1. Three Colors: Red (Kryszstof Kieslowski) [A-, 87]

Brilliant, meticulous, and the least exhausting of the trilogy, nevertheless a little elusive, particularly the significance of late-film cameos, though the appearances did feel right. Surprisingly mind-fucking for Kieslowski, pulling our collective rug swiftly and with some sort of magical grace; not surprised that this is the favorite for most—it’s certainly the most warm, and a thesis statement of sorts on passion/innocence. But I don’t know if I can call it great until a second viewing, and I’ve become more and more suspicious of my probably too-high regard for Blue over the past few months. So re-views are due. #4, 1994.

2. Daisies (Věra Chytilová) [B-, 62]

Unbearably twee, but formally astonishing. Don’t see how this is now interpreted as serious feminist arthouse revolution—it’s more akin to batshit fun-ganzas like House, really—but there are definitely aspirations to higher messages under all the wee-look-at-me. There are strategies here and there, formally (full-color in the house, single-tint out; restriction v. freedom or something), and they do make some sense, and the climax is somewhat thematic. But how could I possibly care? It’s all archetypes and theoreticals, and I’m at my worst when dealing with essay-allegory films. DMTC, 1966.

3. My Night At Maud’s (Eric Rohmer) [A+, 97]

I think Rohmer’s more generous that people assume vis-a-vis his hypocritical characters. He’s certainly aware of the discomfort the hero gives us, but he’s also aware of how often this kind of guy is precisely accurate; the dialogues are poignant, intelligent, and appropriately thought-provoking, but serve mostly the purpose of placing us within his cinematic world. It’s significant that Rohmer spends equal time on reaction and speech—the words becoming as important as the talkers and listeners—because it’s the principle method by which these hyper-thoughtful people begin to convince their way into our hearts. As a religious piece, more thoughtful and spiritually convincing than every Bergman movie put together (hyperbole—I’ve only seen five Bergies); as a piece on love, almost approaching melodramatic devastation; as cinema, visually pleasing, and surprisingly stylish. A masterpiece. #1, 1969.

[122~124]

1966, dir. Andrei Tarkovsky [121/365]

A+ (99, #1)

It’s usually immensely difficult for me to watch movies that deal with Christianity (or any religion, really) because I don’t understand it. Not in a ‘I’m so jadedly atheistic I won’t bother’ kind of way, but in a ‘I’m lazy and the Bible is fucking huge’ kind of way. Indifferent Deist that I am, however, it doesn’t take long before the Christianity of Tarkovsky’s masterpiece becomes exactly the transcendent symbol it should be in real life. Faith ties history together in Andrei Rublev, and artists confront that history to mature; doubt and belief intertwine with tragedy to form true Conviction—to cope and to survive. The worldview is relentlessly bleak, but the message is similarly defiant—to continue our talents, to capture the aesthetic of our existence, to forge whatever we can and wrestle whatever power we have in our meagre existence. Once you realize the arc that Tarkovsky is drawing for us the viewers, the magnificence of the epic becomes clear and the ambiguities become thrilling. At once grand and minute, profound and humble, majestic and heartrending, the ultimate effect—and the closing scenes—create as close to a spiritual experience as any film I’ve seen.

Dir. Howard Hawks [120/365]

A (94) [#2, 1939]

Watched twice in one day just to navigate this surprisingly packed movie, filled to the brim with both event and mood. Slight shakiness vis-a-vis gender politics; otherwise probably among Hawks’ absolute bests. Follows suave-ass motherfucker Cary Grant and his efforts to keep his Gang’s airline afloat, dealing with death, failure, and the spectre of his past with requisite ‘hardness’, incapable of asking any woman anything—generally charismatic, and somewhat obtuse. The flying sequences are something of a marvel, and the mind further boggles at how it was done without CG; but the characters are what make the movie, as usual. From vengeful-but-resigned Kid, to quietly understanding Carter, to flustered romantic prospect Bonnie (who acts as Audience Avatar, and outside looking in), Hawks quietly wins our hearts with his loose-wrung gang. Typically unshowy except when he needs to be, Only Angels Have Wings is one of Hawks’ most moving pictures, and one of surprising emotional depth, handling grief and stubborn manliness with a deft observational touch. All this without much of a score—his confidence in his visuals being at its peak here.

La Comunidad is a 2000 Spanish black comedy film directed by Amex de la Iglesia. A real estate agent discovers a fortune in the apartment of a dead man. Unfortunately, a group of neighbors have been waiting for the man to die so that they can seize the money for themselves.

My opinion: This one reminded me of a Hitchockian movie (mixed with a bit of Tarantino ‘cuz there’s a lot of blood): and these two are my favorite directors !! :D So obviously, I loved it! The only inconvenient: I’m not fluent in Spanish and I had to read the subtitles all along (I hate it!)

★★★★★★★★★★ 9/10