Hey folks, Harry here... I am officially jealous beyond words right now... The lovely Elaine has seen 2 films that sound just mind-bogglingly delicious and fun and tasty. But she's seen Oshii's AVALON projected in brilliant 35mm... OooooOOOoOooooOohhh.... SUICIDE CLUB sounds like my favorite film of 2002. Just delicious. Yummmm... And PULSE... I must see PULSE and SUICIDE CLUB now... Oh man o man o man oooooo man! Enjoy... probably not, these descriptions will probably just give you an unquenchable case of the hot pants... if'n you get my meaning...
DAY 5
Brian de Palma is in town. The rumour had been spreading for a few days before the organisation finally confirmed it, but now it is official: De Palma is here. He is not presenting a new film, nor does he wish to have anything to do with the press, but he is watching quite a few films incognito.
So much for Rotterdam being of no interest, then.
I was supposed to watch five films today, but what with reviewing duties and having dinner and drinks with AICN Africa correspondent Dr Sotha, I contrived to miss both Bille Eltringham's "This Is Not a Love Song" and Eric Rohmer's "The Lady and the Duke." I don't feel like missing out on anything, though, for Dr Sotha was great company and the three films I did watch were excellent.
I haven't had time yet to review "Every Day God Kisses
Us on the Mouth" (which I saw on my fourth day), but I
do have reviews of a German and three Japanese films
which in a way all deal with my favourite subject:
death. Yippee!
SUICIDE CLUB (Sono Sion, 2001)
Hollywood take note: this is how you make an exploitation film. It is gory, it is funny and it even manages to raise a few pseudo-philosophical questions. It is Japanese (this kind of film always is), but that should not prevent it from becoming a huge, global success.
"Suicide Club" is about, well, suicide. Heaps of them. At the beginning of the film, 54 giggling school girls at Tokyo's Shinjuku Station join hands and jump in front of an incoming train. What ensues is the greatest bloodbath in the history of film: severed heads, flying hands and gallons of blood splattered all over the train windows, the station and shocked bystanders' faces.
After this spectacular opening, the film seems to settle down a bit, but it is not long before more people die. Two nurses jump out of a window, seemingly without giving much thought to the act. And just when you think it cannot possibly get any more bizarre than this, a group of high school kids decides to hold a suicide competition, for as one of them says, "Fifty-four is a record we can beat." So they line up and, as if it is the most normal business in the world, jump off the school roof. About a hundred of them.
The above is just a description of what happens in the first twenty minutes of the film. In what follows, a serenely smiling housewife chops off her fingers while cutting a turnip, a funky-looking young woman who calls herself The Bat posts enigmatic messages on the Internet, a modern-day Dr Frank N Further tortures rabbits, and a girl band made up of prepubescent 12-year-olds sings pseudo-philosophical songs about wishing to receive more e-mail. And amidst all that, a detective (played by Ryo Ishibashi of "Audition" fame) tries to make sense of the situation, without much success.
"Suicide Club" works on many level. First and foremost, it is a magnificent exploitation film, with lots of nasty deaths, gory details and an outrageous sense of humour which is all the more successful for being completely deadpan. It is also a pretty good mix of a horror flick (check out the spooky close-ups of certain characters' eyes) and a detective story, albeit with a fairly vague ending. Most of all, though, it is a brilliant satire on Japanese society, with a message I hope the Japanese will take to heart.
"Suicide Club" is everything "Battle Royale" tried to
be and wasn't. It is some of the most wicked fun I
have seen, and I have no trouble recommending it to
those of you in need of some good, gross-out humour.
AVALON (Oshii Mamoru, 2001)
A two-hour orgasm. An LSD trip. "Stalker" on speed. I have heard all these descriptions of "Avalon," and by Proserpina, they are true.
"Avalon" is quite simply the most intense pure film experience I have had. There are films that have stayed with me longer, or films to which I have had a deeper emotional response, but no other film has ever given me the adrenaline rush I had after "Avalon." I actually felt like playing a computer game after watching the film. I'm not into computer games at all, so that's saying a fair bit.
For those of you who have missed the hype surrounding this film: "Avalon" is about a virtual-reality war game that players have to win in order to get out of it; those who lose the game become vegetables. The protagonist, Ash, is so addicted to the game that it completely overshadows all other aspects of her life, to the point where her goal is not to find happiness in the here and now, but to reach the highest level of the game, called Avalon. In order to get there, however, she has to tackle a few ghosts, both in the flesh and in the shape of memories that haunt her.
"Avalon" is very much a mood piece. It boasts astonishing photography (a mixture of live action, animation and CGI) and stupendous opera music, which combine to give the film a surreal, haunting quality. Furthermore, both the sets and the special effects are gorgeous. The Polish sets which feature both in Ash' reality and in the game world are reminiscent of Vienna as portrayed in "The Third Man," only ten times more elegant and romantic. They are run-down enough to give the realistic parts of the film a drab, depressing flavour, but atmospheric enough to become strangely beautiful in the game world. They are, in short, so alluring that one completely understands why Ash is so keen on getting out of her drab working-class life, in which men slobber and the only activity that colours her life (literally) is preparing food for her dog, and on seeking thrills and power in the game world. It heightens her emotions and makes her feel alive in a way that normal life doesn't.
Ash (played with superb determination by Malgorzata Foremniak) is a splendid heroine. Dowdy in real life, she commands a powerful presence in the game world, where she has a reputation almost as legendary as that of the heroes who are buried on Avalon. She is too aloof and single-minded really to root for, but all the same one is elated when she finally reaches the enlightenment she seeks. For make no mistake about it - "Avalon" is a film about enlightenment. It is about that which motivates and sustains us, and if it seems shallow on the outset, it has some profound things to say about what constitutes reality and whether it is possible to choose one's own reality in the third act.
It is not a perfect ride. Like Tarkovsky's "Stalker" (which for my money is the film most resembling it in mood and substance), "Avalon" takes its time to get to where it wants to go, and it is obscure enough to leave those who are waned on "Matrix"- and "Existenz"-style virtual reality fidgeting. There are times when the film feels long and one loses sight of what it is all about, even though in hindsight the storyline is amazingly simple. But then the third act begins, and the trip-like atmosphere of the black-and-white part is replaced by a full-colour one which is pure energy - vibrating, pounding, virtually exploding off the screen. If that sounds like sexual imagery, it's because that is what it feels like.
I could go on for hours about how beautiful the film looks, how wise Oshii's decision was to shoot the film in Polish (the language really suits the action), and how badly I want the soundtrack (which is absolutely mesmerising), but a few words really suffice to describe the trip that is "Avalon."
Genius. Total fucking genius.
PULSE (Kiyoshi Kurosawa, 2001)
Kiyoshi Kurosawa's "Pulse" is one the most intriguing horror flicks I have seen. I'm not too familiar with the genre, so my judgment may be a little bit off here, but it had me thinking more than any other horror film I remember seeing, which must count for something.
"Pulse" deals with the afterlife. Amongst the many questions it raises is what awaits us after we die and whether we should fear it - especially when it seems to come and reach out for us, as it does in "Pulse." The film doesn't presume to answer the questions; it presents a picture equal parts bleak and hopeful, and leaves it up to the reader to decide which he prefers.
As one might surmise from the above description, "Pulse" is obsessed with death - more specifically, suicide. Over the course of the film, a good many young and promising people kill themselves, both to escape their earthly troubles and to actively seek that which is beyond. By the time the film is over, Tokyo looks like a post-apocalyptic battlezone replete with smoke columns and crashing planes, and the heroine climbs aboard an Ark-like oil tanker where she hopes to be safe from the suicide wave that has hit Japan.
"Pulse" isn't a horror film in the conventional sense. Although there are a few creepy moments in the first half hour, there is little gore and less blood. However, the film has a lot of suspense, of the not-quite-scary-but-pretty-disturbing variety last seen in "The Others," and one is inevitably overcome with the same unsettling feeling that something powerful is pulling us that haunts the protagonists.
If I have one complaint about "Pulse," it is that the
movie feels too long. That said, I can't think of a
single scene that could be deleted without
substantially damaging the film, so this is a fairly
invalid point of criticism. Otherwise, the film works
like most other Kurosawa films. The acting is good,
the atmosphere well drawn and and the mood, well,
special. If you like a thoughtful horror flick, this
one is well worth seeking out.
TOTER MANN (Christian Petzold, 2001)
"Toter Mann" (Dead Man, but inexplicably entitled "Something to Remind Me" in English) is a German hybrid of a detective story and a psycho drama in which a lawyer gets involved in a case that touches him personally. When it is all over, he has learned that women can be just as single-minded and dangerous as men, and presumably he will never again pick up anything that a woman has dropped.
The protagonists of "Toter Mann" are Thomas, a lawyer who is too busy working to have much of a social life, and Leyla, a beautiful woman he meets in a swimming pool. Thomas is obviously interested in Leyla, and one day she gives him an excuse to strike up a conversation with her. One thing leads to another, and before Thomas knows what is hitting him, he is head over heels in love. But then Leyla goes missing, and so does Thomas' laptop, which contains vital information on his cases.
Something bugged me during the screening of "Toter Mann." It wasn't until two thirds into the film that it hit me what it was.
It's a TV film.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that it is a bad film. Quite the contrary - it is excellent. The story is gripping, the psychology is acute and there are some genuinely poignant moments, as well as few hard-hitting jokes about lawyers and their vanity. The acting, too, is good, with both Andre Hennicke and Nina Hoss projecting enough tenderness and determination to make their characters interesting. Somehow, though, it doesn't belong in a cinema. It's more like an episode of "Der Alte" or "Inspector Morse." An episode to stay at home for, but an episode of a TV show nonetheless.
Elaine
