Deadlock

Deadlock
1970

Directed by Roland Klick
Music by Can

Starring Mario Adorf, Anthony Dawson, Marquard Bohm

If one can imagine a German "western" complete with soundtrack by experimental fusion group Can (channeling Pink Floyd), Deadlock might be the result. There are elements of the spaghetti western which are obvious but it also conjures images of Zabriskie Point and Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia which makes for some interesting viewing. Apparently Jodorowski (El Topo) thinks highly of the film as well he should for it features many similarities (and was perhaps, to some extent, inspired by) to some of his own films.

So, the plot: Following a bank heist, two robbers separate and vow to meet at a ghost town to split up the cash. Extreme violence ensues when they finally meet in the desolated wasteland. The two gunmen are never really defined as "good" or "evil" for neither have any values and every action is a deceit, though they are implied to have differing values.

There are other characters though as well in the film, such as a nymphomaniac, an old woman, and a bumbling recluse appropriately named Dump. These supporting characters serve as fitting contrast to the emotionless, machine-like protagonist/antagonist in that they convey heavy amounts of emotion in their own way (the nympho lust and innocence, the old woman conquest and reminiscence). There's even the appearance of a third gunman named Sunshine that complicates things even more.

The characters speak in an obtuse way, remembering mysterious events that are never explained in the film and one supposes that perhaps they are testing each other in some strange game. These characters are driven by greed and selfishness and no one is spared judgment.

The sun is also a prominent character for it takes up a fair amount of screen time itself. The sun is very symbolic of the unwavering, incorruptible role of fate and the fate of many of the characters could be seen as undeserved yet inevitable.

Another interesting facet of this film is the battle between the gunmen. Surely their "prize" is worthless in this desolation and yet they fight to the death to win it anyway. It's a fine statement on the futility of bravado and the vague destructive conslusion of greed.

All in all, it's a pretty good film that is more entertaining to describe than to watch, but it has its moments and the underlying symbolism helps a lot. Since it is rather low-budget (and shot in an improvised location), there's some shoddy dubbing (though not bad by B-movie standards) and bizarre cuts, but one can see the raw vision behind it which makes it worth checking out.

Rating: * * * * (Four stars out of six)

The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes

The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes
2005


Directed by the Brothers Quay
Written by Alan Passes
Cinematography by Nick Knowland
Edited by Simon Laurie
Music by Trevor Duncan & Christopher Slaski
Produced by Terry Gilliam, Keith Griffiths, Hengameh Panahi, Alexander Ris
Starring Amira Casar, Gottfried John, Assumpta Serna

Watching the second feature film by the Brothers Quay often conjured images of Renoir's Last Year at Marienbad (itself loosely based on The Invention of Morel), and the ambiguity that accompanied it.

There does seem to be a slight narrative thread throughout the film, but it always seemed little more than an afterthought. Similar to Jan Svankmejer's work where the literature that his films reference are chiefly used as backdrop for his brilliant stop-motion animation. With this film however, there isn't a strong thread of plot throughout the film. There is a basic plotline, but it's not skillfully adhesive and rather feels like a hodge podge of visual scenarios than anything substantially linear.

Essentially the film begins with the apparent murder of a renowned opera singer, Malvina van Stille, by an inventor named Dr. Droz, who steals her corpse set on resurrecting her and forcing her to replay her death in an opera. Dr. Droz hires a piano tuner (apparently, either there's no specialist in existenace to calibrate the machine, or its assembly is similar to that of a piano) Felisberto, to calibrate the machine which will somehow make all of this possible.

For me, the film seemed intentionally obscure (at least I'd hope it was intentional...) so that once the story attempts to incorporate elements of amnesia, the afterlife, and a strange subplot hinting at the possibility of a twin or immortal lover (or, more likely, simply a similar resemblance).

Which leads us to the character of Felisberto which frustrates me more than anything in the film because he is given very little motivation (or reward) in this task as "piano tuner of earthquakes" and yet he presses on as if his life depended on it (perhaps it does, but this is never brought out in the film). There is, of course, the rudimentary love interest subplot (with various images of sexual symbolism scattered throughout) which just seems to complicate the plot unnecessarily - or, if indeed it was considered essential by the Quays, they should've gone into it a bit more.

Perhaps someone somewhere can come up with a definitive explanation for everything that happens in the film, but I couldn't. Nevertheless, the film is enjoyable, if for nothing other than the beautiful (in a dreamy, industrial way) look and the stop-motion animation which is sublime. So, really, the story isn't integral to enjoying the film and apparently the Quays held the same opinion. Best just to sit back and marvel at the impenetrable creativity.

Rating: * * * * (Four stars out of six)

Dead Calm & The Deep

Dead Calm

1989

Directed by Philip Noyce

Based on the novel of the same name by Charles Williams

Screenplay by Terry Hayes

Edited by Richard Francis-Bruce

Music by Graeme Revell

While the film being reviewed is Dead Calm, I’m also including some info on Orson Welles’ unfinished (and unreleased) film The Deep, both films based on the 1963 novel by Charles Williams.

Dead Calm, starring Sam Neill, Nicole Kidman (in her breakthrough role), and Billy Zane is essentially about a couple who, after the death of their young son, go on holiday to cope. Neill’s character (John) is a well-respected (and one assumes, rather high-ranking) Australian naval officer who arrives home on leave only to discover that his son is dead and his wife is very affected by the incident. They sail their yacht far out into the ocean where the water is tranquil and the sun is bright.

Shortly into the film, a man (Zane playing the role of Hughie) is seen rowing towards the couple’s yacht. Once on board he explains that all of his crew have died of food poisoning and that his ship is sinking. John rows back to Hughie’s ship to inspect the damage, leaving his wife alone with a man who’s story seems … unlikely.

So as to avoid any major spoilers, I’ll leave the story there, but it becomes rather predictable from that point on. The film does contain a perfect complimentary soundtrack that heightens the tension effectively, especially during the early scenes involving the car accident.

Noyce does a respectable job of adapting the novel to the screen, but the best moments in the film are the first half hour and the scenes involving Neill and the leaking ship. The film falters a bit in the scenes with Zane and Kidman because it’s treated so heavy-handedly and then eventually culminating into a strange twist that would probably offend those put-off by Peckinpah’s Straw Dogs. The ending is very predictable and rather shabbily handled I must say, in particular when Zane makes his final appearance with his dirty hands shampooing Kidman’s hair. It’s all done in a way that seems to aspire to the Hollywood aesthetic of filmmaking (which is exactly what Welles’ was shooting for in his film – though one surmises that he would’ve handled it differently in terms of tone), and it really suffers because of that. At the end, the characters seem to act as if nothing unusual occurred at all, fantasizing about hot baths and warm meals.

So, to sum up, Dead Calm does a serviceable job of adapting Williams’ novel with a wonderful initial half hour and intermittent moments of brilliance (the climatic scene involving the destruction of a ship is handled well), but despite some reasonably solid acting the film descends into typical Hollywood fare. Perhaps that last phrase is overly harsh because this really is a pretty good film, if a bit misguided at times.

Overall rating: * * * (Three stars out of six)

The Deep

1966-1969 (unfinished)

The Deep is one of the many unfinished films in Wellesian mythology. As is characteristic of Welles’ film projects, The Deep underwent a very challenging development (from 1966-1969) with Welles having to fund the film himself, and only being able to work on the film between other, more lucrative projects. Welles himself plays the role of Russ Brewer, the shipwrecked man who seeks shelter in the boat of the honeymooning couple.

Little is officially known about Welles’ version since the original negative was lost and, most tragically, entire scenes were not shot because of the death of the lead actor, Laurence Harvey (including the climatic final scenes). Welles did attempt to salvage the footage he already had, but was unable to completely do so. Only a “working version” exists (consisting of roughly recorded dialogue and no music), but there are rumours of a version of the film being released (though I have my doubts). There is some footage that can be seen in the documentary One-Man Band as well.

Drunken Angel

Drunken Angel
1948

Directed by Akira Kurosawa
Written by Akira Kurosawa & Keinosuke Uegusa
Cinematography by Takeo Ito
Edited by Akikazu Kono
Music by Fumio Hayasaka

Akira Kurosawa's Drunken Angel may not be the first film that most people mention when referring to Kurosawa's illustrious career, but for me, it's my favourite Kurosawa film. I tend to prefer (and relate) to more intimate, simple (or rather deceptively simple) films that deal with supposedly trivial human issues. Individuals as opposed to epic set pieces involving countries far and wide, war and political intrigue ... no thanks. One thing that can be said about Kurosawa's films is that, no matter the plot itself, they always deal with the characters themselves and not necessarily with the events going on on-screen.

Drunken Angel is a straight-forward film that is existential at times (being an existentialist - completely out of favour with the enlightened majority nowadays I'm told - I support this aspect), but also frighteningly honest at times (not to say that existentialism isn't honest - far from it, but Kurosawa takes a side and makes a firm decision to support one side over the other, wherein the pure existentialist would parlay on behalf of both sides ... or neither).

The film is of course strewn together with bits of symbolism and doomed fates intertwining and mingling between addictions and addictive personalities. The diseased pool omnipresent and sparkling with carrier mosquitoes while the children play near it unaware and joyfully uncaring, the drunken angel himself (Shimura) stuck amidst the cesspool forming an odd relationship with a young gangster (Mifune), perhaps seeing something of himself in that proud reckless face. Shimura is the anti-hero (one of Kurosawa's many anti-heroes), a flawed Samaritan who perhaps has found kindness in his doomed alcoholic state and seeks to form a fruitless one-sided friendship with another also doomed by the social criminal ladder of alcoholic proportions.

This is Kurosawa depicting humanity in its raw quivering form, but doing so in an understated, tasteful way and not yieldingly or cowardly (as many "controversial" directors often attempt to do).

The film ends with Shimura, the doctor, accepting what all doctors must accept, that he is only life's tool, he can only delay the inevitable. He must accept losing control, losing himself (or what he saw of himself in Mifune), to a force as powerful as addiction and as uncompromising. I wouldn't wish this realization on anyone and yet Kurosawa depicts it not in a sappy depressing way, but on realistic terms. It is what it is, there is no need for sorrow or regret, only acceptance and an infusion of meaning into the supposedly trivial things. For Shimura, perhaps its an alcoholic rejuvenation or perhaps it will be his salvation from that prison. Kurosawa, ever the realist, leaves that puzzle unfinished as it should be and Shimura and Mifune's fates end up being neither sad nor joyous, but simply meant to be.

Criterion link
akirakurosawa.info

Overall Rating: * * * * * * (Six stars out of six)