Heavy Trip

The seniors ended this rollercoaster of a class with a screening of Heavy Trip (2018), a Finnish comedy about a death metal band called “Impaled Rektum”, and their journey to their first gig in 12 years. I’m kind of relieved with this choice because the movie really gave me a good laugh despite the sometimes cringe-worthy or obscure jokes. The plot of the movie is familiar and it came off a little formulaic at times, but the lovable characters makes the film worth watching. The delivery was just so wacky and dorky that I had no choice but root for them.

I don’t have a lot of knowledge nor do I appreciate heavy metal music at all, but the film gave me a different perspective on the topic. Heavy metal was completely foreign to me, sort of a door I didn’t want to open even. I kind of have accepted the fact that I would never enjoy anything about the intimidating genre. But the film succeeds in enlightening the audience about the workings of this particular subculture, and presents us with a group of people that is often misunderstood and made fun of. The characters’ reverence towards heavy metal is also striking, the scenes showing how passionate they are with what they do. In this way, the music is made accessible through the experiences of our protagonists, but it is never watered down or desecrated by cheap attacks at the genre.

What I really enjoyed about the film was the lightness with which the band’s journey was portrayed. We all knew what was at stake, we have an idea about the circumstances of all the band members, but the movie was presented in a very comedic and dorky tone that their plights seem to dissipate. The fact that they were underdogs, a band of misfits and outcasts who had a penchant for this one thing despite the different struggles that they face each day, make them all the more appealing and worthy of the audience’s support.

I’m glad the class ended with a film as light-hearted, funny, and inspiring as Heavy Trip. Given all of the films that we have watched, it’s nice to finish with something we’re familiar with, however obscure and inaccessible the medium it presents itself in is. In this way, the film sort of mimics our European Film class. With each film screening, we’re presented with something different and difficult, each viewing bringing something new and innovative to the table. But behind all of these stylistic elements is a universal human experience that is captured by the film.

L’Avventura

L’Avventura (1960) is probably the most exhausting movie that I have watched in this class. Dredging through the entire 143 minutes of the movie’s running time, with characters fleeting aimlessly from scene to scene and a plot that didn’t seem to be going anywhere, the film was definitely a difficult one to watch. But departing from the initial feelings of boredom and exhaustion, I realize now that the film captured a fundamental human emotion: emptiness.

In terms of the movie’s plot, Anna’s disappearance was a point of frustration. It would seem to be the central question in the movie, but as the movie progressed, it got less and less significant, eventually remaining unresolved. The characters’ indifference towards her disappearance was unsettling, save for Claudia who seemed genuine in her attempt to look for her. Looking at what the film tried to focus on, I feel like the loss of Anna does not serve as a major point in the film’s narrative; instead, it serves as a showcase of her acquaintances’ lack of depth.

This emptiness is evident primarily in the characters. I didn’t find any of them likable because their intentions weren’t clear, and it seemed that they acted based solely on their whims. Sandro, for instance, instead of focusing on looking for Anna, is seen to flirt and sleep around with the women he encountered. Faced with major issues (someone mysteriously vanishing, a budding romance), they confront them superficially, and then proceed to be swept away with the circumstances they find themselves in. They succumb to earthly pleasures through their lavish lifestyle, seemingly detached from the reality of the situation they find themselves in. Claudia’s character is an exception at times when she is shown sincerely looking for Anna, or for feeling some sort of guilt over her relationship with Anna’s lover, Sandro.

But most of the time, they appear to be floating beings that use their money to escape any form of responsibility or moral obligation. This reveals the emptiness within them, how their riches do not merit a filling sense of happiness. We see them capable of giving and receiving love, capable of sustaining a substantial form of human connection, but they grow bored and move on to other ventures, only to find themselves bored again. Even the island where they escape to, the “adventure” leads to this mundane, rocky landscape that isn’t really what comes to mind when you think of a travel destination.

Antonioni’s work was controversial upon its release due to the audience’s reaction to a film filled with ennui, which points us to the direction of how film is created and consumed conventionally. But having scratched at the surface of what he tried to achieve with L’Avventura, we witness a beautiful and authentic display of a prevalent human experience. It may appear inaccessible to some due to the bourgeoisie nature of the people it portrays, but it does capture the universality of escaping from the realities of life and being filled with dread. As one of the three 1960’s film shown in the class, the movie does set the tone for the European cinema being stylistically determined at the time, as seen in its hole-filled narrative, as well as the detached characters it presents. Perhaps, it achieved to impart the sense of lethargy its characters had to the audience.

Holy Motors

Holy Motors (2012) is a strange film. It is perhaps the strangest film that we have watched in class. Devoid of a comprehensible plot that one can hold on to, it presents a day in the life of (what I can only infer) an actor and the various “appointments” he undergoes. The viewing experience was kind of boring at times and became increasingly confusing, but what could not be denied is the engrossment with the performances. Denis Lavant’s acting was the driving force of the entire movie, and it propels the film into excellence.

The movie almost completely foregoes of any cohesive narrative; instead, it appears as a series of episodes that constitute a day in the protagonist’s life. At first I was attempting to find some logic behind the events that were being shown. But after a few episodes, I sort of had a sense of what the film was trying to highlight–the acting–and focused my attention to the performances being shown instead. This purposeful lack of narrative transitivity in order to shift the emphasis to other elements of the film is characteristic of counter-cinema. Usually, viewers are invested in seeing how the plot plays out; in Holy Motors Carax challenges the audience by doing away with an understandable plot and urges them to pay attention to the acting instead.

Holy Motors brings to fore the versatility of the actor–how much dedication and effort goes into the fulfillment of a role. We see Monsieur Oscar, like a chameleon, transform physically into these bizarre personalities, and fully inhabit them. The range of the actor was on full display in the movie as Denis Lavant transforms from a CGI stuntman alien sex being into a man who kills his doppelganger, and then ends up getting killed by the doppelganger. These odd scenarios seem to refuse all comprehension in order to put the spotlight on the performances of the actors.

However, I did notice a departure from this in one of the appointments where Monsieur Oscar assumed the role of an elderly man with his niece. After their heart-wrenching exchange about something I don’t really know anything about (pointing to the excellence of the actors’ performance), Oscar addresses his co-star as himself and asks her about her remaining appointments. It was at this very late point in the film that I found out something about what was going on in the film plot-wise. My hypothesis was proven right by the final scene: Monsieur Oscar was one of many actors under some company/entity called Holy Motors driven around by chauffeurs in white limousines to get to their various acting “appointments”.

With his unconventional approach to film making, Leos Carax creates a work of art in Holy Motors that shatters the lens with which we watch movies. Acting as a medium that bridges the real from the fabricated is the most important cog in the machine that is film, but at times it is deemed secondary to other elements such as the plot or the characters. What Holy Motors achieves is the glorification of acting, the shedding of all traces of reality and other worlds that have been previously experienced, and succumbing fully to this art of transformation, one role at a time.

Growing Pains

Raw is an extremely disturbing and jarring film. Having watched it for the second time in our European film class, I was surprised that it imparted upon me the same level of shock it did when I first watched it. It definitely deviated from the usual coming-of-age film through its usage of repulsive themes such as gore and cannibalism, but it employs them so wonderfully liberally as to capture the animalistic nature of growing up within such powerful and influential forces.

The movie presents us with a protagonist who struggles to find her footing in the veterinary school attended by her parents as well as her older sister. She is depicted to struggle with the initiation procedures imposed upon them by the previous batches of students. We are witnesses to the difficulties she encounters in adjusting to her new environment, making the film relatable to students like us who have been cast into the foreignness of college. Different shots depicting the minutiae of student life makes Raw an effective coming-of-age film. We see Justine experience the burden of her academic workload, the overwhelming noise and chaos of a party, the all-consuming need to fit in — all these juxtaposed against her cannibalistic awakening. These experiences are ones we have, in one way or another, have gone through as well, and the film appeals to our adolescent journeys of self-discovery and struggle.

Her animalistic tendencies seem to bring out authenticity from our meek, fidgety protagonist. For instance, in the beginning of the film, she was made to wear a dress by her sister, Alexia, as punishment for her correcting her sister’s work. A shot shows her fumbling around in high heels on the way to her dormitory, the dress draped over her clothes. As the movie progresses, this image of awkwardness and shame is erased and replaced by shots of her wearing the dress confidently at a party where the video of her in the morgue was taken. This shift was brought about by her being acquainted with her desire to eat human flesh. In this way, the movie sort of uses her cannibalism as some sort of a coping mechanism for the many pains that she was experiencing at the time, albeit a strange and horrendous one. However, the way she chooses to deal with these difficulties created more problems for her as she has become insatiable, and her roommate-turned-crush gets in the mix. The film inevitably spirals into madness as all of these things were brewing.

Raw provides us with a fresh and unusual take on a genre we frequently encounter. Its peculiar use of horror themes in conjunction with painfully relatable moments of vulnerability and anxiety makes the film an interesting and unforgettable watch. In a way, it concretizes the emotional and mental marks and scratches we incur in the process of growing up and coming to terms with who we really are. The elements of gore and horror that the film utilizes is only supplementary to the internal turmoils being presented to us on screen.

The Edukators

The Edukators (2005) is a heavily politicized film dominated by themes such as the bourgeoisie-proletariat dichotomy, the current imbalance in wealth distribution and proposed reappropriation, and the excesses of the rulers of our highly economized world. With all the movies that we have watched in class so far, The Edukators is most similar to Good Bye, Lenin! not only because of Daniel Bruhl’s excellent acting in both films , but with the infusion of socio-political subject matter into the personal lives of the characters in the film. These cumbersome themes are interspersed within the trappings of daily human life depicted in the movie: complicated relationships, unfulfilling work, struggles to make ends meet. We see in the film that far larger forces are at play in our day-to-day, and they influence the trajectories of our lives immensely. These impose upon us a sense of passivity, a helplessness to the social behemoth that dictates how we progress in the world. The Edukators presents us with a portrait of a struggle against this passivity, how the human intersects with the ideal.

What drives this movie throughout its 127-minute running time are the central characters’ motivations and the execution of their actions. I enjoyed how knowledgeable the characters were of the various realities and injustices being committed by the upper 1% of society in order to retain the power and privilege that they possessed. The passion that they had in battling the oppressions faced by most of society emanated from the dialogues that they had with each other and with Hardenberg, the film’s figure of this 1%. Instilling fear in the minds of the upper class a la The Edukators–breaking into their houses, making a complete mess, and leaving an ominous note–was genius for me. It pushed forth a non-violent yet equally menacing approach to leaving a statement, one that would be imprinted in their minds forever. It was perfect, until Jule and Jan’s erroneous encounter, which completely shifted the progression of the movie. Here we begin to see the frailties of the human person interfering with the idealist actions of the characters.

The latter half of the film focused on the kidnapping of Hardenberg, and their encampment in a cabin situated in the beautiful Austrian Alps. In this part of the film, human responses take over as panic surges with the current situation, and tensions were high when Peter finds out about Jan and Jule’s budding romance. Character development is also prominent in the part of Hardenberg, as it is revealed that he was a radical in his youth and fought for the same things as the main characters. We see how these shape the succeeding events, still juxtaposed with discussions on political ideologies among Hardenberg and the three. Given the idealistic tendencies of the movie, we see how life is still shaped by human experiences and our responses to them. Despite political and economic forces ruling our lives, human interaction has the capability to influence our lives just as much. We see Hardenberg giving Jule a letter that waived her debt after that eye-opening second act. It is in interactions such as these where we witness the human in everyone, unadulterated by hegemonic forces.

Timecrimes

Timecrimes is one of my favorites from the films we have watched in class so far. It’s well-paced, elaborate, and generally enjoyable. Time travel films really aren’t my thing because they open up a lot of questions in my head, or are usually filled with holes. For example, Donnie Darko was a really difficult watch for me because it was confusing, and it left me with a lot of unanswered queries whose answers I had to look up on the Internet. However, the film departs from this vagueness, and delivered a more comprehensible time travel thriller.

The appeal of Timecrimes lies in its patient storytelling, which led to the multiple timelines part of the story being pulled off successfully. Vigalondo painstakingly untangles the mystery presented to us at the beginning of the film and presents the many layers behind the peculiar events that were occurring. Similar to Trollhunter, the attention to detail was impeccable, and it was vital to the unfolding of the narrative. The props for each scene in the movie such as the binoculars, the scissors, and the walky-talky all found a place in the narrative being woven by the time loop that Hector found himself in. This also helped facilitate a better understanding of the sequence of events. I also really enjoyed the emplotment of the narrative i.e. the retelling of the same narrative over and over again, with the subsequent retelling revealing more details and adding depth to the previous one. It also really helped that the different iterations of Hector were given distinct names which facilitated an easier digestion of the narrative. What I enjoyed about the movie is that it appeared as if the characters participated actively in our attempt to understand what is going on, unlike other time travel movies which leave it up to the viewers to make sense of the narrative. However, it achieves this without spoon-feeding it to the viewers, still retaining the thrill of piecing together all the components in the puzzle.

If I were to say something negative about the movie, it would be about my feelings about the main character, Hector. I never really liked him throughout the duration of the film. Hector 1 for example seemed a little off to me because of the actions that he chose to do. Who in the right mind would go to a forest after having seen, with their pair of binoculars, a woman undress? The fact that he’s been staring while the woman undressed is a little creepy as well. He also seemed exceedingly trusting, especially in the scene where the scientist was leading him to the silo. I realize now that he needed to do these things in order to drive the plot, but still I found his choices extremely questionable. I also did not enjoy the woman (who remained nameless throughout the movie despite suffering the most among all of the characters) being used merely as a plot device. I genuinely felt that she deserved better than that, especially after knowing that her involvement in the plot was due to the fact that she sought to help Hector 2 who was involved in a car crash. Nonetheless, the film was a great watch, and is my favorite time travel film so far.

Trollhunter

My viewing experience of Trollhunter (2010) was comparable to when we watched Good Bye, Lenin! (2003). The familiarity in terms of how the narrative was emplotted, as well as the clear motives and actions of the characters made way for a relatively easier viewing compared to the other films we have watched in class so far. I particularly enjoyed the film’s effectiveness in making its viewers believe that actual trolls inhabited the forests of Norway, and people are being dispatched by the government to eliminate these trolls as discreetly as possible. The attention to detail in Øvredal’s troll-filled world was impeccable. Case in point, the scene where the scientist explains how ultraviolet light causes the death of the trolls–exposure causes instant calcification of the trolls–was a nice nugget of information to know about the world being unveiled to us in the movie. The different kinds of trolls enumerated throughout the film also gave more depth to this world. Even the processes of the government intervention were given attention by the film. The form Hans fills out whenever he slays a troll seemed legit, but looking at it now it does appear a little ridiculous. These little spoonfuls of detail being fed to the viewers led to an enhanced understanding of what was going on throughout the film, and informed our viewing of the film immensely.

This troll-infested Norway being presented by the movie was made more real through the use of the documentary style of the film. Knowing that this was a found-footage-style documentary, I did not mind the sloppy camerawork and the peculiar editing for they are ingrained in the genre. In fact, it contributed to the effectiveness of the movie in unearthing the “reality” of trollhunting. It was as if we were alongside the characters in their quest to kill these trolls. The CGI used to generate the trolls we saw in the film was also quite impressive. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting nor did I want to see the trolls themselves because attributing a physical form to these majestic creatures might not give justice to their extraordinary and larger-than-life quality. However, I was pleasantly surprised with how the CGI trolls looked like. Their depictions were as gross as I imagined a troll would be. Instead of ruining the experience of trollhunting, the beautiful troll animation added to its authenticity.

This film brought to my notion of a European cinema a look into European culture via Norwegian mythology. While the drama-comedy Good Bye, Lenin! inculcated me with the tragedies of history and its repercussions on humanity, Trollhunter imparted me with a high-octane, nuanced experience on a monster so iconic in European folklore. The idea of ancient behemoths inhabiting our modern-day world was pulled off by the film brilliantly. It also brings to fore the power of documentation–how vital it is in terms of concretizing danger by giving it a face, and how intrusive it is of nature and its processes. The product was a thrilling and believable adventure peppered with the relief of dry humor.

Good Bye, Confusion!

After four confusing and unconventional film screenings, Good Bye, Lenin! (2003) is arguably the most enjoyable film we have watched in our European Cinema class so far. It’s a fun and grappling display of grit and heart. The enjoyable quality of the movie may be attributed to the fact that it has adhered to the features of dominant cinema with which we are so used to. We go back to Peter Wollen’s essay on these features to assess the movie.

In terms of narrative transitivity, the emplotment of the film’s narrative was digestible and easily understandable. As I watched the movie, I understood why the events being displayed are happening, and why they must happen. For instance, why does Alex exert so much effort in fabricating this world which his mom is accustomed to–so as not to risk his mother’s health. All of the why’s in terms of the plot were answered reasonably by the film.

The movie also had characters which we identified with. Their experiences and emotions are accessible to us, and their actions and motivations are clear–so much so that we find ourselves rooting for their causes. I found Alex to be a particularly likable character because somehow I resonated with his intentions. I bet that if my mother were under the same conditions, I would do as he did in the movie. We identify with his desire to protect his mother, we admire his perseverance despite the disequilibrium of the worlds he is currently occupying, we understand the logic behind his actions. All these make Alex one of the identifiable characters in the film.

The film also presented us with a world in which everything made sense within the context of the world i.e., a single diegesis. The events, characters, and details in the film cohered to a single world. None of the elements seemed anachronistic or out-of-place. It is interesting to note, however, how our main character was sort of inhabiting two worlds in the film, yet we still understand that all of these things are happening within a unified world.

As I mentioned earlier, this film was definitely enjoyable because of how easy the movie experience was given how familiar we are with the way it was made. The comedic moments also gave us a lot of laughs–probably the most laughs I’ve heard in the five screenings we had. The entertainment value of the film juxtaposed with its subject matter is fascinating to me. Dominant cinema, at least as described by Wollen, is characterized by its attempt to escape reality, which is why it’s so amusing to watch. However, Good Bye, Lenin! sort of confronts us with the atrocious realities of European politics at the time. I admire the film’s capability to provide a great viewing experience despite a heavily politicized narrative.

The difficulty I had in watching the film was of a contingent kind. Not being well-versed with European history gave me a sense of alienation while watching the film. Although snippets of historical background were provided throughout, I couldn’t help but feel a little detached from the film. However, that did not prevent me from enjoying myself. Overall, Good Bye, Lenin! was a nice palate cleanser from all of the arthouse-y films we have watched in class so far.

Perfection? I Don’t Know Her.

The Five Obstructions (2003) is my personal favorite of all the movies we have watched in our European film class so far. It’s challenging, insightful, and heartfelt all at the same time. Beyond giving us a look at the trappings of film-making, it provided us some powerful insights on the volatility of art. I couldn’t get my eyes off of the screen as Lars von Trier and Jorgen Leth embark on an artistic journey to reinterpret Leth’s short film The Perfect Human.

An underlying theme in the film is how the obstructions were geared towards reducing perfection and challenging perfection to its limits. It was as if the Perfect in The Perfect Human was being distilled off in order to arrive at the Human. It felt like von Trier was invested in seeing his idol fail–but in his failure, arrive at something human. Despite von Trier’s obstructions, Leth pulls off these masterful reinterpretations of his original work that von Trier can’t help but gush over. The back-and-forth between the two directors added to the charm of the movie. I especially enjoyed how demanding the tone von Trier used when he was giving out the obstructions.

The first obstruction was pretty standard and straightforward an obstruction. It was a matter of execution and the technical workings behind the film. Location, editing, script–these are all things directors could edit, manipulate, and ultimately pull off. It’s sort of a surface level attempt at imperfection, like what would happen to a car if it didn’t get washed for a month. The finished product felt familiar and had the markings of the original. I particularly enjoyed the result of von Trier’s 12-frame imposition.

The second obstruction was a little more difficult to pull off because it immediately involved the director. Leth is assigned to recreate his short film in a place he considers a personal hell, and the final product should reflect what he experienced without it being visible in the recreation. Would perfection remain unscathed if the artist undergoes something tragic, something horrible? I think Leth’s experience is comparable to writing a paper on poverty, going on immersion in the poorest places of Manila, and being forced to rewrite the same paper. The finished product was up to von Trier’s standards, but he did not appreciate Leth’s genius technique of using a translucent material to partially cover the people of Bombay around him.

The third obstruction, as a punishment for Leth’s violation in the previous obstruction, was no obstructions at all. Now I understand Leth’s apprehension towards this obstruction. Perfection is defined by the parameters upon which the work is evaluated. But what happens if there are no parameters? What becomes of perfection then? Without challenges to overcome and rules to follow, could art still hold meaning and beauty?

The fourth obstruction is my favorite. I think at this point, von Trier has made his intentions of arriving at something messy and as human as possible exceedingly clear. So using a medium such as cartoon animation in which everything is calculable and manipulable to create and convey something imperfect is a very intelligent move on our challenger’s part. I thought the sequence of events leading to this imposition was ironic because von Trier was talking about how beautiful moments can be captured in the spontaneity and unpredictability of human acting, and then he proceeds to assign this obstruction. Leth comes up with a gorgeous animation which von Trier just gobbles up and showers in praises.

The fifth obstruction was so sickeningly sweet and it’s just a nice way to wrap up such a great film. It was von Trier’s love letter to his idol, still retaining that cockiness he had throughout the film with him putting words in Leth’s mouth. Here he addresses his intentions in starting this little project with Leth. It’s great to see this side of von Trier. Having watched some of his films and having a sense of how his mind operates, it’s kind of adorable to know that he is capable of having actual human feelings.

However masterful all the reimaginations of The Perfect Human were, we see how the sense of perfection in the original is reduced and reinterpreted in so many different ways. Although I must admit that these revamps of the original were kind of confusing in a sense that I didn’t know what they were trying to convey, witnessing the process of challenging and creating art makes the movie a really great watch for me. I have a feeling I will be thinking about this film for a while.

A Look into the Human Mind

Watching Persona was a very unsettling and harrowing experience. The movie left me with a feeling of inexplicable dread, as if something bad had happened. It felt like a horror film. The premise–two women in a beach house, one of them resigning herself to a life of silence while the other practically bares her soul to the other woman–seems like the perfect horror movie scenario. Coupled with thrilling music that seemed to foreshadow something sinister, scenes that depicted the two women eerily (e.g., that scene where they stroke each other’s face), and disturbing shots of people being burned alive or a nail being driven through someone’s hand, the film was disturbing and difficult to watch at times.

Distancing myself from the immediate feelings of terror and confusion right after my viewing of the film, I can now marvel at how the movie depicts the workings of the human mind. It depicts tensions between emotions and actions, our deepest desires and how we choose (or choose not) to externalize them.Alma is this vulnerable creature in front of the receptive yet guarded Elisabet. She practically bares herself to the actress during their stay in the beach house. We see her reveal the most intimate stories and respond humanly to them. In contrast to Alma, very little is known of Elisabet–at least in the first half of the film. She plays the role of listener to Alma’s stories and provides a comforting presence to her. What I find interesting in this juxtaposition of these two arguably different women is how they seem to merge into one another as the movie progresses. We see Alma’s attempts to shatter the walls within which Elisabet has contained herself. Violence comes into the picture as Alma threatens to splash boiling water over Elisabet to get her to violate her vow of silence, or leaves a shard of glass for Elisabet to step on. Why Alma chooses to do these things and go to such lengths in order to get Elisabet to crack is still unknown to me. But I interpret it as repressed feelings surfacing, clawing their way through a persona we have established for ourselves.

Nearing the end of the film, the reality of two women existing within the film is blurred, and I personally began to question if the scenes that I was watching depicted only one or two women. This nodded to the gradual fusion of the two women into one complex entity, an entity that seemed to escape any comprehension. Even the two women seem to be aware of this phenomenon, and they try to differentiate themselves from each other. In one instance, Alma is shown with Elisabet’s husband. They embrace tenderly, and the husband acts as if Alma really were Elisabet. She resents the idea when she wakes up from what appears to be just a dream, and even screams “I’m not like you. I don’t feel the same way you do . . . I’m not Elisabet Vogler: you are Elisabet Vogler.” However, the fusion seems inevitable and self-driven. Persona was a difficult film to watch, and an even more difficult to write about.