An effective, creepy thriller that is helped significantly by Cronenberg's economical direction and Walken's engaging performance as a man who, after years in a coma, finds himself with an unexplainable supernatural ability. The film counters the supernatural elements with the emotional story of loss and alienation, as Johnny's fiancé has remarried during his coma, but it always paints the psychic ability much more as a disabling curse than a mystical gift (I don't think Johnny would ever buy a mobile home and read fortunes by the side of the interstate). It hurts Johnny to see the future because in some way he also experiences it and is powerless to stop it. Even though the ending with the senator feels a little trite, overall it is a good film featuring one of Walken's finest performances.
Sauve qui peut (la vie) [aka Every Man for Himself; aka Slow Motion] (Jean-Luc Godard, 1980)
Godard has described this movie as something of a fresh start (his “second first film”) and it definitely feels like it. From the opening scenes in the hotel even into the bike riding in the country, the comedy is bold and fresh. I loved the opera singer following him through the hotel and the scenic bike ride that gets interrupted by a group of serious cyclists. Godard leaves comedy behind early on, however, as the film becomes more of a study of emotional humiliation. There are moments when the synth score kicks in and we hold on an image (fascinating use of slow motion, by the way, where the mundane suddenly takes on the aura of the profound) where it feels as if we might get Godard “playing it straight” (ie. making an emotional connection), which he quickly subverts by cutting out the music and giving us a new scene in which we must restart any emotional investment we were trying to make. I suppose this is right in line with what the film is exploring, where the film itself humiliates the audience’s efforts to engage with it. I like Godard’s auto-critique of himself too, perhaps both as a man and a filmmaker. Here he is depicted as a sleazy and sad video producer (named Paul Godard) who is a demeaning emotional destroyer of women, most particularly his ex-wife, current girlfriend and daughter (those who have tried to make an emotional connection with him).
This explains the emergence of the theme of prostitution, which, in this context of emotional connectedness, seems most desirable to Godard because it is a relationship devoid of emotional connection or relational commitment. He also places prostitution within the decidedly capitalist context of business. We meet Huppert’s character, a prostitute who has accepted the manual labor of prostitution and anticipates the self-humiliation of the work as one of the services she provides to her rich clientele. This theme of humiliation finds its fulfillment within its new capitalist sub-framework in the weird corporate orgy envisioned by a boss, his associate and two prostitutes. Godard’s lightness of touch on these matters of prostitution and emotional humiliation coupled with explicit sexual frankness may be off-putting to some, but to me, it adds to the nearly surrealistic experience of watching the film and it also fits conceptually within Godard’s framework. All in all, a fascinating movie that continues to grow on me the more I think about it. And that final shot is a stunner.
Tarzan, the Ape Man (John Derek, 1981)
This absolutely insane journey into the heart of lust -- with Bo Derek literally bathing in every body of water she happens to pass by -- certainly wears thin over its 110 minute run time. The story, such as it is, concerns a beautiful woman inexplicably journeying into the jungle to find her absent father and then following him deeper into the jungle where they run across Tarzan and she accidentally discovers sexuality. Richard Harris enjoys the opportunity to yell at everyone around him and to give such oddly sexist dialogue a nearly satiric edge, such as "Your mother nearly died during your conception. I held her too long; I loved her too hard." Despite a couple of scenes that try to paint the film as some sort of progressive tale of women's liberation from patriarchal structures, Bo plays the innocent Jane with enough winking sensuality that it is all pretty obvious that this is a film about Bo Derek's breasts. Despite being a sludge to get through, minor bonus points for the battle with the boa constrictor that suddenly finds itself being the weirdest Martin Arnold film never made. Plenty of troublesome depictions of natives as well, complete with a visit from the Jodorowsky rainbow tribe.
The Territory (Raúl Ruiz, 1981)
A group of bourgeois Americans take a backpacking trek into a forest somewhere in Europe and become more and more lost and desperate as they begin a descent into primal madness. What we get are a handful of ciphers complaining about wandering in circles for days while the murky beauty of the film begins to engulf them. I understand this all serves an atmospheric and potentially symbolic purpose, but I found myself frustrated by their stupidity, especially the fact that they could have
Spoiler
simply followed the road when they found it.
You Are Not I (Sara Driver, 1981)
A girl escapes from a mental institution in the wake of a nearby accident and makes her way to her sister’s house. Shot in 16mm b&w with a decent sense of composition and intent (by Jarmusch, playing DP here), the story is told primarily through the voice-over thoughts of our protagonist, Ethel, as she wanders through these events with an otherworldly disassociation. Very much in the No Wave vein, this felt like equal parts Permanent Vacation and the “Mirror, Father, Mirror” art film parody from Ghost World, skating a fine edge between laughable and profound. What it does well is present a portrait of mental illness with a degree of self-awareness, as Ethel’s narration proves that she sees the fear and condescension of those around her, especially her sister. This also works against the film a bit too, as Ethel’s self-awareness then makes her responses more puzzling and makes her character more self-absorbed.
Spoiler
I guess the ending reversal is supposed to be a bit of an art-house gotcha, where we understand the two sisters are basically the same, though one is deemed mentally handicapped and the other not.
. And the shot of her silhouette walking through the penthouse at dawn is one of the most beautiful shots in all the decade, a clear reminder that, yes, this was the guy responsible for Heaven's Gate
