2001: A Space Odyssey, It's Got Rhythm, It's Got A Story To Tell, Who Could Ask for Anything More

It has a languid pace yet flies by. It's a minimalist film. Though it relies so heavily on special effects and has a plot that would make Goethe blush, the telling of the story is stripped down to its bare essentials.

I watched 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) earlier today for the first time in at least 25 years. I remembered well the bare bones (no pun intended) of the opening sequence and the film's closing shot (how could one forget it). I also remembered computer trouble that was beyond the capabilities of your company's tech guy. But little besides. It is such a touchstone film of the latter half of the 20th century and so talked about that it simply wouldn't do for me me to leave that gap in my movie memory.

Director Stanley Kubrick loved to have actors in his films emote. He further liked to create characters who were extremes. Check out Dr. Strangelove (1964), A Clockwork Orange (1971) or Full Metal Jacket (1987) for examples. But in 2001 the characters were as bland as white bread and the actors played them that way. The dialogue was sparing (none for the first 24 minutes of the film and little in the last half hour). Kubrick was not shy about letting his actors talk -- in other films. Here a lot of chatter would have been superfluous. In fact, why not let a computer do most of the talking at that. While 2001 is about humankind, it's too important a story to let a lot of conversation muck it up. I would also guess that's why Kubrick used such a relatively anonymous cast.

2001 is a film in which the sets and the scenery and the machines are the focus, first, last and always. As Roger Ebert wrote of the film, it could damn near have been a silent. At least in terms of dialogue. But sound, the non talking kind, was as critical to 2001 as the look. 2001 without its two most celebrated musical accompaniments, Thus Spoke Zarathustra and the Blue Danube Waltz, is a very different picture indeed. Other sound elements, like the breathing within the space suit, are critical components as well. 

In many films one barely notices the soundtrack. That can be good. Other times it's a significant part of why we love the film. In 2001 it is the dance music that the entire production sways too. The great Italian director Federico Fellini played music while filming (dubbing in dialogue after) and the actors veritably swayed to it as they progressed through the film. In 2001 the whole damn story grooves to the music. It's the tail that wags the dog.

The story itself is both impossible to summarize and as simple as this: what is the meaning of life? Okay, perhaps you disagree. Maybe you think it is really about something else entirely. That's the beauty of 2001. It's one of those wonderful films that doesn't pretend to provide the answers, instead inviting us to contemplate the questions. What more can art do then stimulate thought? When, as a teenager, I first saw the film, my friends and I spent hours discussing what it meant. What, for example, could the monolith possibly be or what it did it represent? I read the novelization hoping that it would somehow unravel the mystery. Didn't.

It is the ultimate pretense for a movie to say: we can explain this for you. When the topic is life itself, well you'd be mad to try. 2001 in its simplicity wrapped within a seemingly elaborate film, just wants to get our mental juices flowing. Failing at that it is still one helluva an amazing movie to watch and listen to. The slow pace of it, lingering so long over certain scenes and shots, further leaves us time to think and when you're watching 2001, it is what we want to think about. What I can't explain is how its nearly two and half hours flies by.

One other far more important question it has left me pondering is this: why did I wait 25 years to watch it again?

Films Loved by Film Lovers -- Foreign Language Edition

In my previous post I took on the daunting task of naming films that I believe are particularly loved by film lovers. I simplified the task by naming one per decade and restricting myself to English language films.  Today I offer the sequel to my original post with foreign language offerings.

Before preceding I quote from from that first entry: In no instance am I suggesting that any one of these films is universally loved by every single movie aficionado, such a thing is impossible. And as will quickly become obvious, I have not picked any films lacking broad appeal. I merely mean to say that to the majority of those people to whom movies are more passion that diversion, these films are highly esteemed.

20s Nosferatu (1922). Eighty-eight years after it premiered Nosferatu remains a one of the best horror films ever made. As I said in a post from last Fall: Nosferatu is like a nightmare. Not a gross disgusting one that you want to run away from. No this is a bewitching, beguiling nightmare that despite the better angels of your nature you want to behold. More than that, you want to follow -- where will it take me? Surely this is ultimately harmless, it's only a dream (a movie). All those haunting images and that's not even including Count Orlock (Max Schreck).

30s Grand Illusion (1937). On the surface this is a World War I POW escape film but it is clearly so much more. French director Jean Renoir's masterpiece is also very much about classism, particularly the type that was dying in Europe. It is at once a subtle and clear film, acclaimed by many as a perfect movie. Jean Gabin and Erich von Stroheim lead a terrific cast.

40s Open City (1945). This film from Roberto Rossellini about the resistance movement in Rome during World War II was made just months after the events depicted. Add to this the use of non actors and the actual locations and you've got the greatest example of neorealism ever made. It is heartbreaking, compelling cinema that inspired a genre.

50s The Seventh Seal (1957). Like Grand Illusion, there are those who consider this a perfect film. It is considered by many to be Swedish director Ingmar Bergman's best, which is saying a lot in and of itself. In being so much about death it is really about living and the joys thereto. I expounded on the film recently in this post.

60s Closely Watched Trains (1966). War torn Czechoslovakia is not the ideal setting to "come of age" sexually but one often has to make do. From Czech director Jiri Menzel comes this story of a young train dispatcher who ends up combining sexual awakening with resisting the Nazis. It all comes together in one of the sweetest and saddest films ever made. It's one that could easily have lapsed into sentimentality but managed to avoid cliches and hit all its marks.

70s Aguirre the Wrath of God (1972). In the nearly four decades since completing Aguirre, director Wernor Herzog has continued churning out all manner of outstanding films including documentaries. However this still stands as the piece de resistance of his career. It is a trip. Both in the slang and traditional senses. The story of an ill fated conquistador's search for the mythic El Dorado in the Amazon jungle is a magically crafted elegy.

80s Ran (1985). Akira Kurosawa enjoyed wide appeal among critics and mass audiences alike. You'd be hard pressed to find a film lover who was not a fan of the Japanese director. Any number of his films could have made this list. Clocking in at nearly nearly three hours, Ran is grand, epic film making at its best. It is also one of the better cinematic versions of a Shakespearean play, based as it is on King Lear. Made when Kurosawa was 75 years old and after 45 years of making films, Ran proves the master's skills did not fade with age.

90s All About My Mother (1999). Many of Pedro Almodovar's most ardent fans have expressed varying degrees of disappointment with his latest directorial efforts. It is in good part because of films like All About My Mother which served to set the bar so very high. This is among the Spanish director's most revered films. At his best Almodovar is an excellent director of women and women's stories and this film, starring the wonderful Cecilia Roth, is an excellent example.

00's Barbarian Invasions (2003). The last days of a dying college professor are the subject of this intellectually stimulating French-Canadian film from director Denys Arcand. What could be morbid subject matter is instead engrossing as the soon-to-be-deceased is surrounded by close friends and family for some hearty laughs and provocative discussions. It's one of those films that introduces topics crucial to the very core of our existence.

Others: Le Samurai (1967), La Strada (1954), Port of Shadows (1938), Beauty and the Beast (1946), Y Tu Mama Tambien (2001), Celebration (1998), Metropolis (1927), Murmur of the Heart (1971), Mephisto (1981), Smiles of a Summer Night (1955).

Films Loved by Film Lovers

Someone recently suggested to me that I write a post about films loved by film lovers. I took the suggestion to mean that I discuss movies that cinemaphiles appreciate more than do casual fans. Despite appearances to the contrary, I am not nearly so pretentious to believe that I am worthy of such an undertaking. Then again I'm no shrinking violet either. I can't imagine that any poll exists which would suggest any answers and if one did I'm sure it would be most unscientific. The best anyone can do is guess. The least they can do is provide an educated guess.

To simplify a quite complicated enough matter I will stick to English language films in this post and provide a follow up post with foreign language picks later. Also I will restrict myself to one film per decade, starting from the 1920s.

In no instance am I suggesting that any one of these films is universally loved by every single movie aficionado, such a thing is impossible. And as will quickly become obvious, I have not picked any films lacking broad appeal. I merely mean to say that to the majority of those people to whom movies are more passion that diversion, these films are highly esteemed.

Truth be told that I'm basing these guesses (for that is what they truly are) on no research or study at all save that done unwittingly in reading about, hearing about and talking about movies for many years. What I believe distinguishes the films I have chosen is that they are all unique stories not limited by traditional story telling techniques.  They are all presented with either great verve or an especially light touch or a stylish one. That is, they are each damn good movies that defy or mix genres.

More so than usual, given the subjective nature of this task, I invite your comments.


20s Sunrise (1927). The positioning and movement of the camera have been done just as good but never better. German director FW Murnau crafted a beautiful story of a young couple whose marriage is threatened by a vamp and then a storm. The silent aspect of Sunrise (it was one of the last of the silent films) is particularly critical because there are few words on the screen to interrupt Murnau's grand visual experimentation.

30s City Lights (1931). Talking pictures were well into their fourth full year when Charlie Chaplin made another silent movie. Of all the nerve! But you wouldn't want City Lights with so much as a word uttered. Pathos has never been done better. The humor is on a par with the best of his earlier comedies. It is thus simple enough to lump City Lights with those earlier films, but the ending scene alone (one of the greatest closing sequences in any film) separates it from the pack.

40s The Third Man (1949). Carol Reed made some fine films before and after but nothing to approach this masterpiece. It is one of the most visually stunning films ever made. Post war Vienna looks utterly fascinating. The story is far beyond the garden variety noir or mystery and is matched not only by the performances of stars Joseph Cotton, Alida Valli, Trevor Howard and Orson Welles but by a wonderful, if anonymous, supporting cast.

50s A Streetcar Named Desire (1951). Audiences come for the bravura acting and stay for Elia Kazan's direction. Then they come back again to watch that amazing cast. Brando and Vivian Leigh give some of filmdom's most memorable performances but Kim Hunter and Karl Malden are not to be missed either. The performances and the screenplay based on the Tennessee Williams play are done justice by Kazan's expert direction.

60s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). "Print the legend." John Ford made a lot of Westerns that are among the very best of the genre. This is one of them. There is so much more here than the good guy versus bad guy showdown. The story has the heft of Ford's best films with John Wayne at his best and Lee Marvin at his most sinister. The gravitas of Jimmy Stewart is also key.

70s Mean Streets (1973). A far cry from Martin Scorcese's recent efforts. His films of the last decade or so are glossy, slick productions. Mean Streets, his initial hit, is comparatively a rough first draft. But what a first draft! It's very rawness was admired upon its debut and still is today. While it set the tone for later Scorsese efforts it can stand alone as an important gangster picture.

80s Do the Right Thing (1989). Spike Lee's fearless challenge of racism makes more recent films such as the regrettable Crash(2006) look like bed time stories. There are neither heroes nor villains and certainly no stick figures in this story of one hot summer day in Brooklyn. There are also no easy answers but an invitation to ponder some of life's complexity.

90s Fargo (1996). The Coen Brothers have gradually convinced audiences that they are among the world's premier filmmakers and Fargo was an important point in their argument. Fargo is a sad, funny, tragic, exhilarating film filled with wonderful performances. Quirky has been done to death the past couple of decades, but Fargo is quirky with purpose. Frances McDormand starring turn is to be cherished.

00s Match Point (2005). Woody Allen directed some of the great comedies of the modern era, this is not one of them. Match Point is an ultra sophisticated crime/drama/romance/thriller. There's nothing to distinguish this as an Allen film other than the fact that it is really good.

Others: The Lady Eve (1941), Battleground (1949), The Crowd (1928), A Serious Man (2009), The Last Picture Show (1971), The Getaway (1972), Raging Bull (1980), Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), Sunset Blvd. (1950) and The Searchers (1956).

Coming up next, foreign language films loved by film lovers.

Yet Another Edition of News & Notes from Streams of Unconsciousness

From the staff Memorial Day picnic.

Many have you asked and we have listened. We are proud to have recently installed a new and improved calliope on the main grounds here at Streams of Unconsciousness headquarters. You'll hear the improvement.

We have a new hire in our accounting department, we're proud to welcome aboard Wally Bin Laden. Yes, he's kin to the notorious terrorist. In fact, he's Osama's baby brother. Fortunately, Wally does not share his sibling's rather extreme political views. And he hastens to add that, other than a powerful hatred for Western Culture, Osama is "just a regular guy."

Two other recent hires are my nephews Geronimo and Ludwig (I'll hear no charges of nepotism, these are two highly qualified lads). They'll be working in research and development -- or as we call it here, R & D.

Some of you noted that there were no new posts for seven days last week. In answer to the thousands of queries here's the explanation for the absence: I was mauled by bengal tiger while on safari! I'm okay now having applied generous quantities of robitussin to my wounds.

Remember that for only $29.95 a month you can attain a premium membership at Streams of Unconsciousness. Privileges include access to exclusive content, use of the parking lot directly adjacent to the main building, ten per cent discount on all Streams of Unconsciousness merchandise and meet and greats with some of your favorite Streams of Unconsciousness staffers.

The grand opening of the Streams of Unconsciousness museum is scheduled for June 26. Angela Lansbury and Russell Brand will co-perform the ribbon cutting!

Our merchandising department has asked me to let everyone know that Streams of Unconsciousness pink hoodies for ladies are back in stock and we've got plenty in all sizes.

The hospitality suite on the second floor has been refurbished. Check it out next time you're by.

Hey! Have you tried the shrimp scampi in the Streams of Unconsciousness Grotto? Mmmmmm.....

Remember, all summer kids under 12 get in free, if accompanied by an adult.

June 7-13 is Restless Leg Syndrome Awareness Week. Half of all proceeds from Streams of Unconsciousnessthat week will go to fight this dreaded ailment. Please give generously.

Mark this on your calender: August 1 is bobblehead day at Streams of Unconsciousness. The first 30,000 customers that day receive a free bobblehead. Don't miss out!

We've been asked several times where the second anniversary bash was held (see the pics in this post from last month.) It was at the Hyatt Regency Moosejaw, Saskatchewan. It's hard to imagine a more glamorous locale. If you're ever in the area, check it out!

Have a great summer everyone. Remember to drive carefully and give a friend a hug!!!!

Parting is Not Always So Sweet a Sorrow -- Malle's Au revoir les enfants

There are some wounds, both physical and psychological, that neither time nor therapy will ever fully heal. For Louis Malle such a scar was inflicted him when at age 12 he watched a friend being led away by the Nazis. That friend was a Jew and he would die at Auschwitz.

Malle undoubtedly found some catharsis in making a movie that climaxed with that incident, Au revoir les enfants (1987).

Some films are technically perfect but have no soul. There is not a wasted shot, the story flows, the performances are all spot on but while watching the movie is an enjoyable experience, it is also ultimately forgettable one. Not so with ARLE which embodies both the superior craftsmanship of Malle the director while being an expression from the heart of Malle the man.

Julien is a 12 year old mama's boy sent off by his glamorous mom to a Catholic boarding school to avoid the perils of war time Paris. It is early 1944 and liberation is still a dream for the French. The Nazis and their French collaborators have a firm grip on many aspects of life. The students at the school include three Jews living under assumed names, their true identities unknown by their classmates.

Gradually Julien and one of the Jewish lads, Jean, become fast friends. And gradually Julien discovers Jean's secret. Julien is no anti semite, indeed he's not even altogether sure what a Jew is.

The film is as evocative a telling of boys' pre teens years as you'll ever see. ARLE never veers into sentimentality nor stoops for easy laughs in its depiction of boys at school and play. Even with their country occupied by enemy troops and with occasional bombs being dropped by their supposed allies, boys will be boys. Math class goes on. English essays must be written. Piano lessons are taken.


Young men are by nature borderline cruel as they test and tease one another. They are forever pushing boundaries with adults and are not hesitant to break rules if its suits them. But at the same time boys are starting to find their place in the world, separating from parents whether mom and dad are near or far or in concentration camps. Talents are being discovered or perhaps already being refined. Strong friendships that can last a lifetime or maybe just a week are formed.

Having armed Nazis about is paradoxically of no consequence and the greatest bogeyman imaginable. Life goes on amid all manner of calamity. Boys are resilient, though not unbreakable.

At the 12 year-old Malle's school the three Jews along with the school's headmaster were betrayed and the Gestapo came to take them on one fittingly cold January day.
It is the headmaster who utters the farewell that gave the film it's title. "Au revoir les enfants" (good bye children). Julien and the rest of school can only watch.

It was over 40 years after the real events occurred that the movie premiered. The wounds of watching a friend, two other classmates and the headmaster being taken away had not been healed for Louis Malle. There was, he said after, a sense of relief to having told the story, but one can't imagine it served as a cure-all for the pain inflicted that day.

Remarkably, Au revoir les enfants is not a depressing film, nor particularly sad. Oh sure a tear or two may form as the closing credits roll, but that's not what one if left with. The story is too rich, too well told to be trivialized as merely "a sad story." The characters, in lead, supporting and small roles, are expertly realized. Malle's direction is perfect and thus all the events within the story too memorable to be left with just one closing moment, no matter how powerful. And indeed it is one of the most touching and beautifully told endings in cinema. Yet is is just one part of a masterpiece.

What great fortune for Malle to be able to share the story. The telling of it gave him some solace while giving audiences a film not soon forgotten.

As Subtle as a Punch in the Nose But No Less Effective -- The Bridge on the River Kwai

Remember the scene in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) when Butch, played by Paul Newman, has to fight the towering hulk Harvey Logan (6'9" Ted Cassidy) for control of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang? Before the seemingly one-sided battle is to begin Butch insists they clarify the rules. "Rules? In a knife fight?" asks the incredulous Harvey. Long story short, Butch kicks him in the nuts and the fight is, for all intents and purposes, over.


That scene pretty much sums up David Lean's 1957 classic, The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957).


The late 1940s and 1950s was a time when Hollywood started cranking out message films. Some are now dated like Gentlemen's Agreement (1947) and others seemingly eternal like 12 Angry Men (1957). Then there's a film like Kwai which masquerades (quite successfully I might add) as an epic. It's got scope, breath taking cinema photography and grand performances from a celebrated cast.


At its core, however, Kwai is an earnest little film (albeit tucked neatly inside a blockbuster) with a powerful message about the insanity of war. Indeed the last line of the film is the exclamation "madness!" Which is being repeated for full effect in case you missed it the first time or had dozed off for much of the picture.


A central question in Kwai regards the rules of war. Rules? When people are killing one another? Might as well talk of guidelines for the insane. Caught amid the rules and the killing is the presumptive hero of the film, its lone American, Shears (William Holden). "You're two of a kind, crazy with courage. For what? How to die like a gentleman... how to die by the rules - when the only important thing is how to live like a human being," he says to Major Warden (Jack Hawkins) a by-the-book officer leading a group of saboteurs that includes Shears. This is the character that most of us can relate to. Shears may be a cynic but he is a witty, handsome one with a touch of everyman to him. And he expresses sentiments we can relate to: the primacy of living to see another day.



Alec Guinness as Col. Nicholson and Sessue Hayakawa Col. Saito are the films other principal characters. The former is the quintessential spit and polish British career officer and the latter is an at times sadistic and at times befuddled "enemy" officer. They are both extraordinarily stubborn men and Kwai is like other films of the era in its disdain for such rigidity, unless by chance it is in the cause of social justice. In this film, it ain't.


Kwai,of course, is the story of a Japanese POW camp in the heart of the Burmese jungle in the heart of World War II. The Japanese didn't have a whole lot of  respect for soldiers who let themselves be taken alive and anyway they needed a bridge built for train transport. The prisoners would work on the bridge and like it. Fine, the Brits are game but Nicholson balks when Saito insists that the officers work too. That, the good colonel points out, is in violation of the rules, specifically the Geneva Convention. "Don't speak to me of rules!" Saito retorts, "this is war, not a game of cricket." This is no mere clash of cultures, this is war time. Consequences for such differences are magnified many fold.


Meanwhile while this clash of wills is going on, Shears has daringly/stupidly escaped into the jungle in a desperate attempt to find his way back to fellow allies. Miraculously he does so and finds himself recuperating at an allied base replete with booze and lovely nurses. He's escaped hell and landed in heaven. But this is war time, fella, and there are no free passes. Aware of Shears' unique knowledge of the area and that a bridge is being constructed, a British commando squad recruits him to help blow the bridge to smithereens. Go back!? The very idea is insane. But as he's only been posing as an officer, the Brits have him over a barrel.


Said bridge is being rather nicely constructed by the Brits fully cooperating now that Saito has caved on the issue of officers' working. In fact Nicholson is quite determined to construct a proper bridge; the building of which will help the morale and discipline of his men and leave a legacy they can all be proud of.


Hold on a sec.... Aren't the British essentially helping their enemy's war effort? Yes, there's that.


The film's climax is one of the greatest conclusions to a story ever filmed. The bridge is completed, on time, the commando squad arrives and sets its demolition aiming to blow the bridge during the inaugural crossing of an enemy train. But as Major Warden has repeatedly warned, "there's always the unexpected." Of all people it is Nicholson who sees the tell tale signs of sabotage and alerts Saito. 


So here you have the allies trying blow up a Japanese bridge built by allies for the Japanese and it is an allied officer trying to put the kibosh on the whole deal. Madness indeed.


One allied soldier is thus put in the rather awkward position of having to kill Nicholson, something he's reluctant to do, being on the same side and all. Shears enters the fray and is gunned down but not before confronting Nicholson with a simple but angry, "You!"


"What have I done?" Nicholson finally wonders before the most ironic way to resolve a sticky situation you'll ever see.


I've omitted one character from this discussion that being Major Clipton, an officer and a doctor who observes all the goings on with detached bemusement. It is he who repeats "madness" to drive home the film's essential point.


Sometimes its illuminating to get simple messages in complex forms. In Kwai not only is this case but we get a highly entertaining story with vivid characters. We aren't left wondering what the film is about but marveling at and enjoying the manner of its delivery.

Bridge on the River Kwai was adapted from Pierre Boulle's novel (which was loosely based on actual events) by two writers who were blacklisted at the time, Michael Wilson and Carl Foreman. These two brave men had refused to name names during the McCarthy hearings. Part of the insult added to this injury was that they did not receive the Oscars for best screenplay Kwai earned. Actually they did get them, but they were by that time dead. Madness!

A Day in the Life -- A Page From My Diary

Woke up and had my usual hot shower and breakfast loaded with bran.

Met Lefty and Rocco at their hideout. We pulled a bank heist coming away with about 7Gs each. Not bad and no one was hurt.

Wrote the Pulitzer Prize Committee suggesting they create a category for film bloggers.

Finished the L-ME section of my translation of the Encyclopedia Britannica into pig latin. Should be finished with the whole thing next month. Then it's ka-ching!

Got several more emails from Marty Scorsese asking me to star in his next film. I'm hesitant because it might cut into my film blogging time. Anyway should I really have the lead role in a bio pic about Chester Arthur? Sure he was a great president but....

Was hungry so took the bus down to the marina, stole a boat, went fishing, caught a tuna, brought it home and made a tuna (duh!) sandwich, on rye. Yummy.

Took Jerry (our pet giraffe) for a walk. Still ticked off that we spent two hours last night looking all over the neighborhood for him. Turned out he was locked in the basement the whole time.

Came home to find the ghosts of Adolph Hitler and Groucho Marx arguing in my kitchen. Apparently they've settled their political differences and were in dispute over the position of the salad fork at formal dinners. Felt weird taking sides with Hitler.

Wife home from appointment with her psychic, Lonnie. She smacked me really hard across the face with her purse. Gave no reason but I assume it's related to my recent purchase of Enron stock. Oops!

Picked up the triplets from day care. Lost Cornelius on the way home, Gussie and Hermione made it safely. Wife smacked me across the face again. Ostensibly for losing Corny.

Wrote an essay in my internationally renowned film blog, about great musicals from the silent era. Irony is dead.

Due to the economic downturn I had to let the pool boy go. Didn't feel too bad about as we don't have a pool. The stable boy is next.

Corny showed up. That's one tough 3 year old.

Wrestled a mountain lion in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas I'll never know.

The wife made dinner managing to smack me across the face with a skillet in the process. I think it was on purpose as I was in the den at the time.

Twins are back from boarding school. Gilligan still has tourettes and Delilah has developed a fear of air. We shared a few laughs over the time she was possessed by the devil though I don't recall it being funny at the time.

Enjoyed the dinner. Always love the wife's turnip souffle. Made the mistake of asking her to pass the salt. This was an excuse for her to take a ten pound bag of salt and smack me across the face with it. She may need anger management.

Watched a couple of hours of network TV. This sent me into convulsions.

Took Jerry for his evening walk. The plastic shopping bag I brought along to collect his droppings proved inadequate. Hope neighbors appreciate the rare strain of fertilizer.

A bird in the tree in front of our house was loudly chirping. I suggested to her that she save her tweets for twitter. The bird laughed uproariously. Our whacky neighbor, came out to see what the commotion was and hilarity ensued.

Re-read War and Peace. Still don't get it.

Went to bed. Wife smacked me across the face with a pillow which normally I don't mind but she had put her iron into the pillow case. When I asked what the smacking was for she confessed it was in error and that she owed me one. I found this rather cold comfort.

The Eternal Overcast of the Troubled Mind

Existential angst. A curse of the self aware. Introspection colored by philosophical musings. It's the occasional inability to merely take the next step in one's life without first contemplating its ramifications or those of the previous steps. Throw into the mix something like an addiction, or a deviancy or a mental quirk and you've got the recipe for a tortured soul. Or at least one that needs a lot of attention.

You've also got the recipe for a French film of the New Wave era -- Le feu follet (1963) (the English title is The Fire Within). It's directed by Louis Malle who adapted the script from a 1930s French novel that was undoubtedly inspired by the work of F Scott Fitzgerald. That for Malle this is more homage than rip off is evidenced by references to Fitzgerald during the film.

Some films seem trivialized by presenting a synopsis. It's like being asked of a complicated person: "what's he like?" You can summarize but it hardly does justice. But one must, so in this instance I'll cheat by copy and pasting IMDb's plot summary:

Life has become unbearably painful for Alain who is in his early 30s. He once used alcohol to dull the pain. His estranged wife in New York has paid for a cure at a clinic in Versailles and sends an emissary, one of the many woman he has known, to see how Alain is. She sees only the surface as does his doctor, who says it's time for Alain to leave the clinic. He goes to Paris the next morning and has lunch with old friends, a rendezvous in a cafe and is invited to a dinner party. Will Alain make a connection that will change his mind about ending it all?


Le feu follet is like a lot of great films in that is an invitation. In this case Malle is inviting viewers to follow the main character, Alain Leroy (Maurice Ronet) through various parts of Paris. But it is also a journey through one man's mind and we all know the curious directions such expeditions can take. The mind, the old ad campaign said, is a terrible thing to waste. But it can be a wonderful topic for a film. 


The pace of Le feu follet seems languorous. Malle might have added a fist fight or a car spun out of control or a sex scene. Through much of the movie I was hoping for such a diversion. Not bored, but uncomfortable by the meditative pace. Yet by the last frame I was exhilarated. It had all come together into a wonderful whole. A rich melange of episodes, some curious, others intoxicating. Isn't the thinking process the same? Lots of randomness, lots of going nowhere until viola! 



Here's an overused and overrated word: underrated. But sometimes it must be used, as in any discussion of Malle among great directors. If you need proof look no further then what a compelling film he made out the story of a recovering alcoholic wandering Paris. For one it is beautifully shot, serving as it does as another example of the powerful advantage black and white has over color cinema photography. Pacing in such a film is critical and Malle got it just right. The casting is spot on. Finding the right actor to play Alain was a chore for Malle given the somewhat autobiographical nature of the story.


Donet looks by turns like he must be the French first cousin of Tony Curtis or the Gaelic uncle of Jude Law. He's as good an actor -- if not better -- than both. In Le feu follet he carries the weight of a million woes and personal demons with nary a gesticulation nor frown. It's an incredible responsibility to have the camera trained on you for almost the entire running length of a film and Donet is equal to the task. He expresses more with his eyes or a turn of the head than many actors do with a long soliloquy.


Our Alain visits old haunts and friends. This includes a stop at an upscale opium den where Jeanne Moreau has a cameo. There is also an outdoor cafe where Alain's old army buddies rendevous and visits to flats both bohemian and upper, upper crust. It's a whirlwind 24 hours for a normal bloke but again not the usual stuff of movies. But the French New Wave was not just about different ways of telling stories but of telling a different sort of tale. Why not the curious meanderings of a troubled man?


Don't show Le feu follet to your 14 year old boy, especially if he's been fed on a steady diet of Spiderman and Iron Man (this is Thinking Man!). But for a mature person such as yourself....


This is an explorations of a character. Sad, troubled, sympathetic and altogether mysterious. It is not afraid to leave much to our imagination. I've written often, including in my last post, about admiring films that do not fill in all the blanks. I really don't mind if a film leaves me with room to think. I thank the director for dignifying me in such a way.


Le feu will also leave you yearning for Paris. A city to be fallen in love with again and again. Yes, the photography here would flatter Hoboken, but anyone having seen Paris will know that Le fou is a mere hint of its considerable charms.


This may well be a movie to fall in love with repeatedly. For me it was love at first sight.

Sometimes You Have to Accept the Mystery of a Movie

Life is almost never episodic. It is less like a TV show and more like a river. It flows.

When a movie does not tack on an ending, when the "story" is not wrapped up in a nice neat package, a lot of people complain. There were howls from many people over the sudden ending of the Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men (2007). A few more could be heard from their latest film, A Serious Man (2009). Both films concluded somewhat abruptly without resolution, with questions unanswered.

Evidently many movie goers have a hard time with ambiguity. They want their stories to have a "once upon a time" beginning and a "they lived happily ever after" ending. Others of us are happy to be invited to have our brains indulged in a little thinking. I welcome stories that ask me to ponder possibilities.

Film is, after all, art and art at its best encourages us to exercise our intellect. The absence of denouement is but one method. A Serious Man gives us much to ponder while still being fully satisfying at face value.

I recently enjoyed my third viewing of the film. This time I was particularly struck by a very minor character encouraging the main character, Larry Gopnik (Mark Stuhlbarg) to "accept the mystery." He could well have been the voice of the Coens telling the audience that not all this film's riddles need be solved. Indeed maybe they aren't even meant to be.

Larry's life is plagued with a series of Job like troubles. Answers, would be nice. Very nice. He visits three rabbis. The first, the junior rabbi, can do little better than marvel at the parking lot (emphasis his and mine). The second tells Larry the story of dentist who is a mutual acquaintance. The dentist once had a patient, a goy by-the-by, who had a message inscribed in the back of his teeth. The dentist puzzled over both the meaning of the message and its origins, written as it was in Hebrew, in a goy's mouth. Only when the dentist embraced the mystery was he again able to sleep, eat and enjoy life.

Larry was not amused.

The third rabbi, the senior of the synagogue's three, was "too busy thinking" to see Larry. So it goes.

Why is this all happening to Larry? Wife wanting a divorce (didn't see that coming) brother in trouble with the law (who knew?) and the tenure committee deciding Larry's future is receiving scurrilous letters about him (huh?). Oh yes and he's wrecked his car and the Colombia House Record company is on his ass. Wait, I forget about the menacing neighbor who seems to be violating their property line, the student trying to bribe him and the damage his car sustained....

Why do bad things happen to good people? Why aren't there answers to all our questions, or at least the important ones? Why is that as we get older, instead of everything becoming clearer, new mysteries emerge? WHY?

I think many people with strong religious faith (regardless of denomination) would agree that much is to be left unanswered in this life. Yet we continually struggle, if not for answers, for meaning. What about karmic laws? The old what goes around comes around business. We want to make events represent something. There must be a point. Things can't just happen. Can they?

Can and do.

So the Coens gave us this wonderful stew of a film. If you haven't seen A Serious Man you may at this point be picturing something rather bleak. On the contrary it is rich with humor. It has to be, life is rich with humor. A Serious Man succeeds in reveling truths about life while asking if we wouldn't like to contemplate meanings, whys and wherefores. Or not, up to us.

Stuhlbarg's Larry is the perfect protagonist for such a story. He never tries to impose his will on events. No, he's trying to survive and prosper and wants only to understand so that he can navigate events. Understanding is not a philosophical exercise for Larry, it is a survival mechanism. He is, after all, a physics professor. He is, after all, a serious man. It would be a different movie and maybe not so satisfying a movie, if Larry were raging, or ironic or anything other than...a nice guy.

Larry rides the river. Which, as I said, is what life is like.

Some meaning can be enough meaning. A lot of meaning can be faking it.