Second World War where four libertines round up sixteen perfect specimens of youth and take them to a palace near Marzabotto to subject them to 120 beautiful days of all forms of physical, mental and sexual torture. It is loosely based on the stories of Dante and Marquis De Sade. After the four months have passed, the brutal execution of the youths is organized so that the fascist libertines can witness the spectacle from a voyeuristic point of view. It is officially one of the most controversial films of all time.

Pasolini's approach to the Fascism in Italy results in a "nauseating, depraved, pornographic, disturbing, senseless and mentally sick" film. It actually has been catalogued and classified under those retarded, immature and narrow-minded adjectives. It is a very natural psychological consequence that an audience that was not still prepared for such a graphic testament, not to mention a film depicting the horrors of war in the most explicit way, reacted with those arguments as their strongest defense. Soul injuries had not healed yet, and people still belonged to a particular political party. Most of its controversy rose from the fact that it was mostly considered as a political act rather than an important filmmaking sample of historical accuracy and political correctness. Was that an intentional and, therefore, correct film characteristic thanks to the ideals of Pasolini? Yes and no. The same thing happens with the films of directors like Makavejev and Ôshima. It is set on historical times depicting real events. However, the melodrama resulting from the magic of cinema may sometimes result in the dramatization and sometimes intentional tergiversation of events that, although they may reflect a particular period of the history of humanity, do not have a complete accuracy. It is a commonly used technique to enlighten and strengthen the ideas that a film wants to transmit. Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma is not meant to be taken seriously, historically speaking, especially when Pasolini declared himself as an artist. He did not name himself as an historian or a religious filmmaker. He was an atheist, yet the inspirational effect of Il Vangelo Secondo Matteo (1964) disseminated through the masses counted with a poignant success.

Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma contains one of the most explicit portrayals of sex, violence, psychological torture, mercilessly insulting racism and a wide range of paraphilias that include sexual masochism, sexual sadism, transvestic fetishism, urophilia and cropophilia within mainstream films. These physical and sexual perversions will eventually cause several reactions from a varied audience, but as film elements they ultimately function as a motor for the film's political and anarchic audacity. The film is basically divided into three parts: the Circle of Manias, the Circle of Shit and the Circle of Blood. The Circle of Manias consists in the submission of the youths to several forms of psychological abuse. The film is meant to mirror democratic societies and totalitarian governments that mentally construct a narrow-minded concept regarding the nation's control they suppose they own. They disguise their mediocrity and dictatorship-like habits with a seemingly organized governmental system. Licentiousness predetermines the catastrophic behavior of organized Fascism in the film, disguising their lack of sanity with formally planned events, such as the portrayals of social events with occasional, forcedly applied gender dysphoria and with the massive dinners accompanied by piano with Signora Maggi and other two middle-aged demented women telling arousing stories of their past. The concept of discipline is distorted; comedy is a decaying word; humor is no longer a clear dictionary word. The Circle of Shit gathers the victims in a feast of excrement consumption and rape. Once more, the possible symbolic context implied is how governments and democracies literally try to cover up their lies and the corruption caused talking shit and raping the trust and the democratic process through their rules and principles. This may sound like an offensive statement, but its honest substance behind it does not deviate from an utter truth. Finally, the Circle of Blood consists in the physical torture and execution of the already degraded souls, in case any consciousness and self-esteem remain. This is shown from a voyeuristic perspective, strengthening a horrifying and claustrophobic feeling to it, like if we were not capable of understanding the unbearable pain the victims are going through, consequently becoming a more disturbing and haunting sequence.

As any masterpiece clearly states, enjoyment, beauty and art are the most humanly subjective terms one should encounter throughout the process of deep analysis. This is one of the most beautiful films ever made. It is brilliantly filmed and visually beautiful, overshadowing with its grandiose cinematic gorgeousness the perverted brutality shown from the beginning of the film to its comical ending. The cinematography scratches the visual realm of perfection, like a mutant philosophy. The editing has a mysterious tone to it. You never know what will the next take will look like, yet it has no mercy at fading away with each shot; it immediately shows it, letting our eyes and mind (perhaps even the stomach) to react however it is supposed to react. The music has a mystical brilliance. It has the capacity of hypnotizing the viewer to an extent of confusing the emotions and distorting them. The images talk by themselves, and the beauty of the human body is so glorified that one feels in Paradise with Satan raping angels.

Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma is one of the best films ever made. The original ambition it achieved to obtain has established a landmark, a landmark that has lasted for generations. Glorifying human dignity and letting it be raped, sexually abused, raped and depraved to an unbelievably glorious extent because of totalitarian governments that still form part of the actuality culture, the main purpose(s) of the film are immediately justified and even strengthened because of the persecution and assassination of Pasolini and because of the censorship the film inevitably has been subject to. More than a political act, it is a marvelous magnum opus way ahead of its time that even modern cinemas would surely refuse to release. A criticism very few authoritative and democratic countries will fully accept, Salò o le 120 Giornate di Sodoma belongs to arguably the most daring category of cinema ever created.

100/100

Rosebud...

CITIZEN KANE (1941)

Director: Orson Welles
Country: United States of America
Genre: Drama / Mystery
Length: 119 minutes



Orson Welles / United States of America / 1941... When any film critic put such terms into one single sentence, the inevitable memory that instantly pops up into the mind is arguably the best American film ever made: Citizen Kane. To make a review and a deep analysis of such giant icon may inevitably cause the writer to resort to terms like "best", "greatest", "influential", and "landmark". However, to resort to such words is the most truthful and factual reacti2on any cinema admirer normally experiences. Citizen Kane is one of the greatest films in the history of the motion picture. Without the creation of this gigantic magnum opus, the history of the art of filmmaking would not be the same nowadays. A statement comparing the influence of Citizen Kane over cinema and the influence of the Second World War over human history reaches almost the same magnitude regarding the peculiarities of their own topics. Orson Welles, as the underrated director that he really is, established a new narrative structure without forgetting in the slightest way what the filmmaking process intrinsically had to involve, like mixing the brilliance that Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) conglomerated and raising the bar to an unimaginable level.

The legendary story begins when a group of reporters start to make an exhaustive investigation about the meaning of the last enigmatic word spoken by the newspaper baron Charles Foster Kane seconds before he heaves his last breath inside his extravagant mansion, Xanadu: "Rosebud". Through flashbacks we see the rise of a journalism emperor until he reaches the top of the world just to fall, irremediably. The film received 9 Academy Award nominations for Best Writing, Original Screenplay, Best Actor in a Leading Role, Best Art Direction-Interior Decoration, Black-and-White, Best Cinematography, Black-and-White, Best Film Editing, Best Music, Scoring of a Dramatic Picture, Best Sound, Recording, Best Director and Best Picture, winning only the first Oscar. Obviously, the fact that the film was stolen eight (!) awards it really deserved mainly by Gary Cooper's Sergeant York (1941) and John Ford's How Green Was My Valley (1941) emphasizes Orson Welles' visionary brilliance, not only because Citizen Kane was a box-office failure while being generally disliked, but also because cinematic geniuses do not fully obtain the recognition they deserve in their own eras. It may seem unconceivable nowadays, but frankly, How Green Was My Valley (1941) offered the inspirational power-of-family feeling that Citizen Kane could not provide while the Second World War was brutally taking place.

This filmic phenomenon opens with the introduction of the Xanadu mansion with a noticeably style that deliciously combined film-noir cinematography with a macabre sensation of horror and solitude. Through a masterful camera work and a genius use of lights and shadows, the death of the main character Charles Foster Kane is shown during the first five minutes, an event that caused the conventional narrative structure of American cinema to be completely challenged and shattered into pieces, like telling the ending of a story before it starts to develop. Naturally, the purpose of such technique has not passed unnoticed nowadays. Getting straight to the point, that is, the mortality of the human race despite the material and financial empire one single person may create through talent and influence over masses, may have been one of the characteristics that provided hatred and boredom to the film from the audience. However, this genius work of art is the result of the multitalented cinematographic capacities of an ahead-of-his-time auteur. The direction of Citizen Kane is extraordinarily ambitious and fast-paced, but with the help of the screenplay he developed with the collaboration of Herman J. Mankiewicz, a screenplay that belongs to the category of the best ones ever written and brought to the screen by human hands, took a premise that constituted an audacious and striking political commentary against the brainwashing that journalism causes in a consumerist society to the most superior category of cinema.

Such powerful capitalist testament required believable and transcendent performances, a task that was basically achieved by the mere presence, tenacity and authoritarian personality of Charles Foster Kane alone. And how could such a colossal cinema icon could be effectively captured if not with a revolutionary camera work? The cinematography enhances the patriotic effectiveness the film had without being nauseating, a sensation that modern mindless directors are pretty much successful at creating. Welles went too far... and he had several good reasons. The aerial shots are spellbinding, pretty much like Fritz Lang accomplished in M (1931), but Welles portrayed the world from a very high perspective, seemingly resembling the view that the character of Kane had towards the world. The world, according to him, was a giant sphere to be conquered, a sphere full of people whose minds could be influenced for serving a particular purpose. It was the moral of such worldwide individuals the one that would irrevocably determine particular life decisions. Consequently, journalism was his motor, his principal motive to fill a psychological void that a rather empty and unpleasant childhood had created. These characteristics are strengthened by an awesome storytelling. Relativity and the personal trust towards people play a very important implicit role in the plot. The screenplay relies on the perspective of a reporter who gathers several versions of the life of the famous citizen. Through their own versions, which may not necessarily connect with each other, we have a very modest sample of how such a wonderful man raised out of the blue. This would be the structure that would influence several other films in the future, such as Akira Kurosawa's Rashômon (1950).

To ruin the meaning of "Rosebud" is atrocious, so a particular film fan may better be careful of those who found the particular meaning pointless and ludicrous. We, as the audience, are offered the opportunity to solve the mystery behind that legendary filmic word. We see "Rosebud" after witnessing vast scenarios with a spectacular set decoration. We see Kane die. We are able to see that Kane was still a man with emotional connections and unfulfilled ambitions of materialism. He was just one more citizen, despite the monster he represented in society. Several citizens Kane are found nowadays and the idea behind the story that Welles imposed was the cleverest prophetic sample of the unkind personalities of superficial politicians. The reasons that put this film among the best ever created abound. Modern audiences may still share the initial reaction that the audiences of seven decades ago had, but their numbers have gradually decreased, and the day with which critics dreamed of has finally arrived, since the actual reputation of Citizen Kane has overshadowed the prejudiced opinion and predominant blindness that it was subject to, not to mention the never-ending conservatism of the AMPAAS. In case that you are planning to whisper "Rosebud" as your final world, do not feel guilty or surprised. It's natural.

100/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

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99/100

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99/100

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99/100

Amazing achievement by David Lean. A great plot, and Alec Guiness is at his best moment.

94/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

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100/100

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99/100

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99/100

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99/100

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99/100

Way to go, Paul Muni! The film that has become an already universal, powerful Hollywood cult classic, several times better than the remake. Great indeed.

94/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

Clark Gable is the handsome guy in this perfectly shot and directed adventure-epic story about te ship's crew revealing against the cruel Captain Bligh. Your eyes will be filled with beautiful cinematography... in excess.

91/100

Frank Capra goes funny! Perhaps such dark comedies weren't received at that time so well, but its brilliance and dark humor are undeniable.

88/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

"I'm gonna make him an offer he won't refuse."

THE GODFATHER (1972)

Director: Francis Ford Coppola
Country: United States of America
Genre: Crime / Drama / Thriller
Length: 175 minutes



Conglomerating the charm that Italian classics had, the brilliance of crime films of the Golden Age of movies and one of the most ambitious directions any auteur could ever apply in the entire history of the motion picture, the filmic treatment that Mario Puzo's original novel was subject to back in the marvelous film year of 1972 placed The Godfather in one of the most superior categories of cinema ever conceived by mankind. Following the unfortunate American tradition of not giving the full recognition that outstanding geniuses deserve in their particular era, the capacity of Francis Ford Coppola of portraying a powerful crime manifesto from a partially American style came slightly unnoticed. However, this capacity would be finally recognized until the release of the highly competitive sequel: The Godfather: Part II (1974). The Godfather is quite possibly the best American film ever made, ranking along the superiority of Orson Welles' Citizen Kane (1941), a task that already constitutes a nearly unsurpassable and considerably expert achievement. It is a film released at the exact right time that literally changed, perhaps permanently, the perspective that the audiences of the 70's, a decade that was barely starting regarding cinema, had towards the art of filmmaking. The film has changed lives and has created fans around the world, transforming Francis Ford Coppola into one of the best directors in America that completely caused a sudden filmic boom, including Steven Spielberg (The Sugarland Express [1974], Jaws [1975]), George Lucas (American Graffiti [1973], Star Wars [1977]) and Martin Scorsese (Mean Streets [1973], Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore [1974]), an Italian director. It has also redefined the crime genre once more, just like Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront (1954) and Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde (1967) did during their respective decades, especially regarding the nowadays prolific gangster branch.

The Godfather is the first part of a crime trilogy, focusing on the aging don Vito Corleone and his Corleone Mafia Family that represents a very big part of the organized crime within the city of New York. The film opens with the overseeing of his daughter's wedding and introduces Michael Corleone, his beloved son who has recently returned from the Second World War and who does not have the slightest interest in belonging to his father's business. A rival of Corleone named Virgil Sollozzo seeks Vito Corleone and asks him for protection while offering a payment of drug money; however, the morality of Vito does not allow him to accept the payment, an event that will eventually release a sequence of violence, death, destruction and betrayal on the Corleone family and a brutal war between different parts of the organized crime. The film received 11 Academy Award nominations for Best Costume Design, Best Film Editing, Best Music, Original Dramatic Score, Best Sound, Best Director, three nominations for Best Actor in a Supporting Role, Best Actor in a Leading Role, Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium and Best Picture, winning only the last three Oscars and blasphemously losing most of the rest against the popular musical Cabaret (1972), directed by Bob Fosse, including the award for Best Director.

Francis Ford Coppola's particular approach towards the organized crime inevitably results in a cataclysmic explosion of unparalleled cinematographic brilliance. Every single talented element has been put together into a 3-hour timeless crime American masterpiece. The musical score composed by master Nino Rota has become a cinema icon, being endless times referenced throughout the upcoming decades and creating that very peculiar nostalgic and memorable feeling that makes the viewer to instantly remember the specific movie, just like Psycho (1960), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), The Exorcist (1973), Jaws (1975) and Star Wars (1977) managed to do, for mentioning famous examples of American filmmaking. Basically, every performance is extraordinary, forming fully developed, identifiable and even empathetic characters in the process. Marlon Brando, on the other hand, managed to portray one of the most powerful, multiphacetic and memorable film characters ever brought to the big screen, turning the appearance of a mad bulldog into a cold-blooded, fearless and loyal head of a mafia family. These talents are deliciously enlightened by a remarkable cinematography of Gordon Willis, atmospherically shooting the disciplined functioning of the underworld and capturing both the colonial beauties of the streets of Italy and a breathtaking old-New York art direction. The Seventh Art has been blessed.

The Godfather is, ultimately, a film rich in character. It plays homage of how a full organism is the consequent result of the sum of its parts. The film has different facets, from brutally portraying the world from the perspective that is usually hidden from the conventional members of a common, standard and stereotypical society to dramatically showing components that seem to resemble a Greek tragedy. Coppola reunited each and every one of the elements that could fully incarnate the interior structure of an operational mafia group, such as crime, betrayal, sex, violence, loyalty towards the family, competition, romance, marriage and passion, perhaps with the brilliant purpose of depicting a criminal portion of society that forcedly tries to fit in through the following of moral values and standards but escaping from the authorities when these standards are intentionally violated. The surprisingly graphic and merciless violence is compensated with the naturally irradiated beauty throughout, like witnessing an elegant and well-decorated orgy full of sin, which means that the story is shown from different points of view, not necessarily creating characters that could be interpreted as smarter and superior, but people who slowly climbed to the top of the world through the easiest and most incorrect path while possessing a distorted view towards the religion they possess.

This constant change of elements and perspectives would inevitably become an influential landmark for several future filmmakers, but whereas Martin Scorsese would add a strong dose of dark humor and a hyperactive pace, a fact that would influence the style of Quentin Tarantino (Reservoir Dogs [1992], Pulp Fiction [1994]), Coppola orchestrated an opera of distinct emotions and striking vibes. He also managed to smarty attract audiences with a famous cast, from an eternal legend (Marlon Brando) to talented ones (Al Pacino). Characters are shown from their most human sides. Vito Corleone's most relevant priorities are loyalty towards the family and the protection of the youth since it represents the future of a successful America. This argument is contradictory in its most literal sense, but it served the purpose of being a wonderfully stylish psychological complement. Vito Corleone is a young man who is unwillingly included into his own fate, experiencing a brutal change of personality while witnessing the cruelness of the world. The rest of the characters are just puppets who mindlessly feel that their obvious obligation is to obey the commands of their own Fuhrer. Their respective backgrounds remain mostly unclear, a fact that adds too much mysteriousness to the possible motives of their actions. Nevertheless, this would be one of the principal tasks held by the sequel: to reveal pasts and to bring the demons to their doom.

Criminals have disguised themselves as common citizens. A film has disguised itself as a true work of art. The Godfather is much more than a merely influential and revolutionary gangster testament; it is one of the best films ever made. An extraordinarily developed screenplay by one of the most passionate and stylish crime novellas ever written allowed a filmic plot to explosively unravel in front of the possibly unprepared audience. It is an epic of criminal proportions and a direct attack to the senses and cathartic emotions that may irremediably ensue. Nowadays, Coppola has got the credit that we, as faithful fans, had since the beginning, but that does not even seem to be enough. It is a towering achievement which vision will be hardly top in the future generations to come.

100/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

This kind of Mexican attempts to copy the sentimentalism of Hollywood war films may originate mixed feelings. The film is effectively impactful I must say, and borrowing the brutal style of Elem Klimov was a partially dumb move. However, this film had the realism that few action-oriented movies do and some moments are just unforgettable. See it as a combination of Idi i Smotri (1985) and Lakposhtha Parvaz Mikonand (2004). Such mix will obviously have flaws, but Carlos Padilla is exceptional and the final result does not disappoint, except for some inadequate references to popular Mexican culture.

85/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

It will make you cry your eyes off, and move you in a way you can't imagine. Superior to Saving Private Ryan in any aspect. A spectacular South Korean modern masterpiece of the Korean war worth being checked out by every eye on the planet; simply amazing and moving.

86/100

Cute little German masterpiece. Funny, but unforgetable.

94/100

Review coming someday...

99/100

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98/100

The film was called "a Chaplinesque WWII fable". I'd stick with that description, making clear that it is nowhere near the style of The Great Dictator (1940). The final result is surprisingly good and because of its heartbreaking and patriotically inspirational nature, it is not so weird to see that it is considered among the best foreign films ever made (haha...). It has some brilliant moments and the message is clear without being exaggeratedly melodramatic, but seems like Italy tried to copy the nature of Hollywoodesque Holocaust themes. Great experience, nonetheless.

I'm sorry, but I must pass the message on. People: The film you need to see is The Bicycle Thief. If you do, we'll talk later.

86/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

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98/100

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98/100

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98/100

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98/100

Disturbing, horrifying, graphic, explicit, merciless, explosive, stylish, hilarious, great. Takashi Miike blows you away with his best and most entertaining film. I'm allowed to have guilty pleasures right? Oh, and if you keep rewinding endless times to the torture scenes, don't worry: You're not sick, it's because of Miike's brilliance.

93/100

An ignored and incredibly good masterpiece. Extremely human, charming, inspiring and sad, I beg every human being to see it. I admire the films of Majid Majidi.

93/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

Some thoughts...

Visitor Q is a very special film. Some people find it incredibly disturbing, and some other people find it hilarious. I find it hilarious. I almost laughed! It's unbelievable how depraved the human mind can be, and this little film puts it right to the screen. The opening scene gives a clear idea of how the movie will be the following 75 minutes. Like surrealistic Miike films (such as Gozu), this film gets "crazier" as the minutes pass by. The acting is acceptable and so is the script. But what I trully loved about this film is that the camera does never hesitate and it deals with very disturbing thematic material in a brutal, awesone and hilarous way.

90/100

You'll have to pardon me, but this film is a masterpiece. The breathtaking visuals and action do not overshadow its great, philosophical depth and the unparalleled brilliance of the story. I dare to say that it is not far from the quality of the first film, and may be on par with Akira and Ghost in the Shell. More than a guilty pleasure, I do have solid arguements for defending this film. I'll write a proper review someday.

95/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

Tarantino goes stylish and explosive, always faithful to his favorite Japanese cult movies. The least original film you will find, but it was so damn entertaining, wasn't it?

90/100

Review coming someday...

98/100

"The Power of Christ compells you!"

THE EXORCIST (1973)

Director: William Friedkin
Country: United States of America
Genre: Drama / Horror / Thriller
Length: 132 minutes



When it comes to bringing horror to the screen, the horror portrayed must have a purpose. The Exorcist is, literally, the best horror film ever made. William Friedkin was a talented director during the 70's (The French Connection [1971], Sorcerer [1977]), but he managed to construct an opera of extreme sensations back in 1973. It is usually considered as the scariest film ever made. It is. No film has been so masterfully crafted and orchestrated in order to awaken the deepest fears and most brutally eerie sensations found within the human soul as this film has done it. On a personal note, Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead (1981) surpasses its shock value; however, the surprisingly invigorating terror and breathtaking moments of shock, head spinning and vomit relied entirely on psychological horror, a formula that nowadays has been totally degraded by mindless filmmakers that confuse the terms "scary" and "gory". The Exorcist is a cinematic icon and evil horror in its purest form. Hollywood had never ventured so deep into the vastness of supernatural cruelty and a very direct depiction of the reaction of the Catholic Church towards such a religious landmark event. Its power is unparalleled, and even the aforementioned characteristics do not deviate the film from its fulfillment of every single element that quality, timeless and masterful cinema requires.

The Exorcist is based on the original novel by William Peter Blatty, a book that contains a true story. When a young girl named Regan is starting to behave in several violent and blasphemous manners, her mother, who is a film actress, resorts to doctors and psychiatrists in order to determine her daughter's possible sickness. No one, however, seems to know the real problem and cause of her supernatural behavior, being unable to explain the extreme spasms that her body presents every night in bed. Finally, the mother gets in contact with a priest who comes to the conclusion that Regan is possessed, so the church decides to hire an exorcist for the job: Father Merrin, a man under a faith crisis who had recently witnessed strong premonitions of evil in Iraq. It seems that the exorcist is about to face an old enemy once and for all. The film received 10 Academy Award nominations for Best Sound, Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium, Best Actor in a Supporting Role, Best Actress in a Leading Role, Best Actress in a Supporting Role, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Cinematography, Best Film Editing, Best Director and Best Picture, winning only the first two Oscars and ludicrously losing most of the rest against The Sting (1973).

Most of the controversy has been originated from its approach towards the Catholic religion. Unlike several Buñuel films and similar directors that either mock religion or criticize the Catholic Church as an institution, Catholicism is depicted as a terrifying and spiritual means of spiritual redemption and the utter and complete extermination of demonic evil. Nonetheless, Friedkin principal purpose was not religion; it only constitutes the strongest and most definitive motor that would ultimately serve the function of plot advancement. It is the ingredient that may cause a shocking cathartic sensation in worldwide audiences, making them to think that the physical shock they experienced was derived from an extraordinarily atmospheric crafted terror rather than from sharing particular religious beliefs, if not all of them. This may lead to an unfortunate and somewhat unfair conclusion that most of the film's popularity owes credit to the morbid attitude of cinematic masses and horror fans. Several blasphemous sequences, one of them including the infamous crucifix masturbation, have been felt unnecessary. However, its power and impact would never have reached the same scandalous and gloriously artistic proportions without resorting to profanity. Evil would lose its main implicit character: the demon legion. To feel insulted is a natural and (perhaps) intentional reaction Friedkin sought for, but to criticize the inner mind world of the director, thus cataloguing it as blasphemy, is a biased statement.

The justification of the plot comes from the redemption that Friedkin, audaciously enough, seeks during the first 45 minutes of the film, the chapter that offers the necessary psychological backgrounds for character development featuring momentary gruesome imagery. The cinematography is a genius achievement, from capturing the vast desert territory of Iraq with an accurate language to the streets of New York City with expertly shot angles and a predominantly engaging beauty, almost making it seem like a European film with a Bernardo Bertolucci touch. Moreover, the subject matter is treated with dignity and objectivity. The ending of the film may also be subject to debate. In the original novel, the possessed person was a boy and the demons inside his body were expelled with the appearance of the Archangel Michael who was obeying the will of God, one of the two angels of superior rank that The Holy Bible mentions, after several months of unsuccessful exorcism inside an Irish monastery. The ending effectively works and does not disappoint, emphasizing the respect that the film paid towards such controversial thematic material. Movie censorship during those times, including Hollywood, was one of the most affecting aspects, and Peter Blatty took this into consideration for not "ruining" the whole nature that the direction imposed to the film, a nature that was sweetly highlighted thanks to Steve Boeddeker's masterful score. That is why Martin Scorsese's ending for The Last Temptation of the Christ (1988) was catalogued as fantastic and ridiculous. The special effects combined with a terrifying makeup scratch a miraculous realm, and the sound whispers diabolical words to the spirit.

The Exorcist has an extraordinary cast, from Swedish legend Max von Sydow to early talented actress Ellen Burstyn. The effort and work that Linda Blair put was so brilliant, natural and convincing that she ruined her reputation as a non-possessed person, a prejudice that would affect her filmic career. The editing is utterly shocking and the climactic exorcism sequence is definitely one of the best horror sequences ever committed to celluloid, a scene full of such horror, desperation and hopelessness that it has the ability to prevent audiences from sleeping, making them wander if they will be subject to a demonic possession that same night. The character of Regan while being possessed becomes an entity that we cannot fully hate because of the dark humor the razor-sharp screenplay allows her to originate. Yes, it is dubious to enjoy the insulting and hypocritical one-liners of a legion of demons; even so, this legion allows Regan to have a fragmented personality, making us to doubt if we should either smile or feel guilty because of how much empathy one as a viewer may slowly (and unintentionally) starts to build. Even so, this reaction we may have is compensated with a strengthening of faith while witnessing what may be the most gigantic, realistic and epically implicit fight between good and evil, that is, God versus approximately seven demons. Of course, the atmospheric nature of The Exorcist is so direct and brutal that we are capable of understanding that such massive fight should not be seen under entertainment purposes. Seriousness is a present factor all the way through. The Exorcist has established a new landmark in horror filmmaking, and its present ambitious is so colossal that nowadays directors had to resort to an equivocate source of shock value: graphic violence. Nevertheless, Friedkin's best film and only work of art is now a legend and one of the most venerated and respectable pieces of horror that cinema could ever witness, not to mention a film that has strengthened the faith of several people around the world, myself included. A film that shattered the moral of Christianity, it is a masterpiece that I will see for the rest of my days as a reminder of the power of faith and the factual presence that the will of God executes in a more modern world full of sin, depravity, false religions, atheism and witchcraft.

100/100

Review coming someday...

98/100