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Category: Original Reviews

Responses to Peary’s “must see” movie reviews, as well as my own “must see” movie reviews up to and after 1986 (when Peary’s book was published).

Femme Douce, Une (1969)

Femme Douce, Une (1969)

“She made me see woman as an instrument of pleasure.”

Synopsis:
A pawnshop owner (Guy Frangin) reflects back on his troubled marriage with a beautiful young woman (Dominique Sanda) who has just killed herself by jumping out a window.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Flashback Films
  • French Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Robert Bresson Films
  • Suicide

Review:
Robert Bresson’s ninth of 13 feature-length films was this adaptation of an 1876 short story by Fyodor Dostoevsky called “A Gentle Creature”, which has inspired numerous cinematic renderings (though I’m not sure why). To put it mildly, I’m not a fan of Bresson (I only have one more of his titles left to review — not that I’m counting), so I wouldn’t have liked this movie anyway; but I don’t quite see the appeal of the story itself: a pawnbroker lusts after a beautiful young woman without much money, who he believes he can rescue:

… and then is surprised when she’s not too pleased with his overbearing, objectifying approach to her. Maybe this is a common challenge for some men (“Why isn’t my wife happy? I give her everything she wants and needs…”) but it’s crystal clear that these individuals don’t actually relate to one another in any way except sexually. He’s penny-pinching, she’s inclined to generosity; he likes jazz, she likes classical music; she looks perpetually miserable, he looks perpetually suspicious and sour.

What could go wrong? Well, as we know from the opening scene, pretty much everything, in the worst possible way.

Of course it doesn’t help that Bresson has instructed his actors, as usual, to NOT act, rendering them essentially robotic from the get-go. Skip this one unless you’re a Bresson fan and somehow understand what he’s going for.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Ghislain Cloquet’s cinematography

Must See?
No. Listed as a film with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Phantom India: Reflections on a Journey (1969)

Phantom India: Reflections on a Journey (1969)

“I’m afraid they’re dreaming India, like I am.”

Synopsis:
Louis Malle films various aspects of Indian life in the late 1960s, including religion, art, daily subsistence, and politics.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Class Relations
  • Documentaries
  • French Films
  • India
  • Louis Malle Films

Review:
Louis Malle’s seven-part docu-series chronicling his five months of travel and exploration across India was a personal favorite among his works, and remains a fascinating document of a certain time and place — as seen through a particular lens (that of a White male French filmmaker). Each 51-minute segment is accompanied by Malle’s commentary, though at times he simply allows his curated images to speak for themselves. The episodes — which I’ll discuss in turn — are as follows.

1. “The Impossible Camera”
2. “Things Seen in Madras”
3. “The Indians and the Sacred”
4. “Dreams and Reality”
5. “A Look at the Castes”
6. “On the Fringes of Indian Society”
7. “Bombay: The Future India”

(As a fair heads up, this review will be much longer than my usual posts, given how much there is to cover as well as my personal interest in this topic, which I’ll discuss at the end; feel free to skim or skip to my vote if you don’t want all the deets!)

In Episode 1, we’re introduced to Malle’s intentions with the film. His very first line is:

“Only 2% of Indians speak English, the official language after colonization. This 2% talks a lot, in the name of all the rest. Politicians, businessmen, intellectuals, bureaucrats — all explained their ideas to me at length, and I immediately sensed that the real questions weren’t being addressed. In learning English, they also learned to think as our civilization does. Their words about their country were ordered by Western symbols and logic. I’d heard them all before. I recognized them as my own.”

With that established, Malle and his team move out to the countryside, exploring one of the most enduring themes of the film: the widespread persistence of manual labor. He laments the fact that his camera brazenly “steals” from women who “have absolutely nothing” (sic) and who (he believes) perceive his team as “Martians” entering “their universe without permission” — their camera a “weapon.”

We hear more of Malle’s take on what he’s seeing: he’s simultaneously patronizing (“They seem from another age”) and refreshing in his candor; at least he acknowledges what a stranger he is here. With that positionality firmly in mind, we can watch the rest of his film knowing that it’s simply — as all documentaries are — one person’s take on a place and time. We can choose — and probably do — to take him at his word most of the time, as when he tells us (for instance), “This traditional dance is called the Tiger Dance. It’s also a job. The man and child earn their living dancing.”

He then shares with us the following:

“Everywhere we go, the first thing I see are [people’s] eyes, their stares. In a moment we’re surrounded by Indians. We came to see them, but they’re the ones looking at us. So we preferred to film them that way, their sea of enormous eyes turned on us, on the camera’s single eye. We decided to film all these looks, to make them the leitmotiv of our journey.”

The entire series is, indeed, filled with faces, which I “collected,” too, as I was watching.








Next, Malle briefly lands on a village wedding:

… before returning to peasants at work:

… noting that the camera “keeps returning to this young woman, because we’re drawn to her beauty, her graceful modesty, her laugh. Because she dazzles us. Because that’s what it was like that morning.”

Malle is similarly poetic throughout his entire commentary — acknowledging both the destitution and the beauty he sees; it’s mostly a fair balance. He insists, “We follow the camera; it guides us. We’re not filming to defend an idea, or demonstrate one… Each step we take is part of the film, Westerners with a camera — Westerners twice over.” He makes special note of “a transvestite with too much makeup,” referring to the performance “like something out of a Fellini film.”

Other elements in Episode 1 include a festival; an introduction to the caste system; the familiarity of seeing Catholicism in Kerala; a Communist demonstration; and an infamous sequence of cattle — revered across most of India — being devoured by a dog and vultures.

Malle’s commentary here is refreshing, once again, in its candor:

“I realize we reacted in terms of our culture. Around us, the landscape reminded us of Greece, bathed in some austere grandeur that lent an air of mysterious sacrifice. To us it was a tragedy, a drama in several acts. For our Indian companion, it was an everyday scene: a glimpse of life and death and their calm alteration. It was nothing worth filming, nothing extraordinary.”

Malle goes on to film statues of gods; a party:

… and villagers creating “drawings with ritual meanings,” with “the women who create them allow[ing] only tiny variations on specific symbolic themes.”

He adds, “Where we take aesthetic pleasure in the abstract floral drawings, these women experience and recapture a link with the divine. They draw to bring their god to them.” (We must assume, once again, that this is what he’s been told by an inside informant, and then interpreted through his own lens.) He comments openly that “Indian women are very beautiful” and continues touching upon themes and landscapes he’ll come back to in future episodes.

Evidence of his western perspective shines through, especially during comments like, “We spent five months in India without ever seeing love” (!!!), adding with delight that his footage of “a boy and girl flirting” became “our most precious footage, absolutely unique.”

(As a reminder, Malle’s breakthrough film was 1958’s The Lovers, all about an affair.)

In the rest of Episode 1, Malle touches openly on colorism and racism (“In Northern India especially, a dark-skinned child’s birth into a high-ranking family is seen as a catastrophe.”) before filming an erotic temple; hippies from the West traveling through the country (one ends up going home from illness):

… and a completely inefficient tire factory, leading Malle to remark, “They possess infinite patience; time doesn’t seem to exist.” before reflecting back on his own youth filming in the Seychelles. The episode ends with images of caste-bound fishermen who are relegated to working from the shore.

* * * *

Episode 2 begins with lengthy footage of a festival in which an “immense chariot is taken from the temple and solemnly paraded around the temple walls,” taking “five hours to cover the half-mile circuit.”

Malle’s time spent on this event makes sense given how colorful and revealing it is, showing collective traditions of great and time-consuming importance to locals. Back in the city, he comments on watching a comedic play about bureaucracy, which he posits is “truly the scourge of this country, a legacy of the English, a state within a state.”

He includes quite a bit more political commentary throughout this and future episodes, helpfully clueing in outsiders to the complexity of governing such a massive post-colonial nation. A particular facet shown in this episode is the government’s “colossal effort at population control,” including Malle’s visit to a “family planning” exhibit at a fair, with condoms handed out like candy and men offered a free radio if they’re willing to be sterilized.

Malle moves straight from this to somewhat dismissively discussing India’s thriving movie industry, noting that the many studios there will make “anything that draws an audience.” He concedes that as “terrible as these films may be, they’re the means of expression and sole entertainment for the people in a country in which TV is practically nonexistent,” and he also admits he “liked some of these films, with their incoherence, dramatic plot twists, one-dimensional characters, and constant intervention of magical forces.”

Perhaps to balance out what he’s just been through artistically (!), Malle spends the rest of his episode on graceful young girls practicing traditional Indian dance; he’s fixated on them to an extent unsurprising for the man who brought us Pretty Baby (1978) (more on this in a later episode).


I agree with Malle, however, that these dedicated young dancers are utterly enchanting to watch.

* * * *

Episode 3, “Indians and the Sacred,” opens with Malle commenting, “India can sometimes be dizzying.” and then proceeding to show us a “man moving through the crowd with faltering steps under a burning sun, in the midst of an exuberant religious ceremony,” bearing “a complicated framework of hundreds of metal rods, each pressing into his skin, and “a long needle pierc[ing] his tongue.”

Malle informs us “he’s obviously a yogi practicing some form of asceticism, one of the countless cruel methods to mortify the flesh, to control and dominate it.” Moreover, he adds, “There are thousands like him in India, fanatics of the Absolute.” This entire episode is devoted to the central role played by religion in India — though Malle starts by sharing his observation that, “Even when awake, southern Indians seem to me drowsy, lifeless, absent.”

At temples, we see priests performing rituals to the gods:

… and we hear from a temple water-bearer that he’s “not asking for a lot,” but rather wants “five more rupees,” “for [his] daughter’s schooling.”

Malle comments, “We’re fleeced like this at every temple; the priests’ greed knows no bounds.” Upon visiting another temple, he remarks, “In reality, contrary to what I first believed, priesthood holds no prestige for Brahmans,” and is “even seen as degrading.” He asserts, “India is complicated indeed,” but is more than willing to concede that many believers find deep solace in their religion.

He describes a bit of Hindu religion, appropriately noting that it’s much more complex than he can possibly hope to convey, and introducing us to an ashram where a disciple explains:

“Each of us must understand the Self, the truth inside us. We must separate the self from the flesh in order to reach the Self. The great teaching of the guru, and the principal aim of all the disciples, is the ultimate knowledge of the Self. “

At another temple, Malle finds a “woman sitting between the double walls,” “practically immobile,” who “softly murmurs some unknown litany” and is “in the exact same spot, in the same position” when they leave that evening.

Next we learn about the crucial role played by water in Indian society: “Rivers are sacred, and daily ablutions punctuate believers’ lives,” Malle tells us.

He and his crew spend hours filming individuals engaging in sacred rituals, noting: “These gestures can seem funny, and we could have easily exaggerated their comic aspect and made a sarcastic portrayal of fetishism and excessive piety. But we didn’t want to.” (Nice of him and his team.) “We show them to you as we filmed them. You decide whether they’re ludicrous or admirable.” (I would like to quickly point out that many Christian — not to mention all other religious — rituals would seem equally nonsensical to outsiders.)

Malle goes on to add his guess that engaging in religious rituals may offer believers “an outlet, a chance to finally be alone through worship” — thus making “these southern Indians, normally so drowsy and full,” “unrecognizable” — after all, they are promised “transmigration” and reincarnation “in other bodies indefinitely.”

We learn that so-called “hermits” wandering the roads indefinitely are often men who “are social misfits, unstable and abnormal people, as if society got rid of them by sending them out on the road” — and yet, “the existence of these millions of renunciants is an essential aspect of Hinduism — the antithesis of the caste system, a sort of safety valve for such a restrictive world.”

We also learn a little more about why so many people are seen begging in India.

Malle points out: “Begging is a sacred act, and the faithful are obliged to give alms.” Indeed, beggars “symbolize the renunciation of the material world and physical reality” — but he adds the interesting caveat that while the beggars themselves had no problem being filmed by Malle and his crew, wealthier Indians tried to intervene, to prevent this aspect of their society from being documented.

On a broader note, this might be a good time to share that upon this miniseries’ release, “Many British Indians and the Indian Government felt that Malle had shown a one-sided portrait of India, focusing on the impoverished, rather than the developing, parts of the country. A diplomatic incident occurred when the Indian government asked the BBC to stop broadcasting the programme. The BBC refused and were briefly asked to leave their New Delhi bureau.”

* * * *

Episode 4 — entitled “Dream and Reality” — opens with Malle reflecting on how by this point in their project, he and his team had only the “goal to lose ourselves in the infinity of Indian villages,” living “almost as they did,” spending “entire days without filming, as if it was no longer what mattered.” Eventually, he notes, they came to “feel as if we’ve rediscovered something we’d lost… It’s not about explaining or dominating the world, but being a part of it, fitting into it.” He adds with wonderment:

“If happiness is defined as a sense of balance and bliss, being in harmony with one’s surroundings, interior peace, then these Indian peasants are happier than us, who’ve destroyed nature and do battle with time in the absurd pursuit of material well-being, in the end sharing only our loneliness.”

(There is more-than-a-little romanticization of poverty and manual labor in Malle’s words — though his point is well-taken, and certainly reflective of the times.)

Shortly after this, Malle notes (in a wondrous yet droll tone reminiscent of Werner Herzog):

One afternoon, we came upon the unreal vision of this man pushing a sewing machine down a deserted road. In France, this would be quite surreal. Here, we watch without comment.

Of course, in reality, there is nothing odd about a villager with a sewing machine rolling it to another village to conduct his trade — it’s less surreal than practical; context matters.

We learn about a colony of bats left unharmed; the legacy of railroads (brought by colonialist England) across the nation:

… and how women continue working on tea plantations.

We see how elephants are treated like slaves and used for labor:

… given that they are “intelligent, obedient, and very powerful,” and “cost less than a bulldozer or tractor.” Malle points out that wild tigers are nowhere in sight; the only one the film crew came across was “a well-behaved tiger at the Mysore Zoo.”

We see women weaving coconut husks in a Keralan village where “just like about everywhere, production is controlled by the landowners and merchants, who own the coconut palms and to whom the peasants are indebted.” Malle comments: “This tropical paradise is also a hell on earth.”

He notes that Kerala is where “the largest Communist parties in India are found” — though he asserts that “the orthodox Communists don’t really [seem to] want a peasant revolution.”

* * * *

In Episode 5 — “A Look at Castes” — Malle hones in on a topic he’s been addressing off and on throughout his series: social castes. The episode opens with a White male American Peace Corps volunteer — a “specialist in agriculture” — noting how challenging it is to convince villagers “to adopt several new techniques at once.”

We see more footage of women at (manual) work, making chapati bread to serve with dal:

.. making patties from cow dung to use for fuel:

… and carrying jugs of water from the same well as other women from their caste.

To that end, Malle notes that the caste system in India “is incomprehensible, and even invisible,” yet simultaneously “manifest in every gesture of daily life.” He includes a potent metaphor of a blind camel walking around and around, “dragging a millstone behind him to mix the cement”:

… which he offers up “as a heavy-handed symbol of Indian society,” noting that while “the caste system was officially abolished by the Indian constitution,” “laws can’t erase a tradition dating back millennia.” We learn about so-called “untouchables” (a term coined by Europeans), and see how ideas of purity and impurity are integral to caste.

Malle then makes the decidedly Euro-centric observation that “In India, individual people don’t matter; it’s their relationship that matters. One isn’t pure or impure; one is more or less pure than someone else.” Thankfully, he shifts immediately to showing us children in an open-air school learning to count; it seems education is the primary hope for change in the future.

We also learn in this episode that the untouchables are responsible for taking care of India’s laundry:

… vigorously beating the dirt out of the clothes they’re tasked with cleaning each day; as Malle describes it, “The village clothes-washers attack the washing with an energy that makes up for the lack of soap.” This work is shared by men, women, and children, and is “remarkably organized” as a “plain and simple form of economic oppression.”

We see a funeral next, with a “flower-covered corpse… carried to the place where it will be burned” as “Marlborough” (a.k.a. “The Bear Went Over the Mountain”) plays in the background (!).

Malle comments that he sees “no suffering or tears, nor even sadness. To us, for whom death is so tragic, this aspect of Hinduism is stunning.” (However, as with Malle’s earlier commentary on a lack of public displays of affection and love in India, he’s only seeing the outward, socially allowable manifestation of emotions here.) He adds:

“Death is not an end, nor even a separation. One lives and dies and is then reborn, over and over in an unbroken chain. Each life is judged, and the next life constitutes the verdict. If you’re born an Untouchable, it’s your fault, because in a previous life you proved yourself unworthy. You can imagine the social efficiency of the system.”

TouchĆ© — and yet, yes. The final sequence in this episode consists of villagers who “don’t want [the crew] to leave without filming their traditional sport, a mixture of Red Rover and Greco-Roman wrestling.”

* * * *

Episode 6 — “On the Fringes of Indian Society” — brings us near the end of Malle’s magnum opus, but also to some of his most controversial comments. He first goes to visit the remote Bonda tribe, which he asserts is “like traveling back in time.” He writes that as “one of the many aboriginal people who’ve survived until today, conserving their way of life and ancestral religion,” they have been “gradually forced… into the most inaccessible mountains with the poorest soil in central India.” Men hunt with bows and arrows for increasingly rare game, while “the women make brooms to sell at a local market,” using most of their money to purchase jewelry.

Malle shares about the Bondas’ sexual and marital practices, noting that in dormitories “set apart from the rest, boys and girls mix with total sexual freedom before marriage,” with the dormitories functioning “as a matchmaking service, a kind of club where they get to know each other before choosing a spouse.” (Other than the sexual freedom part, this sounds remarkably like some Christian fundamentalist sects I’ve heard of in America.) In terms of marriage:

Generally, a 20-year-old girl will marry a 14-year-old. Marriage follows strict exogamous rules; it’s forbidden to take a husband from your own village. Divorce isn’t a rare occurrence. If a husband leaves his wife, he sends his in-laws a goat. If the wife leaves, her new husband gives her ex three goats.

Also of interest is that the Bonda don’t have writing or last names, and are simply called by the day of the week they were born on.

Next, Malle turns to other groups on the fringes of Indian society — including a small sect of Jews who tell him that India is the only country where they have never been persecuted.

Malle, ever blunt, comments on the “degenerate and sickly” results of “pure bloodline jealously guarded in this tiny community.” We see another ashram, this one run by an aging French woman referred to as “Mother” who doesn’t want to be filmed, though we hear her voice and see some followers:

… including an Italian man explaining he was spiritually searching across the globe for years.

“I’d read verses of the Bhagavad Gita that really impressed me, and I’d also noticed the transformation on people’s faces when they returned from India: their faces were calm, not stressed like typical Europeans. I’d intended to travel through India up to the Himalayas — but after a few days of travel, I arrived here and found what I was looking for.”

A Swedish woman similarly explains her reasons for being at the ashram, noting:

“I had practically no religious background. God was not a living presence. That didn’t exist there [in Sweden]. I didn’t know I had a soul. Essentially, it was questions: Who am I? Why am I like this? Why is the world the way it is? … Why am I here? Is there a reason for life?ā€

Members of the ashram — which still exists and can be visited — “believe in evolution,” that “a day will come when the human body will undergo a transformation. Transcending the limits of reason, the new man will achieve, through inner enlightenment, a state of super-consciousness that will set him free, and all of humanity, too.”


Finally, on the topic of the fringes, Malle informs us:

“In the Nigiri mountains, at an altitude of 8,000 feet, we found the ideal society: the Toda tribe… No Toda girl is a virgin past the age of 13. Before puberty, they’re entrusted to an experienced male to learn [love-making]. These lessons are part of their education, just like singing and cooking. Sex is a natural need, and throughout their lives, the Toda practice free love. The Toda language has no word for sex. They use the words ‘fruit’ or ‘food.’ Children don’t go to school. Their education comes from their contact with nature … Marriages are arranged from birth, but since there are fewer women than men, it’s customary for a girl to marry several brothers of the same family. Since absolute sexual freedom prevails throughout the tribe, paternity is impossible to establish. The oldest brother is the legal father.”

While listening to and watching this section, I was paying careful attention to the faces of all the young females, wondering what it’s like for them to grow up in such a culture; if something like this is normalized for all girls, does that lessen the pain of such toxic patriarchy? Malle choosing to refer to this as “the ideal society” reminds me once again of how and why he put forth something like Pretty Baby without blinking an eye. He may believe that “these 800 Toda are the last remnants of a free society that never knew war, hunger, prudishness, or injustice” — but is that how these girls feel?




* * * *

The final episode — “Bombay: The Future India” — is the most overtly political and forward-looking, while also reflecting back and closing out the series. Malle points out the monotony and sameness of much of the city:

… which is “crammed with people from all over the country.” He states, “You never get used to the poverty in India, even after four months — especially in the cities, where it shows its most terrible face.” Of course, he adds, poverty in villages is just as extreme, thus leading many to come to the city in search of jobs — and so the cycle goes. He notes that “it takes endless ingenuity just to survive”:

… points out the presence of many Muslims (despite the creation of Pakistan):

… and shows us an “ultramodern petrochemical factory.”

We’re also taken to Bombay’s red-light district, which for some reason is shocking to Malle.

We hear about stock trading (informed by astrological input) and free enterprise in India, and learn about the Parsis, a group of Zoroastrians who “came here from Persia to escape Muslim persecution” and became wealthy primarily through steelworks.

We’re reminded once again in this final episode of the renaissance of yoga across the country:

… and we see a young police officer being trained in the remnants of British traffic operations:

… before hearing from various intellectuals, politicians, and economists about what’s next — or should be next — for India.

It’s especially eerie seeing footage with Bal Thackeray, founder of Shiv Sena — “an extreme right-wing movement serving purely local interests, expressing native Bombay residents’ desire to defend themselves against the invasion of immigrants from southern India, who are both despised and feared.”

Thackeray argues that if Muslims aren’t happy, they should go to their own country; and he asserts that “Ruling with a firm hand doesn’t mean dictatorship. I’m not talking about dictatorship, just keeping people in line. We need order in this country.” Shiv Sena remains in global news to this very day.

Episode 7 ends with the following depressing quote:

“In India, we discovered with wonder another way of being, another way of living and seeing the world that made us all feel nostalgic, like a secret forever lost. But we felt all along it was a world living on borrowed time. Here, where the population is greater than Africa and South America combined, modern life increasingly takes the form of man exploiting his fellow man.”

* * * *

Well — after many hours of writing, I’ve now reached the end of my own lengthy overview of Malle’s ambitious project, which has lingered in my mind for days since watching it. As a bit of personal background, I spent a month in India in the summer of 2004, hanging out and exploring while my husband (boyfriend at the time) was working with a tech company. Many things have changed, of course, since Malle’s visit, but much still rings true to my own observations. I recall the vibrant colors, flowers, and fabrics; the endless crowds; temples everywhere; cows left alone on streets; dogs roaming freely; relentless begging — and so much manual labor and poverty, with class separations as stark as ever. (There are now a lot more cars crowding the streets — that’s a significant difference.)

An added interest for me with this documentary is the particular time it was filmed, when so many Europeans — including my own young parents — were looking to the East for spiritual enlightenment. My Norwegian parents happened to find and follow a guru from Indonesia (not India), but enough is similar to what I saw and heard in this documentary to give me a sense that I was watching a parallel journey of sorts. Indeed, I recognized my parents and their peers in the clothing, glasses, and viewpoints expressed here, as cultures were inter-mixing and the world was — evolving? Well, it was changing at least, and continues to shift with the relentless forces of globalization. In 2024, India is once again at its own political cross-roads, as are we — it was ever thus and likely always will be. Pockets of peace and happiness may exist everywhere, but never without troubles of their own.

I’ll end my review by circling back to something Malle said in Episode 1:

“Once the film has been finished, edited and projected, it can be seen as folklore, but it’s you and I who make it so.”

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Numerous memorable sequences and images


Must See?
Yes, as a valuable and fascinating historical document. Listed as a movie with Historical Importance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Historically Relevant
  • Important Director

Links:

This Man Must Die (1969)

This Man Must Die (1969)

“Chance is wonderful — and it exists. It’s the only thing that exists.”

Synopsis:
When a grieving father (Michel Duchaussoy) vows to hunt down and kill the man who murdered his son (StƩphane Di Napoli) in a hit-and-run accident, he finds himself connecting with an actress (Caroline Cellier) whose brutal brother-in-law (Jean Yanne) is a prime suspect.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Amateur Sleuths
  • Claude Chabrol
  • French Films
  • Mistaken or Hidden Identities
  • Revenge

Review:
Based on a 1938 novel by Cecil Day-Lewis (writing as Nicholas Blake) entitled The Beast Must Die, this Claude Chabrol psychological thriller gives off definite Hitchcock vibes — which makes sense given that Chabrol, alongside Eric Rohmer, interviewed Hitchcock and co-authored a book about him in 1957. (With that said, Chabrol stated that three other directors — F.W. Murnau, Ernst Lubitsch, and Fritz Lang — influenced him even more.) At any rate, having long ago finished reviewing all of Hitchcock’s actual titles in GFTFF, I decided it was time to revisit what one means, exactly, when using the term “Hitchcockian.”

1. First, and most importantly, “Hitchcock uses film as a place for audiences to project their anxieties.” Does Chabrol do that in this film? Absolutely. The film opens with a devastating attack on the core of one’s existence (losing a child):


… and absolutely everything that comes afterwards is laser-focused on attempting to rectify this loss, in some way.

2. “Hitchcock’s films were a way for him to deal with his own worst fears.” This I can’t speak to, since I don’t know enough about Chabrol’s motives in deciding to make this particular film…

3. “Hitchcock knows you’re watching.”

… As does Chabrol. Voyeurism plays a clear role in this film, given that Duchaussoy fakes his identity and “falsely” pursues Cellier:

… in order to enact an elaborate, double-twisty plot of worming his way into her family (and all while we’re well aware that he may not even have the “right” culprit).

4. “Hitchcock mastered every tool at his disposal.” Chabrol did as well, to the extent that one simply becomes absorbed in his best films (and his longtime collaborations with composer Pierre Jansen and editor Jacques Gaillard resonate here, too).

As in Hitchcock’s best films, good use is made of diverse locations, ranging from the opening sequence at a seaside town, to Duchaussoy’s search for a garage where someone may have thrown away a damaged car part, to the bar where he picks up Cellier, to Yanne’s showy mansion:

… to a literal cliffhanger:

… and a tense scene out on a boat.

This one remains worth a look.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Jean Rabier’s cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as a fine thriller by Chabrol. Listed as a film with Historical Relevance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Categories

  • Good Show
  • Important Director

Links:

Milky Way, The (1969)

Milky Way, The (1969)

“My hatred of science and my loathing of technology will one day lead me to this absurd belief in God.”

Synopsis:
As French pilgrims Pierre (Paul Frankeur) and Jean (Laurent Terzieff) travel across historical eras from Paris to the holy site of Santiago de Compostela in Spain, they encounter a variety of individuals debating and/or living out Christian theology.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Christianity
  • Delphine Seyrig Films
  • Historical Drama
  • Luis Bunuel Films
  • Road Trip
  • Satires and Spoofs

Review:
Following the success of Belle du Jour (1967), Luis Bunuel made this more personal film — the beginning of what he referred to as his “trilogy of truth,” followed by The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972) and The Phantom of Liberty (1974). As Carlos Fuentes writes in his essay for Criterion, the movie represents a “filmic space-time continuum” in which the lead characters seamlessly move between different eras during their journey, beginning with modern times as they encounter a mysterious prophet in a black cape (Alain Cuny):

… and hopping back and forth between biblical and medieval eras (thus prompting some to note the film’s clear influence on Monty Python).

In a different article for Criterion, Mark Polizzotti provides a nice overview of the film’s Christian themes, noting:

… it is devoted to the six primary mysteries of the faith and to the objections (or heresies, depending on your view) they have inspired. These are: the dual nature of Christ (man or divinity?), the three-in-one nature of the Holy Trinity, the Immaculate Conception, transubstantiation (is the host literally Christā€™s body or only a metaphor?), the concept of free will, and the existence of evil (if God is omnipotent, how could he allow sin and temptation?).

Given this focus, the hitch-hikers first land at an inn where a policeman (Claude Cerval) and a priest (FranƧois Maistre) are debating — naturally; why not? — transubstantiation, before the priest is hauled away by men in white to a mental institution.

From there, Jean and Pierre encounter a host of historically diverse characters, including the Virgin Mary (Edith Scob):

… Jesus Chris (Bernard Verley) and his followers:

… nuns following Jansenism (a French Catholic movement “which arose as an attempt to reconcile the theological concepts of free will and divine grace”):

… a rock star-ish angel of death (Pierre ClĆ©menti):

… the Whore of Babylon (Delphine Seyrig):

… and the Marquis de Sade (Michel Piccoli), who seems to appear in the film simply to state the following: “There is no God. All religions are based on a false premise, Therese — the necessity of God the creator. But this creator does not exist. All religions bear the emblem of imposture and stupidity. But if one especially deserves our contempt and hatred, it is the barbarous laws of Christianity” (all said as we see faithful ‘Therese’ [Christine Simon] literally shackled).

We also witness a gathering of a Priscillianist sect preaching the belief in dualism (i.e., humans strive towards the Kingdom of Light but we are trapped by our earthly bodies):

… a performance by girls at a boarding school who explain and describe the various heresies as “anathema”:

… a duel between a Jansenist (Jean Piat) and a Jesuit (Georges Marchal) over “predestination and irresistible grace for sinners” (meant to satirically show that the truly faithful will literally put their lives on the line for what they believe):

… and a Spanish priest (Julien Guiomar) breaking the fourth wall — and a literal wall — as he first tells stories about the Virgin Mary, then counsels Jean and Pierre while they’re in their hotel rooms with uninvited guests.

There’s more — but the meandering “storyline” merits viewing rather than reading about if it sounds at all of interest to you. While I applaud Bunuel for deeply exploring interesting and contentious tenets of his faith, this film won’t be for all tastes.

Note: In case you were curious, according to Wikipedia:

The title of the film is taken from a popular name used for the Way of St. James, a route often traveled by religious pilgrims that stretched from northern Europe to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. This is where the remains of St. James were reputed to be buried.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Fine historical sets and costumes

Must See?
No; this one is only for Bunuel fans.

Links:

Passion of Anna, The (1969)

Passion of Anna, The (1969)

“Why not do something you believe in, which feels true to you?”

Synopsis:
On a remote Swedish island, a solitary man (Max von Sydow) helps out a grieving widow (Liv Ullmann) and soon meets the couple she’s living with — architect Elis (Erland Josephson) and his wife Eva (Bibi Andersson) Vergerus; meanwhile, as mysterious animal cruelty occurs across the island, a local man (Erik Hell) is falsely accused of being the perpetrator.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Infidelity
  • Ingmar Bergman Films
  • Liv Ullmann Films
  • Marital Problems
  • Max von Sydow Films
  • Widows and Widowers

Review:
The informal third film in Ingmar Bergman’s “island trilogy” — following Hour of the Wolf (1968) and Shame (1968) — was this enigmatic exploration of themes from many other Bergman films (guilt, shame, isolation), but perhaps especially — as argued by Bergman scholar Jerry Vermilye — the “thread of violence intruding on ordinary lives.” The film opens on the pastoral scene of pipe-smoking von Sydow looking out at the sun as he fixes his roof and we hear sheep bells tinkling in the backdrop.

Soon he’s on the road offering to help an odd man (Hell) pulling a cart, and we understand he’s essentially a kind individual:

… as additionally supported by his willingness to let distressed Ullmann use his phone (albeit with a bit of deceit and nosiness — he surreptitiously listens in):

… and the fact that he rescues a dog:

… checks on Andersson’s well-being when he happens upon her napping in her car:

… etc. Next, in an improvised scene, we see von Sydow and Ullmann enjoying dinner and conversation with Josephson and Andersson:

… and interpersonal webs grow ever more entangled, with first one affair occurring, then another, alongside continuous hints that none of these people are truly who they seem (then again, who is?).

The disturbing mystery of who keeps brutally harming animals; the tragic bullying of Hell; eruptions of violence and/or suspicion amongst the four key players; random flashbacks and dreams; and the mystery of what actually happened to Anna — interspersed by fourth-wall-breaking interview clips with the lead actors:

— all keep us engaged throughout, even if the ending is frustratingly inconclusive.

Note: As a Norwegian-American, I know that “slut” means “end” in Norwegian and Swedish — but it’s impossible not to read into Bergman’s choice of this term to close his film, knowing how much overt rancor he had for Ullmann as their relationship was disintegrating during the making of this movie.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Max von Sydow as Andreas
  • Liv Ullmann as Anna
  • Sven Nykvist’s cinematography
  • Numerous memorable moments or sequences

Must See?
No, though naturally it’s a must-see for Bergman completists — and worth a one-time look by those who appreciate his work. Listed as a film with Historical relevance and a Personal Recommendation in the back of Peary’s book.

Links:

Pigpen (1969)

Pigpen (1969)

“I killed my father, I ate human flesh and I quiver with joy.”

Synopsis:
In primitive times, a cannibal (Pierre Clementi) on the slopes of Etna wanders around killing animals and people; meanwhile, the son (Jean-Pierre Leaud) of a post-WWII German industrialist (Alberto Lionello) neglects his politically radicalized girlfriend (Anne Wiazemsky) to go lie with the pigs.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Cannibalism
  • Italian Films
  • Jean-Pierre Leaud Films
  • Pier Paolo Pasolini Films

Review:
Pier Paolo Pasolini’s follow-up to Teorema (1968) was this inscrutable mash-up of two different “stories” which only vaguely (possibly) relate to one another. As the movie opens, we see a man (Clementi) in a barren landscape killing a snake to eat:

… and then the scene suddenly shifts to a modern, urban, upper-class setting, as a quibbling young couple deliberates in front of the man’s parents (Alberto Lionello and Margarita Lozano).

The fact that Lionello has a Hitler-esque mustache seems fully intentional; indeed, as he engages in later conversations with the other main player in the film, Mr. Herdhitze (Ugo Tognazzi) (his “mysterious rival”):

… we learn a little more about his political views. The story continues to toggle back and forth between the two settings and sets of characters, with no explicit rhyme or reason — and the opaque dialogue doesn’t help matters whatsoever. Take this interaction between Leaud (Julian) and Wiazemsky (Ida), for instance:

Julian: Even if you were to betray not just those of your generation, but yourself and the truth, you’ll never find out what I’m going to do.
Ida: What right do you have not to tell me?
Julian: It’s just my right, that’s all.
Ida: What good will it do you?
Julian: If anything, to make you cry and suffer. Tra-la-la.
Ida: And without fail I’ll cry and suffer. Tra-la-la.
Julian: Just little things: a wandering leaf, a creaky door, a grunt.
Ida: What do you mean, Julian?

Etc. Oh boy. It really never gets better or clearer. With that said, Time Out’s reviewer refers to this film as “not only an exquisitely revolting satire,” but “also Pasolini’s most fascinating piece of cinema.” — so, to each their own.

In terms of what it’s actually about –well, Wikipedia claims: “The story is about the human capacity of destruction and a rebellion against the social prerequisites implied against it.” OK. Meanwhile, in an essay written for Criterion about Pasolini more broadly, James Quandt notes that enduring themes of his work include “the sacred purity of the dispossessed and the inevitability of their destruction.” My personal take-away is that this film is simply about the awful ways people treat one another, ranging from not-so-subtle critiques to outright cannibalism — be forewarned that it’s ugly stuff.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Tonino Delli Colli’s cinematography

Must See?
Nope.

Links:

Journey to the Far Side of the Sun / Doppelganger (1969)

Journey to the Far Side of the Sun / Doppelganger (1969)

“It’s an inside joke against me and myself.”

Synopsis:
In 2069, the director (Patrick Wymark) of the European Space Exploration Council sends two astronauts (Roy Thinnes and Ian Hendry) to explore a mysterious “mirror planet” which is orbiting the sun opposite of the Earth; what will the pair find when — or if — they land?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Astronauts
  • Science Fiction
  • Space Exploration

Review:
Husband-wife team Gerry and Sylvia Anderson — best known for their marionette-based television shows such as Thunderbirds (1965-66) — were the creative forces behind this odd flop of a science fiction film, released just after Stanley Kubrick’s groundbreaking 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). The story’s premise of a mirror-image planet is intriguing but barely explored; the main gist we get is that people-in-charge are hiding things, and we can’t really trust anything we’re seeing.

I’ll quote at length from DVD Savant’s review, given that he effectively nails this film’s many frustrations.

“[The film] has unfortunately [been] designed almost identically to one of [the Andersons’] marionette shows. People stand and talk a lot… The Anderson’s script is at least 60% hardware-talk and exposition, some of it handled well, but little of it advancing the story. The characters are never really established… The film’s ‘character’ dead ends are matched by a tendency to stop dead in its tracks for frequent hardware scenes — the bread and butter of the Anderson TV shows. We see a long sequence of the landing of a jet, and then sit back for the thuddingly generic, drama-challenged main rocket launch. … The designs on view are neither attractive nor convincing… The lighting overall is garish and high key… ”

Etc. Indeed, I was curious enough the Andersons’ work (which I hadn’t heard of) that I checked out The Thunderbirds and noted that this film does indeed seem to be simply a life-action analog to that.


Oh well.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Earnest performances by Thille and Wymark

Must See?
No.

Links:

Castle Keep (1969)

Castle Keep (1969)

“You can’t save anything by giving it to the Germans; if you give them anything, you have to give them everything.”

Synopsis:
During the Battle of the Bulge, Major Falconer (Burt Lancaster) and his platoon pass by a local religious zealot (Bruce Dern) leading a small group of conscientious objectors as they head to a castle near the Ardennes owned by a count (Jean-Pierre Aumont) and his beautiful wife Therese (Astrid Heeren). As the men prepare for onslaught from Germans, Pvt. Benjamin (Al Freeman, Jr.) reflects on the novel he’ll write from his experiences; Captain Beckman (Patrick O’Neal) admires the castle’s art collection and is jealous of Lancaster’s affair with Heeren; a baker (Peter Falk) finds the local baker’s widow (Olga Bisera) and lives with her; Corporal Clearboy (Scott Wilson) falls in love with a rusty Volkswagen; and many of the men seek pleasure at a local brothel run by the Red Queen (Caterina Boratto).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Bruce Dern Films
  • Burt Lancaster Films
  • Historical Drama
  • Patrick O’Neal Films
  • Peter Falk Films
  • Royalty and Nobility
  • Soldiers
  • Sydney Pollack Films
  • World War II

Review:
Sydney Pollack’s follow-up to The Swimmer (1968) was this semi-surreal adaptation of a novel by William Eastlake, about a somewhat anachronistic encounter between nobility and military forces at a 10th century castle. As in Lancaster’s earlier The Train (1964), there is a bit of a focus on the preservation of precious art during a time of war — in this case embodied by O’Neal’s art-loving captain:

… who relates to the count’s desire to preserve his domain at all costs.

Lancaster’s primary interest (at least at first) is pairing up with Heeren:

… which Aumont is eerily accepting of (we later learn why). Meanwhile, as Lancaster’s men roam into town and encounter the beautiful women of the Red Queen brothel, we wonder if this is all a dream, or if these men are even actually alive.

It’s hard to tell, because the film mixes realism with satire pretty liberally — as in the subplot of Falk settling down with the baker’s wife and resuming his old craft.

While the film doesn’t really “work” overall, Pollack keeps things moving nicely, and the cinematography (by Henri Decae) is luminous throughout.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Peter Falk as Sergeant Rossi
  • Henri DecaĆ«’s cinematography

  • Michel Legrand’s score

Must See?
No, though it’s worth a one time look, and of course must-see for Pollack fans.

Links:

Learning Tree, The (1969)

Learning Tree, The (1969)

“You just hate us colored kids, don’t you?”

Synopsis:
A young man (Kyle Johnson) coming of age in a racist 1920s Kansas town witnesses a robbery leading to the death of a white man; will he tell what he saw?

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Coming of Age
  • Historical Drama
  • Race Relations and Racism

Review:
Acclaimed photojournalist Gordon Parks became the first Black person to direct a major studio picture with this adaptation of his own semi-autobiographical novel about experiencing life, love, and racism in 1920s Kansas. The drama-filled storyline opens with a tornado, as Newt (Johnson) finds himself holed up in a shelter with the town prostitute (Carol Lamond):

… but emerges ready for church, where he meets a beautiful young teenager (Mira Waters) who has just moved to town with her family.

A gentle romance ensues, though it’s interrupted by racial- and gender-based violence (discreetly shown off-screen). Meanwhile, the crux of the narrative centers on Johnson’s friendship with other local boys — including the troubled son (Alex Clarke) of a local drunk (Richard Ward) — and their interactions with a white farmer (George Mitchell) whose apples they steal, as well as the town’s racist sheriff (Dana Elcar).

Johnson’s homelife with his mother (Estelle Evans):

… father (Felix Nelson), and sister provides him with plenty of solace in the midst of increasingly challenging situations, culminating in a dramatic court case.

Given this film’s historical precedence, it seems worth citing at length from TCM’s article:

Although he came to the project with a considerable reputation as an accomplished artist, Parks had to deal with the expected resistance to a black director helming a studio-financed film. One producer offered him major funding if he would change all the black characters to white, and another suggested silent film diva Gloria Swanson for the part of Newt’s mother. But Parks had a great ally in director-actor John Cassavetes, who introduced him to gutsy Warner Brothers producer Kenny Hyman. Not only did Hyman agree to let him direct, in quick succession Parks found himself assigned to writing the screenplay, producing the film and — after Hyman heard him play a song he had written on the piano — composing the score. Only a handful of filmmakers had been given such sweeping control; Chaplin and Welles are among the few that come to mind.

It’s too bad that the movie itself isn’t more compelling: the performances are stiff at best, and everything seems filmed with an eye towards dignity rather than raw emotion. To his credit, however, Parks doesn’t shy away from depicting racism in all its forms across this supposedly desegregated community, ranging from lowered expectations from Johnson’s teacher (Peggy Rea):

… to mob vitriol. This film is worth a look for its historical significance, but ultimately not must-see viewing.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Burnett Guffey’s cinematography

Must See?
No, though it’s recommended to watch once given its historical status as one of the first 25 films selected in 1989 by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry.

Links:

Monitors, The (1969)

Monitors, The (1969)

“The Monitors are your friends. Depend on the Monitors. Work for peace. Violence solves nothing. The Monitors bring peace. Peace brings happiness.”

Synopsis:
During a time when the Earth is ruled by benevolent aliens known as the Monitors — who suppress all negative impulses and force humans to reflect on how great their new lives are — an actress (Susan Oliver), a bi-plane pilot (Guy Stockwell), and the pilot’s brother (Avery Schreiber) join forces with an undercover operative (Larry Storch) and a Monitors-trainee (Sherry Jackson) in a group known as SCRAG (the Secret Counter Retaliatory Group).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Aliens
  • Black Comedy
  • Ed Begley Sr. Films
  • Keenan Wynn Films
  • Revolutionaries
  • Science Fiction

Review:
This satirical sci-fi flick was made with cast members from Chicago’s Second City comedy troupe (their first feature together), and was explicitly designed to encourage more people to come and film in Chicago — which didn’t happen. The film itself starts off with a promising opening sequence and song, as synthesized voices intone: “We are here to serve humanity — here to reaffirm gentility, light the way from fear to sanity, carefully promote tranquility” while various silhouetted shots (we presume from the film itself) are circulated through in various colors.

As soon as we “land” on Earth, we see men in black coats and bowler hats walking around monitoring people and situations, with their oath and guidelines repeated ad nauseum, Big Brother-style.

Interspersed throughout the film are commercial-like snippets of citizens sharing why they believe life is better with the Monitors in control. (Below is Alan Arkin playing a sanitation worker with a heavy accent.)

The storyline itself loosely follows Oliver, Stockwell, Schreiber, Storch, and Jackson as they navigate romance with one another alongside learning more about the Monitors — including meeting the head operational manager (Shepperd Strudwick):

… and/or revealing themselves to hold different identities and allegiances; unfortunately, little of this coheres or is very funny.

Howard Thompson of the New York Times referred to the film as “a one-joke warning that states its case and asks where we go from here,” which just about sums up my impression as well. In his review for Moria, Richard Scheib elaborates a bit more on what doesn’t work:

Much of the film feels like it is trying to be hip and improvisational. It has no real plot, just lots of scenes with the characters running around. It seems to be trying to tap an anti-establishment vibe without actually finding it has anything to say. There is no clear idea in the script what the characters are trying to achieve, what they are running from or even the sense you get in comedies of characters stumbling/bumbling from scene to scene in a haphazard way.

It’s too bad, because the premise is quite intriguing: if well-meaning forces offered to oversee our planet and ensure peace and goodwill, but at the loss of our freedoms and more complex emotions, would we take it? It seems pretty clear that the answer is “no” — but a different film would need to take this up to sufficiently explore it. Watch for bit cameos by Keenan Wynn as The General:

… and Ed Begley as The President (without nearly enough to do in such a peaceful and boring world).

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • The opening sequence
  • Some creative imagery

Must See?
No; you can skip this one unless you’re curious.

Links: