Friday No. 4: Hable Con Ella (Talk To Her)

I blame it all on Thor. I remember it vividly, that Friday Night that I was supposed to watch Wings of Desire and hence be faithful to my fledgling blog-- but then disaster struck like a slick, overproduced lightning bolt and I was coaxed into watching yet another Hollywood Blockbuster that creates this unspoken "obligation" to watch it by its sheer production cost and hype.

Maybe it's because it broke a newly formed habit, or perhaps it's because exposing oneself to nicely packaged shallowness inevitably kills a few brain cells, but this led to an unintended hiatus for my little film viewing venture. Even when I tried watching Wings of Desire again, it felt weird to "go back" to black and white, quiet (if not completely silent)  film classics. This is precisely what led to choosing Hable Con Ella. If I was to get myself out of this expressive 'coma', I thought, I needed a departure from the old classics to something more recent and edgy to jolt me back into writing.

By all accounts, this Almodóvar drama fit the bill- being one of only four films from the 21st century to make it on the '100 Greatest' list, as well as having decidedly atypical elements-- two parallel relationships, two men in love with women who are both in a Permanent Vegetative State, supposedly devoid of any higher brain functions like emotion or thought. One man, Marco, is a handsome journalist who falls in love with a female matador after writing a profile on her, the other, Benigno,  is a pudgy nurse who sees a ballerina through the window of his apartment, and decides to, it would seem, stalk her to the point of becoming her personal nurse when she meets an accident and falls into a coma. The two meet and become friends at the hospital, where Benigno insists that Marco talk to his matador as if she could hear him.

It takes a stranger turn towards the end when Benigno ends up doing more than "talking" to his beloved and impregnates the unconscious woman. Soon after, the true tragedy is revealed when, after Benigno is imprisoned for his crime, the ballerina is awakened from her coma, while Marco's matador slips away into death.

Like a modern Greek tragedy, the power of this film lies in its masterful articulation of the otherwise most tired theme of them all and in its ability to make us question our own tired conceptions of Love. On the surface, it is the relationship between Marco and the Matador that most of us would feel 'should' work - both are attractive and successful, and more importantly, consciously get involved with each other, much like the matador facing the bull in a deadly dance that cannot be done alone. Even the 'death' of their love makes sense- woman falls into coma, man grieves, woman dies, end of story. 

Yet in a twisted sense, it is Benigno's one-sided love affair with his ballerina that feels more honest and real. Others would call it obsession, perversion, even a criminal offense at one point, but none of that matters to him, precisely because he is consumed by his love, much like a ballerina dancing in the spotlight, unable to see her audience, his love just IS, quite literally asking for nothing in return. His story ends only with his own suicide, thinking that his ballerina had died, but otherwise I would venture to think that he would have waited out his sentence in peace- not as a prisoner but as 'lodger' as the Prison Clerk put it, not confined but instead sustained by his own love for her.

I chose to see Hable Con Ella precisely because it seemed like such a departure from previous selections, but in the end, all great movies inevitably share a common trait in their ability transcend the specifics of any character or setting (or language for that matter) and tap into universal themes like love, sex, death,  or friendship-- it persists and is able to talk to any audience regardless of any seeming impediment. In stark contrast to movies like Thor, that make mucho dinero precisely because they stay within the dream, the comatose of themselves.

Friday No. 3 : A Streetcar named Desire

A little research about the names of it main characters reveals a lot about the central themes of this Tennessee Williams' play-turned-film. The anti-heroine, a beautifully fragile, albeit aging, English teacher desperately clinging to the genteel ways of her aristocratic past, is named Blanche DuBois - French for "white forest" and the anti-villain, a strong, rough laborer whose persona requires the word "animal"  is named Stanley Kowalski - separately translated as "stony meadow" and "blacksmith". 

Such stark contrasts of approaches to Human Nature, one desperately refined and whimsical and the other, irresistibly raw, and menacingly uncontrolled, serve as the gasoline and gun powder lined avenue for the fiery Streetcar named Desire.

I first watched this as a play in the Cultural Center of the Philippines, translated entirely into the local vernacular, and although they are separated by language and the limitations of 1950's cinema that sanitized the crucial rape scenes and details of homosexuality, both the play and the film capture what pornography can only fantasize about- Sex as a palpable force of nature in its unbearable subtleties as well as its unstoppable ferocity.

I still remember having raunchy dreams days after the play and now, after watching the film, I not only have a new found respect for Marlon Brando  for a performance that absolutely cannot be duplicated, I also now have an inexplicable desire to look as good as him in greasy shirt-  And therein lies the genius of Tennessee Williams, in having created a story about real humans that sweat and bleed and telling it in the same way that real humans behave- intelligent and seemingly contrived with its literary devices and social commentaries on one side but also undeniably visceral in its ultimate effect.

                        Here's when Blanche meets Stanley for the first time. Talk about tension.

 

Friday No. 2: Casablanca

The way I feel about so many love stories is the way I felt about the popular couples in High School-  infatuated teenagers too lost in themselves to care about anything else, unable to resist the easy thrills  of Boy-Meets-Girl and helpless to escape the trap of of You-And-Me-Against-The-World (or more appropriately, You-And-Me-Forget-The-World).

And so, approaching Casablanca-whose reputation precedes itself as the granddaddy, so to speak, of all romantic Hollywood films- felt like approaching the Prom King and Queen.

But, I was happily surprised-- by its political idealism, relevance and yes, even its romance.

Set in the Moroccan crossroads of Europe and America, in the time of the Nazi regime and in the middle of the ensuing European exodus, the film roots itself firmly in the harsh realities of its time, with memories of happier times and romance only serving to torture the now jaded protagonist Rick. The tension begins when the woman from his past, Ilsa, fatefully arrives in his cafe with her husband Victor, an important leader of the Resistance. Like so many in Casablanca, they are trying to escape into America and as fate would have it, two Exit Visas find their way into Rick's hands. Ilsa first tries to get the Visas for her husband and herself, but inevitably falls back into Rick's arms, leaving him to decide what to do.

 It is in this state of affairs that the film ignites the key conflict between our own idyllic view of love, our own "moment in Paris" and its unsavory complications, that, just like the port of Casablanca, we so desperately try to escape.

Then, the film's stroke of brilliance comes, as Rick decides to ensure Ilsa's safety by letting her leave with Victor, uttering the iconic "We'll always have Paris", and consequently ensuring the future of the Resistance against the Nazi regime.

In the end, I think what makes this film great, is that while it delivers the usual trappings of Old Hollywood glamour along with some gender stereotypes and cliches, it still manages to graduate from the thrill of the first kiss and it matures into that moment that you realize that love isn't about holding onto illusory notions of happiness, that Love is bigger than yourself and your feelings, and that it is indeed, sacrifice--- something that too many romantic films, and romantic people, forget.

       Frank Sinatra's version of the film's iconic theme - As Time Goes By

Friday No. 1: The Godfather I and II

I've decided to begin in the familiar territory of Classic Hollywood- and few would argue the Classic status of The Godfather.( I can hear them now- You mean you've NEVER seen it?) And, since much has been said about the sequel being better than the first, I've seen both.

I think that among many other things, this franchise has become what it is, because of its sheer scope and how it captures the entanglements of its characters with each other, their Nation and themselves.

 In the first film, we are invited into Don Corleone's office, which we find out is also his home and from there, the lines between Family and Business are permanently blurred. In the same vein, it also humanizes characters of whom we only know caricatures- the villains in the dark trench coats, the hit men, the crime bosses- by making them our brothers, cousins, son-in-laws- unambiguously entering the realm of moral ambiguity.

The second film explores, simultaneously, the young Vito Corleone's roots and rise to power as well as his son's Michael's descent into corruption. While it follows the legacy of the first film in its honest, three dimensional treatment, it just goes deeper into the characters' personal motivations and really raises compelling questions about choice and the extent to which we really choose to become who we are.

In contrast to what some critics have said that the film "glorifies" criminals like the Mafia, I think that The Godfather actually dispels our own myths about normalcy and "good" people. It is after all, an uncomfortable thought to consider that we, and people close to us, are capable of things we consider evil, given the right circumstances. More importantly, it makes us think of what those "circumstances" may be, and if perhaps those are already present in our lives, and as such, perhaps such choices have already been made.

And that's the question I'm left with after watching this Godfather double feature-

Have we unknowingly become people we never wanted to be? If we look at ourselves the way these films have presented their characters, it seems that the answer isn't as simple as one would like.

                                                          The Original 1972 Film Trailer

First, a Confession

Fine. I admit it.

I've lied about seeing, from beginning to end,  <insert sophisticated, acclaimed film here> once or twice.

And for someone who claims to love movies, it's surprising how many of the "Greats" I actually  haven't seen, from beginning to end.

So I've decided to come clean, and earn the right to call myself a film buff.

The question this begs then is- where should I begin?

There are dozens of books that talk about movies-you-should-watch-before-you-die and even more Lists online that rank the "greatest" films of all time. Frankly, I've grown tired of problematizing the subjectivity of aesthetics, so I've just chosen a list that seemed to be the most inclusive while still reasonably credible.

So, the Challenge has been selected-Watch  Time magazine's  100 "Greatest" films, one Friday feature at a time.

 Full List - All TIME 100 Movies

So go grab some popcorn, and let's get started.