2001: A Space Odyssey (Stanley Kubrick, 1968) - Eschewing conventional storytelling techniques, Kubrick’s quasi-mystical tale of humankind’s evolution from primitive ape-man to angelic Star-Child (the final evolutionary leap of which hinges on man’s ability to harness the potentially destructive nature of his technology, here embodied by Hal, the all-too-human computer run amok) employs an elliptical, ambiguous narrative structure which greatly deepens the enigmatic, mysterious power of this visually and aurally stunning sci-fi masterpiece. Remarkably, the farther Kubrick’s spaceships traverse the far-flung expanses of deep space, the deeper the film penetrates the equally mysterious recesses of the mind, resulting in an odyssey through both outer and inner space, ultimately leading to a mind-blowing climax in which the infinitude of space and the consciousness of Man seemingly become indistinguishable.

Persona (Ingmar Bergman, 1966) - In what may or may not be a series of dreams, hallucinations, fantasies and nightmares, reality and illusion blur spectacularly in Bergman’s chilling, visually imaginative examination of the mental breakdowns of two women, a retreating actress who refuses to speak and the talkative nurse tending her, whose separate identities splinter and crack apart, only to reassemble themselves into a merged whole. Bergman brilliantly visualizes his theme of spliced personalities/identity crises with haunting close-ups of the women, whose physical resemblance to one another is underscored by their symmetrical positioning in the frame, and whose disorienting states of role confusion find creepy expression in the superimposed melding of their faces.

Un Chien Andalou (Luis Buñuel, 1929) - With its skewed sense of time, surrealistic imagery, fractured “narrative,” and emphasis on sex, violence, and death, Un Chien Andalou stunningly evokes the irrationality of a dream state. Based on actual dreams of Dali and Buñuel, the images seem to have been transferred from the dark recesses of the subconscious directly to the celluloid, as if the rational apparatus has been completely disconnected, leaving a direct, unfiltered view of the violent, sexually charged dream fantasies of the irrational mind.

Scarface (Howard Hawks, 1932) - It is a great irony that censors held up the release of Scarface on the grounds that it romanticized organized crime when, in fact, Hawks’ film offers one of the least glamorized depictions of gangsterism in the genre. With his hunched posture, low-hanging arms, shambling walk, inarticulate utterances and brutish behavior, including incestuous feelings for his slutty sister, Tony “Scarface” Camonte, as portrayed by the great Paul Muni, appears to have devolved into an earlier, more primitive form of hominid, as if he were the missing link between Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon man. Who would want to emulate this subhuman Cro-Camonte man?

Before Sunset (Richard Linklater, 2004) - As the steadicam follows the reunited lovers from Before Sunrise around Paris, and finally up to Celine’s apartment, Linklater and his actors, who once again deliver uncannily naturalistic performances, achieve a rare sense of intimacy - it’s as if we really were following these people around, eavesdropping on their private conversations. Even more remarkable, the evident rapport between Hawke and Delpy is so authentic, so genuine and true, that the essence of romantic love seems to have been captured on the celluloid itself.

Posted on March 22nd, 2009 by Mat Viola
Filed under: Miscellaneous