So I watched more than 30 movies in August, in my defence some were short films so… but tbh I had a blast so I don’t really need to excuse myself. Cinema is one of my biggest passions and from time to time I’ll get completely consumed by it and thats kind of what happened this past month.
Find out what films and books I read in August:
Undine is an exquisite and hypnotic reimagining of the Undine myth set in modern-day Berlin.
The German romantic drama film is by one of the countries most celebrated directors, Christian Petzold and stars critically acclaimed actors Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski as lovers, Undine and Christoph. Undine had its premiere at the 70th Berlin International Film Festival, where it was shown in competition for the coveted Gold Bear Award. The film ultimately secured Beer with the Silver Bear for Best Actress for her mesmerising performance as a reluctant water nymph.
In Undine, Paula Beer and Franz Rogowski are reunited with their Transit director, and let me say this trio is magical. The chemistry between Beer and Rogowski is electric here, and I found myself completely enamoured by Undine and Christoph’s courtship. They may have a semi unbelievable first encounter where a fish tank shatters, but it certainly is an enchanting one, and that’s down to the way Petzold shoots the moment. It’s a moment full of whimsy, but it juxtaposes nicely with the rather unfortunate breakup Undine suffers at the beginning of the film.
Petzold himself said in an interview with Indiewire, “As the water pours over them, they’re lying next to each other like on a beach. They open their eyes like a rebirthing scene, wet with mud and old fish. They look at each other, and the first thing they see are the eyes of the other. That’s a good start for a love story.”
I also like the fact that their courting after this almost magical first encounter takes place in ordinary and unremarkable places, which Petzold does deliberately. In a talk with fellow German director Heinz Emigholz and NYFF program director Dennis Lim, he said he didn’t want to film the love story in romantic locations. Petzold instead opted to use ordinary spaces so that the romance can ‘bewitch’ these places and transform them from something banal to something other. He also refers to a line from a poem by Joseph von Eichendorff that inspired him ‘Schläft ein Lied in allen Dingen’ (A song sleeps in all things), which I think is a rather beautiful sentiment. You can certainly see this idea has been considered throughout the movie (and in his other films too).
The other striking thing about the use of place in the film is the links to architecture and Berlin itself. Undine is a historian who gives talks about urban development, which on its own is pretty cool. But when she talks about the city’s origin, she mentions the etymology of Berlin’s name; it means ‘swamp’ or ‘dry place in the swamp’. Therefore the city like Undine has a connection to water that has been severed, and she has, in a way like Berlin, been urbanised, transformed and separated from her elemental origin. Later in the film, she rehearses a talk in front of an enraptured Christoph (such a beautiful moment!). There she talks about the Humboldt Forum, a 21st-century museum in the centre of Berlin that was modelled on an 18th-century building that once stood in the exact same place and an architectural theory that suggests that progress is impossible. A neat bit of foreboding, which is mirrored in Petzold’s cyclical direction which features recurring motifs of mysterious Catfish sightings (more on him in a minute!) and characters returning to the same locations in search of evidence of events taking place.
Another of my favourite moments in the film is where the shot of Undine looking over Christoph’s shoulder for the poster originates. It’s simple; we follow the two as they wander along in each other’s arms, as if completely smitten and unable to be separate from one another’s embrace for any length of time. The music and the atmosphere is beautiful until Undine sees Johannes, her previous boyfriend, with another woman. The camera then sweeps around to follow them walk past, and Undine peers over Christoph’s shoulder. This signifies a turning point in the film and that despite her growing bond with Christoph, her fate is catching up to her.
So let’s talk about Gunther the catfish. He’s named after a character from the Nibelungenlied an Old Germanic text, very much like The Prose Edda and other mythological/legendary tales from medieval times. This little literary reference adds another texture of myth and mystery to the setting of the water, which as a dam is a natural place that has been industrialised. It’s an archaic place that has been transformed and acts as an intersection between the modern world and the world of mysticism, note that both Undine and Gunther reside there. This also connects back to the original romantic story by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, the river is so imposing in the novella that it strands characters for a period of time, however here in the modern age man has tamed the river. Petzold said in an interview that people are becoming distant from the myths and legends of the earlier years and this setting most definitely suggests that and offers us the chance to reflect on this fact.
In conclusion, I think I have found a new favourite in Undine. I love unusual romances that are sprinkled with magical realism and a sobering dash of doom. I love the performances by Beer and Rogowski, and I think Petzold has crafted such a beautiful film with so many textured layers to unpack. On the first watch, it is a whimsical love story; on the second watch, it's a meditation on time, place and autonomy…I can only wonder what a third watch will have in store for me. But ultimately, it's the intertwining of love, architecture, poetic doom and mysticism that makes Undine a film that will keep me coming back re-watch after re-watch.
Pain and Glory is cinema at its best, a feast for the eyes and a story that touches the heart. Directed by Pedro Almodóvar and starring Antonio Banderas in the lead role of Salvador Mallo, a troubled director, this film explores the very essence of life, the pain and the glory of existence, if you will.
This film has been on my watch list for far too long and I am also kind of ashamed to say that this is the first Almodóvar film I have seen (despite having a DVD of The Skin I Live In on my shelf for years!) The first thing that struck me was the use of colour (a well-known trademark of the filmmaker if I’m correct), in every frame, there is a perfect balance of rich jewel tones and paired back neutrals, making everything pop in such an aesthetically pleasing way.
Homes or interiors to be more precise play an important part in the film, and they are visually stunning too. From the striking whitewash walls of the cavern home of Mallo’s childhood to his chic and colourful apartment. Can I just say that the latter is perhaps one of the most gorgeously designed apartments I have ever seen (interior design inspo on a whole new level!) and interestingly it is a replica of Almodóvar’s own home. According to Antxón Gómez (Production designer and frequent collaborator) “For Pedro, interior design is a character in the movie,” [1]. And it truly feels like this is the case while watching the film, the eclectic decor speaks volumes about the characters and shows that they have a rich and complex history. It’s the same with fashion, and can I just say that I need a green jacket like the one Mallo rocks in my life. Fashion and Interior design are ways in which we can express ourselves, and then for Almodóvar, there is filmmaking as well. Creating art is a form of expression, its storytelling in it’s most visceral form.
Narratively, Pain and Glory is meandering, it flicks between the present and past childhood memories…or does it? When taking into account the final scene of the film, you must rethink everything you’ve seen throughout. Are all the flashbacks purely Mallo’s reconstruction of his memories on a film set, does this then mean that everything we have seen from his childhood has been moulded for cinematic storytelling. Having a film within a film that is only revealed to be a film at the end is a rather clever move from Almodóvar, and further cements the film’s theme of the craft of storytelling. It’s so meta it almost hurts!
Films like this make me fall even more in love with cinema and make me want to make movies. I say this all the time but it’s true, there’s something so special about watching a beautifully made film that has so much depth and substance to it, it’s like reading a novel that’s full of imagery and symbols. It’s powerful and utterly relatable.
[1] González. B (2020) All About the Vibrant Decor in Pedro Almodóvar’s Films, Available at: https://www.houzz.com/magazine/all-about-the-vibrant-decor-in-pedro-almodovars-films-stsetivw-vs~131255473 (Accessed: 8th February 2021).
It’s Only the End of the World is a French-language film directed by Xavier Dolan. The film stars Gaspard Ulliel, Nathalie Baye, Marion Cotillard, Léa Seydoux, and Vincent Cassel who are arguably some of the biggest names in French cinema.
Based on the play of the same name by Jean-Luc Lagarce the narrative of the film follows Louis, a playwright on his trip home for the first time in 12 years wherein he plans to tell his family that he is dying.
It’s easy to see that this film is based on a play due to its intimate settings, small core cast and telling dialogue where what isn’t said is just as intriguing and important as what is said. I also love how there is so much ambiguity throughout the film as it’s never revealed why Louis left in the first place only that something triggered it. This for me adds to the realism of the film as the story is essentially about how important communication is and how we often fail to listen to each other which results in awkwardness and resentment especially when it comes to family. In some parts, it did feel a bit over the top, especially when Louis is in the company of his aggressive older brother Antoine, who just can’t help but be a complete prick to everyone around him, but for the most part, it was a compelling family drama.
This is the first film by Xavier Dolan that I have seen and I must say that I’m kind of annoyed that I haven’t watched any of his work sooner as I was really quite taken aback by the cinematography (claustrophobic close-ups, intense colour grading) and the use of soundtrack in the film. Especially the use of O-Zone’s Dragostea Din Tei (yes that so cheesy it’s kind of good song from 2003) and Exotica’s Une miss s’immisce and how they weave into moments from Louis’s memories. These scenes are a world away from the claustrophobia of the family home in the present. Running hopefully over a sun-drenched field as a kid or a sensually lit (oranges, pinks and greens dominate the colour palette here) teenage sexual encounter, these flashbacks are beautifully nostalgic and the music only helps to create the atmosphere for each one.
The film’s ending is also quite visually striking with severe fiery oranges that take over the colour palette due to the sun setting. It is also a fitting symbol for how intense and fraught the whole day has been for Louis and that perhaps like the setting sun signals the end of a day, this sunset is the end of his connection with his family. Bird imagery is also dispersed throughout the film but most notably at the end with a surreal moment where a small cuckoo escapes the cuckoo clock and flies frantically around the house searching for a way out. Almost certainly a metaphor for Louis himself, he flew the coup and should not have returned and as it lies dying on the floor at the close of the film, he too is on his journey towards death, alone.
La Haine follows three young men in the banlieues (suburbs) of Paris for almost 24 hours as they navigate the aftermath of a riot wherein a friend has been shot. Directed by Matthew Kassovitz and starring Vincent Cassel, Hubert Koundé and Saïd Taghmaoui, this hard-hitting French film from 1995 still feels just as relevant in 2021. How is that possible?!
Presented in a stark but beautiful monochrome palette, La Haine holds nothing back. The narrative explores a wealth of topics including race, masculinity, police brutality, poverty, the aimlessness of youth and societal expectations. In most cases, this would be too much material to cover coherently in a film; however, the simplicity of the 24h timeline makes it possible.
The story of the falling man is repeated throughout the film. This is an obvious metaphor for the three central characters and society as a whole (which Cassel’s character notes later on). It’s also interesting that graffiti and billboards have ironic messages throughout the film such as ‘L'avenir c'est nous’ (We are the future) and ‘Le Monde est à vous’ (The world is yours) which Saïd changes to ‘Le Monde est à nous’ (The World is ours). Escaping the poverty of the banlieues is impossible for these young men because society doesn’t allow them the chance to better themselves.
Another motif that drives the plot, perhaps just as much as the falling man story is the gun. Vinz carries the police revolver for most of the film, its always present but hidden from sight. Another metaphor, but for violence this time. It’s also a device that builds tension and is a literal use of the narrative technique Chekov’s Gun. “If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it’s not going to be fired, it shouldn’t be hanging there.“ (Chekov, 1911). We are anxious throughout the film because we know that this gun will be used, but up until the very last moment of the film, we don’t know how or when!
Normally films become less and less relevant as the year’s pass, or they become offensive because of how backwards their representations were (Hello, Mickey Rooney as Mr Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Laurence Olivier in blackface as Othello!). Unfortunately, La Haine is feeling more and more relevant, especially in the last year with the Black Lives Matter marches around the world.
