Head

Thanks to my sister, who is six years older, I was introduced to the adorability of David Cassidy and Davy Jones at a young age. Since their music was part of my childhood, I still like it a lot. 

I was expecting the same silliness and music from the TV show, The Monkees, to be in the film Head, but what I got instead was repeated viewings of the execution of Nguyễn Văn Lém. The expected comedy turned quickly to tragedy and despair. I’m not surprised that the movie didn’t do well initially, since the Monkees had been escapism from the horrors of the time. Instead of escapism, the audience got youthful passionate response to war, to the commodity that the Monkees had become and to the cancellation of their show. The most effective scene was after a performance, when the audience rushed the stage and destroyed the plastic "performers".

Side thought. I wonder what writer/producer/director Bob Rafelson would have done if he had gotten a hold of Charlie Sheen. The film's working title--I am on a drug. It's called Charlie Sheen.

Of Human Bondage

Leslie Howard is Ashley Wilkes in my, branded as a child, mind. This movie, where he plays Philip Carey, could have very well solidified his getting that part. With his doe eyed stare that says, “walk all over me, I beg of you.” What a tortured beautiful man that I just want to rescue.

I’m not sure about the accent, but I can’t help enjoying everything I see Bette Davis do (except for Return to Witch Mountain). She is so raw and at one point has an all out tizzy fit, which left me slack jawed. 

There was a small detail that illustrated the turning point in the film that I really liked and I’ll call it: The rise and fall of Mildred’s polka dotted dress. As Mildred is having a triumphant moment, her dress, a gift from Philip, fits like a glove with ruffles for added flaunting, then at the beginning of the descent her dress has lost the ruffles, lost the bust support and the tag pokes up in back. And, as an accessory, Mildred wears a heavy spiky chain around her neck. 

I love stuff like that and I love this movie.

Les Enfants du Silence

I was thirty years old before my hearing impairment was diagnosed. The elementary school hearing tests never caught it because they concentrated on the low and high tones. I have what is called a cookie bite; a fairly rare impairment that affects the mid range tones—spoken words. That diagnosis changed my whole perception. No longer was I inattentive or lazy, but I actually had been working doubly hard at compensating for what was missing. 

I had developed coping skills, I didn’t know I was developing. One of the more paradoxical ones was that people said I was a good listener. Little did they know (or I) that listening to someone face to face was the only way to receive correct and complete information. I had missed out on so much by not receiving help sooner, but I can’t be too discouraged because I gained valuable skills. Good and bad, it has shaped who I am and how I navigate my way through the world.

I watched  Les enfants du silence through two filters; one, of a hearing impaired person and the other as a mom. The movie was affective from both perspectives. The childrens' eyes, as they scanned the room for information they could use, and the feeling of isolation were very well captured by the camera work. 

The freeze frames, bits of conversation and narration held my attention and directed me to where the film wanted me to focus. The music and silence added even more poignancy. Les enfants du silence was ultimately a call to action and for a mom who can feel guilty without the prodding of a documentary, the message was received loud and clear.

L’Avventura

I was angry at this movie last night, but I’m doing better now. 

There was a weirdly post apocalyptic atmosphere, with the abandoned town, stark landscape, missing women villagers, and the zombie like hoards of leering men who were whipped into a frenzy by the Amazonian whore. Sandro creeped me out as well, with his rough hands, incessant pursuit and fickle "heart". 

Claudia was breathtaking beautiful with her perfect hair.  I wished for such a hair style—okay, I was distracted. When I wasn’t distracted, I was silently yelling at the screen, “No, Claudia, you can do better”, but then remembered the zombie men and thought, “Well, maybe not.” I imagined a more satisfying ending shot, but once again, a heroine chose to be a better person than I. 

Hmm, mystery solved. I was angry at myself.

The abandoned plot took a while for me to get used to, but then I let it go and continued on the meandering journey of the characters. There was so much emptiness and “always seeking never finding” with this movie. No one looked for life to be any different. Step on the conveyor belt and let the world pass by. I appreciate that it opened up a new way of considering film, but that is about the extent of its draw for me—appreciation. 

There was something that bothered me. No movie should make me hate the thought of going to Italy; it’s a crime really. At the time, Italy’s travel bureau was probably none too happy. 

Through a Glass Darkly

I’m more than a little sheepish to say that this is the first complete IngmarBergman film that I’ve seen. Clips are not enough. This was powerful, earth shattering cinema. Before I saw it, I was told that it was a dark, despondent film. Not necessarily so. There was so much light bursting through at the end that I could barely gather it all in. It’s humanity at its most vulnerable and poignant.

When Karin went to the attic room, I wondered if the wallpaper was yellow. I couldn’t stop thinking about that wallpaper. Was Bergman referencing the unforgettable short story by Charlotte Perkins Gilman? Later, I read that the original Title of the film was The Wallpaper.  Yes, there was a reason it had mesmerized me. 

Three things that I hope are not too spoilery: 

Karin was played so convincingly that for a moment I almost believed. I wanted everyone to leave her alone and let her have her vision. 

The boat scene used great restraint and all was unbearably revealed through stricken faces and postures. 

Best of all were the two humble unassuming sermons the father gave; first to his son-in-law and then to his son.

Bigger than Life

No one self destructs like James Mason. 

He descends so convincingly and so sequentially, that it feels real and terrifying.  He has a similar character arc in the 1954 film, A Star isBorn. Both characters have moments of lucidity; as when the mirror cracks and he is confronted with his fractured state and in the other film, when he checks into a sanatorium. 

But, in both stories, his self destruction is mostly dismissed, until the end, when he becomes fully aware of the destruction he has wrought.