Persona was a montage of disturbia, a philosophical meditation on the horror of a lonely existence, an entrance into a warped mind that twitches and trembles. Persona displayed two women in raw, minimalist bare-soul form. There are no barriers here: no one can hide, not even the viewer. Persona is raw in every fashion. It is scathing. It is like sandpaper to the brain. Persona sounds like the scrape of a match which is then flicked into a hot flame; Persona feels to the brain like the scrape and the fire. Persona is like Pi. Persona fuses characters and souls and ideas under the heat of its own artistry. Persona crawls under the skin; it tastes bitter and is prickly to the touch. It is seductive, yet poisonous upon contact. It is intimately poetic and yet harshly abrasive. Indeed, Bergman has made a film of contrasts and contradictions. Two characters are one; shocking turns to smooth; abrasive to poetic; death becomes life; things run opposite; things double over. Things float. Bergman uses extensive imagery to convey the existential experiences of two women, or one woman. This film is a horror project and a work of beauty. I love Liv Ullman and I hate Bibi Andersson. Persona has the simplest premise. Two women are isolated together and they begin to fuse. There are no other characters, essentially one location. This is a minimalist film that is excessive and indulgent. I love its simplicity, and also its chaotic nature. I love that the philosophy comes through but may not be connected.
Perhaps Persona is more coherent than I have been conveying. I will experience it again, obviously. I am more attracted to the subtlety and sophistication of other similarly-acclaimed films than I am to the mad genius of Persona, but it is extremely attractive to me in other ways. The intimate camerawork is essential; it has a soft touch on the faces of the women. The chaotic philosophy; the intimacy of the performances at times; the isolation and simplicity of the setting; the sweeping aesthetics: all these make Persona a special movie for me.
Bergman's Persona is a work of genius creativity and fantastic execution.
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Persona (Ingmar Bergman)
6/30/15
3.5/4
Persona is perhaps the most layered film I have ever seen. It's insanely ambitious with respect to its artistry and content; I read that it may be considered Bergman's masterpiece over any of his other movies, but I deny this notion, with what little understanding I have of him-- I think it's probably just his most overt film. Shame dealt with a lot, I feel, but it was probably more focused and more subtle. Persona bombards the viewer with idea after idea, grimace after grimace, a profound discomfort most of the way through. Bergman throws all of his genius together into a flurry of images and sounds: Persona is aesthetically, philosophically, conceptually rich.
I found Persona to be in some way more accessible to me than Shame or The Seventh Seal, despite its being impossible to deconstruct from one viewing. It was much easier to experience fully-- to engage with mind and body. Whereas other films lately have demanded me to put forth my self to be affected, with Persona I would need the effort to run away from it. It's enthralling, despite its what may be incoherency. It reminds me significantly of Mulholland Drive: the two female leads, the preppy blonde in descent and the darker, troubled brunette, the psychosexual intensity lying beneath the relationship, the shifting identities... the possibility of being senseless, chaotic, and having no other objective but to throw the viewer into the madness of a psychotically-existential cognitive experience.
Persona was beautifully artistic; I loved how Bergman directed with such boldness and such an emphasis on ideas. The performances were extraordinary-- I have a growing attachment to Liv Ullman, her bold, depressed features, and her acting as the existential woman.
I had a great experience with Persona, a film made with clear brilliance, though I may be more attracted to Bergman's more subtle, less hedonistic films.
3.5/4
Persona is perhaps the most layered film I have ever seen. It's insanely ambitious with respect to its artistry and content; I read that it may be considered Bergman's masterpiece over any of his other movies, but I deny this notion, with what little understanding I have of him-- I think it's probably just his most overt film. Shame dealt with a lot, I feel, but it was probably more focused and more subtle. Persona bombards the viewer with idea after idea, grimace after grimace, a profound discomfort most of the way through. Bergman throws all of his genius together into a flurry of images and sounds: Persona is aesthetically, philosophically, conceptually rich.
I found Persona to be in some way more accessible to me than Shame or The Seventh Seal, despite its being impossible to deconstruct from one viewing. It was much easier to experience fully-- to engage with mind and body. Whereas other films lately have demanded me to put forth my self to be affected, with Persona I would need the effort to run away from it. It's enthralling, despite its what may be incoherency. It reminds me significantly of Mulholland Drive: the two female leads, the preppy blonde in descent and the darker, troubled brunette, the psychosexual intensity lying beneath the relationship, the shifting identities... the possibility of being senseless, chaotic, and having no other objective but to throw the viewer into the madness of a psychotically-existential cognitive experience.
Persona was beautifully artistic; I loved how Bergman directed with such boldness and such an emphasis on ideas. The performances were extraordinary-- I have a growing attachment to Liv Ullman, her bold, depressed features, and her acting as the existential woman.
I had a great experience with Persona, a film made with clear brilliance, though I may be more attracted to Bergman's more subtle, less hedonistic films.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Stalker (Andrei Tarkovsky)
6/27/15
3/4
Stalker is a human nature meditation in the form of an adventure film in the style of an art film. It is hard to generalize because it seems to show so many different colors. The structure is basic: a mysterious "Zone" appears, seemingly placed by extraterrestrial beings, and three men, the Scientist, the Artist, and the Man of Faith, journey to discover what lies at the heart of the mystery. It's like 2001. The larger part of the film is a pretty accessible adventure story through the Russian wilderness. But there are two catches. One: the three characters are very interesting, and have pretty difficult socio-cultural-philosophical conversations along the way. Two: the direction is completely inscrutable. Tarkovsky takes a decently-interesting script and story and bathes it in impossibly difficult imagery, some of which you cannot even visually decipher, let alone interpret. This is what blew me away about this film and what makes it worth watching again. Tarkovsky directs with huge ideas; he has a strong vision for what he wants.
The best part about this film though, besides the awesomely tough imagery, is its immersiveness. An atmosphere is created once the characters enter The Zone that is deeply engrossing. That's why I enjoyed this film more than Shame: I was enamored with the atmosphere the whole time, more than I am with that typical foreign-realism feel. It kept me interested. However, I will say that I very much wanted it to end differently. There were many points in the last section that I thought were perfect endings, yet the film continued and stopped at a baffling point, one that I was not able to relate to the rest of the film.
I'll watch Stalker again for sure and try to connect it all; the philosophical dialogue with the sci-fi premise, the thematic material with the must-be-symbolic images. The great thing about this conviction is that this is an advanced film that I truly liked. I'm so ready for Solaris, The Mirror, and maybe others.
3/4
Stalker is a human nature meditation in the form of an adventure film in the style of an art film. It is hard to generalize because it seems to show so many different colors. The structure is basic: a mysterious "Zone" appears, seemingly placed by extraterrestrial beings, and three men, the Scientist, the Artist, and the Man of Faith, journey to discover what lies at the heart of the mystery. It's like 2001. The larger part of the film is a pretty accessible adventure story through the Russian wilderness. But there are two catches. One: the three characters are very interesting, and have pretty difficult socio-cultural-philosophical conversations along the way. Two: the direction is completely inscrutable. Tarkovsky takes a decently-interesting script and story and bathes it in impossibly difficult imagery, some of which you cannot even visually decipher, let alone interpret. This is what blew me away about this film and what makes it worth watching again. Tarkovsky directs with huge ideas; he has a strong vision for what he wants.
The best part about this film though, besides the awesomely tough imagery, is its immersiveness. An atmosphere is created once the characters enter The Zone that is deeply engrossing. That's why I enjoyed this film more than Shame: I was enamored with the atmosphere the whole time, more than I am with that typical foreign-realism feel. It kept me interested. However, I will say that I very much wanted it to end differently. There were many points in the last section that I thought were perfect endings, yet the film continued and stopped at a baffling point, one that I was not able to relate to the rest of the film.
I'll watch Stalker again for sure and try to connect it all; the philosophical dialogue with the sci-fi premise, the thematic material with the must-be-symbolic images. The great thing about this conviction is that this is an advanced film that I truly liked. I'm so ready for Solaris, The Mirror, and maybe others.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Slaughterhouse-Five (Kurt Vonnegut)
6/26/15
I have now read 80 pages of the highly enjoyable Slaughterhouse-Five, and will probably stop here. As with my Akira film experience, I feel that I know the work enough that it will be of higher reward to move on to something more complicated. Slaughterhouse was terrific though, and that was 100% to the credit of Kurt Vonnegut's writing style. Something very interesting about reading this: I imagine that the writing would be meaningless to someone who's not an intellectual, yet to an intellectual it is extremely effortless and accessible. It's as if once you cross that threshold, this book was made for you; it will now be the easiest intellectual experience you will ever have, and a very enjoyable one. I say this because his writing is very creative, quippy, fascinating, wise, but not difficult. It flows, despite its literal jumping and cutting. He is funny and imaginative while maintaining profoundness and wisdom. The essence of this book is its extremely talented writer, so I do not regret abandoning the work as if it were a rounded and complete entity. I grasped the style, and am now ready to try something more difficult.
I have now read 80 pages of the highly enjoyable Slaughterhouse-Five, and will probably stop here. As with my Akira film experience, I feel that I know the work enough that it will be of higher reward to move on to something more complicated. Slaughterhouse was terrific though, and that was 100% to the credit of Kurt Vonnegut's writing style. Something very interesting about reading this: I imagine that the writing would be meaningless to someone who's not an intellectual, yet to an intellectual it is extremely effortless and accessible. It's as if once you cross that threshold, this book was made for you; it will now be the easiest intellectual experience you will ever have, and a very enjoyable one. I say this because his writing is very creative, quippy, fascinating, wise, but not difficult. It flows, despite its literal jumping and cutting. He is funny and imaginative while maintaining profoundness and wisdom. The essence of this book is its extremely talented writer, so I do not regret abandoning the work as if it were a rounded and complete entity. I grasped the style, and am now ready to try something more difficult.
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Akira (Katsuhiro Otomo)
6/25/15
I watched 20 minutes of Akira and felt like I understood what it was all about, including its relation to the world of film. It's an anime picture from the '80s, and what I'm guessing is that it made anime a serious art form, bringing it to the adult world and giving it artistic and thematic weight. Akira deals in politics, violence, counter-culture, adolescence, and it does it with blinding style and a high-energy punch. I have no trouble admitting that some of those first 20 minutes were awesome. It felt just like Tarantino: a nuclear bomb went off in a big city; the big red letters AKIRA filled the screen. Tarantino's movies have the same cultural roots as Japanese movies like this do, so the bloody violence and samurai-esque dialogue felt very familiar, though no less significant. Soon after the introduction, the film yanks us into a neon-lit motorbike chase through downtown Tokyo, with one juvenile street gang on the tail of another. The art here, including the atmospheric, skittish music, the fiery trails of light left by the futuristic motorcycles, and the monstrous urban backdrop, is thrillingly imaginative. This bike scene is completely enthralling. Next we see hints that all of society is being channeled through the writer, Otomo, who it is clear seeks to make a statement, not only artistic, but about the whole of the world in which he lives. It is easy for me to see that this could have been a revolution for Japanese film and animation in general. It is violent, stylish, culturally-intelligent and super entertaining.
I watched 20 minutes of Akira and felt like I understood what it was all about, including its relation to the world of film. It's an anime picture from the '80s, and what I'm guessing is that it made anime a serious art form, bringing it to the adult world and giving it artistic and thematic weight. Akira deals in politics, violence, counter-culture, adolescence, and it does it with blinding style and a high-energy punch. I have no trouble admitting that some of those first 20 minutes were awesome. It felt just like Tarantino: a nuclear bomb went off in a big city; the big red letters AKIRA filled the screen. Tarantino's movies have the same cultural roots as Japanese movies like this do, so the bloody violence and samurai-esque dialogue felt very familiar, though no less significant. Soon after the introduction, the film yanks us into a neon-lit motorbike chase through downtown Tokyo, with one juvenile street gang on the tail of another. The art here, including the atmospheric, skittish music, the fiery trails of light left by the futuristic motorcycles, and the monstrous urban backdrop, is thrillingly imaginative. This bike scene is completely enthralling. Next we see hints that all of society is being channeled through the writer, Otomo, who it is clear seeks to make a statement, not only artistic, but about the whole of the world in which he lives. It is easy for me to see that this could have been a revolution for Japanese film and animation in general. It is violent, stylish, culturally-intelligent and super entertaining.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Shame (Ingmar Bergman)
6/23/15
2.5/4
It is so hard for me to connect with this kind of movie on first viewing. My rating reflects what I really got out of the film, which wasn't much. Obviously, I need two looks at anything Bergman before my assessment of it can be trusted.
I felt a good grasp on the first half of the film: the relationship made good sense to me and I really appreciated its value for a film; I also understood the philosophy being portrayed. But once the second half started, I was lost for good. The relationship I was getting to really love observing fell apart from how I knew it, and characters started acting strangely. The transpiration of events passed me incoherently, and the philosophy hung in the atmosphere above my head. But I have gotten exactly what I wanted to get out of this film; not enjoyment, nor reward, but a foot in the door; a toe in the pool; a small sip of the grand cup of high cinema. This is the most knowledgeable first step I have taken yet.
I loved Liv Ullman and the way Bergman silently observed her intriguing face. Her acting struck me with its subtlety. Max von Sydow, on the other hand, I didn't watch so much as an actor, but as a character with whom I was enthralled. He felt like an innovation to me; a joy to watch. The relationship in the first half of the movie is very interesting for its roles. I was engaged for this part of the film.
I also liked the premise and setting a good deal; I expect that if I ever appreciate all Bergman films, I will especially connect with this one due to its association with war and one very intriguing pair of people. I am sure this is a movie I will like and appreciate, once I've the capacity to understand it. Bergman's stylistic choices, such as prolonged stillness and silence, are exactly what I want to see in my new days of film-watching.
At about the 50% mark, Liv Ullman delivers a short, intimate monologue: 'sometimes I feel like this is all a dream; but it's not my dream, it's someone else's that I'm participating in. What if the one who's dreaming wakes up and feels ashamed?' To me, she is pondering how life looks like a dream from the mind of God, of which he is ashamed. The world is God's creation and it is a shameful mess, what with the war running rampant. Thus the title, Shame, refers to his reaction upon observing the dark, chaotic mess of his unconscious creation.
2.5/4
It is so hard for me to connect with this kind of movie on first viewing. My rating reflects what I really got out of the film, which wasn't much. Obviously, I need two looks at anything Bergman before my assessment of it can be trusted.
I felt a good grasp on the first half of the film: the relationship made good sense to me and I really appreciated its value for a film; I also understood the philosophy being portrayed. But once the second half started, I was lost for good. The relationship I was getting to really love observing fell apart from how I knew it, and characters started acting strangely. The transpiration of events passed me incoherently, and the philosophy hung in the atmosphere above my head. But I have gotten exactly what I wanted to get out of this film; not enjoyment, nor reward, but a foot in the door; a toe in the pool; a small sip of the grand cup of high cinema. This is the most knowledgeable first step I have taken yet.
I loved Liv Ullman and the way Bergman silently observed her intriguing face. Her acting struck me with its subtlety. Max von Sydow, on the other hand, I didn't watch so much as an actor, but as a character with whom I was enthralled. He felt like an innovation to me; a joy to watch. The relationship in the first half of the movie is very interesting for its roles. I was engaged for this part of the film.
I also liked the premise and setting a good deal; I expect that if I ever appreciate all Bergman films, I will especially connect with this one due to its association with war and one very intriguing pair of people. I am sure this is a movie I will like and appreciate, once I've the capacity to understand it. Bergman's stylistic choices, such as prolonged stillness and silence, are exactly what I want to see in my new days of film-watching.
At about the 50% mark, Liv Ullman delivers a short, intimate monologue: 'sometimes I feel like this is all a dream; but it's not my dream, it's someone else's that I'm participating in. What if the one who's dreaming wakes up and feels ashamed?' To me, she is pondering how life looks like a dream from the mind of God, of which he is ashamed. The world is God's creation and it is a shameful mess, what with the war running rampant. Thus the title, Shame, refers to his reaction upon observing the dark, chaotic mess of his unconscious creation.
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