Terrence Malick, The Thin Red Line (1998); New World (2005)

Have you seen Days of Heaven yet? In comparison with Terrence Malick who waited for 20 years after Days to make The Thin Red Line, my delay of slightly over a month between blog posts pales by comparison. In order to make reparations for my delay, I give you a two for one today: a review of Malick's latest two films.

Both The Thin Red Line and The New World are a continuation of Malick's dialogue about humankind's place in the natural world. If you could go camping with any director, it would have to be Malick. He simply sees things in nature that your average person does not; while all his films discuss human-centric stories, the subtext always tackles the greater world surrounding the human characters.

Both Thin Red Line and New World begin with visual scenes of nature including thick, lush forests and other-worldly underwater environs. This idyllic natural world in both films is interrupted by the "human world" which has been tainted by war or famine or disease. In Thin Red Line, this transition is illustrated with the emergence of World War II ships rumbling over the horizon. In New World, man's harmonious convergence with nature ends with the appearance of the English settlers' boats in Jamestown.

Both these arthouse films have long run times (over 2 hours) which bombard you with ideas frequently conveyed through a haunting, poetic voiceover spoken by the main character. James Caviezel's soft-spoken philosophic voice-over in Thin Red Line was pitch perfect.

In the end, neither film achieved great financial success, probably because someone searching for a traditional war movie or a Cowboys-and-Indians movie would probably go elsewhere, and with good reason. Thin Red Line was released in the same year as Saving Private Ryan, and as such was overhadowed by the hype surrounding that film and its more conventional storytelling. In the case of New World, casting Colin Farrell in a serious role, or really in any role that's not about his hair is perhaps asking a bit too much.

In any case, the good news is that Malick will not wait another decade for his new film; Tree of Life is in post-production and due out next year. Let's hope that Brad Pitt, who stars in the lead role and who is not inexperienced when it comes to hair movies, takes the high road and elevates his acting to meet Malick's genius.

Terrence Malick, Days of Heaven (1978)

Looking back, when Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven was released in 1978, following the success of his film Badlands in 1974, one might have concluded at the time that Malick was on his way to Hollywood stardom. In fact, the result was the exact opposite: critics such as the New York Times’ Harold C. Schonberg panned it as “intolerably artsy” and “artificial” and Malick abandoned film directing for 20 years (perhaps due to exhaustion from dealing with Richard Gere’s ego mania for an extended period of time).

In thinking of a modern-day film to compare with Days, I was quite pleased at myself for recognizing the similarities with PT Anderson’s There Will Be Blood (2007). Of course, when I started scouring the Internet to find still photos which show the similarities in style, I stumbled upon several articles comparing the two films, including one from this blogger. Oh well, I prefer to think of this coincidence as a justification of Malcolm Gladwell’s recent article in the New Yorker , the thesis for which is that similar innovation often happens at relatively the same time in different places.

But I digress… I don’t know whether PT Anderson was influenced by Malick, but both Days and Blood share a slow-paced style of storytelling in which the plot unfolds through long shots of characters’ actions often without the use dialogue. Both films also frame the conflict between the characters in the larger context of the natural world around them. The "natural" disasters which occur in both Days and Blood are almost visually overwhelming and serve to symbolize and heighten the human tension between the characters. Both films are also filled with Biblical references; there is literally a lot of fire and brimstone imagery on the screen (Days photos are above, Blood photo is below).

Like Badlands, Days of Heaven also employs the voice-over of a young girl (13-year old Linda Manz). This serves to add an interesting child-like perspective to the events of the plot which will often differ from what the audience knows to be true. This mismatch of interpretations gives the film depth and helps to keep the audience engaged. In the end, its easy to understand why this film was exhausting to make. While the real reason may never be known for why Malick left film directing for 20 years after Days, one thing is certain: that audiences certainly missed Malick's unique style during those two decades.

Terrence Malick, Badlands (1973)

In an era when directors churn out films at a pace of one every couple years, Terrence Malick is an anomaly. Starting with Badlands in 1973 (he also made Lanton Mills in 1969), Malick made only four films in three and half decades. Each one essentially builds on the same themes in a different setting. Malick is like an old acquaintance who sends you a Christmas card every decade; the words stay the same but the way we interpret them seems to change over time.

Malick is known for being a bit of recluse, but the attitude is refreshing. Instead of preening for attention, he instead appears to enjoy making beautiful films and letting them stand on their own merits. His low-key personality is also reflected in his directorial sytle- almost all of them feature voice-over narration spoken in a philosophical, conversational manner by the main character. Visually, the human drama is placed in the context of the surrounding natural world. The images of the natural world are often stunning and have the effect of framing very dramatic human conflicts as miniscule within the larger context (see picture below).

Badlands is elevated by the superb acting of the two main characters: a young Martin Sheen (pre-Apocalypse Now (1979)) and an even younger Sissy Spacek in one of her first films. From the opening scene, Malick sets the tone with a plodding musical score repeated throughout the film and presents the two characters as good-hearted and likable kids who are naive to the brutality of the world around them. As the plots develops and the characters succumb to violent actions, the viewer must deal with the brutal crimes of the protagonists and balance these emotions against the empathy we already have for them.

And if you think this subtle style could have been accomplished by any other director, just imagine if the person who directed the trailer would have filmed Badlands! Martin Sheen's character appears to have influenced Kevin Costner's character in Eastwood's Perfect World (1993). Compare Costner's look with Martin Sheen in this scene from Badlands. Of course, its obvious where the source material for both was derived from: James Dean (pictured here in Giant (1956)).

In terms of modern comparisons, Badlands is a more subtle character-driven film than Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and a less-over-the-top and gory film than Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers (1994). Badlands has few flaws and its aged well over time; the acting is great, the directing is unrivaled and the cinematography is timeless. A must see for any film lover.

Jean Renoir, The Rules of the Game (1939)

More BlueStar is essentially interested in two things: highlighting innovative films (both old and new) that most people either don't know or have forgotten about as well as showing the link between today's directors' styles with those older films which inspired them.

First off, some kudos: whoever created The Rules of the Game trailer for Janus Films deserves an Oscar for capturing in a minute and half the greatness of this film. Simply put, Rules deserves the highest accolades according to the BlueStar criteria. As shown in the clip, it influenced many of the great directors from Robert Altman to Francois Truffaut to Alain Resnais, and we can see elements of Rules (La Regle du Jeu) in countless films made since 1939.

The closest modern film comparison would be Robert Altman's Gosford Park (2001); both are character intensive films set largely in the country home of a wealthy landowner. Like Gosford, this film is as much about what is not being said as what is said. Both films' fascination lies in examining both the lives of the rich and the poor servants as well as the interplay between the two. In this scene, Renoir shows that the drama behind the scenes is often far more intriguing than the play being performed for the audience; Gosford Park hits this same note, focusing on the high-low dynamics: showing action upstairs where the rich live and juxtaposing this against the actions in the basement, where the servants dwell and prepare the food.

Finally, the history behind the making of Rules is covered admirably in the DVD extras. This includes the story of how the original print was lost during World War II and how when it was re-released in the 1950s a handful of different cuts were made at the end of the film, thereby changing the entire message and tone of the ending.

The Rules of the Game is like a complex wine which has aged amazingly over time. Whether or not you're a wine connoisseur, you will thoroughly enjoy it from beginning to end.

Jia Zhangke, The World (2004)

Someone really should make a documentary about Jia Zhangke; he’s the voice of the next generation of Chinese filmmakers and most people in the West have never even heard of him (except these people at the Lincoln Center!). Who knows… perhaps someone amongst my vast readership of 17 people will have the forethought and audacity to make this film a reality.

The World, while not a documentary, succeeds in capturing the modern Chinese dilemma better than any film previously made. The setting and primary symbol of this film is the World theme park in Beijing, in which there are miniature versions of famous world sites such as the Eiffel Tower and the Sphinx- picture Disney World on a Walmart budget (this link highlights some of the great visual symbolism such as Chinese workers carrying bottled water jugs on their back with the miniature pyramids in the background).



The irony, of course, is that the only reason that so many Chinese go to World Park to view replicas of famous world sites is because so few have a passport to travel outside the country and see the real thing. In one scene, two characters stand near an airport; as the airplanes take-off and land in the background, one of the characters remarks, "Who flys in those things anyway? I've never met anyone who's even been in a plane before."

Unlike Jia’s earlier work, The World appears to have been made with a Western audience in mind. Jia’s directorial style in this film is also a mixture of Western and Eastern influences. The camera work could almost be mistaken for a Robert Altman film (watch the first 30 seconds of this link and you'll feel like you're watching a scene from Altman's Gosford Park (2001)). The film is filled with long takes with lots of characters, and the camera is constantly moving in and out, capturing the action in a subtle, almost voyeuristic way. The music sounds a lot like Air-soundtrack that underscored the modern classic, Lost in Translation (2001). Compare Air's soundtrack here with the soundtrack from The World. Both films use this music to set the tone for a discussion about freedom and loneliness.

Despite all these Western references, The World still manages to stay true to its Chinese film heritage. Jia never loses focus on the commoner laobaixing. The er hua Beijing accent is pitch perfect, as is the portrayal of both Beijing women and men. The women are almost obnoxiously loud but cutsie as they whine with cries of “Tao Yan!”, ubiquitous in China. Young Beijing men are still using every trick in the book to have sex with their girlfriends but are constantly denied. Like Jia’s early films, the women still hold the power in the relationship game.

Beijing awaits its opportunity later this summer to host the Olympics. Their primary goal will, no doubt, be to showcase Beijing and China as a modern and vibrant place. The pace of change is so fast in Beijing that in only a few years, we will probably look back with nostalgia at The World as a snapshot of Beijing in the distant past. The film should, however, stay relevant for a long time because China is so vast that the rest of its cities will still require years if not decades to reach first world standards.

Jia Zhangke, Unknown Pleasures (2002)

Like all Jia Zhangke film's, Unknown Pleasures is concerned with Chinese and their struggle to find a place in the new modern China. This film very effectively mixes the traditional Chinese culture such as Zhuangzi's philosophy about the butterfly as well as Peking Opera against the modern world represented by things like American movies (one scene takes a page directly out of Pulp Fiction) and commercials (selling Mongolian King Wine).

By setting the film in remote Shanxi Province, Jia is better able to show this stark contrast. Local citizens watch topics on the news ranging from the story of the American spy-plane landing in China, the announcement of Beijing hosting the 2008 Olympics to terrorism and modern crime (guns and bank robberies), but their lives are far different and have almost no relationship to this news. Upon discovering a one dollar bill in US currency, one of the characters has no idea what to do with it, and spends the remainder of the film trying to find a use for it.

Another of Jia's strengths is his ability to accurately portray the modern Chinese young woman and young man. The women are much more savvy and are able to easily manipulate the men emotionally. The men, on the other hand, are completely unable to show their emotions in front of women (instead they play the tough guy) yet behind closed doors they are completely vulnerable. Jia's films are not extremely user friendly to the Western viewer due to the slow pace, but his characterizations are spot on. Even Jia's directing style seems torn between his predecessors (the extended scene of the protagonist trying to drive his motorcycle out of the ditch is pure Zhang Yimou-type symbolism, while at the same time he takes a page from Western directors like Quentin Tarrantino and the jumps cuts of the French New Wave). However, in Jia's films, the male character is largely impotent, as illustrate in one of the funnier scenes when he tries to pull off a bank robbery Tarrantino-style.

Jia's films are not easy entertainment, but with a little effort you can get a lot out of it. Its amazing that this film even passed the Chinese censors to begin with- Jia shows DVD piracy even of his own films!

Jia Zhangke, Platform (2000)

The next couple posts will highlight the films of the best Chinese director whom you’ve probably never heard of, Jia Jiangke. First a little history lesson: the history of Chinese film in two paragraphs looks like this: Starting in the 1950s, Chinese film was defined by a Communist Realism movement- lots of heroes in Mao-suits, rising suns and long soliloqueys (often sung) about how great life was as a Communist.

Then Zhang Yimou comes along in 1987 and wins the Golden Bear at the Berlin Film Festival with Red Sorghum (Hong Gao Liang), thereby putting Chinese film and the so-called Fifth Generation Directors on the world map. Zhang follows up with Ju Dou (1990) and Raise the Red Lantern (1991), all three of which are characterized by slow-moving, largely-depressing plots, amazing cinematography, all set in the feudal past but serving as largely anti-Communist allegories. Zhang became Public Enemy Number 2 behind rocker Cui Jian, which even further heightened his popularity amongst Western film critic set.

What’s missing in all that were filmmakers who focus on what China is today- real stories about the Mainland Chinese who are emerging from the Communist primordial soup into the modern world of fat only-children and middle-class television-induced bliss. Jia Jiangke and his 6th generation cohorts are focused on this world. Platform perfectly shows the struggle for modernity of Chinese citizens in the transitional period of the 1980s, when China was opening up to the West but hadn't quite figured out yet the implications of this "development". This transition is most difficult for the hundreds of millions of Chinese rural laobaixing who simply didn't have the skills to do anything beyond the manual labor of farming and mining learned during the Mao years.

Jia tells his story through a rural dance troupe of 20-somethings who desperately want to be modern (one gets a perm, another brings back a cassette tape of pop music to the village) but who are also stuck in the old ways. Their actions are awkward but pure. The slow pace of the film allows for plenty of pause of the viewer to interpret the subtext of the action (and in many cases non-action of the main characters). In one great scene where a boy and a girl are arguing about their relationship and whether they should consider themselves a couple, the characters walk back and forth behind a wall. In another scene, the youths are in a truck and offer to give a ride to the old cadre because its "faster"; the old cadre rebuffs their offer and is shown walking up a steep hill. In both cases, the images are actively supporting the words and actions of the characters.

This film is not for Jerry Bruckheimer fans, or even fans of Jerry Bruckheimer on lithium. But for those with a little patience and an eye for subtely, Platform will give the viewer a bird’s eye view into a China in a gawky stage of adolescence on the growth path to modernity.

And what happened to Zhang Yimou? Well, in the late 1980s, the PRC government started to get PR-savvy and realized that it was a lot easier to make Zhang rich and leverage his power as a film star than to fight him. Since then, Zhang has directed Turnadot, the opera showing in the Forbidden City in 1999, he's directed directed huge budget Hollywood epics Hero and House of Flying Daggers, and today is preparing to direct the opening ceremony for the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympic Games. Wow. How’s that for a symbol of the Modern China?