Comments for Log

Comment on Où gît votre sourire enfoui? (Pedro Costa, 2001) by RW

RW — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 22:47:20 +0000

Thanks, David N. And thanks for the news — didn’t know about the Masters of Cinema release. Hope you enjoy the retrospective.

Comment on Où gît votre sourire enfoui? (Pedro Costa, 2001) by David N

David N — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:57:34 +0000

“O Sangue” obviously…

Comment on Où gît votre sourire enfoui? (Pedro Costa, 2001) by David N

David N — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 13:48:40 +0000

Both your Costa posts are lovely. I’ve only seen “Sangue” but theres a retrospective at the Tate Modern in London starting this week and I am going to as much as I can. Theres a Masters of Cinema “Juventude em Marcha” DVD coming this year too…

Comment on Juventude em Marcha (Pedro Costa, 2006) by RW

RW — Sun, 20 Sep 2009 04:25:42 +0000

“I believe that today, in the cinema, when we open a door, it’s always quite false, because it says to the spectator: ‘Enter this film and you’re going to be fine, you’re going to have a good time’, and finally what you see in this genre of film is nothing other than yourself, a projection of yourself. You don’t see the film, you see yourself. Fiction in the cinema is exactly that: when you see yourself on the screen. You don’t see anything else, you don’t see the film on the screen, you don’t see a work, you don’t see the people who make things, you see yourself, and all of Hollywood is based on this. It’s very rare today that a spectator sees a good film, he always sees himself, sees what he wants to see. When he begins, rarely, to see a film, it’s when the film doesn’t let him enter, when there’s a door that says to him: ‘Don’t come in.’ That’s when he can enter. The spectator can see a film if something on the screen resists him. If he can recognise everything, he’s going to project himself on the screen, he’s not going to see things. If he sees a love story, he’s going to see his love story. I’m not the only one to say that it’s very difficult to see a film, but when I say ‘see’ it’s really seeing. It’s not a joke, because you think that you see films, but you don’t see films, you see yourself. It’s very strange but I assure you, this is what happens. To see a film, that means not crying with the character who cries. If we don’t understand that, then we don’t understand anything. This is why I spoke of doors which close themselves. There are certain films, for me, which are like doors, even if there are no doors in them. They resemble doors that don’t let you enter as the protagonist of the film. You are outside. You see a film, you are something else, and there are two distinct entities. There are certain films, for me, which make this separation, for example the films of Ozu, Mizoguchi or Naruse, or many others, but here I will cite the Japanese. This door is absolutely necessary. It’s not a piece of private property, that is to say, it’s not closed in an authoritarian manner. We can open it, we can close it, it’s your choice. It’s always your choice in the cinema, it’s always the choice of the spectator. If you decide to go see The Last Samurai (2003), you’re going to see The Last Samurai, you know that it’s going to be painful, you’re Japanese, but you go and see it, I’m sure that you go and see it. It’s like junk food, like cake, it makes you want it, and you go for it, and you know it’s bad for you, but you go for it. This is what I call the open door films. Commerce is like that. The door to McDonalds is always open. So, a film like Late Spring (1949) or An Autumn Afternoon (1962) is not completely open. In a similar way, Ossos is a film that slightly closes the door. It hides certain things, it tells you that you can feel pain, but not everything, and so that suggests a bit of trouble.”

Pedro Costa, “A Closed Door that Leaves us Guessing,” http://www.rouge.com.au/10/costa_seminar.html

Comment on La belle noiseuse (Jacques Rivette, 1991) by RW

RW — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 15:50:02 +0000

Uncanny timing. Glad this struck a chord.

You’re right, the moving camera is instrumental here too — I probably should’ve mentioned that. In their own way, the tracking shots are lines as well, “descriptions” in the literal sense.

I also thought the Matisse reference in the Merleau-Ponty was befitting in that Rivette sometimes cites Matisse in his Cahiers articles to describe a kind of spare “line” that seizes the spirit of something more whole. That’s how he discusses VIAGGIO IN ITALIA, at least (another intensely phenomenological film).

Comment on La belle noiseuse (Jacques Rivette, 1991) by Ryland Walker Knight

Ryland Walker Knight — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 15:08:58 +0000

Amazing: I just watched this yesterday. I don’t have my Merleau-Ponty with me right now, so this is a real treat. Just what I wanted. And, yes, the inheritance of Dreyer’s inscription is so spot on. All those creeping dolly/tracking shots that circumvent and surround and really _capture_ the “scene” or “event” or “line of thought.” I wrote a number of emails last night all about how this movie _is_ phenomenology.

Comment on Stellar (Stan Brakhage, 1993) by ms

ms — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 05:01:21 +0000

what a great website! found looking for brakhage.
thanks

Comment on The Fury (Brian De Palma, 1978) by David N

David N — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 00:19:28 +0000

I’m with you on both of those, RW. Femme Fatale is DePalma at his most delirious – its like a fever-dream.
And the last 20 minutes of Carlitos Way are just amazing…

Comment on The Fury (Brian De Palma, 1978) by Adam

Adam — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 14:39:39 +0000

These works are really really lovely. I can’t remember the last time I liked actually *looking* at a site so much.

xoxo

Comment on The Fury (Brian De Palma, 1978) by RW

RW — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 14:29:47 +0000

Mine too, or at least it’s neck and neck with Blow Out. I’m pretty fond of Carlito’s Way and Femme Fatale as well, but I usually find I’m in the minority on those two.