OTB#48: Shoah

Shoah. Claude Lanzmann. 1985. ⚂

I suspect I’ve seen this before: Was it serialised on TV in the 80s? But it’s just a perfect day for watching this nine hour kneeslapper, isn’t it?

Oh, yeah, I have definitely seen this before: I remember the really annoying way it has of have people talking in Polish/Czech/whatever language, and then we get a voiceover translation in French, and when that starts, we get the subtitles.

IT IS FUCKING ANNOYING!

I guess you can claim that it’s an aesthetic choice: The French voiceover isn’t really a voiceover, but the translator actually translating, real-time, while the director is asking these people about their er experiences.

It usually goes like this: We get the director asking a question in French (subtitled), then the translator asking the question in German, then a guy answering in Polish, and then the translator repeating it in French (subtitled).

So we hear the people talking in their own voices, and that’s what’s important to the director? I mean, like gasp. I mean, they could just have subtitled them without going via French, but I guess the French hate subtitles…

[hours and hours pass]

It’s difficult to critique a movie like this, of course. The subject is so monstrous as to make any quibbles sickening.

But. This isn’t a good movie. There are some heartbreaking testimonials in here, but it’s not even an effective movie in reminding you of the horrors of Nazi Germany.

I think perhaps this movie would work better for me in a less distracting environment than here on my couch? Like, in a theatre? Because it’s really hard to keep your mind on the movie when half of it is somebody talking a language you don’t understand to the camera (without subtitles). (OK, he mainly drops the gimmick after a few hours and lets victims talk (in German, French or English) without the back-and-forth to French.)

The cinematography is pretty lush and beautiful.

These bits look a bit staged:

Some German interviewees were reluctant to talk and refused to be filmed, so Lanzmann used a hidden camera, producing a grainy, black-and-white appearance. The interviewees in these scenes are sometimes obscured or distinguished by technicians watching the recording.

I mean, the Nazi with the telescopic pointer and the diagrams just doesn’t seem possible to have happened, and it’s the director’s main Nazi viewpoint. On the other hand, perhaps the sheer ridiculousness of it all is proof that it’s real.

And it was:

During one such interview, the hidden cameras were discovered by a former Nazi and his family. Lanzmann and his assistant were so badly beaten that Lanzmann was hospitalised for a month.

But especially the bits in the van where there’s technicians receiving the hidden camera footage? In real time? Being transmitted? But why? Hm… Well, I guess a VHS recorder would make too much noise? So perhaps it’s actually real? I’m just saying that the movie could perhaps have let us in on the gag.

This seems to say that that’s bit’s staged, as I assumed. Or is USHMM a Nazi disinformation site? You never can tell these days.

The New Yorker takes the scenes as fact:

Lanzmann got hold of a paluche, or paw, a slender, stick-like video camera newly devised by the innovative designer Jean-Pierre Beauviala. Lanzmann hid it in a bag with a tiny hole for the lens, and had one of his cameramen point it at an unsuspecting interview subject. He hid a small microphone behind his tie. A van was rigged with video and radio equipment that rendered the stealthy images and sounds on a television set.

Well, I don’t know… And I’m starting to sound like a Nazi disinformation campaign myself, which is never a good idea. Please misunderstand me the correct way! I believe in everything this movie is saying! But these bits makes me wonder whether this particular director is making these particular scenes up for some reason.

I mean: It’s a minor quibble, and I’m sorry for even bringing it up.

ANYWAY.

One thing’s for sure: If this movie had been released today, it would have been forbidden in Poland, because there’s a lot of anti-Semitic poles in here, and those have never existed, according to the current regime there. And even hinting at it is illegal.

So you get Polish people explaining why their Jewish neighbours were killed.

But also that they themselves were the real victims here.

I can believe that. (I mean, that they’d say that.)

I know I’m just typing a lot of stuff here, but there’s a lot of lulls in the movie, and I have to do something, right?

I have three more hours to go, so perhaps I shouldn’t write a summing-up now: Perhaps there’ll be a twist. And perhaps it’s just me. The facts presented in this movie are horrifying… but it’s presented as if the director is unveiling unknown truth after unknown truth to us, while it’s virtually all stuff that anybody should already know.

I hate all documentaries, anyway. If somebody has something to say, they can like write a blog about it, and then people can skim it. I distrust the form: It’s useful for demagogues, because the inevitable pull of the next scene means you can’t evaluate the present one (which is why the alt-right live on Youtube). With the written word you can argue with the text as much as you like.

So don’t mind me: If you like documentaries, here’s a documentary.

This blog post is part of the Officially The Best series.

OTB#48: Psycho

Psycho. Alfred Hitchcock. 1960. ⚅

Oooh! Psycho! I haven’t seen this for quite some time! And now in a restored 2K version!

Oh, it’s not in “acedemy” ratio? That’s the way I remember it, but perhaps it was pan-and-scanned when I watched it on VHS in the 80s…

Hitchcock was a fucking asshole and apparently traumatised (and
sexually harassed Leigh?), but, dude, this is a great movie… on a
shot by shot basis. I mean, it doesn’t make much sense (why buy a new
car with the cop watching?), but…

Anthony Perkins is so wonderful and extremely believable in this. It’s no wonder that the movie derailed his career completely, because you can’t look at him without thinking that he really is Norman Bates. Being gay and THE REVEAL probably didn’t help much, either.

This leftovers cocktail has three things I want to get rid of: Colleen Bawn.

And it’s delicious! OK, I’m really drunk now, so don’t rely on my judgement, and, indeed, a cocktail that consists of a full egg and whisky does sound really nauseating, but it’s good. Mmm.

This blog post is part of the Officially The Best series.

OTB#59: Blow Up

Blow Up. Michelangelo Antonioni. 1966. ⚄

Whu uh. I thought I had seen this movie before, but in my mind it’s in black and white, and it’s set in Italy. This is in colour and is set in the UK. From the first five minutes, I would have guessed that this was a Nick Roeg movie.

Ok. *reset brain*

This movie would have been more enjoyable to watch if the lead hadn’t looked like consumptive Dickens urchin gone to weed. Uhm… David Hemmings.

OK, I’m shallow, but that’s basically the problem I have with this movie. I can watch endless scenes of 60s ennui: Vanessa Redgrave is great here, and the cinematography is fun and 60s and pop-art-ey, but it really comes down to me not liking Hemmings on the screen, I think.

But… despite that, this is really watchable. The centrepiece of the movie is a very nerdy “ENHANCE! ENHANCE!” sequence, and it’s kinda gripping. Very analogue, and somewhat paranoid. It’s like an action movie without much action. I’m not surprised that De Palma remade this with more photogenic actors.

Love the ending.

This uses more Benedictine, so that’s a good thing. Bobby Burns cocktail (Craddock’s recipe) calls for Dewar’s, but I substituted with Chivas. *gasp*

And I didn’t have shortbread, so I substituted with an oatmeal cookie.

Delicious!

This blog post is part of the Officially The Best series.

OTB#59: Gertrud

Gertrud. Carl Theodor Dreyer. 1964. ⚅

Oh, wow — a Dreyer movie from 1964? I had no idea he lived that long. Hm… Ah. It’s his final movie.

I’ve seen the fabulous Joan of Arc he did back in the 20s, but not a lot of his later movies.

This is some grade-A bizarre acting. In the opening scene, I started wondering whether they’d filmed everything backwards, and then reversed the direction, but I think probably not. They moth move in a very stylised way, and seem to look off the frame of the camera (for direction?) from time to time, and they talk with deep ennui as if reading from a page.

I love it.

It’s kinda like L’Argent? Like later Nouvelle Vague…

It was not well received by the straights:

From the outset the film divided both critics and audiences. Immediately following the Paris premiere at a Dreyer retrospective where it was booed the film was frequently referred to as a “disaster” in the press; after the Danish premiere the reception became more nuanced but still divided, and the film caused a big debate in Danish media.

[…]

In Esquire Magazine, Dwight Macdonald wrote that “Gertrud is a further reach, beyond mannerism into cinematic poverty and straightforward tedium. He just sets up his camera and photographs people talking to each other.” An article in Cinéma65 wrote that “Dreyer has gone from serenity to senility…Not a film, but a two-hour study of sofas and pianos.”

Hipsters (the people who mattered) loved it:

Jean-Luc Godard rated the film number one in his list of the best films of 1964. As well, Cahiers du cinéma voted it the second-best of 1964, beaten only by Band of Outsiders.

Somehow in my mind, I want to compare this movie to Ingmar Bergman, but it resists all comparison. It’s not like it’s 180 degrees to Bergman, it’s like it’s 360 degrees, but rotated in the fourth dimension. Or… a perpendicular hypercube.

That is, while there are some obvious similarities (the focus on female characters and self-determination, as well as the long, well-composed takes), there isn’t a single frame of this movie that could have come from a Bergman movie.

Still plowing my way through the Benedictine recipes… Between the Sheets (Wondrich’s formula) only uses 1.5cl, though.


Tasty!

This blog post is part of the Officially The Best series.