Showing posts with label stanley kubrick. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stanley kubrick. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

killing of a sacred deer



Seemingly there has been a slew of films lately with a broiling emphasis on shock and violence packaged in a polished, artistic sheen. Yorgos Lanthimos' (The Lobster) The Killing of a Sacred Deer, along with Darren Aronfsky's Mother!are those rare occasions where the boundary-pushing vision of a filmmaker is put on display for cushy seated multiplexes. It's hard not to compare these two pictures as they both share a confounding plot with a nightmarish sensibility. They are also slickly made and seductive; the tastelessness of some of the horror elements are in the forefront but they are also juxtaposed with "tasteful," graceful film-making. In that respect, these pictures owe much to Polanski and Kubrick. Deer, in particular, is a riff of sorts on Kubrick's The Shining. We even have the shaggy-haired young son of the piece, Bobby played by Sunny Suljic, bearing a resemblance to Danny Lloyd.



Deer is a hollow picture that looks incredible (supple lighting work and photography--the cinematographer is Thimios Bakatakis), centering upon a hollow family. We are introduced to them in their beautiful, sprawling home in a dinner scene that highlights their wan, somewhat lifeless personalities and peculiar precision with their speech and manner. Steve is a cardiovascular surgeon (bushy-bearded Colin Farrell) at the head of this opus, whose previous carelessness is coming back to roost. Because the film--seemingly rooted in Biblical and mythological lore--takes its sweet, dread-infused time to get to the mysterious perils that befall the family, it's a difficult piece to surmise without giving much away.




Despite the movie's repetition and pace--a heavy touch that doesn't really create potential comedy or suit the already lugubrious material, the film has some strong assets. Especially accordionist Janne Rättyä's cutting score cues (in the vein of Mica Levi). The flat line deliveries which worked so effectively as humor in the more funny and intriguing The Lobster is more safe and banal here. The main players help galvanize the movie as well. Farrell does his usual sturdy work and as his steely wife, Nicole Kidman, whose done some of her best work ever lately, commands a sort of strength and palpable, visual energy. The camera adores her in close-up, simultaneously aglow and bitterly icy. She's solid at portraying her characters' drifty convictions. It's fun to see Alicia Silverstone too in a small bit. But really the erratic heart pumping the film (the human heart anoints the opening--I had to look away) is Barry Keoghan as Steve's mysterious younger friend, who figures as a squirmy, hovering presence. It's an acrobatic, unmissable turn that piques curiosity about the story that may have been completely lacking without him. **1/2


-Jeffery Berg





Monday, February 4, 2013

last year at marienbad


In an ethereal, baroque trompe-l'oeil hotel (or château?), a man (in the screenplay referred to as "X," portrayed by Giorgio Albertazzi) attempts to convince a woman ("A"; Delphine Seyrig)--who insists that he is a stranger to her--that they once had an affair.  Meanwhile a man ("M"; Sacha Pitoëff), who seems to be the woman's husband, is constantly interrupting "X" and "A" and asserting his dominance over "X" by repeatedly beating him in mathematical games.



Last Year at Marienbad is an eerie, mysterious film with long tracking shots and organ dirges.  Though the film contradicts itself--actions repeated and changing in ways that aren't linear--the moody atmosphere is continuous. We have lush things to look at, perhaps to distract us from the shifting and ambiguous storyline.  The Marienbad setting almost feels like an ornate mausoleum, with elegantly-dressed guests sometimes frozen in poses of whatever dream-time moment the film takes place in. One can see its influence on Stanley Kubrick, particularly the hotel in The Shining, and its maze-like grounds of perfectly-manicured shrubbery and statues (the careful viewer will notice that these items do not cast shadows but that the people there do).  To add to its puzzle-esque nature, is the film's haunting narration; I loved the journey through the corridors and X's terse, poetic listing of objects ("Empty salons. Corridors. Salons. Doors. Doors. Salons. Empty chairs, deep armchairs, thick carpets. Heavy hangings. Stairs, steps. Steps, one after the other. Glass objects, objects still intact, empty glasses. A glass that falls, three, two, one, zero. Glass partition, letters.").


Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet haven't really shed light on the logistics of the movie, for those looking for it, though there have been many interpretations (the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice; that it takes place in the mind of A rather than X; that it's a film of characters in limbo).  I wasn't as invested in unlocking clues as I was seduced by the atmosphere, the photography (by Sacha Vierny), and Seyrig's Chanel.  Robbe-Grillet, in the intro to his screenplay has said, "Two attitudes are then possible: either the spectator will try to reconstitute some 'Cartesian' scheme - the most linear, the most rational he can devise--and this spectator will certainly find the film difficult if not incomprehensible; or else the spectator will let himself be carried along by the extraordinary images in front of him ... and to this spectator, the film will seem the easiest he has ever seen: a film addressed exclusively to his sensibility, to his faculties of sight, hearing, feeling." Marienbad didn't hit me emotionally as Resnais's previous Hiroshima, Mon Amour did, but I can see how it was an important piece of cinema, and its effect on the work of many contemporary directors.  Marienbad feels like a mathematical game with characters like integers and no solutions except to make the audience ponder away.  How do we preserve memory? How do we re-create it?  ***1/2


-Jeffery Berg

Friday, February 10, 2012

you can check in any time you like (but you can never leave): a guest post by karen g.


We’ve wandered the endless hallways and had the bold carpet prints burned into our memories. We’ve stood in the ornate common room, surrounded by dark wood with bewitching candle chandeliers dangling overhead. We’ve stared out the windows and admired the beauty of the mountainside and took great delight in strolling through the seemingly infinite green maze outside. We’ve considered it a perfect resort for a family getaway, if not for the fact that some of the previous guests were not always happy with what this beautiful hotel had to offer. In a typical hotels.com review a guest wrote: “My girls, sir, they didn't care for the Overlook at first. One of them actually stole a pack of matches, and tried to burn it down. But I "corrected" them sir. And when my wife tried to prevent me from doing my duty, I "corrected" her.”

In my opinion, the central theme of The Shining is this. You can run from your problems, but they will follow you no matter where you go. Several cozy months away at a peaceful mountain retreat may sound like just the ticket to get some work done, but those demons you left behind might be waiting for you at the front desk, even before you check in. Some of them may even be disguised as warm, inviting symbols from our childhood, to make the deception even greater.


Winnie the Pooh checks into Overlook:





Debated to be a symbol of innocence in the midst of something very dark and evil, a stuffed Winnie the Pooh shows up in several important scenes of Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining. While Stephen King was famously known for hating Kubrick’s film version of his book, Kubrick did use subtleties to portray the novel’s deep subject matter. A haggard-looking Wendy sits, smokes and stares at the television. Her demeanor shows that she is aware of so much more than she is willing to share. She knows that her son is being abused by her husband and feels helpless to stop it. Danny sits next to her, staring blankly as well. He looks as if he can find no peace with the woman who was meant to protect him. Another reference to Winnie The Pooh came in one of the introductory scenes at the Overlook:



Dick Hallorann:” Mrs. Torrance, your husband introduced you as Winifred. Now, are you a Winnie or a Freddy?”

Wendy Torrance: “I'm a Wendy.”

Dick Hallorann: “Oh. That's nice, that's the prettiest.”



In Danny’s introductory scene, the lethargic child slowly answers a psychiatrist’s questions while resting on a large, cheerful, bear pillow. The contrast of the horrors he experienced against the backdrop of what a childhood is supposed to be is what makes this scene extraordinarily eerie. Commentary on the film has hinted that Danny was not only physically abused, but sexually as well. Danny lies on the teddy bear pillow with his hands covering his underwear. A gesture that he felt scared and ashamed. The abuse is also subtly hinted at when Danny has the following conversation with Hallorann:

Dick Hallorann: “…How long have you been able to do it?... Why don't you want to talk about
it?”

Danny Torrance: “I'm not supposed to.”

Dick Hallorann: “Who said you ain't supposed to?”

Danny Torrance: “Tony."

Dick Hallorann: “Who's Tony?”

Danny Torrance: “Tony is a little boy that lives in my mouth.”

Dick Hallorann: “Is Tony the one that tells you things”?

Danny Torrance: “Yes.”

Dick Hallorann: “How does he tell you things?”

Danny Torrance: “It's like I go to sleep, and he shows me things. But when I wake up, I can't
remember everything.”

Dick Hallorann: “Does your Mom and Dad know about Tony?”

Danny Torrance: “Yes.”

Wendy is aware of Danny’s abuse but is helpless or at a loss as to how to stop it. Children create imaginary friends to deal with loneliness or traumatic events in their lives. Danny’s friend Tony not only makes him fall sleep when bad things happen, but he also tells him not to talk about it after.




Harry Derwent – The Millionaire Playboy

In King’s novel, his character, Millionaire Horace “Harry” Derwent owned the Overlook Hotel in the 1940’s. In the novel, Harry Derwent threw a masquerade ball and in, what is known as the more “unexplained” scenes in Kubrick’s movie, Wendy Torrence runs through the hotel and sees something very strange, a man in a tuxedo lying back on a bed while a male in a bear suit performs oral on him. The scene is brief and disturbing. When the men notice Wendy, Derwent sits up on the bed and he and the man in the bear suit stare at her curiously.

To take a deeper look at this is to possibly assume that the owner of the Overlook has now noticed Wendy and is ready to claim another victim to add to the hotel’s list of ghostly guests. In the novel, Derwent was portrayed as an unsavory character and was even considered by Jack Torrence to be the devil himself. In life, Derwent could have have whatever his heart desired. In death, he would have the same.




Menacing Innocence

Kubrick’s direction in this movie turned every day people, objects and actions into something evil and terrifying. The man in the bear suit, something, that in any other setting, would seem whimsical and funny becomes twisted in it’s portrayal. The playful ball that lures Danny into room 237 – an innocent toy that leads Danny into a room of unspeakable horrors. The little girls in their pretty blue dresses who only want a friend... forever. A fatherly hug to assure a frightened child that everything will be okay.





In every viewing of this movie, I discover something new – it is a living piece of art that, in it’s own sinister way, reveals a new secret every time. King reprimanded Kubrick for not including certain aspects of his novel in the movie (the animals in the moving hedge), however the movie is laced with animal themes, pictures and nuance that with every viewing, brings a deeper and more disturbing understanding of the horrors of The Overlook. You’ll discover them for yourself if you’d only step inside…





Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Every one, come on

- John Lennon, "Instant Karma"