When the Bad Men Came to Town: Alain Cavalier's "Pillaged"

The French sure had a way of regurgitating film. Taking the stellar heist films of the 50's such as John Huston's "The Asphalt Jungle" and Jules Dassin's "Riffifi" and metastasizing them into a lurid sub-genre all their own, there lies so many hidden gems (and outright classics of their own) in the decades to come. From Jean Pierre Melville's ice-cold treatises on betrayal and meticulous technique to the bruised energies of the many Alain Delon titles, there's always a surprise to be had.

Alain Cavalier's "Pillaged" (1967) is one of them. If there weren't twenty more years of such films coming down the pipeline, I'd wager that "Pillaged" was a capsized attempt to wave down all the other entries. The very plot- about a group of men taking hostage an entire town over the course of one long night in order to rob all its cash dispensaries- seems like the stuff of graphic novels. It plays bold, fast, and tense and it deserves a wider audience (are you listening Shout Factory! or Code Red???)

Released in 1967, the film stars a who's who of French character actors (Michel Constantin, Daniel Ivernel, Phillipe Moreau and Irene Tunc) as a motley group of safe crackers, stick-up men and underworld roustabouts tossed together for the sole purpose of surveying a gorge-village town and robbing the bank, the local steel mill cash holdings and anything else that crosses their paths. Each man has a distinct job and within 20 minutes, "Pillaged" is knee deep in the overnight heist, carefully establishing its plan and then observing as most things go like clockwork. Of course, being a French film noir, something unexpected crops up and the job goes incrementally wrong before the sun rises.

Filmed by workmanlike director Alain Cavalier (and only his third film after the aforementioned Delon vehicle "The Unvanquished" and his startling debut "Le Combat dans I'il") "Pillaged" doesn't ascribe many sympathies to its robbers.... and with the exception of a Stockholm-syndrome induced female abductee, very few other personalities are brought to the forefront. This is a film that excels in examining the steps of a crime. It's hugely believable (at least in the mid 60's when all it took to kill any communication was a snip of the wire) and executed with keen skill and style.

Cinema Obscura: Bertrand Tavernier's "Captain Conan"

Towards the very end of Bertrand Tavernier's rambling but masterful "Captain Conan", the titular character (played with bull headed narcissism  by Phillippe Torreton), tells his sometimes adversary/mostly war buddy lawyer (Samuel Le Bihan) that the people in his small village where he's retired to "should have seen him when he was alive". 

Alive- in the mind and soul of Conan- involves his reckless bravery during World War I and the eventual French occupation along the Russian border when he and his small band of troops would run headfirst into gun fire and attack the enemy at close range, taking an almost gleeful pleasure in killing with knives and detached bayonets. The first third of the film deftly follows this in choreographed long takes up hills, around explosions, and into the shadowy depths of smoke and fire. In this role, Conan is a god.

Things shift a bit in the second part of the film when the violence is largely over and Conan and his French soldier cohorts are charged with occupying and maintaining order in Belarus. It's here that Tavernier's real motives emerge. The glorification of violence in the muddy, treaded trenches and hills of World War I turns inward and the film asks questions about masculinity and the toxic attitude that pervades during peacetime. Some of my favorite films are about this murky point in history when the war is over, occupying lines are crossed and no one seems to understand (or care) about the norms of society. Think of Christian Petzold's "Phoenix" (2014). Rosselini's "Germany, Year Zero" (1948) or Carol Reed's "The Third Man" (1949)- all films that exquisitely map the rubble existence of black marketing, self debasement and moral compromise in a world where everyone's scratching for something. Conan throws himself into this void of morality with the same ferocity he did in war, covering up for his soldiers when they commit atrocities or burying himself in alcohol. 

All of this contradicts the narrow view of law and life that Lt. Norbert (Le Bihan) is forced to deal with, whether he owes anything to the swaggering heroics of Captain Conan or not. Tavernier sets up a complex back and forth as the French soldiers grind against the accepted and its up to Norbert to see some sort of justice is meted.

 

 

Eschewing any single point of view, Tavernier (who also wrote the impressive script) directs the hell out of the film. From the opening war images to the almost hilarious shuffling of bureaucratic duties among military leadership tired of nagging relatives or superfluous documents, "Captain Conan" takes the title of one man but slowly opens up to conflate the whole experience of war. It's easy to create an anti-war film, but Tavernier does the impossible and makes a statement that war is perhaps necessary for some people and then simultaneously corrosive for the same.

Cinema Obscura: Seventeen Years

Released in 1999- during the explosive and now legendary year of new Hollywood classics produced by expressive individualistic talents- Zhang Yuan's "Seventeen Years" deserves its overdue status as a masterpiece in the midst of this towering cinematic year. Essentially an observational travelogue film about a recently furloughed prisoner and the prison guard who unselfishly escorts her to her holiday destination, it eventually becomes an overpowering examination of regret and forgiveness. I dare anyone to watch the final few minutes and not get emotionally floored in the way Yuan stages a reunion scene where eyes, guarded body language and the gentle unspoken curl of lips says more about the inner workings of this family's trenchant relationship than any screenplay could ever deliver.

But before that, Yuan establishes a cadre of characters in a family during 1980's China, stepping back in time seventeen years. Now on his second marriage, Yun (Liang Song) is barely able to keep his household together. His wife and her daughter Yu (Liu Lin) seem to provoke and taunt his daughter Tao (Li Jun) at every turn. When the issue of missing money comes up one morning, the two stepsisters (urged and inflamed by both parents) argue before leaving for school. On the way there, something happens that sends young Tao to prison for the aforementioned time span.

The tragedy of how Tao got there takes up only a fraction of the film's swift but effective run-time. "Seventeen Years" resumes those years later when Tao is released from prison for the duration of a Chinese New Year holiday. Also traveling from the prison is guard Chen (the wonderful Li Bingbing in an early role). Initially helping Tao find the right bus route and then realizing her indifference to actually getting anywhere at all, Chen decides to help her find her way home.

It's in this quiet relationship between Chen and Tao that "Seventeen Years" shines. Not much is said between them, but the moments they encounter together, such as Yuan's sly comment on China's destructive march of progress when Tao discovers her family's home has been demolished for years for urban renewal, echo the nostalgic sentiments proposed in so many of fellow countryman Jia Zhangke's films.

By also presenting two women as the protagonists in an era where Chinese films mainly treated them as simple matriarchs of a family through the passage of time or second wheels to the more dominant men in their lives, "Seventeen Years" stands out as something special for treating their problems....their worldview.... their sympathies for one another as equally haunting and monumental as that of male figures during the time. It's in the quiet, reserved performances of Jun and Bingbing that "Seventeen Years" really surges, however. The way they silently eat together or walk with hunched shoulders.... and especially the dignified reaction and slow turn Bingbing gives during the final scene when she realizes the magnitude of her unselfish mission with Tao... the two actresses seem to "existing" more than acting. It's a wonder to behold.

Though not an art house/household name, filmmaker Zuan (who did gain some acclaim a few years prior with his "East Palace West Palace") has carried on making films for the past two decades, but none with the exposure or impact of his 90's work. It's a shame. I desperately want to to see more of it. If the sensitivity and acute purpose of realizing the harsh truth of real forgiveness as exhibited in this film is present even remotely in his other work, than we have a talent who's sorely underappreciated. "Seventeen Years" reveals that time doesn't always heal all wounds, but the simple act of facing up to them can help dull the pain.

The Female Gaze: Christian Petzold's "Pilotinnen" aka Drifters

Filmmaker Christian Petzold's cinema has always been a female-centric one. Portraying strong women in various modes of genre, his muse, actress Nina Hoss, has embodied women in various stages of distress with fierce resolution- revenge in "Something To Remind Me" or corporate 'chameleonism' in "Yella" or especially meal-ticket survival of the fittest-cum-emotional-smackdown in "Phoenix". Whatever the parameters, Petzold's films may not fit perfectly into the MeToo movement of total acceptance (precisely because, after all, he is still a male director parlaying these feminine narratives), but at least he tries to assuage something other than the usual point of view in a cinematic world where most male characters weigh heavily.

This predilection is obvious from the opening scene of his debut TV movie, "Pilotinnen", also known in English as "Drifters". Two sets of hands embrace each other in close-up against the wood-grain top of a restaurant table as voices (obviously lovers) make their plans to meet in a hotel in the very near future outside of Germany. Petzold then cuts to Karin (Eleonore Weisgerber) and then follows her outside, never even showing the male character whom she's established a rendezvous with. We soon learn, obliquely as Petzold loves to drip information about his characters slowly, that Karin is a traveling saleslady for a cosmetic company, virtually homeless except for the bonuses she earns on hotel rooms through her company's weekly overnight stays. She's not presented as a desperate person. On the contrary, Karin is drawn as a succinct and no-nonsense woman who understands the frivolity of her ways and has accepted things.

Her life isn't made any easier, however, when her boss (Udo Schenk) finds her sleeping in her car and decides to make her career difficult by assigning her a partner, who happens to be a much younger and attractive blonde (Nadeshda Brennicke). And she's having an affair with said boss. From there,"Drifters" establishes a very "Thelma and Louise" vibe as Karin and Sophie bond over their repressive state in both the corporate and emotional world, deciding to take matters into their own hands.

Being a TV movie, the sex and violence is especially pared down, but Petzold's flair for the subversive remains intact. Karin, endlessly smoking and prone to penetrating glances that would weaken the knees of both men and women, is the classic archetype for all of Petzold's later incarnations. She seems to be a woman who understands and knows what she wants, even if young and seemingly flighty Sophie gets the big, sweeping gesture of personal sacrifice that navigates the final act of "Drifters" into something surprising and fatalistic.

From this effort, Petzold was given the opportunity to make other TV movies- "The Sex Thief", "Cuba Libra" and the best being "Something To Remind Me". As a first feature, it's rough in certain parts and maintains the restrictive boxy format, but in ideas and larger themes taking shape in a rising auteur, it's a wonderful glimpse into the formative process of a burgeoning talent.

70's Bonanza: Operation Ogre

In the latter half of the twentieth century, cinema's attraction to the heroic romanticism and ultimate fatalism of the Wild West outlaw shifted onto the righteous terrorist. Just as committed to their brand of outlaw justice as Billy the Kid, the terrorist also served as the perfect (for better or worse) embodiment of the every-man's indignant right to fight "the man". So, it's no surprise that far left-wing filmmakers like Gillo Pontecorvo (who ascended to international acclaim after his 1966 film "The Battle of Algiers") would make such a film like "Operation Ogre" in which the sole burden of empathy and attention is given to a set of terrorists who meticulously planned and attacked Spanish Prime Minister Luis Blanco in 1973. In fact, their bomb was so potent that it sent the Prime Minister's car up in the air far enough to land on a building the next street over. The fact that "Operation Ogre" isn't just a radicalized political statement or transparent attempt to memorialize such men and women is a feat Pontecorvo pulls off brilliantly. In fact, I'd dare call "Operation Ogre" his best film, even better than "The Battle of Algiers" or the cultish "Burn!" starring Marlon Brando. More of a procedural thriller with some stunning shifts of time than anything else, its such a sad fact this film is rarely available on any home video format.

Starring the always fascinating Gian Marie Volonte as the leader of the Basque revolutionary group who travel to Madrid to assassinate Blanco, the name of the film is derived from the military operation assigned the mission. Of course, nothing goes as planned. Just when the group thinks they have their plan figured out, Blanco is promoted to Prime Minister, which not only alters his daily schedule but includes an influx of new bodyguards. Patiently following Volonte and his group as they audible their own plans, the film soon settles on their doom's-day-ticking-clock attempts to bury a bomb beneath one of the PM's main routes to and from church everyday.

Outside of their tense main mission, Pontecorvo throws in a couple of emotional curveballs, such as the relationship between of one of the terrorists and his wife, including one jarring narrative slip that jumps ahead in time to reveal the diminishing rewards of their violent actions and its repercussions on those who surround them. If nothing else, Pontecorvo routinely understands that the revolutionary life isn't without its mortal sacrifices.

Based on a novel by Julien Aguirre and released just 6 years after the assassination, "Operation Ogre" would be the last feature film directed by Pontecorvo before consuming himself in documentary work. It's a fitting piece. For someone who began his career championing the suspect rule of governments and the violent insurrection possible by its citizens, "Operation Ogre" reveals that his passion for violent change was unwavering.

Cinema Obscura: Costa Gavras' "Shock Troops"

One of my favorite films of all time is Jean Pierre Melville's "Army of Shadows" (1969). A masterpiece of murky atmosphere grown even murkier by the way a hushed betrayal shatters the once-trusting bond between comrades and lovers, it's a film that distills all the madness, loyalty and violence of the French Resistance into a seamless potboiler thriller.

If that film is the austere entry in the genre of Resistance films, than Costa-Gavras' "Shock Troops" (produced just two years prior to Melville's film) is the 1980's Cannon Films meathead production of the same events. That backhanded praise aside, "Shock Troops" is no less an important statement about the travails of France during World War II than Melville's more prestigious effort. It just goes about things in a much broader (and more violent) way like an aggressive cousin to Melville's masterpiece.

Instead of focusing on the underground (yet highly visible) people of the urban French Resistance, "Shock Troops" follows the band of the Maquis, which were the groups of armed French Resistance fighters who gave German troops the most trouble during their occupation of France. Residing in the mountainous terrain around the state and moving in swiftly, killing hordes of soldiers, bombing railroad lines and government offices, the Maquis would then retreat to their hillsides safe zones which the German military controlled little insight or strategy around. It worked for awhile. One of these swift actions opens "Shock Troops" wherein the group (including Jean Paul Briarly, Charles Vanal and Bruno Cremer) stage a brash infiltration of a prison and free the group of French men inside. One of the men, played by Michel Piccoli, comes under scrutiny by the group as to whether he's a double agent or not. Not only does his presence complicate the trust and civility of the Maquis, but it clouds their judgement as German troops slowly begin to encircle their encampment in the hillsides.

Marked by several strong episodes of violence- including the finale as the group does battle with a Panzer tank that methodically zeroes in on their coordinates- "Shock Troops" is much more yell than whisper, which ultimately sets it apart from Melville's more interior rationalization of the French Resitance's ultimate 'fait de acompli'.

However, its also a film that gives amazing honor to the story of French Resistance through its unabashed glee in gunfire and explosions. Not all of the Resistance were satisfied in subtle cloak and dagger. They were armed, impatient and just as ready to crush their occupiers as their occupiers were zealous to crush them. As Costa Gavras' action-infused early film shows, there's certainly room for both comments on this time in history on the spectrum.

Le Bonnie and Clyde: Sam Fuller's "Thieves After Dark"

In a fairly benign and early scene in Sam Fuller's second-to-last film titled "Thieves After Dark", Isabelle (Veronique Jannot) is walking down a French street when a motorbike scoots by on her left side. Giving the cyclist a quick step into the street towards him before slyly pulling away and back into her straight-line stroll, her playful action causes the motorcyclist to swerve briefly. Neither one looks back at the other as they continue on their destined paths, and it's quite uncertain whether this is a scripted provocation or an improvised moment of playful aggression. Either way, its a moment that seemingly distills Fuller's cantankerous and gruff worldview of characters and their inner warfare.

Released in 1984 and financed/shot/released in France after an especially negative experience with his Hollywood-backed film "White Dog" in 1982, "Thieves After Dark" is a tough one to find. Never released on DVD and relegated to shoddy VHS copies (which is the source I finally tracked down), the film isn't one of Fuller's best, but it still retains glimmers of his prowess as a filmmaker reflecting the European sensibilities through an Americanized eye (as he did so ludicrously with the German financed "Dead Pigeon on Beethoven Street" almost a decade earlier).

Hewing close to the crime genre, "Thieves After Dark" stars the aforementioned Jannot (Isabelle) and Bobbi di Cicco (Francois) as a couple who meet after Jannot violently turns on her welfare office worker. Observing the whole event and befriending her in the street afterwards, the two commiserate on their downtrodden status and hatch up a plan to rob their respective city officials as a sort of class struggle retribution. The cross-hairs for Francois becomes Tartuffe (deliciously played in a perverse performance by legendary French filmmaker Claude Chabrol). As the duo carry out their robberies, the police become involved after a murder derails their seemingly low-grade acts of burglary which causes Francois and Isabelle to hit the road and become fugitives. What seems like ordinary noir fodder (based on a novel by Olivier Beer), in the swerving vision of Fuller becomes a sweaty, high pitched variation on Bonnie and Clyde complete with a leering Chabrol condemned to crazily stitched together close-ups, a police chief who doesn't do much besides smoke and a penultimate scene that features Francois using a dead body to protect himself from gunshots as the young daughter of the dead man cries in the distance. Basically, its everything you'd expect from Fuller throwing caution to the wind and producing a French crime picture that, perhaps, he felt was a middle finger to the establishment of rules and order in Hollywood. And if that's not enough, watching Chabrol leer and hang from a six story window in order to spy on a woman shaving her legs in the apartment next door should cater to any fix one may have.

Produced and Abandoned #20

More titles deserving a general DVD release.

1. Remember My Name (1978)- Altman proselyte Alan Rudolph's debut feature is said to be a nifty Hitchockian rift. I think I saw this on shoddy VHS back in the day when I became fascinated by some of Rudolph's other films, but not a single image of it remains in my head.

2. Seven Beauties (1975)- Most of Lina Wertmuller's once available films are now long out of print and going for exorbitant prices online. Some were in heavy rotation on Bravo (remember when they played movies) or Sundance back in the 90's and I caught snippets of them, but "Seven Beauties", often called her neglected masterpiece, is nowhere to be seen any longer.

3. Spoiled Children (1977)- So little of Bertrand Tavernier is available, especially his early output. This film about a director trying to write a screenplay and getting involved with all types of diversions in a rented apartment sounds interesting. With Tavernier's recent film about the history of cinema, hopefully someone will look at his back catalogue.

4. Denise Calls Up (1994)-  The independent filmmaking boom of the 90's did so much for the art. It gave us a new wave of talent that, like the French Nouvelle Vague, redefined our expectations of how and why movies get made. It also got a variety of sub-par stuff green lit by studios in hopes of catering to the its new-found audiences. "Denise Calls Up" may be that, but I remember it fondly when I caught it late at night on Sundance Channel back in the day.

5. Land and Freedom (1995)- There's more Ken Loach on home video then isn't, however, this 1995 film (which I feel is one of his best) still hasn't found a stable home on DVD outside of a British release in 2001.

6. Involuntary (2008)- After the recent smash hit of "Force Majeure", there was some interest in unearthing filmmaker Ruben Ostlund's previous work, but there's been no headway since. This 2008 film, which seems to be about a cross-section of people old and young in yet another stressful situation, cements Ostlund as a purveyor of the social climate and all its inadequacies. It sounds terrific.

7. The Last of England (1987)- A surprising number of Jarman films are available (on Netflix no less), but this 1987 film, considered to be his best by some, is not one of them. This film sounds extreme- the rounding up and shooting of innocent middle class English families- and its controversial use of image and sound make this one that any adventurous film lover should be able to view.

Frederick Wiseman: Deaf and Blind But Not Dumb

Frederick Wiseman's documentaries are a collection of dialogue, compromise, anger, observation and, in the case of his 1987 film "Blind", an exercise in pure cinemas as discovery. It comes at the halfway point when one of the very young blind children featured in the film (known as Jason) is followed in an extreme long take as he feels his way downstairs into one classroom and then back upstairs to another to talk to his teachers. There's no expediency or montage juxtaposition to hurry up the act. We simply exist to observe this child as his newly taught sensory skills are put to the test. It's a moment both bracing in its honesty and awe-inspiring in the possibilities of film to capture something non manufactured and real. In essence, that's what Wiseman has been doing for forty plus years.

As a companion piece to "Blind", there's also "Deaf", released a year earlier in 1986 but taking place in the same Alabama area school for the Deaf and Blind. Culled from endless hours of footage and whittled down to approximately five hours of film, both "Deaf" and "Blind" follow the framework of Wiseman's now pattern formula... i.e.basic exterior shots of the city and school welded around the inhabitants, leadership and tangential elements of an institution. In between, there are one or two extended scenes of discussion or conflict that serve as the identifying setpiece. In "Deaf", its a 35 minute discussion between a principal, a teacher, a mother and a deaf child whose been causing trouble at the school. Threats of suicide and intentional fights with other boys has landed this young man in the hot seat and through a carefully worded and patient conversation, his animosity about not seeing his real father and his mother's supposed lack of communication become the root cause. It's as if we're watching an intense psychiatric session, punctuated by sign language and the genuine care of all involved to arrive at an accepted and humane compromise.

Separating the visual style of both films- while "Deaf" is in color, "Blind" is black and white, naturally- both films are interested solely in the mechanics of thought, learning, perception and discussion... even when we don't fully understand the discussion. Several scenes in "Deaf" feature students communicating outside or by themselves in the hallway in sign language. There's no attempt to translate or cheapen the moment. The viewer is present, fully, in their world. Likewise, in "Blind", Wiseman sagely dispenses with compassionate leanings and shows only the strong moments of the blind students. Jason's confident walk. A classroom lesson where children learn about textures and feel as linen cloths are placed over their prone bodies. And a carefree dance where the energies and vigor of youth take over, regardless of their inability to see.

In both "Deaf and "Blind", the overriding message is that, yes, these children do have handicaps, but their immersion in life, relationships, and the everyday ebbs and flows of emotions are just as pertinent. Perhaps more so because they're learning to adapt without a vital sense many people take for granted. Wiseman doesn't. And the men, women and children featured in "Deaf" and "Blind" certainly don't.

Both films are available at www.Zipporah.com.

Produced and Abandoned #19

More titles that deserve some type of home video release.

1. Out of Bounds (1986)- Anthony Michael Hall and Jenny wright in an L.A. noir whose VHS copies go for decent money on Amazon, which means no DVD in sight. The box cover for this movie is ingrained in my memory from daily trips to the video store as a kid. It's also featured prominently in Thom Andersen's mammoth documentary "Los Angeles Plays Itself", which (in this case) is regarded fondly.

2. Decoder (1984)- German horror sci-fi and overall weirdness. If nothing else, Code Red or Shout! Factory need to make this available for a whole new generation of trash lovers.

3. Boris Godounov (1989)- The only Zulawski effort I haven't been able to track down is this late 80's musical that, apparently, does some pretty nifty fourth wall breaking as he chooses to reveal the filmmaking process of this staged presentation.

4. Thieves After Dark (1984)- Now that Sam Fuller's "Dead Pigeon on Beethoven Street" has finally crashed it way onto Region 1 DVD, how about someone make this French production available. It's one of the last Fuller's I need to see before I can check the auteur off the list.

5. The Lost River (2015)- So what's the status on Ryan Gosling's directorial debut? Trashed at Cannes. Played a few film festivals. Pulled from distribution. Sounds like a case of Johnny Depp and "The Brave"- a film in which its high profile actor turned director has backed away from criticism.

6. Farewell to the Ark (1984)- Shuji Tereyama is vastly underrepresented on DVD. I've only seen a small number of his films, but this one, about a village that lives by its own codes and mores sounds twisted and surreal.

7. Pennance (2011)- One of my favorite Asian filmmakers, Kiyoshi Kurosawa, has made 3 or 4 films in the last five years, yet none of them have made it onto DVD here in the States. His latest film, "Journey To the Shore", which certainly had its admirers last year on the festival circuit, may get a limited run this year, but "Pennance" and others are in limbo. Hopefully, that changes soon.

8. Farewell Friend (1968)- Alain Delon and Charles Bronson star as two friends who exit the army and then find themselves years later working to pull of a robbery. One of those weird French-American co-productions, but Delon and Bronson together? Needs to be seen.

Trial and Error: Yoshitaro Nomura's "The Incident"

Being a huge fan of Japanese director's Yoshitaro Nomura's 1974 film "Castle of Sand", it's easy to see what attracted him to the subject matter of "The Incident", which was released four years later and racked up numerous Japanese film awards. Lengthy, dense and ultimately concerned with the shifting perspectives surrounding the murder of young Hatsuko (Keiko Matsuzaka), "The Incident" plays like a John Grisham novel transposed to Japan. By playing with the viewer's expectations.... giving us snippets of possibilities... parading a host of possible suspects, witnesses and innocent bystanders.... the film expertly navigates the murky waters of young love short-circuited by affairs, questions and insidious personalities. And, since its based on a novel by respected writer Kaneto Shindo, there's plenty of talk about the impact of environment on man. Long a subject of fascination for Japanese culture, "The Incident" makes it clear that the man accused of the murder, Hiroshi (Toshiyuki Nagashima), certainly seems to have little control over the spiraling judicial body firmly deciding his fate. It's no surprise he confesses to the murder in the opening ten minutes of the film. Things only get more complex from there.

Hands clutched to his side and eyes fervently poised downward, filmmaker Nomura constantly frames Hiroshi as some sort of fallen Greek god aimlessly watching the jury deciding his fate. There are onlookers as well- namely members of the press, his current impregnated fiance Yoshiko (Shinobu Ohtake, who's also the sister of the victim) numerous witnesses and elderly family members perched just behind him throughout the trial. Alternating between measured, careful dialogue of examination and cross-examination within the courtroom and the moments leading up to and including the murder, "The Incident" walks a precarious line of fact and blurred memory fiction. Just how reliable is the testimony of the witnesses? What exactly is the relationship of Hiroshi and Hatsuko? What do all those furtive glances between suspect and sister in the courtroom really mean? Over the course of two hours and twenty minutes, Nomura carefully builds a web of "Rashomon"-like events that fold and twist and bend around each other. Like he did in "Castle of Sand"- another film interested in the reverberations of the past on the present- Nomura mines an especially stringent intellectual thriller.

If the final verdict of the film is far less interesting than the serpentine-like path it took to get there, I feel that's the point. Compared to Nomura's other works (and its a shame more are not available on DVD, including this great film) "The Incident" fits neatly into his worldview of panoramic events whose real apocalypse can only be felt in the hearts of an unlucky few. A father and son in "Castle of Sand". A couple in "The Incident". A weathered, somewhat evil husband in "The Demon". While the whole world seems to be caught up in their own self-satisfying objectives in the death of beautiful Hatsuko, Nomura reminds us in a lyrical yet subtly dark closing shot that, perhaps, the greatest victim of this particular incident hasn't even been born yet.

The Thin Blue Line: Maurice Pialat's "Police"

Alongside Bertrand Tavernier's "L.627", Maurice Pialat's 1985 film "Police" may very well be one of the most anti-police films ever crafted.... in terms of Hollywoodized standards that is. Both films jettison the ubiquitous aspects of the 'policier'. Gone are the car chases, shoot outs and violently illustrious actions that permeate the landscape of the genre. Instead, we get a "procedural" in the most essential sense of the word. In fact, the first 50 minutes of "Police" document the ebbs and flows inside a police station like a one-act play with cops bickering, joking and pushing against a stone wall of questioning. There are no grand break-throughs in a case. There are no "a-ha" moments that decipher the investigation. Instead, they're met with staunch denials by the supposed criminals, the inability to put two-and two together and languorous stretches on both sides of the jail cell glass. If it wasn't for the coolly sensual (and viscerally rough) relationship between cop Gerard Depardieu and purported criminal Sophie Marceau, "Police" might even be called boring. But there's more than meets the eye in Pialat's rigorously researched script (by filmmaker Catherine Breillat) that pivots during its second half and not only spreads deeper into the underworld Depardieu is trying to crack open, but turns the consequences inward as cop and beautiful criminal traverse a more personal intersection.

Young Noria (Marceau) falls into Mangin's (Depardieu) line of sight when the boyfriend she's living with is arrested after an informant gives Mangin his name as a go-between for more heavy people in Marseille. Hours of questioning yields nothing for Mangin and his aggressive unit. If anything, a bitter animosity grows between the two. Trained well, Noria denies everything... even when the cops play her voice on a recorded message.

After this long set-up, "Police" jumps several months with a single cut. Free of her charges (although the boyfriend still in jail), Noria and Mangin have become a loose couple, going out on the town together where the line between good and bad become awfully blurred. Mangin's friend, Lambert (Richard Ancinina), is the lawyer for the accused. As we see, he obviously knows more than the cops. Also in tow is young Lydie (Sandrine Bonnaire), a prostitute whose had relations with both men. The whole group mingle and socialize as if there are no borders between them, and if anything, "Police" is a film about denying strict rules and codes. It doesn't play by the rules of cop, criminal, accessory or prostitute because, in this second half, those biases wash away and "Police" settles on the confused and awkward relationship developing between Mangin and Noria. Is she using him for his authority? Is Mangin using her to set some wicked trap and bring closure to the big case that seemingly slipped through his fingers? It's as if Pialat became supremely bored with the elaborate police film he originally intended to make and set loose on a completely different path about life. Regardless, both types of film work here.

Just now beginning to explore the multi-faceted work of Pialat (having been exposed to and loving his "Van Gogh" some years ago), "Police" felt like the most mainstream place to begin. Instead, its a wonderful shock when a film plays with expectations so vividly. It's messy and complicated and even wildly romantic. Just watch how tense Pialat makes 'quickie' sex in a police station. And if all that's not enough, the film ends on such a perfect beat that one just may forget it's a police film at all, leaving you breathless and knocked out, gasping for understanding the way Depardieu does.

70's Bonanza: Le Serpent

French filmmaker Henri Verneuil hit his stride in the late 60's and early 70's with a trilogy of films including "The Sicilian Clan" (1969), "The Burglars" (1971) and "Le Serpent" (1973)..... highly entertaining (and star studded) "policiers" that have yet to find their due in widespread distribution here in the States. The Austin Film Society recently included "The Burglars" in a repertory screening under the auspicious title of "The French Connection", but that's the extent of Verneuil's impact on American screens. Even though I love the frenetic pace of "The Burglars"- in which Omar Shariff and Jean Paul Belmondo engage in one of the finest car chase sequences ever put to film- Verneuil's "Le Serpent" is the better film of the bunch.... a cerebral, coolly detached spy tale that spends much more time on the diagnostics of a lie detector test than the various dead bodies that wash up along European shores. Like John Huston's "The Kremlin Letter"- which also trades in skulduggery without a hint of pretension- "Le Serpent" details the carousel of double crosses, political innuendo, 'spyspeak' and Cold War fixations with an icy gaze. It's only fitting that, in the finale, when head spook Henry Fonda makes a swap with the Russians to bring back a downed Air Force pilot, not only does the film's biggest enemy get off easily, but its prefaced with a line of dialogue where Fonda says the intel of the American officer in "explaining just how the Russians were able to shoot him down at 30,000 feet" becomes more important than anything we've observed over the past two twisting, convoluted hours. I can only imagine this nonchalance is apt par for the course in the world of high stakes spy games.

 

Beginning with the defection of KGB agent Yul Brenner, his information to the Americans (and namely Fonda) sets in motion the devious wheels of "Le Serpent". His intel- that there are highly placed spies in all echelons of governments around the world- kick starts a series of murders, wearisome eyes and urgent secret memos in both France and America. Philippe Noiret is one such agent cast under suspicion. British officer Dirk Bogarde, seemingly with his fingers in every cookie jar, plays both sides. Fonda is unsure of Brenner's real intentions. And all the while, bodies of agents turn up dead, others go missing and seemingly innocent photographs belie sinister intentions. All of this is handled in Verneuil's no-nonsense approach, refusing to telegraph anyone's actual motive and creating a paranoid atmosphere where anyone could be "le serpent" working their magic to eradicate the others.

 

I can't see "Le Serpent" existing in any other time period than the 70's. Echoing the later American thrillers of Sydney Pollack and especially Alan J. Pakula, "Le Serpent" is an arid exploration of the callowness involved in world politics. The basic sentiment of wanting our world to be safe, but not knowing just exactly how we make it so safe, continually runs through the veins of this film. It's a thriller, yes, but also a pretty frightening document of plausible denialability.

Produced and Abandoned #18

Ten more titles deserving a Region 1 DVD release:

1. Chiefs (1983)- Word of mouth has generally been strong for this 4 hour TV miniseries starring Charlton Heston and dealing with the generations-long search for a serial killer. With TV shows plugging into the cultural zeitgeist like never before, I can't imagine this interesting series not warranting a DVD release. Apparently there's a German set that exists from the mid 2000's but it features sub par English translation.

2. Death Powder (1986)- Japanese craziness to the extreme. If that's even possible. Words like deranged, nightmarish and bizarre only scratch the surface. Its widely available on the gray market and if one can find it, I highly recommend it. Maybe, after all, its a bit too much to release on DVD.

3. Streetwise (1984)- Somewhat groundbreaking cinema verite doc about the derelict lives of homeless people, junkies and wayward kids on the streets of Seattle. Pouring over comments about this film on various web sites shows how paramount this film was for many people who viewed it originally and how deeply they yearn for answers about people in this film. 

4. Shanghai Blues (1984)- Basically a plea for more early Tsui Hark to be readily available. This film, starring Sylvia Chang and Kenny Bee, deals with a couple who meet awkwardly during World War 2 and promise to meet up again later in life. Described as a comedy, Hark boundlessly skirts all genres and this one sounds luminous.

5. Brink of Life (1958)- Oddly, one of the few Ingmar Bergman not on DVD. 

6. On War (2008)- Bertrand Bonello is an interesting filmmaker. Part shock sexualist and part pretentious storyteller, his films are never boring (see "Tiresia" or his masterpiece "House of Pleasures"). This unreleased film stars Mathieu Amalric and Asia Argento (!) that sounds, on par, with the rest of his provocative work about the fears and unknown feelings of a filmmaker after a scary experience. There's very little about this film out there, but with Bonello's recent critical success (most recently with "Saint Laurent") here's hoping this film sees the daylight.

7. Survive Style 5+ (2004)- More Japanese craziness apparently. I can't do it justice, so blogger pal Bob Turnbull should lay it on you.

8. It Happened In Broad Daylight (1958)- Another adaptation of the "M" murder films as sensationalized by Fritz Lang and Robert Hossein.

9. Perfect Friday (1970)- British crime film starring Stanley Baker, Ursula Andrews and David Warner and its not on DVD? Really? Really?

10. Shy People (1987)- In the 80's director Andrei Konchalovskiy was THE man. "Runaway Train" and "Tango and Cash" made this thirteen year old very happy. There were also the dramas, and "Shy People" was one of them. Starring Barbara Hershey and Jill Calyburgh, the film is about the clash of lifestyles when a NY journalist returns home to the bayous of Louisiana. Comments and even a prominent listing as one of the best films of the year by Siskel and Ebert have done little to resuscitate this lost film. 

70's Bonanza: Natural Enemies

In the opening scene of Jeff Kanew's "Natural Enemies" (1979), the lead character named Paul Steward (Hal Holbrook) brazenly tells the viewer via interior monologue his plan for the upcoming day- which is go to work, take the train home and shoot his wife, three kids, then himself when she calls him down for dinner. From there, his misery-filled odyssey is the remainder of the film. He tries to rationalize his upcoming actions with several people he meets throughout the day, and one, a friend played by Jose Ferrer, sees the upcoming internal apocalypse and takes him out for a drink. There are moments when we feel the crisis may have been inverted. During lunch, he visits a brothel and arranges to be with five women at the same time. In keeping with the film's verbose patterns, Steward ends up talking more than screwing, lying naked and facing his prostitutes as if they were a Greek chorus, lamenting his loveless marriage and searching for acceptance in a life filled with little physical passion. In flashback, we see the deteriorating, almost spiteful marriage he shares with his wife (Louise Fletcher). Dealing with emotional problems of her own, neither wife nor husband are shown to be completely blameless. Basically, "Natural Enemies" is a trenchant assault on the nuclear American family of the late 70's. Scripted in a novelistic fashion, full of rambling stories by its characters, and unafraid to hold its unflinching gaze on Hal Holbrook's slowly dissolving moral core, "Natural Enemies" strikes at something raw. It belongs in the same category of disturbed nihilism that bore "Joe", "Taxi Driver", and Gaspar Noe's "I Stand Alone"- films that place the viewer firmly inside the hermetic, dangerous mind of its unhinged protagonist with little hope for escape.

Written, produced, directed and edited by Jeff Kanew, it's no surprise "Natural Enemies" has yet to find its way to mainstream home video distribution. Even for the liberal 70's, it's a dark and almost rotten experience from the beginning, but one that certainly shakes up the senses and challenges the viewer. It also feels strangely European in tone and pace. Privy to Holbrook's thoughts running underneath the entire film, we begin to wonder how much is true and how much is being sickly reflected through his own memories and unbalanced recollections. Case in point- towards the end of the film (and assuredly the film's finest scene) Holbrook takes the fateful last train ride home when its suddenly frozen on the tracks due to a fire up ahead. The emergency lights kick on and bathe him in a woozy, red light as the woman next to him (played by Patricia Elliot)  starts up a conversation. She talks about the lost attraction to her husband, writings in a diary that will never see the light of day, then plainly asks Steward to make love to her "right here right now".The consecutive abrupt cut shows Steward leaving the train as normal. Either this is one of the many unfulfilled fantasies banging around his head or the film is showing us the pervasive unhappiness seeping into the entire universe. Either way, its a gentle respite in the oncoming hurricane of emotional turmoil.

The Alexei German Files: My Friend Ivan Lapshin

After "Trial On the Road" (1971) and "Twenty Days Without War" (1977), two films that dealt with the experience of war (or, more specifically the absence of it in one), filmmaker Alexei German's next project was delayed almost ten years. Filmed in 1985 but not debuted until two years later at a Moscow film festival, "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" may be his masterpiece. German's visual schematic of cluttered, claustrophobic interiors and snow-laden exteriors, both barely able to contain the perpetual movement of bodies and the thoughts that spew from them, again represents German's snapshot of a particular place and time. Set in the mid 30's just before the Stalin purge of Russian Jews and the onslaught of World War 2, "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" takes its time in eventually focusing on the titular character, choosing to embellish mood and atmosphere before real narrative sets in. Like all of German's films, they can be hard to penetrate sometimes.... full of political allegory and off-hand lines of dialogue that explode with hidden anger or poetic jealousy. While "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" has its share of obfuscated moments, it's German's most accessible and tangible work.

Playing out in a three part episode, half remembered by an off-screen voice over of a young child now grown into a man, "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" introduces us to its array of characters as a mixture of families and policemen living in a communal household. Boisterous and playful, we soon me Ivan Lapshin (Andrei Boltnev), the most respected and even tempered of the group. The middle section of the film introduces the relationships in Lapshin's life in Khanin (Andrey Mironov), a writer quietly reeling from the death of his wife and an actress named Natasha (Nina Ruslanova). Lapshin has a crush on Natasha, but is soon rebuffed by her when its discovered she's already started an affair with Khanin. One would imagine the potential for jealousy and third act retribution would kick into high gear after this revelation, but it's ignored by German and even has Lapshin and Khanin continuing their friendship into the final act where Lapshin invites Khanin with him on a manhunt for a group of wanted criminals. Its the final act, filmed in a staggering and tense-ridden long take, as the cops descend through a fog into a small village looking for the criminal that "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" coalesces into a prominent work. By this point, we care so deeply for Lapshin and the enveloping atmosphere of 1930's Russia that the spectre of "something big" lingers over the entire film. And even in that regard, German has a narrative surprise for us.

Viewed within the context of his larger body of work, "My Friend Ivan Lapshin" fits neatly into his themes of nationalism and scrapbook-like remembrances from his writer father Yuri. Two small portions of the film inexplicably turn into color stock, fashioned like old polaroid photographs burned into one's memory. Also, the dichotomy of society/war/lawfulness meeting the artificiality of a staged play was a large part of "Twenty Days Without War". Both films also posit a doomed relationship between the drifter/warrior and an actress.... almost as if the two columns of life can never fully mesh. And equally doomed is everyone in the film. With the sweeping changes we know from history on the horizon, "My Friend Ivan Lapshin", like Ingmar Bergman's "The Serpent's Egg" or Haneke's "The White Ribbon", is surepptitously about the passing of a generation... an observation made innocently by the final (color) image and a voice decrying the amount of traffic and tram lines encasing the city. There are no more Ivan Lapshins left.

The Consequences of Pop: Olivier Assayas and "Disorder"

Olivier Assayas' "Disorder" (1986), which marked his formal entrance into the film making world after several short films and a celebrated stint writing for the esteemed French film magazine Cahier du Cinema, holds the best attributes for a debut. Not only does it pantomime so many of his future themes and shooting style, but it denotes the strong voice of an artist struggling to capture the naive and halcyon days of youth... something he's been chasing all these years. It's also very Gallic. His young threesome of lovers (2 males and 1 female) begin in an idyllic sharing relationship and then discover the oscillations of time, society and their own careless decisions continually tug and pull them apart. All of this against the backdrop of a bustling 80's pop music scene and "Disorder" lives up to its raucous title.

Opening on the three young lovers in a car during a rainstorm, their open relationship is immediately established as Anne (Anne Gisel Glass) leans into the font seat and kisses both Ivan (Wadeck Stanczak) and Henri (Lucas Belvaus, himself a future filmmaker). The trio break into a music shop, hoping to steal some instruments for their band. Little do they know, the owner is still in the building and catches them in the act. In an impulsive moment, Ivan kills the shop owner and the three make their escape. Anne is confused and devastated by the action, but Ivan and Henri attempt to go on with their lives. It's not long after, though, that their guilty conscience eats away at them. Anne decides to choose only one of them as her lover, and she chooses Henri. Unable to cope with her complicity, she eventually leaves both of them. Henri and Ivan try to carry on with their band, earn a studio contract and navigate the tempestuous relationships that come with a struggling band. Drummer Xavier (Remi Martin) loses his girlfriend to band member Gabriel (Simon de Bosse). Ivan falls in love with their manager's girlfriend, Cora (Corinne Dacla). Studio contracts come and go as the band can never find stable footing together. In typical Assayas fashion, "Disorder" is a merry-go-round for flirtations, break-ups and longing phone calls that yearn for simpler, quieter days. But that's the beauty of his cinema. The first ten minutes of "Disorder" sets the viewer up for a Bonnie and Clyde style thriller with the lovers on the run. Yet, not a single police officer shows up. The tension lies in the psychological storm that brews in the heads and hearts of Anne, Henri and Ivan. Like Christine (Virgine Ledoyen) in "Cold Water" (1994) and so many other Assayas protagonists, they're fragile embodiments... prone to depression, confusion and rambling, searching for happiness but finding only bitterness.

As a first film, "Disorder" isn't without its faults. The few scenes of the band performing don't give any insight into why they seem so popular or even merit a studio contract. In the annuls of bad 80's synth/guitar rock, they don't even seem to earn a place there. Some of the secondary characters feel less inspired and motivated than in future Assayas films. And, at times, even Ivan and Henri seem to be scarcely drawn caricatures of alienated French youth. Still, "Disorder" overcomes these precocious attempts in its final act as Henri, Ivan and Anne have grown up a little and developed in the real world over time. There's the omnipresent Assayas personal disaster to overcome, but "Disorder" creates a tender order in the final minutes as Anne makes a phone call to Henri and we fade to black. If nothing else, "Disorder" reveals that Assayas has that quiet knockout ending in him from the very beginning.







70's Bonanza: La Traque (aka The Track)

Next to the game of baseball, hunting is the sporting event cinema loves to apply mythological proportions. From Carlos Saura's "The Hunt" to "Deliverance" to especially "The Deer Hunter", game hunting always begins as one thing, then slowly and assuredly morphs into something greater. Serge Leroy's "La Traque" falls squarely into this category. Released in 1975 and starring some of France's biggest names, "La Traque" posits the question just how far can a group of elitist, well positioned men go when they abandon society, become armed and infuse themselves as gods hunting smaller creatures.

The sense of propriety is immediately established as one of the main characters, Jean Luc Bideau, is seen leaving a hotel after spending a night with his mistress. On the way out, he meets American Helen (Mimsy Farmer) and offers to give her a ride to the same country area he's traveling for a game hunt. Once there, Helen is introduced to his other friends... men representing a cross section of society including brothers Albert and Paul (Jean Pierre Mierelle and Phillipe Leotard), financier David (Michel Lonsdale) and Captain Nimier (Michael Constatin). The men have a big weekend of drinking and hunting planned, but the attractive Helen is quickly hit upon and reduced to another part of the weekend. It's only when the brothers Danville find her wandering around the grounds the next day that things turn ugly. Paul forces himself on her... his brother joins in and timid Rollin (Paul Crauchet) stands watch. Things turn from bad to horrible when she manage to get ahold of Paul's gun and shoot him, running off into the woods. From there, Helen becomes the hunted prey as lies become reality and the men spend the next half of the film trying to find her.

It's here that "La Traque" moves out of its tepid "rape and revenge" category that has somewhat pigeon-holed the film for years and becomes a shifting drama of dynamics between the men. Jean Luc Bideau is running for a high political position in France, and while he wants to reason and understand just how things went sour, the other men led by the remaining Danville brother, simply want to catch and kill Helen to hide their violent crime. Images that initially represented the formation of the hunt for wild boar quickly devolve into France's version of "The Most Dangerous Game". The lean, cold, tree-branched setting of the film and Helen's pained screams and continual out of breath wheezing become the dominant traits of the hunt, ending in a shocking, cold denouement that sends shivers down the spine. The great tag line of "in space no one can hear you scream" is nothing compared to the screams of a woman hunted by the ordinary, eventually faceless men of propriety.

Cinema Obscura: The Vampire of Dusseldorf

Robert Hossein's "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" (aka "The Secret Killer") immediately places the viewer into an unrestrained cycle of violence and confusion. Yet it's not at the hands of the aforementioned serial killer, but in the black and white newsreels of the simmering violence overtaking Germany in the 1920's. Nazi Germany is boiling to the top of society, Jewish busineses are being ransacked and Peter Kurten, played by director Hossein, seems to emerge from the ashes. Like other films to concentrate on serial killers in Germany (such as Fritz Lang's "M", which is loosely based on Kurten and Robert Siodmak's "The Devil Strikes At Night"), the political upheaval of the time runs simultaneous to the random murders being unleashed by a demented killer. Society is basically giving permission to kill. And this is the jumping off point for Hossein, blending his affinity for film noir with a twisted obsessive romance that sees his character want to fall in love, yet hopelessly bound by the evil impusles rooted deep inside.

Alternating between the murderous nights of Kurten and the (somewhat) inept practices of the SS police force trying to capture him, "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" is most effective in the performance of Hossein himself. He embodies Kurten (unnamed in the film) with near silence, barely talking throughout the entire movie and walking with a hunched, reserved manner with arms pinned quietly at his side. Method acting, to be sure, but he also films the various murders of the women with unflinching blandness. At one point, everything is normal until he sees the legs of the woman he's courting, and the impulse to kill overtakes him. In other scenes, the way he stalks his prey....filmed by Hossein in one of his fvaorite techniques of the long, walking tracking shot.....is all atmosphere and sound. The sound of footsteps on pavement and the staggered breathing of his prey fill the soundtrack with dread. Hossein also has a way of framing just right, such as the scene where Kurten observes a police officer standing post outside the home of a victim who got away from him. From behind a latice fence across the street, Hossein builds suspense from the POV of Kurten and just how he'll find a way past the policeman. It's only in the respite of the El Dorado Club where singer/dance Anna (Marie-France Pisier) peforms that Kurten finds peace. He eventually wins her over, but will his dark side destroy the small amount of happiness she provides him?

One of the 15 films directed by popular French actor Hossein (and so hard to find any of them!), "The Vampire of Dusseldorf" shows his immense and under appreciated talent. 



Produced and Abandoned #17

Ten more titles deserving a wide region 1 DVD release:


1. The Vampire of Dusseldorf (1965)- Actor/director Robert Hossein is someone whose filmmaking talents I've admired on this blog before, and this film (also known as "The Secret Killer") looks at the exploits of a serial killer in Dusseldorf during the Great Depression. Hossein made a number of moody, minor works in between acting gigs. The few I've been able to track down, including "Death of a Killer" and "Cemetery Without Crosses" only hint at the talents of this diverse man. Bottom line, we need more Hossein available.

2. Forty Deuce (1982)- Another actor turned director is Paul Morrissey. Coming from the Warhol school of experimentation, unlike Hossein, there are a number of Morrissey's films available. Low budget... twisted avant garde and counter-culture, Morrissey is a definite acquired taste. While I've enjoyed some of his works- "Flesh For Frankenstein" and "Blood For Dracula" are weirdly spirited takes on the classic horror tropes- there are major downers as well. "Trash", "Flesh" and "Heat" are the epitome of self-indulgent, aimless provocations. And they look like shit as well. So, having said all that, "Forty Deuce" is one of his later films that's disappeared. Perhaps its subject matter about a gay prostitute trying to sell a junkie teenager (a young Kevin Bacon) to an older man had something to do with its precarious existence.

3. Bloodbath (1978)- Perhaps there's a reason this mid 70's American giallo has vanished. It sounds ludicrous. From IMDB: "Chicken, a desperate hippie junkie living in a small Spanish village, is finding it difficult to separate fantasy and reality. This isn't helped by the villagers practising magic and child sacrifice, or his involvement with a group of boozy ex-patriots lost in their own dreams and regrets." Did I mention it stars a (probably coked-up) Dennis Hopper and Carroll Baker? Also known as "The Sky Is Falling".

4. The Nun (1966)- Like Robert Hossein, Jacques Rivette is another filmmaker sorely under-represented on home video. Of his 32 films, I count only 7 are available on region 1 DVD. I've heard nothing but praise for this early film in his career about the doubts and uncertainties of a woman forced to take a vow as a nun. The fact that it stars Anna Karina only boosts my anticipation to see this. It is available on YouTube (which, by the way, should get mounds of credit for having soooo many films available to watch if one searches hard enough and has the right way to watch them on their big screen TV) but its without English subs.

5. The Coca Cola Kid (1985)- I gather this film was released on DVD at one point in the 90's, but its now OOP as all copies go for ridiculous amounts online. Starring Eric Roberts as a corporate agent visiting Australia in order to expand Coca Cola's market share, the word of mouth and chatter about this film have always been affectionate. In addition, "The Coca Cola Kid" was directed by experimental Serbian filmmaker Dusan Makavjev, which only heightens the wonder about this film.

6. The Assassination (1972)- Still the go-to authority on unfamiliar or secondary artists worth further exploration is "Film Comment", and last month's issue featured a small article on French filmmaker Yves Boisset. Reading through his list of films on IMDB feels like a treasure trove of 'policier' greatness waiting to be discovered. This 1972 film stars just about anyone popular in French cinema during the early 70's- with a cameo by Roy Scheider! Like many other films on these lists I create, "The Assassination" is really just an excuse for any other films by this director to be viewed and shared. The bright spot about this film and Boisset in general is that his films seem to available pretty easily if you look in the right places.

7. The Visitors (1972)- Great director Elia Kazan's second to last film, this one sounds eerie and psychologically complex: "Bill, Martha and their little child Hal are spending a quiet winter Sunday in their cosy house when they get an unexpected visit from Mike Nickerson and Tony Rodriguez. Mike and Tony are old acquaintances of Bill; a few years back, in Vietnam, they were in the same platoon. They also became opposed parties in a court martial - for a reason that Bill never explained to Martha. What happened in Vietnam, and what is the reason for the presence of Mike and Tony?" From the IMDB description. Filmmaker Brian DePalma later remade the same source material into his film "Casualties Of War". Also, there appear to be releases of this film in France and Spain and talk of an American release in 2011, but I can't find a region 1 DVD copy.

8. Candy Mountain (1987)- Starring Kevin J. O'Connor as a musician trying to track down a legendary guitar maker, "Candy Mountain" has been a cult favorite for years now, fitting into the moody, punk rock aesthetic made fashionable by Jim Jarmusch and the aforementioned Paul Morrissey. Directed by indie legend Robert Frank, this film is available on YouTube. The reactions- like all cult products- are wildly divisive.

9. Darker Than Amber (1972)- Crime novelist John MacDonald and is fictional protagonist Travis McGee make their first appearance on-screen here as Rod Taykor embodies the "savage consultant" in a film that seems to blend criminal bodybuilders and Jane Russell in one sun-baked noir tale. Reviews of this film have been high, citing two different versions out there- one a cut apart TV version and the other an uncut, much more violent vision. I'm a fan of any 70's noir and this one sounds like malevolent fun.

10. Spermula (1976)- If anyone's still reading... google it. Just google it.