In the hopes of keeping tabs on what I'm watching, and writing short capsule reviews on the reg, I'm keeping a movie journal here at Maximum Continuity. In the week or two that I've avoided blogging, I watched many movies; one film in particular ("No") I have watched many times, because I am still projecting it at the CCA Cinematheque in Santa Fe. Of all the downsides of projection, one is that a movie repeats itself whether you desire it or not. I believe this lack of control is what has sped up my consumption of other, non-work related films, and that is what the last two entries, Herostratus and Sweet Smell of Success, represent.
Sweet Smell of Success (Alexander Mackendrick, 1957)
An iconic 50s noir. Tony Curtis stars as Sidney Falco, publicity agent, who is a snake and a rat and damn good at it. Burt Lancaster is a highly influential columnist and tv show host who uses people like Curtis to gather gossip and spread malice around NYC. Much is made of Lancaster's political influence and nationalist identity, a topic recurring in all three films in this journal. He makes everyone around him cower. The other top-level performance (among many) is Tony Curtis playing two-faced but somehow self-aware as he runs in and out of nightclubs and jazz joints. He plays against type in a way similar to Andy Griffith's role in A Face in the Crowd. Like in that film, very few characters come off looking good in this flick - everyone is mean and out to hurt each other, and the only characters who aren’t vile get destroyed. Sharp dialogue manages to maintain a dark tone while being funny, even as the film teeters towards hopelessness.
Herostratus (Don Levy, 1967)
Helen Mirren laying it on thick as an over-sexualized glove salesperson
British experimental feature about a young nihilist who asks an ad exec to advertise his suicide. An early scene where the main character thrashes his apartment because his neighbor asks him to turn down his music is one of the first indications of the film's slow descent into the same anarchy and nihilism that the main character preaches. Long and numbingly absurd scenes of dialogue between the nihilist and the ad executives are interspersed with strange montages of fashion models, Allen Ginsberg, Hitler, cow-butchering, and coarse animation. Advertisements in particular are skewered and butchered. (Helen Mirren is in this movie for about 4 minutes, selling orange rubber gloves, pictured above) A sharply worded letter from 1960s Britain, and from the viewpoint of the lowest figures in society. Thanks to the BFI for releasing this strange film on Blu-ray.
No (Pablo Larrain, 2012)
Docu-drama-comedy with re-enactments of Chile’s 1988 referendum on the dictator Pinochet, interspersed with real footage of the tv commercial campaign that helped the “no” side win. Hero Gael Garcia Bernal attempts to use new media tactics in a political realm; he complains about the negativity of the Left's anti-dictatorship propaganda, and instead attempts to sell democracy as if it were a nice and fun product, like Soda. The commercial segments that bookend the film provide its strangest delight, that of watching propaganda age. The jingle, Chile, la Alegria ya viene, is worth a look; good-natured propaganda of the most wholesome kind. This stands in stark and humorous contrast to the "Si!" counter-advertisements, which have all the pomp and pageantry of a dying regime. The Si moments reminded me of the footage in Chris Marker's Grin Without a Cat of communism's media evolution (or lack thereof). The No moments, in contrast, reminded me of Obama’s 2008 campaign, which almost looks like a copy of this very clever but highly manipulative marketing plan: both campaigns associated the people's political choice with a personal and lifestyle revolution; both de-emphasized specific polices in favor of broader messaging (here the Rainbow of political diversity, which will presumably result in "la Alegria."). But aside from the politics, which are sly, and the subtle humor, this is one of the most gorgeous films shot on video I've ever seen. Almost entirely handheld, the sun often flares right into the camera, resulting in richly colored character silhouettes.
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