Fanny & Alexander

Considered by many to be Ingmar Bergman's crowning achievement, this is an epic tale of a Swedish family set at the beginning of the twentieth century. It begins with festive family Christmas celebrations at the home of the Ekdahl family, a well to do and cultured bunch. Oscar Ekdahl runs the local theatre, where he occasionally plays a small role in one of the shows. He is clearly not well and seems to be aware that he is not long of this world. He makes an impassioned speech at the theatre's Christmas party. He dies soon after and the widow, Emilie Ekdahl, the lovely Ewa Froling, is left alone with her two young children Fanny and Alexander. The film more or less comes from Alexander's point of view. The widow unwisely marries the local Bishop, a pompous villain, excellently portrayed by Jan Malmsjo. He does a very good job and I guarantee that you will despise his character long before the end of the film and take secret delight when he dies in a gruesomely painful way. After a long, dark spell the children and their mother are reunited with the wider family and all is well. Alexander is at least partially biographical of Bergman, who himself had a domineering minister as a father. I watched the abridged 3 hour version. I understand the full version runs to five hours and is best watched as a mini-series in episodes. Its a full, intelligent and delightful film. It makes interesting comments on life and religion, but does so through an examination of the details of the characters' lives.

El Topo

Alejandro Jodorowsky must have gone through humongous amounts of dodgy substances to come up with this one. One of the most far out and flat out weird movies I have seen. Apparently a favourite of John Lennon's when it was on the underground midnight circuit in New York. It probably seemed pretty special after a night of splitting a stash with Yoko. Its still quite fun to watch and at times downright hilarious, if you can stomach the blood, gore and cruelty.

Disgrace

As someone who grew up in South Africa, I left in 1990 when I was 26, I expect my experience of both JM Coetzee's novel Disgrace and this excellent movie adaptation is far more personal and subjective than that of an independent outsider. I realised, on reading the book a few years ago, that it is an allegory of post-apartheid South Africa. At first the characters seem to represent simply different components of the population, but on closer inspection they actually represent different attitudes to the changes that have come about. At the same time Disgrace is a very real story that sadly could have been taken from the daily headlines in South Africa. The violent events portrayed are very real and indeed quite likely to occur.

Setting aside the allegorical aspects of the novel, the characters are satisfying and well-developed as real, believable people. John Malkovich is well suited to the role of David Lurie, the seedy professor who embroils himself it a scandal at the University of Cape Town by sleeping with one of his students and flees to his daughter's remote small holding. David's dissatisfaction with his life sits on him like a unfashionable and ill fitting suit. There is not a single scene where he seems at ease, either alone or with the other characters, including his daughter, to whom he cannot relate. Some critics have remarked that Malkovich's clinical approach to the character robs us of sympathy for him and lessens the tragedy of his character. I did not feel this, but felt great sympathy and even empathy for David Lurie, but perhaps that is a result of my background.

Jessica Haines is excellent as Lurie's lesbian daughter Lucy. She represents the viewpoint of that part of "white" South Africa that has completely accepted the transition to "black" rule. They consider themselves African. The notion of standing apart or leaving does not occur to them. They must accept whatever the future holds for South Africa, even if that means living in fear and humiliation.

David Lurie, on the other hand, seems to represent that part of South Africa that can never accept the change. The power of Disgrace lies in its setting out of the complexity of the conflict facing people like Lurie. It is not simply a case of being a bigot who needs to become more accepting. Lurie's daughter is repeatedly raped and he is asked to accept that she will bear the rapist's child. Is that an easy proposition for anyone to accept? Does the fact that someone does not want to live in fear and wants to protect himself and his family make him a racist?

Disgrace provides a smorgasbord of food for thought. It is a most skillful and successful conversion of a very complex work of literature to the screen. Most pleasingly it is an Australian production from the husband and wife team of Steve Jacobs (Director) and Anna Maria Monticelli (Screenwriter). The author JM Coetzee is also an Australian resident now, living in Adelaide. He holds the Nobel prize for literature and Disgrace won him his second Booker prize.

The American Friend

I finally found a DVD of this 1977 Wim Wenders movie over the weekend. Anyone who has read this blog will know that I am a committed Wenders fan. I love all his movies, even the ones that are generally and routinely panned by the critics. Very few people seem to get that Wim is not about the plot, he is about the look, feel and atmosphere of the story, the characters and the places. There is no other director who can capture the atmosphere of a place as effectively or as quickly. Earlier this year I found myself in Houston where I sought out the site of the drive-through bank where a famous scene in Paris, Texas was filmed (see one of my own photos above). I was struck by how precisely that movie captured the somewhat dehumanising atmosphere of Houston, a fairly bleak urban landscape of vast modern architecture.

In The American Friend Wenders again concentrates on atmosphere and image. He cleverly contrasts the cosy, but somewhat claustrophobic workshop of the picture framer, Zimmermann, with the expansive lifestyle of Ripley, who lives in a huge house overlooking the port and travels often. The odd colours generated by the Canada Dry neon sign over Ripley's pool table accentuate his inner struggle with identity and madness, particularly in the scene where he lies on the pool table, repeatedly taking Polaroid self portraits.

Its fascinating to see how Wenders' approach to this story, which is from the Patricia Highsmith novel, Ripley's Game, differs from the far more conventional treatment in the 2002 thriller of the same name. In fact I can understand that the plot of the Wenders' version would not make sense without knowledge of the book or other film versions. He leaves too much out.

Its a compelling film, the images and atmosphere of which will stay with you long after. Many regard it as Wenders' best, but again I am out of alignment. I enjoyed it, but it does not hold a candle to his later work.