Hong Kong Film breeds frustration

Before watching Chungking Express I was told that the “plot lines seem isolated at first but often converge to reveal unexpected casual connections.” It would have been an amazing and unique film if this was the case. However, at the end of the film, I was left with a great deal of unfinished pieces to an unfinished puzzle. The only thing that closely resembled a bridge between the two plots was the diner “Midnight Express” and its owner (I’ll get into talking about him in another entry). At the end of the film I was left with only isolated plots and no convergence. For one thing, the first plot had no conclusion. Do we ever find out what happened to the Indian family with drug-stuffed condoms as children? Do we ever understand why the woman in the blonde wig shoots that man in the bar? Do we ever find out who that man was? Do we ever find out who the girl was that he was kissing or why she was wearing a blonde wig? The director uses the wig as a slight motif, but he never brings it back so do we ever find the meaning behind it? All these questions go unanswered and if that was the purpose of the director then he did an outstanding job. However, I am distraught that the director doesn’t even have the courtesy to lead us in a direction that would help us find the answers. Like I have said before, I appreciate a film that makes me wonder, ponder, and even question. I like a film that asks me questions. But I do not like a film that asks questions and does not give one care to guiding the audience towards an answer or part of one.

Is there any relation to the two plots?

Today we met the second group of awkwardly simple characters. Cop 633 (Tony Leung Chiu Wai) and Faye (Faye Wong) act out a pitiful yet romantic ballet of depression, awkward moments, and series of silences all with the background of the Mama’s and the Papa’s song “California Dreamin’.” This second plot is not nearly as dark and ominous as the one that precedes it. Wong Kar-Wai, the film’s director, clearly shows this distinction through the change in the music as well as the change in the cinematographic techniques. In the first story there are many subtexts to the main plot that dive deep into the lives of the characters. For example, the woman with the blonde wig is a big time drug trafficker who has women dressing like her and cop 223 actually does cop work, arresting people. If you notice in the second story, cop 633 does nothing but dawn an officer’s uniform to signify his role as a man of law. I just thought that was an interesting parallel between the two plots. Also in the first story there are so many undeveloped parts. We never see cop 223’s May, we only hear about her and we never find out what happens at the bar between the woman in the wig and cop 223. However, in the second story things are much simpler. We see everything that goes on, to an extent. And although we are not certain if cop 633 and Faye get together, we can assume by their dialogue and their actions that there is some progression in their relationship.

Chungking Express - first impressions

This film is like nothing I have seen before. Chungking Express by Wong Kar-Wai is so out of the mainstream that I like just because of that. It’s something new and therefore I have nothing to compare it to. Quentin Tarantino speaks about this film as if it’s his baby and I have heard many comparisons between this film and many of Tarantino’s like Pulp Fiction. Personally, I don’t see it but maybe as the film goes on the similarities with begin to pop up. Getting away from Tarantino, there are many things about this film that intrigue me. One obvious element is the characterization. First and foremost, three out of the four main characters lead such simple lives in such weird ways. Cop 223 (Takeshi Kaneshiro) is a broken-hearted cop. That sounds simple enough. But then Wong develops his quirky idiosyncrasies: buying a can of pineapples for each day he and his girl May or separated, eating all thirty cans at once while talking to his dog, his fish, and his stuffed animals, desperately calling his girl’s house over and over and over again, and his voicemail password “undying love”. At first he was a slightly abnormal cop and then he evolves into this depressing excuse for a depressing romantic. While it becomes somewhat repetitive with the phone calls and the running it does become quite humorous, especially at the end of the first story when he and the woman in the blonde wig (Brigitte Lin) meet in the bar. She is this rough and tough alpha-female and he is a “sissy man” as Schwarzenegger would call him. Despite their difference in personality they both have a lasting impact on each other. When she remarks that “knowing someone doesn’t mean keeping someone, they change.”

Best and Worst

Worst film of the class Taking a page out of my esteemed blogging colleague, Ben B., I would like to compare two wonderfully different insurance salesmen. Addressing Double Indemnity, Ben writes, “The whole premise of the insurance scheme is pretty cool but after meeting Ned Ryerson in Groundhog Day I don't think an insurance agent can ever be a good hero.” I am in accordance with Ben that Double Indemnity was, in fact, the worst film of the quarter. In addition, I could never picture Ned Ryerson playing the role of Walter Neff. For some reason the idea of “Needle-Nose Ned” saying baby twenty times within the span of thrity seconds does not sound too appealing. If it does appeal to you, then by all means, take that opinion. But, I will agree to disagree with you. Best film of the class More than any other film we viewed, I enjoyed Last of the Mohicans the most. I came a day late so I missed the initial scenes. However, when I picked it up where I did, I became enthralled with the film. The obvious reason for my infatuation was the excessive yet very necessary episodes of violence and bloodshed. It’s shocking how such awful scenes can be shot and portrayed so poetically and aesthetically. When I think of the beauty of the violent scenes I am reminded of the film North by Northwest starring Cary Grant. In this film the director, Alfred Hitchcock shoots the love scenes between Grant and his femme fatale co-star, Eve Marie Saint, so violently with a great deal of tension, physical as well as emotional. This is in sharp contrast to the violent scenes that are depicted so gracefully, like the famous crop-dusting scene. There is no music, but it’s almost as if Grant and the plane are dancing opposite each other. One makes a move and the other one counters, like a poetic duel. As mentioned before, the same technique, in terms of the violent scenes at least, is used in Last of the Mohicans. The fighting scenes are almost like choreographed dances with moves and counter-moves. The director (Michael Mann) almost deceives the audience into not fully realizing the brutality and gore in the scenes by painting them so poetically and with such cinematic genius. It seems as if it is a very tough technique to utilize correctly, but Mann pulls it off remarkably well, making his film the most enjoyable

Thanks Ned

In the extra commentary on the DVD of Groundhog Day Stephen Tobolowsky who plays Ned Ryerson comments on the film. He says that initially we, the audience, “don’t want boy to get girl.” Phil is such a vile character at the start of the film that, despite his efforts, we actually hope that he fails in “getting” Rita. The one upside to Phil’s awful nature is that he is absolutely hilarious. His biting sarcasm is the highlight of the film. When Rita asks Phil to dinner with her and Larry he retorts with, “No thank you. I’ve seen Larry eat.” After all, as my famed film teacher says, isn’t humor merely joy at the expense of others? Yes, yes it is. However, as Tobolowsky remarks, we, by the end of the film, warm up to Phil and do see some good inside of him. Phil finds out (and so do we) that he (Phil) has to love himself before others can love him. That’s exactly how it works with our feelings towards Phil. In the beginning of the film, we see a self-centered, self-hating man. So, naturally we hate him too. It’s much easier for an audience to go with what the character gives them. But, as the film progresses the audience goes through different stages, just a Phil does. First, we don’t care that his life stinks because “he deserves it.” Then we feel slightly sorry for him when he tries to kill himself so many times. Next we truly feel pity for him after his hard work on Rita doesn’t pay off. Finally, we feel his same joy as he is successful in getting Rita and breaking his spell. At the end of the film we want boy to get girl and when he does, we lose all of our bad feelings for Phil and experience true joy, just as Phil does, at least for that one moment.

Rita an Angel?

Does true love really exist in Groundhog Day? An uninformed reader of the film would immediately respond with a positive answer. “Of course there is true love. Rita and Phil have such a true moment at the end of the film. They finally realize what they need is what’s in front of them.” That could not be farther from the truth, or so I feel. Rita never says she’s in lobe and neither does Phil. All Phil says is that he’s happy in that moment and she responds, “I think I’m happy too.” She thinks she’s happy. She doesn’t know what she feels because she doesn’t really know happiness. Also, are her feelings for Phil genuine and unadulterated? I don’t think so. Every time Phil tries to court her he never actually succeeds until the very end. All the previous times there was nothing special besides the mood of the evening that brought Rita to Phil. However the last time she sees how everyone else loves him and assumes that if the rest of the town can love a man they’ve known for a day then she can too. Good reasoning Rita. She is possibly vainer than Phil’s character in the beginning of the film. It’s been said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. She only sees his beauty through the eyes of others. That’s not love. That’s just going with the popular belief. We’re made to believe that Rita is this type of angelic figure in Phil’s eternity. She is supposed to deliver the message that Phil needs to change his ways. But Rita is no divine figure. The only one that comes close to divinity is Phil; not because he is perfect, but because he finally realizes that he is not perfect and tries to change. Rita assumes she is a genuinely good person and therefore she could never be considered an angel.

The wise head shaker theory

I have this theory. It’s called the “wise head shaker” theory. It says that in every movie there is a character that is there that really has no role in the film except a basic one, but if you dive deep enough into the film and that character, that character will prove to be an integral part to the plot. They are also wise and shake their head more than once in the film. I haven’t really tested this theory yet, but it applies to Groundhog Day, so therefore it’s a valid film theory. The character that birthed this theory while sitting in my film class was from the movie Groundhog Day. It’s the bartender who does so well in a green vest; really you do and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The role is portrayed artistically and beautifully by John Watson Sr. His little smirks at Bill Murray’s one-liners really add to the fabric of this film. Also, every time something occurs that would make a viewer shake his head, Watson shakes his head for them. For example, the dialogue between Larry (Chris Elliott) and Nancy Taylor (Marita Geraghty) is one of those moments. Larry is struggling so hard to impress Nancy and she’s giving him nothing. She obviously doesn’t want to be there. The scene is awkward and the audience can definitely feel it. So the director employs my theory with the presence of the wise, old bartender to roll his eyes and shake his head at the abysmal effort that Larry is giving. Thanks to the bartender, the audience is able to rest a little bit easier, knowing that someone in the film feels their pain. What about in other films, Max? Does the theory work anywhere else besides Groundhog Day? Well, you can apply any theory to any film and you’re bound to find some application of it, if you look hard enough. I would say that this theory rings truest in the film Happy Gilmore where Lee Trevino plays himself as the head shaking, silently wise golf pro who always lets Happy (Adam Sandler) and the audience know when something isn’t right. Thanks Lee.

"Well, what if there is no tomorrow? There wasn't one today."

We started Groundhog Day yesterday. I don’t really need to write that considering the only person who is actually going to read this is either in my class or the teacher. Anyway we did start watching it. I, having every possible movie channel that cable offers, have seen this great film at least seven times. The one thing I realized, while watching the beginning of the film, was that I had never actually seen the very beginning of the film. I always picked up the film in the same spot – when Phil Connors (Bill Murray) is sitting in the diner with a table full of food. Is that a coincidence that I always pick up a film about doing the same thing over and over again in the same place over and over again? Call it a stretch call it a coincidence, call it whatever you want. I call it divine justice, in a completely secular way. Anyway, after seeing the first few minutes of the film which I had always successfully missed really added to the story I had known so well. Those first establishing minutes add a lot to the character of Phil Connors. I always assumed that Phil was just unhappy. I didn’t realize that he was a complete jerk, for lack of a more graphic word. Those first scenes provided me with such insight into the cynical, sarcastic head of Phil Connors – from his impersonation of Rita (Andie MacDowell) as a groundhog to him flipping off the camera. All his antics and one-liners full of biting sarcasm paint a beautiful picture of a cold, angry man. Now I know what Phil was like pre-groundhog day. Now I can live in peace.

Can a story ever dive too deep?

Most would consider a successful film one that stimulates mentally and emotionally and leaves the audience wanting more. Usually this occurs when the movie leaves some holes unfilled at the end of the movie for the audience to try and fill themselves. These films ask the audience questions about the plot, the characters, the audience itself, etc…Sometimes a film, however, tries too hard to pull in the audience, and yet leave them wanting more. The Wages of Fear is one of those films. Many have called it a deeply existential film debating death and purpose in a poetic and realistic yet unfathomable situation. I would tend to agree with those many. It is existential and it does dive into the depths of human thought. I never thought it was possible for a film or any piece of literature to dive too deep, but this film does just that. So many questions went through my head while watching this film. How did the characters get to Las Piedras? Why are they still there? Who are the characters? And so on. These questions were put there by the director for us as an audience to ponder. Although I appreciate a film that makes me think, I do also enjoy having at least some of those questions answered. This film fails or at least evades answering any of the questions that I was pondering. At the end of the film when Mario “inadvertently” drives off the road I became very angered. It had ended without any bit of closure. I am not asking that the whole context unravel perfectly for me. All I would have wanted was anything more than what I was given. Maybe I’m spoiled by today’s cinema that hardly makes us think. Maybe I’m a lazy film viewer who’s not willing to take the time to ponder the way in which I am supposed to. Or, maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way? Critic Leonard Maltin said about the film that the “location… is intentionally vague – hell isn’t on any map.” Maltin makes a valid point. Hell is not a distinct place or area to be discovered. It is an abstract idea that manifests itself through relations and feelings. While I fully agree with Maltin’s perspective of the film and the director’s idea of Hell, I would have liked if the director (Henri-Georges Clouzot) told us or showed us why this place was “Hell”. It would have been more interesting if it was described or even hinted at why these people were in “Hell”. I may be asking for too much out of a very abstract film. I’m Sorry? Other than a little too much teasing and leading on from the director to the audience, I did enjoy the film. The many questions it did ask are important ones and really force the audience to think deeply about things after viewing the film. That, to me, is an effective and successful film.

Satisfaction Not Guaranteed

When I closed my eyes and thought back to the film Wages of Fear all I could think of was the shot of Luigi (Folco Lulli) lying apparently lifeless on the ground after the explosion of the boulder. He’s lying there so peacefully and finally, it seems as if someone got out of the hell that was their existence. Then he wakes up and the depressing world of Las Piedras continues. Luigi is the only likeable character in the film. Mr. Jo, Bimba, and even Mario openly show their negative sides, their animalistic reactions, and detrimental characteristics that make them cold and unlikable. We never really see any of Luigi’s flaws. This does not mean that he doesn’t have them, but he tries to live past them. This is the same case for his ideas about his situation. He is always smiling, it seems, even when driving a truck full of untamed explosives. The explosion is a climax in the film, or it appears to be one. However, when Luigi survives it’s almost like a slap in the face by the director. More questions are posed and the depressing nature of the film is prolonged. After seeing the end of the film, I had wished that the film ended with that explosion. It was the only thing in the film, in the lives of the characters, and in the life of the community, that was a conclusion. Although it would have been sad for Luigi to die, it would have been a bittersweet but satisfying ending nonetheless to a morbid, gloomy film.