Nobody's Children (1952) / The White Angel (1955) - Directed by Raffaello Matarazzo

Although his films in the late 1940’s were popular hits in his own country of Italy, Raffaello Matarazzo has resided at the fringe of popularity with critics ever since his melodramas were released. His films, of course, completely clashed with the neo-realism movement so prevalent in Italy at the time, but were popular escapist films. Instead of social relevancy and voicing the cry of the impoverished nation, Matarazzo’s films often used social plights to enhance fantasies. In fact, these films are filled with the kind of melodramatic and fantastical flair that Douglas Sirk would develop in Hollywood. In comparison though, Matarazzo makes Sirk look conservative by a long stretch. Criterion’s recent release on their Eclipse label captures four enchanting and thrilling features from Matarazzo, bringing to light the work of a fascinating director, one ready for a discovery.

Two films from the release, Nobody’s Children (1952) and the sequel The White Angel (1955) are together one of the wildest melodramatic stories ever put on film. They are labyrinthine in their approach, loaded with extreme examples of melodramatic panache. In the first film, Nobody’s Children, we’re introduced to a couple in love, Guido (Amadeo Nazzari), a Count and owner of a quarry, and Luisa (Yvonne Sanson). Guido leaves the country for a period of time, promising to write to her. In the meantime, she is pregnant with his child, which he does not know. His letters get stolen by Anselmo, a scheming rival, and his mother in order to push Luisa, a girl from a poor family, out of the picture. Guido returns and thinks Luisa has left him. Luisa feels she has been abandoned by Guido, and thus they are separated…..forever?



In the sequel, The White Angel, our separated lovers have, perhaps, a chance encounter at a train station, where Guido finds a woman who looks just like Luisa, and a la Vertigo (1958) (made 3 years later), becomes obsessed with her, pursues her, woos her, and….I must stop. It’s just too delicious to give away. In both films, there is a sense of suffering for righteous reasons. Thus, it’s clear that Catholicism perhaps plays a deep-rooted role at the core of these films, and this Christ-like suffering for the greater good is rampant, lending the films a passionate sense of duty. One wonders if the films of Bresson hold nothing less than an affinity with the elemental sense of duty and determination that Matarazzo lends to his characters. Bresson of course drained far more emotion from that purpose than Matarazzo does, but there is a kinship somewhere deep inside.

Both films star Amadeo Nazzari and Yvonne Sanson, who give prescient, if not always restrained performances. However, they seem to embody the clairvoyant religious and symbolic intentions that Matarazzo wants to convey. In viewing these two films, there also appears to be a grand celestial alignment at play in the plot, a design of life if you will that is evidenced by the cosmic connections and coincidences that occur. Although on the surface melodramas like this can appear campy and trashy, I believe that there is a greater truth and substance to the cores of films like Matarazzo’s. This leaning toward the cosmic alignment beckons comparisons to another late, great filmmaker, Krzysztof Kieslowski. Films like The Double Life of Veronique (1991), or his Three Colors Trilogy (1993-1995) are built upon a framework of coincidences, grand connections, and a reliance upon the magic of chance, or perhaps, God-like intervention. I’ll be damned if Matarazzo didn’t feel a similar pull when he made his grand works. Check out any of Matarazzo’s films you can get your hands on, but especially the twin bill of Nobody’s Children and The White Angel. They are literally loaded with magic.

War Horse (2011) - Directed by Steven Spielberg

I like to think that movies of all kinds have the potential to be great in their own way if the cards are played right. Sure there are certain types of films that lend themselves the ability to be considered masterpieces because of their audacious approach. Take the sheer scope of Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life (2011). He obviously shoots for the moon in most of his films and the sheer ambition and scope often lead to astounding results. It’s easier to “see” that films of artistic ambition are great. We point to the cinematography or the film’s concept or themes or color palette or unique editing style etc. It’s easy for critics and bloggers to point out what makes such a film great and one can read into it what one wants. There are other genres or films that of course tend to be less respected by the critical community and many of these are the types of films where the artistic sensibility seems less ambitious or unique. These types could include musicals, melodramas, or various forms of pure entertainment or even family entertainment. My point is, what do we do about films containing tried and true techniques to convey a story or films from genres such as these? Are they of lesser worth because of their type? How do we compare them to other films that are more technically ambitious? Often these films I speak of simply exist to convey a story in an effective way using techniques most appropriate to the story. This is not to say of course that films with “lesser” ambition and objectives are given a pass. In fact, they are often scrutinized even further as each component of the film must work in perfect harmony in order to be effective.

Thus, this is the context in which I must engage Steven Spielberg’s War Horse. Based on the novel from 1982 and the stageplay in 2007 of the same name, this film uses a horse, and the boy that loves him, to encircle the scope and impact of WWI, and to attempt to quantify the impact of this war by engaging in the discovery of humanity in the face of hellish adversity. However, it’s not a realistic or serious examination of the war. It plays more as a fable and mainly as moving family entertainment, using the war to highlight certain aspects of duty, humanity, and spirit in the face of odds, although heartwarming this film is not in my opinion. We meet an English boy, Albert as he sees a young foal born on a nearby farm. This foal is sold at an auction, where Albert’s father buys the horse, instead of the work horse he should buy to till the nearby field at their farm. Albert takes the horse, named Joey, under his wing with love and care, and teaches the horse to till the field against seemingly all odds for a horse of his stature. Sadness befalls this story as the boy must part with the horse, as it is sold to a Captain in the cavalry at the start of WWI to be his trusty steed. Joey ends up in the hands of some young German soldiers, and then winds up in the company of a young girl and her grandfather on a farm. He’s then taken by German soldiers again, eventually winding up between the trenches in no man’s land at the Battle of the Somme, leading to the moving centerpiece of the story and the film’s conclusion.

War Horse really fits in with Spielberg's overall oeuvre. This film is a fantasy of sorts, something that wouldn’t be uncomfortable sitting alongside E.T. (1983). Or even the fact that the film employs a structure hovering around chance and circumstance, which recalls his Saving Private Ryan (1998) in certain terms. I think above all, the film works mainly on the level that films of a bygone era did, even though it's not a strict homage. I’m thinking of mainly the films of John Ford, who tended to employ a spirit of rugged determination and morality along with an abiding feeling for sentiment and the effectiveness of combining these elements. Particularly, I recall How Green Was My Valley (1941) as I watched War Horse. There’s also of course the cinematic context of traditional family entertainment, like of National Velvet (1944) and The Black Stallion (1979). Additionally, films such as Random Harvest (1941), Sergeant York (1941) or even Mrs. Miniver (1942) are recalled in War Horse using the theme of humanity persevering at great odds whilst using sensitive, emotional filmmaking to convey the story. Above all, War Horse is simply a masterful and commanding telling of a moving story. It’s not about the cinematography, even though it’s great. It’s not about the film’s score or acting per se, even though they are uniformly wonderful throughout. It’s the story of the lives that the horse touches and the reminder that humanity is capable of persevering against all odds. That is how the film impacts me and it is a supremely moving film.

If there’s anything worth arguing over in the film, and this is I think the determining factor over how one perceives a structural component in the film, (and beware spoilers) it is the fact that both the boy and the horse survive the war and are able to return home despite the fact that countless untold others do not survive. One may react unfavorably to this point and thus cloud the entire film. This is of course a similar argument raised against Schindler’s List (1993), where the question of how can one portray a story of the saving of the few at the expense of portraying a story of the cost of the millions, or something to this effect. I think often films involving war themes come under fire because they aren’t perceived to be remorseful enough, or respectful enough or fill in the blank. If stories are constantly about the loss or denial of life, is there no one left to tell the story? Is there no one left to remember? Is it perhaps, in the case of certain films, more effective to follow the story of a survivor who's able to remember and share the impact of said events so others can learn from it in the future? I know I’m probably leading into a gray area of film criticism here, but I think there can be an argument made for presenting a story of the survival of the few, and it not be a denigration to the loss of the many, provided the story convey with humility and respect the events themselves, which I think this film does, given its treatment of various angles of the story, the respect toward each character presented etc. I’m not saying these are the only ways of thinking on this subject, but these are MY opinions. I know some others will feel it's rather shallow given the subject matter, but this is a matter of perspective and opinion, and I think there is evidence here to the contrary. Ultimately, I feel Spielberg has made one of his best films here and the sheer propulsion of storytelling and filmmaking is of the highest quality.

Senso (1954) - Directed by Luchino Visconti

At one time forgotten and now ripe for a rediscovery following the recent Criterion release, Luchino Visconti’s Senso is nothing but a non-stop pummeling of gorgeous costumes and sets, wonderful acting, and deeply tragic emotions. This masterpiece is a luscious and most operatic melodrama. I’ve already mentioned my grand appreciation of melodramas in previous essays about Sirk, Fuller, and Cukor. Now we enter the realm of classicism and grand perspective, lending a historical context to a torrid love affair, one which is not only tragically romantic but insatiably lusty, filled with greed, unhealthy yearnings, hang-ups and obsessions.

Alida Valli stars as Countess Livia Serpieri, who is married to a wealthy and stodgy man. It is 1866, and the seeds of Italian unification have begun to surge through the country during the Austrian occupation. Visconti’s film opens with an extended scene in the Teatro La Fenice (Opera House) in Venice, infusing the film with a heavy dose of gilded atmospherics, and foreshadowing the “Opera” that will play out during the course of the film. At the Opera, Livia meets Franz Mahler, an Austrian lieutenant played by Farley Granger. They are immediately smitten with each other, and under the nose of her husband, Livia begins a lustful, reckless and selfish affair with him, one that will ultimately break her body, mind, and soul.

As Countess Livia, Alida Valli gives a tremendous performance and is one of the main reasons for the film’s success. Her dark features and long hair blend terrifically with the gorgeous costumes that were fitted for her, along with the ornately decorated rooms she spends time in. Her projection of longing and tortured melancholy is reminiscent of her work in The Third Man (1949), but here she’s given more screen time and she’s a commanding presence. Her chemistry with Farley Granger really works, especially in the passionate love scenes she has together with him that seem especially heated considering the time in which the film was made. It’s also quite clear that the look of the film, from the sets and costumes to the careful use of color, darkness and light, is a tremendous testament to Visconti’s vision. At around the time of this film's release, Visconti became known for his direction of Operas, something he did throughout the 1950's and 60's. It’s clear that his love of Opera infuses Senso with the emotional flourishes and cinematic framing that makes it so memorable.

As Livia and Franz reach a climactic moment in their relationship, the film ratchets up a darker, more tortured conclusion than something that would be found in the films of Sirk. Visconti knows that an affair of such epic proportions is bound to destroy someone in the end, if not everyone involved. The film’s most memorable moment for me comes very near the last scene, as a distraught, perhaps insane Livia wanders the dark and shadowy streets of Verona, screaming “Franz!”, “Fraannz!!!.” She screams his name with such blood curdling passion, the words echoing off the walls of the buildings, bringing chills to one’s spine. Senso is my favorite Visconti film, containing one of the most torrid and tragic love affairs that cinema has ever brought us.

My 2011 Recap

I'm calling this post My 2011 Recap, as that's what it is. It's not a Best Films of 2011 as I still haven't seen all the new movies I would need to summarize the year in movies, and may not get there for a few months. However, I did want to take some time to do something inspired by Drew’s great post over at The Blue Vial, which is to highlight (out of the over 250 films I saw, with the vast majority of them older releases) several older films that I saw for the first time in 2011 that struck the biggest chord with me, and then also add some other thoughts on my other discoveries throughout the year. Reminder: all the films and performances I highlight in this post were films I saw for the first time.

So, these are the 9 runners-up best pre-2011 films in chronological order:

Magnificent Obsession (1954) – Sirk

Bigger Than Life (1956) – Ray

Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) – Wise

Kapo (1959) – Pontecorvo

The Naked Kiss (1964) – Fuller

Love Affair, or The Case of the Missing Switchboard Operator (1967) – Makavejev

Shadows in Paradise (1986) – Kaurismaki

Close-Up (1990) - Kiarostami

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007) – Dominik

And the single greatest film that I saw from all the pre-2011 releases was:

4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007) – Cristian Mungiu

This Romanian film, set during Ceausescu’s reign and about an attempted illegal abortion, was something I watched early in 2011, prior to blogging in March and I didn’t write a piece on it at the time. I hope to correct this in the future after a second viewing. This film approached perfection for me and is a film I’m still grappling with 10 months later.

On the flipside, here are a few renowned films that I, for whatever reason, did not connect with:

Chungking Express (1994) – Kar-Wai

Eraserhead (1977) – Lynch

The Conformist (1970) – Bertolucci

Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975) - Akerman

Here is a list of the best performances I saw this year:

Best Actress:

Anamaria Marinca – 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007) – Mungiu

Michelle Williams – Wendy and Lucy (2008) – Reichardt,Blue Valentine (2010) – Cianfrance

Constance Towers – The Naked Kiss (1964) – Fuller

Kati Outinen – The Match Factory Girl (1990) – Kaurismaki

Allida Valli – Senso (1954) – Visconti

Holly Hunter – Broadcast News (1987) – Brooks

Wendy Hiller – Major Barbara (1941) – Pascal

Barbra Streisand – Funny Girl (1968) – Cukor

Best Actor:

Micky Rourke – The Wrestler (2008) – Aronofsky


Casey Affleck – The Assassination of Jesse James… (2007) – Dominick

Emil Jannings – The Last Command (1928) – Von Sternberg

Robert Ryan – Odds Against Tomorrow (1959) – Wise



Lino Ventura – Le Deuxieme Souffle (1966) – Melville

Hossein Sabzian – Close-Up (1990) – Kiarostami

Volker Spengler – In A Year of 13 Moons (1978) – Fassbinder

James Mason - Bigger Than Life (1956) - Ray

Director I spent the most time with in 2011:

Rainer Werner Fassbinder

I had seen a few of this German director’s films prior to this year, like Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1973) and The Marriage of Maria Braun (1978), but had begun to realize that one of my largest gaps in my viewing knowledge of film was Fassbinder’s output. These were the 6 films that I saw by Fassbinder this year. (ratings are out of 4 stars)

Effi Briest (1974) - Fassbinder ***

Fox and His Friends (1975) - Fassbinder *** 1/2

In a Year with 13 Moons (1978) - Fassbinder *** 1/2

Lola (1981) - Fassbinder *** 1/2

The American Soldier (1970) - Fassbinder ** 1/2

The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant (1972) - Fassbinder *** 1/2

One of the oddest things about Fassbinder’s output is the fact that his films for me are nearly always on the cusp of masterpiece status, but he has a tendency to somewhat undermine his own brilliance by throwing in an element or a few scenes that just don’t really work for me, almost on purpose maybe? It’s an oddity that I haven’t quite figured out yet, but I feel like there is more to it, because he was clearly capable of brilliance. I still think Maria Braun is his best film and I still need to see Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980) among others. After seeing the six films I did, though, I feel more capable of discussing his work with a shred of intelligence. Among Fassbinder’s greatest auteurist elements I have found, is the fact that many of his stories revolve around the tendency of a certain character to try to destroy another character through love, lack of love, manipulation, or brutality. His stories nearly always couple melodrama with a certain social realism aspect.

Genre Explorations:

Musicals! As I noted here following my involvement in the Wonders in the Dark Top 70 Musicals Countdown, I spent a great deal of time catching up with both my favorite musicals and many I had never seen before. Over 10% of my total viewing in 2011 was spent watching musicals, 28 films in all.  I now believe to have a much greater appreciation of musicals and consider myself a big fan of the genre.

Some of my new favorites:

On the Town (1949)

Fiddler on the Roof (1971)

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

Funny Girl (1968)

In a somewhat related topic, over the last year, I’ve become a huge fan and proponent of artful melodrama. For whatever reason, the films that I saw from Sirk, Fassbinder, Fuller, Ray, Matarazzo, Visconti, Ophuls and many of the musicals themselves spoke to me from their melodramatic elements.

These were the glories of melodrama for me that I watched in 2011:

(Note that some of these films will see essays from me in the coming weeks)

Magnificent Obsession (1954) – Sirk

Nobody’s Children (1952)/The White Angel (1955) – Matarrazzo

Bigger Than Life (1956) - Ray

The Naked Kiss (1964) – Fuller

Senso (1954) – Visconti



Lola (1981) – Fassbinder

The Earrings of Madame de… (1953) – Ophuls

That’s basically my summary of my 2011 watching movies. Like I said, I hope to have a best films of 2011 in the future to post on after I catch up with the new releases, but in the meantime, if you have a favorite older film you saw this year please share!

Blade Runner (1981) - Directed by Ridley Scott

A lot has changed in the last 30 years, not the least of which is Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, which has seen multiple versions both released in theatres and on home video/DVD distribution. Upon its release in a sneak preview in 1981, the film was deemed too confusing, and thus Scott and star Harrison Ford were forced to input a rather awful voice over for the mainstream American release, a film which I really didn't like very much. There was a more violent International cut, followed by a “Directors Cut” in 1992, which Scott never approved. At least it removed that voice-over though! What was always apparent to me in all of the versions I had seen until recently (watched on TV, Pan-and-Scan VHS, or even that Director’s Cut DVD), including the U.S. release and the Director’s Cut, was a muddled visual aesthetic, as if the film was artificially darkened beyond comprehension. I’m not sure if it was the newer remastered “Final Cut” on Blu-Ray, my new TV, or a combination of the two, but to me, Scott’s film has never looked better than it does now, justifying and enhancing its high status as one of the watershed cinematic experiences of the last thirty years.

Scott’s film, based on Philip K. Dick’s short story, “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”, is a sci-fi neo-noir of epic proportions that has been highly influential to multiple sci-fi, neo-noir, and anime films that have followed. It concerns the story of Deckard (Harrison Ford) who is a “Blade Runner”, a hit man of sorts charged with hunting down and killing “Replicants”, which are androids that are nearly identical to actual humans who are used as slave labor in space exploration. Specifically, Blade Runner follows Deckard as he tracks a group of Replicants who have gone rogue on earth after killing some humans. Replicants look like humans from the outside and can even have emotions and learned behavior that they put together to create the semblance of a fully functional human being. We learn that they are rather desperate though, as they are only given a 4-year life span and will do anything to try to find a way to extend their lives. Deckard soon finds out that the task of “playing God” is a troubling endeavor.

Blade Runner has an aura about the way that it conveys its story, which is something out of pulp magazines, graphic novels or comic books combined with traditional film noir. All of it looks familiar, and yet it feels completely fresh and vital still today. Much of the credit to the film's success should be given to production designer Lawrence Paull, art director David Snyder and the multiple effects artists who drop us so mercilessly into a piteous Los Angeles, circa 2019, filled with towering, monolithic buildings, smog and pollution, continuous rain and darkened skies. In particular, the lighting of the film is monumental, standing up against something like The Third Man (1949), for perhaps greatest use of light and darkness of any film in history. Observe the way that light peers through window blinds, enlightening faces with chiaroscuro palettes. Or look at the use of neon lights, reflective surfaces, and smoke to create romance and tension. This film simply looks spectacular.

Rivaling the lighting, are the faces of the actors. This film is actually a continuous barrage of fascinating faces: Harrison Ford’s downtrodden and hard-boiled Deckard; Rutger Hauer’s Nordic aloofness complete with screaming, white hair; Sean Young’s angelic face, filled with tears and smeared mascara; Daryl Hannah’s mannequin-like perfection turned into a harlequin with white and black paint; Edward James Olmos’s pockmarked wise man. Considering the heavy doses of atmosphere, though, the film retains a dose of emotion. The Replicants’ drive to stay alive and become more human is almost fairy-tale in its quality. They are fully sympathetic antagonists, and this coupled with the gory violence strikes the viewer with a sadness and remorse. Thus, the film can play as highly emotive film noir, not just a stylistic exercise or a superficially cool film, something I have begun to call emo-noir, which is a term I used to describe Drive (2011). Although I don’t consider Scott to be an auteur in the strict sense, he has made a few remarkable films, Blade Runner being his best.



My Week With Marilyn (2011) - Directed by Simon Curtis

I have been traveling and working in the UK for the last four weeks. As I write this, I am entering into my final week of this trip. I have spent time working with many wonderful British people as well as getting a deep dose of the culture here and the work ethic. I also had the privilege of spending some time traveling around the country on some days off, taking in the beauty of the Lake District and even Scotland before the snow fell. It was wonderful to have this experience. However, I’ve also at times felt like a fish out of water. One of the great challenges to being in another country once the sightseeing stops, is to try to function within normal society. I haven’t encountered any other Americans on this trip (perhaps a good thing), which added to the feeling of being different. Maybe it’s the time of year or the poor economy, but it has been interesting to be the “only American” around. I’ve felt like the odd one out, speaking with an American accent at the grocery store or the mall doing ordinary things where tourists don’t normally venture. Today, in fact, I went somewhere that tourists don't normally go: I went to the cinema and saw Simon Curtis’ My Week With Marilyn.  Not only is it a brilliant entertainment and a superb fantasy, but I found a catharsis and sympathy in Marilyn’s plight, as she too was a fish out of water in this story involving her coming to England to shoot a rather ill-fated film with actor/director Laurence Olivier.

My Week with Marilyn is based on the diaries and memoir by Colin Clark, “The Prince, the Showgirl, and Me” and "My Week With Marilyn"(he was 3rd Assistant Director on The Prince and the Showgirl), where he recounts his short-term, but supposed deep connection to the most famous of movie stars: Marilyn Monroe, played with pure conviction here by Michelle Williams. In 1956, she embarked on a project with Laurence Olivier (played by Kenneth Brannagh), pairing the two of them in The Prince and the Showgirl (1957), with Olivier in fact behind the camera as well as in front. Olivier's film is a rather bland confection, but Clark’s memoir (he was 3rd Assistant Director on the film), and My Week With Marilyn, documents the story of Monroe’s difficulty to work with Olivier during the production, her troubles with her new marriage to Henry Miller, and the rather odd and fortuitous (for Clark) relationship with the young Clark during the making of the film. Many of the best and most interesting scenes in the film involve Marilyn, her Method acting coach Paula Strasberg (Zoe Wanamaker), and Olivier as they fuss and fight over work styles. For fans of classic cinema, these scenes are absolutely delicious fun.

I don’t normally go for films like this. I found last year’s The King’s Speech (2010) to be rather as expected, not containing many surprises. There might be something more to My Week With Marilyn though. This is not a “biopic”, which is usually meant to portray the entire life and breadth of a key figure. Instead, this film captures a short term glimpse of a star and is not subjective to the baggage of normal biopics, with the usual length and sogginess that comes with trying to capture everything. This is a film from Clark’s perspective looking at Marilyn Monroe, not the internal perspective of Marilyn looking outward. We never really encounter Marilyn except in the presence of Clark, or sometimes Olivier as well. In this way, Marilyn remains at a distance from us just as initially Clark is at a distance from her. When Clark is brought inter her inner circle, we have the privilege of going there with him. It is the paralleled point of view of Clark and the audience that maintains this important synergy. What in fact makes the movie succeed is this rather strict and intentional point of view that allows the audience to maintain a link with the subjective source of the material, rather than become distanced as objective observers of the proceedings. Clark is a rather blank canvas of sorts. We project ourselves into his shoes and we become Clark through this point of view. It’s not that we are flies on the wall. We are, in fact, this young man. He, in essence, lived out what millions of people would consider their greatest fantasy: to spend intimate moments with a mega star. Be it Marilyn Monroe, Greta Garbo, Michelle Williams (or whomever), there surely are times when moviegoers or fans have dreamed about what it would be like to meet such a person. I’ve wondered myself what it would be like if I could go back in time and have lunch with Garbo. What would I say? What would I do? My Week With Marilyn allows us to realize such a fantasy and put us right in the middle of it. Of course, what's in it for Marilyn? It's all mostly a trifle with nothing behind it. She is directionless, drugged, and utterly tragic and despairing. Clark gets to enact his rather selfish fantasy. But, Marilyn remains the exploited one in all of this. Where is her solace to be found?

Of course here is where we must have a discussion of Michelle Williams. I’m beginning to wonder whether I should turn my entire blog into a Michelle Williams fan page as I’ve already written about her glorious acting in Blue Valentine (2010) and Meek’s Cutoff  (2010) and my vote of approval at this point is rather redundant. However, I must admit that normally when I see an actor or actress take a role such as this, I tend to think of it as a sellout. In this case though, I feel like Williams has paid her dues. She’s done the indie films and the small pictures and created tremendous work along the way. Thus, I think she deserved this role and the chance to shine for the masses. I think Williams has earned all the accolades she will get for this role. Whether it’s her greatest performance or not isn’t a point to bicker on. It will likely be her iconic performance though. It will be the one she is remembered for by most people many years from now. As Monroe, Williams rightly stays far from any sense of caricature. She doesn’t play it too big, which allows the audience to sympathize with her humanity, and there is a deep humility and respect at the core of the performance that provides a transparency even though Marilyn remains rather enigmatic. It’s brilliant stuff all the way.

Whether all of this really happened back in 1956 is beside the point. The conceit works whether it’s truth or fiction. I would probably be so inclined to believe that with decades in hindsight, Clark’s memoir (which I haven’t read yet) would be highly subjective to the haze that envelope memories as they grow old. I actually think the film tends to capture the golden glow of such memories to the point that the film is rather absurdly glossy. This is not a flaw. On the contrary, if the film were to enact a greater sense of importance or realism, it could have become far too soggy. By keeping the glossy and glowing look, it gives greater weight to the subjective point of view and perspective, and I personally could care less whether the story is true or completely fabricated. It works cinematically, and that's my main concern. Although it’s clearly not the best film of the year, it is one of the best films of its kind and in my world there is room for films like this.

Before Sunset (2004) - Directed by Richard Linklater

(This review contains spoilers)
In Before Sunset, Linklater’s follow-up to his romantic masterpiece Before Sunrise (1995), we pick up Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and Celine (Julie Delpy) 10 years after they initially met on a train in Europe. Their epic day spent in Vienna talking, ruminating about life and falling in love, ended with our two lovers departing and making plans to meet up 6 months later on the train platform where they parted ways in Vienna. Of course, they leave without exchanging phone numbers or any contact information, which leaves the viewer very skeptical that they would ever meet again. In Before Sunset, we learn not just what happened 6 months later, but also what else has transpired in their lives since then. Not only is Before Sunset a brilliant and essential follow-up to the first film, in some ways, it’s better.

At the beginning of Before Sunset, we meet Jesse at a bookstore where he is signing copies of his book in a Parisian bookstore. His book, apparently somewhat popular, is the “fictional” account of his day and night with Celine, which occurred roughly 10 years before. Celine happens to be in the bookstore, eyeing Jesse from the stacks of books. They make eye contact and Jesse drops what he’s doing and goes over to see her. They meet awkwardly, slowly begin conversation, and decide to go walk around Paris while talking, before Jesse has to catch an evening plane from Paris to his next stop. We understand immediately that Celine and Jesse never met up 6 months after their initial day together. In fact, this point is discussed early on in the film, clearing up some mystery as to why they didn’t get together. Jesse had made it back to Vienna, but Celine missed the date because her Grandmother died right beforehand, with the funeral occurring on that fateful Dec. 16, thus eliminating any chance of them meeting up again, until now. They spend the rest of the film, as in the first, talking about their lives.

If there’s one part of the film that doesn’t quite work well, it’s actually the opening moments of the film where Celine and Jesse meet. It feels a bit forced and awkward in that bookstore. Once they get out on the streets, the film takes off and the chemistry so electric in the first film, comes into focus again. When comparing the films, it is obvious that Before Sunrise is easily the most traditional of the two, including proceedings more entertaining for standard audiences. What the first film leans on are the encounters with various passers by: the actors, the palm reader, the poet-bum. These encounters pace the film and break up the “monotony” of having two people talk the whole time. In Before Sunset, side characters are eliminated. It is essentially Celine and Jesse, alone for 75 minutes in one long conversation. Thus, cinematically, it’s more risky, and also therefore less romantic in the traditional sense. I feel that this approach is probably closer to what Linklater was trying to get at in the first film, but, Linkater succeeds here in that he’s able to convey the ephemeral time together better. This film nearly occurs in real time, providing us essentially with the lone 70-90 minutes that they have to catch up. In this way, he infuses the film with a fleeting realism. This realism is also apparent in the progression of the discussions which go from polite introductions and jokes, to talk of careers, to the heated discussions of what happened “that day” and why their love lives have never compared with that ever since. This progression toward the more serious reflects our natural tendencies to get to know someone or open up with less important topics and gradually dig deeper.

If the first film was all about “What could life be like?”, then the second film is about “What could life have been like if...?”. This perspective is especially apparent from Jesse and Celine as they talk on the boat tour on the Seine and then continue a heated discussion in a car ride:

Jesse- Why weren’t you there in Vienna?

Celine- I told you why.

Jesse- Well I know why…I just….I wish you would have been. Our lives might have been so much different.

Celine- You think so?

Jesse- I actually do.

My favorite quote in the film is this one:

Celine- I guess when you’re young, you just believe there will be many people with whom you connect with......Later in life you realize it happens only a few times.

Finally the film comes to its most pointed moment here:

Celine- I was fine….until I read your f****ing book. It stirred shit up, you know? It reminded me how genuinely romantic I was and how I had so much hope in things, now it’s like I don’t believe in anything that relates to love. I don’t feel things for people anymore. In a way I put all my romanticism into that one night and I was never able to feel all this again. Like somehow this night took things away from me…..

All these quotes seem so very true, not just for these characters, but great observations about life. There is definitely a regret in the tone of the film, to not just being young and stupid as they say, but to a remorse for what happened to their lives over the last 10 years following their decisions. They are only in their early 30’s, and yet there’s the sense that things are too late for them, as if the decisions made between ages 20-30 set you up for the rest of your life. Missing that window has caused great heartache for both people. I applaud the skepticism and pessimism in this film, as it’s a sobering flipside to the romantic optimism of the first film. Taken together, both films make up one of the essential cinematic relationships.