Repulsion (Roman Polanski, 1965)

Roman Polanski remains a fascinating filmmaker to this day. Alongside Andrej Wajda and Jerzy Skolimowski, Polanski came to the fore in the late 1950’s in Poland. The BFI in London are screening all of Polanski’s films during January and February 2013 and through January, essays on separate films will be released on Flickering Myth in the hope that you too can join us in reflecting on Polanski’s diverse and ever-expanding career. Film essays will include Knife in the Water, Cul-de-sac, Repulsion, Chinatown and The Tenant.

Introduction

As an interesting starting-point, it is worth noting that Night of the Living Dead filmmaker George A. Romero insists that Repulsion is the best Horror film of all-time. To support his claim, critic Bosley Crowther claimed it is an “absolute knockout” whilst other filmmakers, namely Darren Aronovsky, cites Repulsion as an influence (and it is clear in Black Swan how it has influenced Aronovsky).  The first of Polanski’s ‘Apartment’ trilogy (preceding Rosemary’s Baby and The Tenant), it ensured Polanski would be taken more seriously across continents as Repulsion was his first English-language feature, and the fact that it made a “healthy box-office” secured financing for his next film, Cul-de-sac.

Repulsion tracks the slow, mounting madness in Carol (Catherine Deneuve), a single beautician who shares a flat with her sister Helen (Yvonne Furneaux). From the outset, she is clearly an outcast – often staring into space, losing track of her surroundings and becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the advances of Colin (John Fraser) and the confident sexuality of her sisters married-lover Michael (Ian Hendry). Sister Helen and Michael decide to go on holiday to Italy, leaving Carol on her own – whereby her madness begins to take over her life. She is haunted by the prescence of a man in the flat – nightmares whereby he rapes her in bed. Hands stretch out from walls and Carol acts out irrationally, murdering men who attempt to seduce her.

Fear of Women

True to a recent article in Sight and Sound by Philip Horne, within the flat, Carol creates an environment that becomes grotesque – a rabbit is left to rot; a razorblade lingers in the background of scenes until the inevitable, shocking use of it. Repulsion doesn’t have the same social-conscience of Knife in the Water (Indeed, there is very little evidence to support such an interpretation) but the role of Carol, our scared-of-sex lead role is open to consideration. From male filmmakers, are they claiming that women who would turn down their advances are crazy? Are women who refrain from sex (Carol is mocked in the pub amongst Colin’s friends as a virgin) clearly missing a few cogs? Having said that, other than Colin, virtually all the other male characters are crude, sexist and sex-obsessed. The women who work alongside Carol additionally attest to the horrid attitudes of men. With this in mind, do we assume that Colin represents the rare occurrence of a man who is good – or is his singularity in the film an example of how unlikely a character truly is.

Carol’s madness is not seen as a mental-defect throughout the film - though Helen’s lover Michael does recommend medical help for her. This is a passing comment – and not the core of the film. Her increasing madness results in her attack on both the “good guy” Colin and the lecherous landlord (Patrick Wymark). Andrew Martin, in notes handed to viewers of the film at the BFI, writes that “Polanski asserts that the film is not… study of a sexual pathology, but is about … signs that someone among us is in crisis”. It is difficult, up unto that point, to agree with such a safe-interpretation. Doesn’t the unfaithful Husband Michael “save” her, almost heroically, as he carries her out in his arms? The only “good guy” is killed; aren’t we to assume he is foolish in pursuing such a “frigid” woman?  Everything argues that a fear of sex becomes a problem unto itself … until the final shot.

The Final Shot

Polanski, it seems, views this film as an example of someone in crisis. It begs the question – why is Carol in crisis? What has happened to establish such a repulsion of men? The final shot shows us the family portrait. Carol, as a child, is in the centre – looking to the right, in a manner similar to her detached-gaze that she has held throughout the film (from the first shot). Follow her gaze and we land on her Father, slightly in shadow. Her mother is almost completely obscured by shadow, but it is clear she is there. The large portrait – a portrait we have seen throughout the film – includes many other family members, but in the final shot, these three members of the family are the only people who are not completely covered in shadow. Polanski seems to hint that Carol was a victim of abuse; her disgust and repulsion of men, firmly rooted in her upbringing. Her Mother, may have been aware, but she did not help or stop the situation. Her detached-gaze shows that, even at a young age something was wrong. The image from the outset of a happy family; her sister with her head gently resting on her Mother’s lap, full of smiles has no such resentment.

The use of the eye; of a razorblade; of flies buzzing around a corpse of an animal, all point towards surrealism. The cracking walls and over-grown potatoes show a mind disintegrating throughout the film – but the roots are before the film. Surrealist elements equally hint at something more than what is on screen. Interestingly, after watching Chinatown, the outcome of events is similar and, in another parallel, the ants that lay on the floor in Ida Sessions kitchen in Chinatown precede an outcome that explores Father-daughter child-abuse. Repulsion truly is a milestone in Polanski’s career – and as only the second film in his canon, you cannot help but be astonished at how confident he is in exploring such multi-layered events within such a small space and context. Polanski had truly arrived.

Knife in the Water (Roman Polanski, 1962)

Roman Polanski remains a fascinating filmmaker to this day. Alongside Andrej Wajda and Jerzy Skolimowski, Polanski came to the fore in the late 1950’s in Poland. The BFI in London are screening all of Polanski’s films during January and February 2013 and through January, essays on separate films will be released on Flickering Myth in the hope that you too can join in reflecting on Polanski’s diverse and ever-expanding career. Film essays will include Knife in the Water, Cul-de-sac, Repulsion, Chinatown and The Tenant.

 

Introduction

Polanski, though famed for his flee of America following his own admission of guilt for sexual-assault on a minor, has been a victim himself of the cruelties of the world. A child of parents who were victims of the holocaust (his Mother killed in Auschwitz) he “saw six women shot dead and watched Poles defecate on German soldiers at the end of the war” (The Story of Film, Mark Cousins). Due to this, he was often displaced as a child and grew up intending to be an actor (appearing in Wajda’s Lotna and Pokolenie) before turning to filmmaking in 1962 for Knife in the Water.

Watching the film in 2012, you cannot help but find parallels within his work and Knife in the Water is no exception – set on a boat (Part of the “water trilogy” alongside Cul-de-sac and What?), it is claustrophobic and personal as we join a married couple on a boat trip. Suffice to say, this is disrupted as a lone student hitchhiker joins them.

Brains over Brawn

Bookending the story, Polanski shows us the couple – Andrzej (Leon Niemczyk) and Krystyna (Jolanta Umecka – voiced by Anna Ciepielewska) in a car driving down a country road. The opening is telling as we can barely see through the windscreen due to the reflections on the surface – whereas at the end of the film, we are within the car; clearly seeing the couple without obstruction. This is a film whereby we will learn something about people and, crucially, society – a rare subject matter of Polanski, and generally attributed to co-writer Skolimowski. We observe the higher-earning husband dictating power over his wife – and then attempting to control the young student (Zygmunt Malanowicz – voiced by Polanski himself). It is not unexpected that Polanski toys with us – and creates conflict in the attempts by the characters to change this status. By the time we reach the end of the film, and see our married couple without obstruction, we still don’t see change in their lifestyle due to the events depicted. We are aware of social-injustices; but we do not act on them. The fact that the student is nameless clarifies how little he registers to those above him in status.

Despite this ambiguous ending, akin to Cul-de-sac, the set-up of a stranger changing the dynamic of the couple is a way to force everyone to consider who they truly are.  The two male-roles are characterised clearly – Andrzej is the ‘brains’, whilst the student is the ‘brawn’ – or so the judge, Krystyna believes. Even the title of the film itself serves as a metaphor as the student carries a knife – something that Andzrej claims is useless on a boat. When within the ‘world’ of Andzrej (the world of affluence; of boats and sailing, etc) – those who are skilled at trades of the hand (Construction; Factory workers; Plumbers, etc) are not valued (and believed to be unnecessary?). Andzrej is skipper – and he deems the student and Krystyna unworthy of power (to operate the boat). Indeed, he believes he is the one to lead us forward – even naming his boat after his wife clarifying his ownership of both the boat and his wife.

Life of P(olansk)i

The recent release of Life of Pi has some interesting technical parallels as both films are set within such a small space, they both portray shots and use framing to accentuate and vary the way we view scenes. Life of Pi, obviously explores the idea of deep-focus further to capitalise on the 3D – in comparison, Polanski explores the use of deep-focus magnificently, clearly owing a debt to Citizen Kane and the “triadic framing”, famously used in the snow-sequence (John Orr, The Cinema of Roman Polanski: Dark Spaces of the World).

When you deconstruct the auteur-influences (such as Orson Welles) Polanski has had, you realise how faithful he has kept to his own traditions throughout his career. The expressionistic context – blustery winds of Knife in the Water and The Ghost are decades apart, but manage to add to a sense of unease in the same manner. Indeed, the boat setting alone is tense (water remaining a feature in the vast majority of Polanski’s films) as we know the danger lurks all around them. Akin to the student, we are voyeurs ourselves too as we see Krystyna undress behind the men – and we notice the student catches a glance; he is aroused by another man’s wife. This adds further tension without drawing attention to the fact. The playful one-upmanship as the two male characters play with the knife – you know someone will get hurt. The New-Wave Jazz score and calmness of black-and-white cinematography seems to soften any danger, but visually we know danger lurks - it surrounds them all.

Directorial Debut

As a debut, Polanski manages to map out many of the tropes that will become trademarks to his style. On reflection, the very definition of auteur is established here in Polanski’s work. The sexual-tension as the lone female character wanders around in a bikini and dressing gown will spill into his films. The aforementioned use of water and subtle creaking sound-effects all appear in a different manner throughout his career. The small-scale and non-subjective perspective in Knife in the Water, connects this film with his most recent Carnage. Interestingly, though Polanski often has small-scale films, the vast majority of his films are subjective; focussed on single characters for the majority of the film. As his only Polish-language film, this is set apart from the rest – but knowing what was to come, it is a fascinating insight into a man who was simply an artist at this point in his career – and not the victim or offender of a heinous crime.

Network (Sidney Lumet, 1976)

"I don't like the way this script of ours has turned out. It's turning into a seedy little drama"

Introduction

David Mamet and Aaron Sorkin surely watched this film hundreds of times before beginning their own careers. Indeed, Sorkin paid his respects to Network upon winning his Academy Award for The Social Network. Writer Paddy Chayefsky is one of only two screenwriters (alongside Woody Allen) to have won a Academy award for three films, as a solo writer. This film remains relevant and it is shockingly critical of television, cinema and media as a whole.

A Voice for the Audience

Howard Beale (Peter Finch) is an anchorman with failing ratings for his TV show. Realising he will be 'let go', he reveals - live on air - that he will kill himself. On TV. Next week. This single act sets in motion events that slowly reveal how sordid and spineless the TV station is - Beales popularity soars as his madness becomes a quasi-circus act as he preaches every night his attitude towards the problems in the world. Audiences lap it up and slowly, this crazed man becomes the most important man on TV. A product of the corruptness the media are happy to continue exploiting - especially as the success of Beale means success for the TV station, satisfying the demands of 'the money'; aka, the stakeholders.

Roger Ebert explains how, interestingly, though central to the story Howard Beale's madness and success is merely a 'macguffin', a story that really gives us a sense of context for the story of Diane Christiansen (Faye Dunaway), the "ratings hungry programming executive who is prepared to do anything for the numbers" as she begins a relationship with Max Schumacher (William Holden) as he realises the old-days are over and the new-class are taking over.

Tell Me About the Media

I would not be the first to wax-lyrical about the 'state of television' and how Network was clearly unaware of Jerry Springer, The X-Factor and Big Brother - you can find that easily enough on the internet. But it is interesting to compare the film to an equally shocking film directed by Spike Lee: Bamboozled.

Both satirical attacks on the media industry, Spike Lee manages to shock us with the depiction of racial stereotypes and the use of African-American images and ideas in the modern media. Though Sidney Lumet doesn't focus on the racial representation in the media, they both build to a climax whereby the outcome of the greed and immorality of the business itself results in a step too far - a TV-show that depicts black-face and obscene stereotypes and a decision to kill the performer live on air. Both films aspire to a realist-edge, Spike Lee using digital handheld cameras and behind-the-scenes sequences in Network add an air of authenticity. Both films don't feel too far from the truth. When we reflect on reality TV - and the moments whereby channels have apologised for the decisions to broadcast a situation (Jade Goody's racist tirade on the UK Big Brother, young Hollie Steel on Britains Got Talent), it can't be long before TV stations are held responsible for their actions. I think we could all easily stand up - ""I'M AS MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANYMORE!"

The many, memorable speeches reflect attitudes that remain relevant in 2012 - a core speech details how everything is a part of one system and how dehumanising the world is. The bitter conflict surrounds the way the media needs to represent itself (its about you! its about informing you!) and what its actual objective is (Its about us. And we can only survive with money. From you). When you consider the recent phone scandals leading to the Leveson enquiry and you consider the awful truth behind Jimmy Saville in the UK ... the same conflict is at the center. The balance of morals under the pressure of capitalism - and the need to make money.

Change?

Joshua Klein writes in 1001 Movies to See Before You Die how Network is a "cynical treatise on the moral and ethical decline of television", going further by stating how it is "a damning portrayal of not just the television providers but us, the compulsive television viewers". It is and we are.

The change that Sidney Lumet, Spike Lee and others expect comes from us. We are the viewers and we dictate the creation of these programmes and whether they will continue. I would like to believe that the cynicism many have towards reality TV will continue - the pseudo-reality beginning to rub off and lose its edge. Big Brother changed its channel in the UK due to dwindling numbers - so the end is nigh. Klein also highlights how "sensationalism and tawdriness of TV is exactly what keeps us coming back", and maybe so. But celebrity culture [I hope] is perceived as cheap - and sporting icons in the Olympics celebrated and valued. I can only hope this continues to shape the media - and inspire a generation. Maybe we have stood up - and we're not taking it any more. Indeed, I'm not.

Blazing Saddles (Mel Brooks, 1974)

"He conquered fear, and he conquered hate, / He turned dark night into day, / He made his blazing saddle / A torch to light the way... "

Introduction

Blazing Saddles is regularly highlighted as a film amongst the very best of feature film comedy. Indeed, 'Comedy' as a genre (is it a genre?) is rarely considered at awards ceremonies. Maybe a token gesture of a screenplay nomination (recently for Little Miss Sunshine and Bridesmaids), but rarely could it win - the last one was Annie Hall in 1977. The very best comedic achievements, I believe, is rooted in the controversy that surrounds the film. In that regard, Blazing Saddles sits alongside the great pieces of comedic film-making such as Monty Python's 'Life of Brian' and Dr Strangelove: Or How I Stopped Worrying and Love The Bomb. Rather than tackling the Christian faith or the fear of atomic-energy, Mel Brooks created a comedy that destroys the assumption that Westerns represent America. Any assumption that Blazing Saddles represents America would be met with narrowed-eyes and offence - and rightly so. The film was controversial as it satirizes the racism within a Western - instead, placing a black man at the center of the story as he takes the role of a new Sheriff in a town of white folk. Even now, with its direct and blunt attitude towards racism - happily using the 'N' word - it can feel a little awkward on the first watch. Like the best comedies, it makes you think about the bigger ideas - in this case, racism in the US and the reality of the situation in the 1970's.

From the Start

From the minute we arrive on the railroad track, we see the minority groups working as despicable white-men order them to sing. In a brilliant change of mood, the African-American's sing "I Get A Kick Out of You" (Though replacing the word "kick" with belt...) as Lyle (Burton Gilliam) then makes a mockery of himself as he provides an example as to what the African-American's "should" be singing. Within minutes, the joke is clearly set on the ignorant white men - whilst the black men clearly see the racist attitudes as laughable and ludicrous. There is a clear intelligence behind the workers - and rather than act in anger and frustration, they act in sarcasm and comedic-shock. Within the same sequence, our lead character Bart (Cleavon Little) and a friend become stuck in quicksand - the white bosses ignore the men and happily let them die. They do not react in anger - they are simply mock-shocked at the lack of value placed on their lives ("nearly lost a $400 hand cart") before, calmly, banging their employers over the head with a shovel.  

Throughout the film, this type of comedy is portrayed - a combination of slapstick humour and mockery of the prejudices people hold. Nothing manages to get away from the script, penned by Mel Brooks, Norman Steinberg, Andrew Bergman, Alan Uger and Richard Pryor. Ethnicity, Sexuality, Disability - you name it; in some way a joke is mentioned to laugh at. In this manner, it is clear that the film is made purely for comedy rather than a personal attack on any one group of people - the most offended are those who are prejudiced themselves.

Racism

A.O. Scott writes how he doesn't believe Blazing Saddles is racist; instead he says that it is "a bold and provocative critique of racism". By opening in the manner described, it will already divide opinion as to whether the use of such terms - even as comedy - is acceptable. But the finale breaks the film, literally, out of the studio and into our lives. It goes as far as to say how the issue presented is about our own prejudices. It is about our treatment of others and the struggles those in a minority have to face daily. Brooks is telling us that this is not limited to the screen and the film - it is outside and in the streets and we should change our own attitudes to stop this ridiculous segregation in society. These are issues which, 18 years later, remain relevant. Having said that, Karen Krizanovich writes superbly about the film, and notes how it isn't political about the issues of racism but instead "makes the whole concept of racism absurd" - as indeed it is.

Influential

The complaints about the release of Scary Movie 5 is not without reason, but suffice to say, that very type of film-making owes a debt to Blazing Saddles. The writing in Blazing Saddles ensures that the film remains within the most influential comedy-film category too as, rather than merely making jokes, it becomes almost a sketch show as scenes have jokes that completely stand alone - the Nazi's and KKK members amongst the lynch mob; the iconic [first time on cinema screen] farts around the campfire. Even Gene Wilder's 'Waco Kid' shooting so fast, you can't see the bullet (aka. the filmmakers don't need to show the bullet), could be a single sketch about westerns on its own. This type of back-to-back jcomedy - a relentless onslaught of jokes that ignore context, characters and necessity - simply using any joke that will make a laugh leads directly to Airplane! and Spaceballs. And consequently, to spoof-cinema - including the Scary Movie series.

The crucial difference between Scary Movie 5 and Blazing Saddles is how the latter remains funny (whilst the former, I expect, will fail to make me laugh at all). Gene Wilder is a brilliant drunk-Deputy to Bart and, ultimately, turns out to be the only semi-intelligent white character. The range of characters within the town are equally hilarious - especially the older-lady who takes her time to, shall we say, "warm" to Sheriff Bart. 

The film set a precedent that managed to provoke discussion whilst, at the same time, happily played the comedy to a wide-audience, garnering a huge box-office and becoming one of the first films to top $100m at the time. Richard Pryor was originally expected to take the lead role, but was refused as the producers believed he was (a) too controversial in his stand-up routines and (b) took too many drugs. In either case, the outcome of the film became more about the writing and the openness of the themes rather than a controversial actor in a lead role - and so, Pryor is remembered for his part in writing the film rather than becoming the 'face' of Blazing Saddles. And it truly should be the writing that we should take away from it - then again, since 1974, hasn't every film taken this away from it?

Life of Pi (Ang Lee, 2012)

"He said you had a story that would make me believe in God"

Introduction

Published in 2001, Yann Martel's novel managed to grab the attention of the world. A personal story about an Indian boy stranded on a boat with a Bengal tiger was hardly the story to win the world over. But it did, truly a book that fascinates you from the beginning. From the perspective of Piscine - aka Pi - he explains why Zoo's can be stunning, beautiful places for animals. We are convinced of his multiple faiths - as Pi is a Hindu, Christian and Muslim and, soon enough, we are stranded on the boat with a Tiger, Orangutan, a Hyena and a Zebra - and Pi. How could such an extraordinary situation be depicted in a film?

Passing it On

My own interest in the story is due to my love of the films by M. Night Shyamalan. Shyamalan himself, akin to Pi, was born in Pondicherry and in 2003, Shyamalan was hired by Fox to direct and write the film after the film The Village. Instead, Shyamalan directed The Lady in the Water, and passing through the hands of Alfonso Cuaron and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, the film eventually landed on the lap of Ang Lee, who managed to work with scriptwriter David Magee to begin production. The film openly tackles faith and spirituality - and though this was an attribute Shyamalan would've been ideal for, Lee's own approach rooted the story in themes revolving around family and story-telling - two themes which occur often in Lee's films such as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and The Ice Storm.

The film rests on the shoulders of the special effects - and they truly are stunning. The opening credits alone maximize the 3D as animals reach out of frame and scuttle across the shot. Even the main-act as Pi (Suraj Sharma) remains on the boat, Lee manages to experiment with a wide variety of techniques ensuring that you are never left uninterested. Fish fly in and out-of-frame as Lee adjusts the aspect ratio; when the ship crashes in the first act, we see Zebra and animals jumping and swimming on deck in the midst of rough rain and wind. Crucially, you believe it. There is no unsatisfying sequence - even as the colours become vivid and almost-animated in their depiction, it doesn't jar or seem out-of-place. The Adventures of Tintin was often seen as an example of a style of film-making that didn't know whether it was real or animated - Life of Pi does not have this problem, clearly supposed to be dreamlike, it never rings false.

Framing and Family

Book-ended by an unnamed writer (Rafe Spall) discussing the events with an older Pi (Irrfan Khan), the story is told in flashback akin to Oscar-winning films such as Forrest Gump, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Titanic. In that regard, though I think it will be nominated, I don't think it truly has the capability of a Best Picture winner; it doesn't have the same scale as Slumdog Millionaire, despite its cultural prowess (it even includes a romantic sub-plot which feels forced). This framing of the story gives the film a sense of authority and truth - despite the strangeness of the core-story. Spall and Khan are truly engaging, holding the film together as we - like the writer - are keen to hear how this story will help us "believe in God". Spirituality and God is discussed from the start of the film; we are well aware of the religious sentiments to the story, but the film still manages to keep your faith intact. Indeed, your enjoyment of the film will not be altered depending on your chosen faith.

This is a film that is for the family to watch. A film that, after the viewing, you can discuss, argue and debate long into the night. The idea that children and adults alike will start conversations about faith, truth and story-telling is truly the films crowning achievement. It is accessible - and yet ends in a way that forces you, as a viewer, to reconsider where you stand, and your judgement of others. Life of Pi could have been a film that was aimed at adults exclusively - indeed, the subject matter tackles a child that loses his entire family in one tragic disaster. The film could have been rooted in horror and danger; a tiger on a boat is hardly going to be seen as a cuddly teddy bear. The end of the film could be revealed in a manner that visually shocks you to the core - but Lee did not want to make that film (Maybe M. Night. Shyamalan did?) - he wanted to make a film that tackled some of the most important human-issues of faith and truth, and he made it accessible to all.