SMC Programmer Craig Hammill on Foreign Language Films That Leave a Deep Impact
This programmer will post about some of the foreign language movies that made a deep, profound impact on him in his teenage years and a bit later. There's something very powerful and intense that happens with those first few movies on your journey of cinema. You start to discover whole worlds you never knew existed.
Juliet of the Spirits (1965, dir by Federico Fellini, Italy)
First up, Federico Fellini's Juliet of the Spirits. Fellini accomplished an unbelievable four-bagger with his run of Nights of Cabiria-La Dolce Vita-8 1/2-Juliet of the Spirits. Each time he made a masterpiece and each time everyone thought, no way he can top that. Juliet was Fellini's 1st color movie (outrageous, incredible color) and his 1st collaboration with his wife, Giulietta Masina, since Cabiria. The result was probably Fellini's last truly great feature film. Giulietta (yes, he uses his wife's name for the character she's playing!) is an earnest, good-hearted, faithful, religious wife who has to grapple with her husband's philandering and lies. Because her circle of friends include those into the occult, she begins a journey where "spirits" speak to her and remind her of her past, present, dreams, potential future. What Fellini and Masina create is an almost unbelievably revealing portrait of their marriage as well as an incredible cinematic kaleidoscope of memory, fantasy, emotion, and hope. Masina and Fellini famously clashed on this movie. Fellini had an idea he was giving his wife a kind of liberating gift. Masina (probably very close to the character she was playing) assured him that such a woman would be very pained with such a husband. The movie came out a masterpiece. And Masina and Fellini, miraculously, stayed married for life. I saw this movie (as I did many in my teenage years) late at night when my family had gone to sleep. The editing, use of music and dialogue to bridge scenes and jump around from the mind to reality has never ceased to make a deep impression on me.
Wild Strawberries (1959, dir by Ingmar Bergman, Sweden)
Though Bergman is often noted for his intense often brutal investigations into human nature and religion (Seventh Seal, The Silence, Cries & Whispers, etc.), it has always been his more expansive, warm movies that I've loved. Like the Swedish winter (all night) and summer (all light), Bergman himself noted he seemed to oscillate between these two modes, though occasionally he turns out an even greater masterpiece of twilight (Persona, Scenes from a Marriage, etc.). Wild Strawberries, along with Smiles on a Summer Night and Fanny & Alexander make up a kind of trilogy of earned joy that I particularly hold very dear. Here, aging professor Dr. Borg takes a road trip to receive an award. Along the way, he grapples with aging, his dreams of anxiety, his memories of his family, and his own dawning realization he must repair many of his relationships with what time he has left. Like so many of the movies and books that hit me, I loved how this movie seamlessly moved between the land of memory, dream, and present tense of life as it is lived. These movies and novels often strike me as actually being the closest to existence as I know it. Bergman is a master of dramatic structure and performance (his lifelong commitment to theater directing) AND cinema (the editing, cinematography, and structure of this movie are incredible). One of the very first foreign movies I saw that made me realize there were different ways to tell stories from the Hollywood way. This movie is a beautiful road trip into the beating heart of world cinema.
The Conformist (1970, dir by Bernardo Bertolucci, Italy)
In certain ways, the Citizen Kane of 70's foreign cinema. Bertolucci, only 29 when he made this, paired with ridunkulous Italian cinematographer Vittorio Storaro, to create a visually devastating story of an Italian man who becomes a fascist during World War II mostly to smother and hide his own "otherness" (he is unable to deal with his own attraction to other men). The whole movie is devastatingly striking in its use of every lighting trick in the book (flashing lights, colored light, shadow patterns, dawn and dusk light, etc). But the centerpiece sequence where the main characters attend a party and dance has always been at the corners of my consciousness ever since I saw the movie. Everything about the characters and sexuality and society is miraculously contained within this party sequence without having to speechify or get didactic (something 99.999% of moviemakers seem to fall prey to). This sequence has always been a rosetta stone to me for how to be erotic, humanist, cinematic, political, and inquisitive all at the same time.
The Rules of the Game (1939, dir by Jean Renoir, France)
Probably the first Renoir movie this programmer ever saw and still, along with Grand Illusion (which has been written about elsewhere), one of this programmer's personal favorites. This deceptively simple shot shows you the beautiful complexity of the movie. The Rich Husband politely salutes the Young Aviator who has come to a weekend party to try to win the heart of the Wife (who stands in the middle). All Smile. But all know the dynamics coursing beneath the waves. Rules pioneered so MANY things that have been repeatedly used since. Gosford Park and Downton Abbey basically took Rules’ brilliant structure: to show the full humanity of BOTH the rich chateau owners and their servants. Renoir, even more than Orson Welles, found a way to fully exploit deep focus cinematography (where everything from the foreground to the background is in focus) so that he could tell three or four stories in one shot (a foreground story, a middle ground story, a background story). And the tone of this movie is indescribable. It is a hilarious if biting comedy until suddenly, it becomes something prophetic and profound. Renoir himself appears as Octave, the friend whom everybody loves but nobody takes completely seriously. Upon its premiere, a man lit a newspaper on fire and threw it at the screen. So enraged were the French at one of their own showing so boldly the hypocrisies of their society. Renoir loved humanity so much, he had to throw bombs into the air to wake everyone out of their complacency. One of THE key movies on class, societal hypocrisy, and the behavior of groups. I've watched this movie 1-2 times a year since I was 18. And each time it is a marvel.
Diabolique (1955, dir by Henri Clouzot, France)
The story of a school headmaster, his anxiety ridden wife, and his mistress. When the Wife and Mistress plot and then kill the Headmaster, his body disappears and strange things begin to happen around the school. One of the things I've always greatly appreciated about foreign language cinema is how it teaches you that there is more than one way to pace and lay out a story. Director Henri Clouzot, who made a number of extremely perceptive, unsettling psychological suspense thrillers (most notably Wages of Fear along with this movie), has an almost excruciatingly brilliant way of building dread until a dynamite shocking sequence that, if nobody spoils it for you, is still utterly jaw dropping to this day. I remember coming across this movie 20-30 minutes into the story when I was a teenager. You could feel, even in seemingly everyday scenes, a constricting sense of ominousness. You KNEW something crazy was going to happen. Just a wonderful masterclass in a painstaking yet devastating way to build terror.
Closely Watched Trains (1966, dir by Jiri Menzel, Czech Republic)
Sometimes a movie, as good as it is the whole way through, stays with you because of a powerful scene or sequence that amazes you in doing something in a new way you've never seen. That was this programmer's experience with this movie about Czech train station employees during WWII under German occupation. There's a scene in the middle of the picture where a Train Station employee seduces another employee on a slow night in a very playful way using ink and stamps in a. . .rather creative novel manner. The whole movie slows down for this moment and it feels just how it probably would if you were living it. The enjoyment of this expression of sexuality and foreplay so free from attendant guilt or over stylization or whatever was a revelation to this American used to a cinema more comfortable with aggressive violence than exuberant sex. Czech cinema of the 1960's, especially the works of Milos Forman, Jiri Menzel, and Ivan Passer, among others, sang and danced with a mischievous vitality that is still intoxicating to this day. There was a small window between the end of the German occupation and the Soviet clampdown of the late 60's where the Czechs, always endowed (more out of necessity than choice) with a very sly, subversive sense of humor, were able to make fun of all the hypocrisies they had been forced to suffer under forever.
Ordet (1955, dir by Carl Theodor Dryer, Denmark)
There are very few movies that dare to tackle spirituality and the transcendent that actually stick the landing. This feels totally understandable. Wittgenstein's 7th proposition of philosophy is "Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent". And as I get older, I sense (if I cannot completely follow yet) the utter wisdom of this conclusion. There is a place beyond language. And that's where the transcendent resides. And yet, when moviemakers dare to tackle the subject, it is thrilling to me. Scorsese, Von Trier, Bresson, Dryer, Tarkovsky, the Coen Brothers, even Kubrick (though he did it through sci-fi) dared to broach the subject earnestly and (in this programmer's opinion) achieved something. Dryer who devoted most of his cinematic life to the spiritual dared to make Ordet. Ordet tells the story of the Borgen family wrestling with their faith (or lack of). One member is an atheist. One delusional who believes himself to be Jesus Christ, etc. But the movie dares to actually ANSWER, in a way, the most profound questions we have about faith in its final act. To say more would be to ruin one of the most genuinely shocking and profound third acts this programmer has ever seen. It's a bit of a Rorschach test. But for this programmer, the daring of the ending seemed married to a true humble faith. It was and continues to be one of the great cinematic experiences I've ever seen.
The Kingdom Parts 1 & 2 (1994-1997, dir by Lars Von Trier, Denmark)
Though technically a TV series, The Kingdom, like Scenes from a Marriage, Twin Peaks Season 3, Berlin Alexanderplatz, and The Decalogue feels much more like cinema on television. Von Trier, like so many directors, made two of his greatest (this programmer's two favorite) movies back to back. Breaking the Waves and The Kingdom come out of Von Trier's middle period. The Kingdom Parts 1 & 2 tell the ongoing story of a Danish hospital built on haunted land that finds itself subject to strange ghost visitations, unexplainable events, and all manner of strange goings on. But the two limited series are also full of hilarious comedy dealing with the day to day bureaucracy and egos involved in running any large institution. Von Trier seems in a good mood here and The Kingdom is easily the most purely enjoyable playful thing he's ever made. He even comes out at the end of each episode to talk to the viewer with an impish smile on his face. Frustratingly, The Kingdom Part II ends on a dynamite cliffhanger but the two lead actors died before Von Trier ever got around to making The Kingdom Part III which potentially might have wrapped everything up. Still, I sometimes feel this was the perfect way to end the series. Because who can answer the profound questions The Kingdom brings up? In a way, its forced open ended conclusion mirrors every human generation. For all the battles back and forth between the secular and the spiritual, no side has ever been able to claim absolute victory (though they often would like to). Existence seems constructed in this way. Each new generation must tackle these issues and come to its own conclusions. But rarely has a director or cinematic work made the wrestling with the infinite so fun and beautifully strange.
Wings of Desire (1987, dir by Wim Wenders, Germany)
This was one of those movies where this programmer first became aware, in childhood, of foreign film. It was a hit when I was 10 years old and a few years later, I finally got to rent and watch it. It tells the story of two Angels who wander around Berlin, listen to the thoughts of many people, and try to comfort them. Then one Angel falls in love and wishes to become mortal again. The style of the movie is very cinematic and fluid as the Angels wander from person to person, this part of Berlin to that part of Berlin. Shot in gorgeous striking stark black and white by Henri Alekan, filled with beautiful voice over, and a surprise appearance by Peter Falk (!), Wings of Desire was one of the first movies I ever saw where I had a sense of this beautiful world of foreign film. A wonderful mid 80s humanist masterpiece.
L'Atalante (1934, dir by Jean Vigo, France)
A newly married couple set out on the husband's work boat along with a salty first mate (played by the boisterous & brilliant Michel Simon). They encounter all the rough waters of early marriage. The only fiction feature ever to be made by the poetic and mischievous Jean Vigo. It is equal parts earthy comedy and then suddenly almost surreal visual poetry. But the comedic yet delicate push and pull of the new wife and husband is so honestly observed that the movie becomes a beautiful poem about the decision to continue your journey in life with a partner. One of those great movies that shows you, you can marry expressionism and realism, and get something greater than the sum of its parts. Just a perfect confection of a film.
Hiroshima Mon Amour (1959, dir by Alain Resnais, France)
A Japanese businessman and French woman end an affair recounting their relationship and the bombing of Hiroshima in a series of conversations, memories, and flashbacks. Written by Marguerite Duras and directed by Alain Resnais, this movie is one of the most stunningly edited and constructed films you will ever see. Memories, moments, instances are linked together by movement or association or contrast so that you really go on the psychological romantic journey of these two characters, not the narrative journey. One of those movies that becomes a door into what cinema can be if you really work hard at it and commit to it. Sometimes, as technology makes it easier and easier for us to shoot, edit, score, exhibit cinematic works, the rigor/style/approach of cinema as a whole gets a little lazy. Because after all, it is much easier to cut a movie digitally than it used to be to cut it on film. But so many movies cut on film discovered ways of joining two bits of film together to create edits of stunning and striking emotion/ideas/contrast. Watch this movie to be reminded of the power of this kind of editing. Then make a movie of your own!
Written by Craig Hammill. Founder and Programmer of Secret Movie Club.