Death and the Compass (1996)

Death and the Compass (Alex Cox, 1996)


Originally conceived as a 50 minute made-for-television film for Spanish TV/BBC in 1992, British filmmaker Alex Cox (Repo Man, Sid & Nancy) later expanded the film into a 96-minute feature. The film, which is adapted from the Jorge Luis Borges short story La Muerte y La Brujula, was Cox's second Mexican feature, and it is probably no coincidence that it is representative (if not obvious influence) of Luis Bunuel. In the film, Cox paints Borges' other-worldly vision of a crime-filled dystopia onto a stunning visual canvas of endlessly bright blues and yellows, long takes, and jump cuts, combined with muddled field recordings and an 80s-style synthesizer-filled soundtrack from Pray for Rain.

The story is all at once simple and vastly complex. The film is narrated in the present by Treviranus (Miguel Sandoval), who hysterically recalls the past downfall of the city's greatest detective, Erik Lonrot (Peter Boyle). A self professed rationalist, Lonrot begins investigating the murder of a Rabbi, and with the help of a Zunz (Christopher Eccleston), a nerdy journalist, he subsequently (and inaccurately) begins his symbolic, religious text-driven search to unmask a conspiracy involving the notoriously evil crime lord Red Scarlach. All of this, of course, is done against the advice of his commander, Treviranus, who gives us this story with a large amount of comical hysteria, pain, jealously, and sadness.

The strong visual style carries the film, and the plot unfolds (although clumsily) as a somewhat standard mystery (though absurd) -- though from what I've gathered about the Borges short story (I'm not this perceptive) is that it is often viewed as an allegory for the reading/misreading of text (i.e. Lonrot's impossible investigation), and the exploration of the relationship between truth, perception, and symbolism makes it a bit more interesting -- though it didn't really cross my mind upon viewing. Despite it's boots being stuck in the mud of not only Borges, but the film detective genre itself, Death and the Compass nobly leaves its Wellington's behind and ventures (in socks!) into a nightmarish mess of saturated colors and orgasmic surrealism. Cox makes the film his own, though at what price I'm not sure -- it's brilliant to look at and is comical in its own dark, off-beat way, but it comes across as a bit thin (and quite possibly lazy). Who knows though, maybe I'm just misreading it.

With wonderful cinematography by Miguel Garzon, jarring editing by Carlos Puente, and elaborate set design by Cecilia Montiel. 96 minutes. B&W and Color.

Links:
-Alex Cox on Death and the Compass
-Los Angeles Times review by Kevin Thomas
-Brief review from The Garden of Forking Paths
-Literary essay about the short story by Matei Calinescu

Shall We Gather At The River

I returned this evening from my week long road trip via Recreational Vehicle, which took me and some fellow slackers from Chicago to Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, Colorado (barely), and most importantly Arizona (where blackouts and visits to Monument Valley occurred). It was a grand time, and I managed to purchase a picture of John Ford, John Wayne, and Jimmy Stewart, a bandanna with a cow-skull on it, and lots of Red Bulls. Pictures and/or video might come soon, but my eyes hurt and I'm exhausted -- so in honor of my visit, here's the famous and hilarious clip from the Ford interview with Peter Bogdanovich:

Landis, Carpenter, Cronenberg Round Table Discussion (1982)

If you've got 29 minutes to spare today, here's a television round table discussion from 1982 featuring John Landis, John Carpenter, and David Cronenberg. They talk about horror, obviously, among a few other things. Pretty interesting, even though Landis is a total dork. Strangely enough, this was filmed while Cronenberg and Carpenter were in production and/or post-production on Videodrome and The Thing, which are my favorite films from each of them.

Alejandro Jodorowsky Trailer

The previously not so wonderful people at Abcko Films and/or the beloved people of Anchor Bay Entertainment, I'm not sure which, have recently provided the public with this video gem via the old interweb -- it's a trailer/advertisement for the Alejandro Jodorowsky DVD box set, which comes out May 1st. It includes a hilarious interview with Jodorowsky himself, in addition to songs and footage from El Topo, The Holy Mountain, and Fando y Lis. Enjoy.

Site Update (03.18.07)

Hello, peoples. It's time to discuss a few site changes that might occur soon. I generally don't have the time or inclination to post a review everyday, and since my viewing and attending of the movies fluctuates, I've realized that there's no way this blog could be updated daily in its current state of only reviews. That being said, I'm going to make an effort to post other film-related stuff in between short reviews as an effort to provide you (the masses) with something interesting more often than I currently do. So that being said, well, that's all -- though it's worth mentioning that in two days I am embarking on a 7 day road trip via RV from Chicago to Arizona, which will include such stops as John Ford Point in Monument Valley, Utah, and Phoenix, Arizona, the home of heavy drinking in sleeveless t-shirts. Alright. Peace.

Privilege (1967)

Privilege (Peter Watkins, 1967)

Peter Watkins takes his pseudo-documentary approach into a dystopic future Great Britain in Privilege, where Steven Shorter is the ultimate star of music, pop culture, fashion, and just about every other aspect of commercial society that you can imagine. The film starts with a typical Shorter concert, where he performs in a cage, handcuffed while he sings, only later to be let out and beat by police on stage. The fans love it. Eventually Shorter's managers (of which there are too many to remember) decide that they are going to use Steven as the face of a new public relations campaign promoting the unification of church and state, which is topped off by a concert in which a priest yells at all the fans to "Conform!", Steven is freed from his handcuffs and made to confess his sins and sing in midst of giant crosses and hysterical fans. The film, like other Watkins' work, is memorable in its hysteria and paranoia, and seems to celebrate that paranoia until the same concepts are repeatedly punching the audience in the face. I can't say its a bad thing, but for much of Privilege the camera just hovers and the film itself slows down on the verge of boredom (complimented by sleepy acting), and the newsreel-style voice over doesn't exactly have a place in the film. That being said, Privilege is the film of an extraordinary visionary, and it is just as applicable (if not more) to the world's (especially America's) use of blind and crazy idolism, materialism, greedy capitalism and corporatism. Watkins is uncompromising in his beliefs and drive behind his films, and this is no exception despite being his film which most resembles a true narrative -- so as clunky and unpolished as Privilege is at times, it remains a fascinating work of conviction (despite its hysteria) and darkly comedic imagination. With Paul Jones as Steven Shorter. 103 minutes. English.

Interesting: Patti Smith re-recorded her own version of "Set Me Free" from Privilege for her 1978 album Easter.

Tigrero: A Film That Was Never Made (1994)

Tigrero: A Film That Was Never Made (Mika Kaurismaki, 1994)

In this partially contrived documentary by Finnish director Mika Kaurismaki, filmmakers Sam Fuller and Jim Jarmusch take a trip to the amazon, where 40 years before Fuller had gone to shoot footage and gather ideas for a script. The result was a conceived film, called Tigrero, with John Wayne, Ava Gardner and Tyrone Powers attached -- but Zanuck and 20th Century Fox were unable to get the necessary insurance and the project was abandoned. The documentary is in some ways about Fuller's exploration into the past and the people he had met on his first trip in 1953, but it's also about the culture of the tribe, the Karaja, in addition to seeing the two filmmakers interact (which to no surprise is dominated by Fuller's overbearing presence, but works nicely in contrast to Jarmusch's reserved, quiet personality). The viewer gets snippets of the Karaja culture, some back story about Fuller's original film, and other interactions, but there is no focus. We get acted out and contrived scenes between Fuller and Jarmusch, actual documentary footage and interviews, but there is no consistency in its style. An all together inoffensive and generally fun film, but its lack of identity makes it forgettable: it can't make up its mind what kind of film it wants to be and what it wants to be about, so the resulted feeling is that of emptiness. Side note -- the height difference between Fuller and Jarmusch is hilarious. 75 minutes. Color.

El Topo (1970)

This review initially appeared in The DePaulia on Friday, February 16, 2007.

Return of the Midnight Masterpiece: Alejandro Jodorowsky's El Topo
Independent Film Review

Let’s go back in a time machine for a moment. It’s midnight in New York City, 1970. There’s a line around the block at our favorite local theater. Some celebrities are in line, like Peter Fonda, Dennis Hopper and John Lennon. You’re very stoned, and quite possibly on various other drugs. The occasion of course, is a screening of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s "El Topo," a brutally bloody and delightfully absurd psychedelic spaghetti western. It is a film which in many ways is unlike any picture you have ever seen. It is here that the cultural phenomenon of the "midnight movie" is born.

Chilean-born filmmaker and graphic novelist Alejandro Jodorowsky wrote, directed, and stars in "El Topo," which was shot entirely in the beautiful and desolate desert landscapes of Mexico. The film begins with its Christ-like hero, El Topo (The Mole), a leather-clad, gun-wielding cowboy of sorts as he rides over the horizon into the picture. He orders his naked, 7 year-old son (Brontis Jodorowsky) to bury his first toy and the portrait of his mother. Soon after, they ride through a town in which anyone and everything has been massacred -- complete with shots of guts hanging out of animals and a river of blood. El Topo then seeks vengeance upon the responsible party.

He engages in a gunfight with a group of disgusting, balloon-blowing, howling bandits, and then tracks down and kills the treacherous and masochistic colonel accountable. El Topo then steals the colonel’s mistress and leaves his son to be raised by a group of previously enslaved monks. From there, at the suggestion of a woman named Mara, he sets out to travel the desert in an inward spiral in order to battle and defeat the Four Masters of the desert. This is just the beginning.

To understand "El Topo" is to understand that Jodorowsky is not as concerned with the plot as he is with assaulting the audience with a barrage of relentless, startling imagery and cluttered ideas pulled from any and all sources of influence. "El Topo" is an enigmatic journey towards enlightenment for its hero and Jodorowsky draws upon leftist radicalism, Bunuel-like surrealism, the genre and narrative bending of Godard, the disfigured characters of Tod Browning’s "Freaks," and the grit and violence of Leone and Corbucci spaghetti westerns, to name a few. Despite these positive similarities, Jodorowsky’s "El Topo" belongs to a class of its own.

In all the mish-mash of Catholic and Eastern religious ideology, overtly symbolic imagery (especially sexual), crude but often hysterical depiction's of slavery, fascism, animal cruelty, religious fanaticism, genocide, torture, sadomasochism, rape, and disfigurement, Jodorowsky creates a unique and provocative world out of his own warped mythology.

"El Topo" is an ambitious, overwhelming, engaging, and strangely amazing experience. It is a rare film that possesses the ability to shift from and blend moments of disgust and horror with laughter and silliness, and this along with its naturally complex and confusing nature have no doubt contributed to its long standing status as a cult masterpiece.

It’s been over 30 years since the original release of "El Topo," and the film has been widely unseen since its initial release, with the exception of poor quality bootlegs and imports. In 1971, John Lennon hailed the film as a ‘masterpiece,’ and convinced Beatles manager, Allen Klein, to purchase the rights to the film for distribution, whereupon it was released to much controversy. Klein later shelved the film after a business disagreement with Jodorowsky, and their ongoing feud prohibited any official release or distribution of the film in theaters or on video for 30 years. Until now, of course. Klein and Jodorowsky have buried the hatchet and have agreed to release the film on DVD in a box set, along with two of his other works, the earlier, improvised, mythical journey film "Fando y Lis" (1968) and the bigger budgeted, even more ambitious and symbol driven "The Holy Mountain" (1973). Along with this agreement came the personal restoration and remastering of the films by Jodorowsky himself, and the new 35MM prints of both "El Topo" and "The Holy Mountain" are touring the country. For those whose only experience with "El Topo" was a bootleg, seeing it restored on the big screen is like seeing the film for the very first time. For those who have never seen it, I’d recommend you join the ‘midnight mass’ of "El Topo," if you can stomach its grotesqueness. 125 minutes. Color. Abkco Films.

Ali: Feat Eats the Soul (1974)

Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1974)


Fassbinder's take on Douglas Sirk's 1955 melodrama All That Heaven Allows. About the difficulties of the interracial relationship between Emmi (Brigitte Mira), an aging maid, and Ali (El Hedi ben Salem), an Arab car mechanic in Germany. Fassbinder's picture succeeds through heightening the character differences of the Sirkian archetypes -- he widens the age gap, changes their class level, and brings in the issue of race. A touchingly sad film, and one that is much more thought provoking and complicated than initially appears -- As a drug addict, homosexual, and real-life lover of Salem, Fassbinder certainly understood the limitations and difficulties of love in a hate filled, gossipy society, so all of this should come as no surprise. Great. 94 minutes. Color.

Bad Taste (1987)

Bad Taste (Peter Jackson, 1987)


Long before he got fat and started making billion-dollar blockbusters, Peter Jackson made his first film, Bad Taste. It's about a group of goofy, incompetent government agents fighting a corporation of human eating aliens in a remote town in New Zealand. Though Jackson would go on to make much better pictures, including the horror-camp classic Dead Alive (1992), this film is pretty hilarious in that gore-splattering way. Fans of Big Pete should watch this, but by no means is it essential viewing. 91 minutes. Color.

David and Lisa (1962)

David and Lisa (Frank Perry, 1962)


The first effort from director/screenwriter team Frank and Eleanor Perry. About the mental institution relationship between an extremely obsessive compulsive boy (Keir Dullea) and a schizoid girl (Janet Margolin) who speaks in rhyme. The hit of the Venice Film Festival in 1962, David and Lisa launched what would be a great career for the Perrys -- but the film itself is brutalized by its sappy ending, which prompted Pauline Kael to write, "The theme is love conquers mental illness; audiences seem to believe it, they're even willing to believe that earnestness conquers art." For those unfamiliar with Perry's work, you can skip this one and go right to The Swimmer (1968), Last Summer (1969) or Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970) -- all of which are much more polished and complex. 95 minutes. B&W.

The Naked Kiss (1964)

The Naked Kiss (Sam Fuller, 1964)


Pulp auteur extraordinaire Sam Fuller wrote and directed this drama about Kelly (Constance Towers), a prostitute trying to make right in a small town. The film isn't particularly engaging, but Fuller's simplistic and often fun style has several memorable scenes of violence: the opening, in which Kelly beats her pimp over the head with her shoe repeatedly, and later when she kills her husband-to-be with a telephone after finding out he is a pedophile. 90 minutes. B&W.

Children of Men (2006)

Children of Men (Alfonso Cuaron, 2006)


A visually stunning film. Cuaron's utilization of the long take-long shot is particularly noteworthy, and the elaborate staging used in the creation of this film is dealt with in painstaking detail. Unfortunately the remarkable visuals cannot make up for a half-assed script, which boasts a large number of cliche characters and a wholly unbelievable future dystopia -- it also goes the way of over-the-top humanity towards the end, which makes a potentially great scene a snoozefest. When Terry Gilliam's future world of slapstick in Brazil is more believable, you've got a problem. 109 minutes. Color. Rated R.

Fast Company (1979)

Fast Company (David Cronenberg, 1979)


Fast Company stands today as the major outlier of Cronenberg's impressive and varied filmography. Though he's explored a variety of genres and themes, nothing is quite like this: a docudrama about drag racing, complete with pop-rock soundtrack. All in all it's an enjoyable, harmless film, but it's not much more than feel good exploitation with lots of fast cars. It's got the good guy / bad guy racing thing down, and John Saxon is pretty great as the sleazy corporate sponsor. What's more important than the film itself, are the long-term working relationships Cronenberg formed with cinematographer Mark Irwin, art director Carol Spier, and editor Ronald Howard while working on this film.

With William Smith as Lonnie "Lucky Man" Johnson, Nicholas Campbell as Billy "The Kid" Brocker, and Cedric Smith as Gary "The Blacksmith" Black, and the brutally dated rock soundtrack is mostly by Fred Mollin. 91 minutes. Color.

Pierrot le Fou (1965)

Pierrot le Fou (Jean-Luc Godard, 1965)


Godard said himself that this wasn't really a film, but an "attempt at cinema". Made in between the dystopic future of Alphaville and the sociological investigation of youth Masculin Feminin, Pierrot le Fou is a pseudo gangster/road movie starring Godard regulars Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina. In a non-sensical mish-mash of scenes, they set out on a road adventure involving Algerian terrorists, briefcases of money, and the usual hardships of relationship stuff. It's a funny and exciting film, but its absurdity can't transcend the stronger themes and narratives of some of his other work.

With an awesome cameo by Sam Fuller, and the beautiful CinemaScope photography by Raoul Coutard. 110 minutes. Color. In French.

Shock Corridor (1963)

Shock Corridor (Samuel Fuller, 1963)


Beyond the terrible acting, questionable use of superimpositions/effects, and preposterous concept, Sam Fuller's Shock Corridor is a fairly enjoyable film. The film is about Johnny Barrett (Peter Breck), a greedy journalist hell-bent on winning the Pulitzer Prize. How you ask? Simple, to fake a mental disorder, get committed to an insane asylum, and solve a murder. There's concern at the beginning of the film with Cathy (Constance Towers), his stripper girlfriend, who is worried that his exposure to the asylum would mess with this head and he wouldn't come out alright -- but it's swept aside by his delusions of grandeur and she ultimately agrees. What unravels is a beautifully shot 'mystery' filled with unbelievable 'insane' characters, who despite their absurdity are endlessly intriguing -- including an obese patient who thinks he's an opera singer named Pagliacci, a patient who thinks he's a Civil War general, a black patient who thinks he's a member of the KKK, and a world renowned scientist whose level of intelligence has reverted back to that of a 7 year old. Barrett's journey through the 'shock corridor' of course results in the inevitably harsh outcome, but Fuller succeeds in his own crudeness and simplistic approach to the material.

Written, directed, and produced by Fuller. Additional technicolor dream sequences shot by Fuller as well. The beautifully startling, black and white cinematography by Stanley Cortez (Night of the Hunter, Magnificent Ambersons). 101 minutes. B&W (some brief technicolor).

Mod Fuck Explosion (1994)

Mod Fuck Explosion (Jon Moritsugu, 1994)


Jon Moritsugu wrote and directed this low-fi 'punk' film which is loosely structured around a rumble between a gang of vespa riding mods and motorcycle riding Asians. It focuses mostly on London (Amy Davis), her teenage naivete and innocence (and desire for a leather jacket), and the problems concerning her drug ridden and horny mother, outcast drug addict sister, mod brother X-Ray, and her crush on the dorky newspaper obsessed M16. Like most Moritsugu films, Mod Fuck Explosion is more about the impressions the images give off, the abrasiveness and/or absurdity of the music and title cards, and vaguely constructed ideas as 'scenes' which attempt to scathingly ridicule society, race, sex, classifications, etc. In this particular case, he succeeds quite effectively in making an absurdly funny yet strangely sad world, filled with punk rock, violent bikers, drugs, and girls who are interested in and talking about 'fucking'.

76 minutes. Color.

Reflections of Evil (2002)

Reflections of Evil (Damon Packard, 2002)


Underground filmmaker Damon Packard's paranoid, disgusting, and jumbled portrayal of modern America is a terrifying, sloppily made condemnation of everything, and has become a cult sensation since its release in 2002. The film is too long for its own good, but within the jumbled mess of 16MM film, digital video, archival footage, cheesy low budget effects, bad voice overs and dubbing, and an ingenious vomiting scene is a oddly fascinating film. To describe it to its fullest would either be impossible or take way too long, but it loosely follows an obese watch salesman (played by Packard) who wanders around Los Angeles, which becomes his own personal nightmare (Side Note: He's like a modern, retarded Ignatius Reilly). There's also a portion of the film devoted to a brilliant 70s flashback in which a girl (Packard's "sister" in the film) comes across an early Steven Spielberg production called "Something Evil" on the Universal lot, where most of the crew is burned alive in an accident as a result of the young Spielberg's recklessness. Anyways, Reflections of Evil has its great moments of horror and humor, but it's a case of biting off a bit more than one can chew.

138 minutes. B&W and Color.

Punishment Park (1970)

Punishment Park (Peter Watkins, 1970)


British director Peter Watkins wrote and directed this pseudo documentary about a group of bearded, dirty 'counter-culture' members who are standing trial in the desert of Southern California for various (though vague) crimes. Made at the height of the Vietnam war, Punishment Park is in part based on the McCarran Internal Security Act of 1950 which authorizes federal authorities to detain and sentence people who are considered 'threats' without referring to congress or a standard court trial.

This film has it all: oppressive and murderous national guard troops, staunchly conservative and lame looking tribunal members and judges, and every facet of the counter culture: the anti-war, the feminist, the civil rights, the communists, etc., and most importantly, a 'game' in which these prisoners are supposed to hike across the desert to reach an American flag, where upon they will be released -- unless of course they are caught by the troops. Watkins' documentary style camerawork and fast paced, thoughtful editing shine in this film, constantly drawing paralleles and cutting between those standing trial and those in the desert, running from the troops. It's violent, political, and deals with specific issues a lot better than most political films of the time. It's an assault on the senses, and though dated in much of the ideology spouted in the film, this one is a horrifyingly awesome ride from start to finish.

With non-actors in almost all of the roles (and actually helping the realism for once). 88 minutes. Color.

Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

Kiss Me Deadly (Robert Aldrich, 1955)


Robert Aldrich's stylish and apocalyptic film noir was a late comer in the noir cycle, yet it remains one of my all time favorites. Adapted from a Mickey Spillane novel which Aldrich despised, he and writer A.I. Bezzerides turned the tough-as-nails private investigator Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker) into quite possibly the most inept, suicidal, impulse driven, narcissistic, and lousy noir protagonist of them all. Hammer punches his way through a mystery concerning the murder of a lunatic asylum escapee and a strange box that everyone and their mother is after (re: the 'great whatsit'). Hammer is way in over his head in this one, and despite his natural instincts for survival, he can't help but be duped by anyone and everyone and bring this film to a memorable, fireworks filled end.

With Meeker bringing the perfect amount of toughness and confusion to the role of Hammer, Maxine Cooper as his lusty assistant Velda, Nick Dennis as the stereotypical 'hispanic' Nick ("Vavavoooom!!!"), and the impressive, often skewed camera work and slashy light/dark lighting by Ernest Laszlo. 106 minutes. B&W.