As Alison Nastasi, who compiled these quotes, writes in Flavorwire, “artistic expression is an assertion of individuality, and all artists compose their work differently. In the case of filmmaking, there are numerous approaches to translating a story to celluloid. Inspired by director Wim Wenders’ recent advertising short, Wim Wenders’ Rules for Cinema Perfection, we’ve collected the golden rules of filmmaking employed by 100 famous directors. These tips and tricks are a wonderful source of advice and inspiration — even for the most seasoned professionals. The rules also serve as a fascinating snapshot of each directors’ filmography, capturing the spirit of their work.”
Archive for the ‘Foreign Films’ Category
As I write, in part, “Juan Orol’s “first directorial credit was on the 1927 silent film El sendero gris (1927, co-directed with Jesús Cárdenas), but his first big hit was the 1935 maternal tearjerker Madre querida (Beloved Mother), which he produced, directed, and introduced on screen, with a seemingly heartfelt paean to all the mothers in the audience, in addition to providing the story for the film. This was followed by the equally sudsy Honrarás a tus padres (Honor Thy Mother and Father, 1937), which Orol produced, directed, and starred in – this last function serving as the beginning of a long string of performances in his films, despite his somewhat unprepossessing appeal as a matinee idol.
After exhausting the public’s appetite for melodrama and musicals, Orol turned to gangster films, and soon became the foremost exponent of the ‘Cine Negro Mexicano,’ also known as the ‘Cine de Gangsters.’ It was here that Orol truly found his métier. Orol idolized the Warner Bros. gangster films of the early 1930s, and imagined himself as a worthy competitor of the likes of James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and Edward G. Robinson. Soon, he invented a recurring character that he would play for most of the rest of his life – Johnny Carmenta, a supposedly suave denizen of the underworld who would eventually become Orol’s almost real-life alter ego.
This gave rise to the best-known film of Orol’s long career, the genre bending Gángsters contra charros (Gangsters Against Cowboys, 1948), in which Orol, as gangster Johnny Carmenta, battles cowboy Pancho Domínguez (José Pulido) in a Mexico City turf war, further complicated by the presence of cabaret dancer Rosa (Rosa Carmina, who was also Orol’s third wife at the time), who deftly plays one man off against the other. As with the majority of Orol’s films, most of the 79 minute running time of Gángsters contra charros is comprised of long dialogue scenes, in which Orol and Pulido threaten each other with a singular lack of conviction, interspersed with equally interminable series of dance numbers, making the film in effect a gangster/cowboy/musical. Despite its shoddy production values, audiences flocked to the film, and Orol seemed utterly unstoppable.
Demonstrating the truth of Jack Warner’s oft repeated mantra, ’successful films aren’t made; they’re remade,’ Orol created an updated version of Madre querida (Beloved Mother) in 1951, and then continued on for the next two decades with such offerings as El sindicato del crimen (The Crime Syndicate, 1954), Zonga, el ángel diabólico (Zonga, the Diabolical Angel, 1958), Antesala de la silla eléctrica (Prelude to the Electric Chair, 1968, which was actually shot in Miami, Florida) and Historia de un gangster (Story of a Gangster, 1969) [. . .]
Dubbed the creator of ‘accidental surrealism,’ the world that Orol’s films depict is at once alluring and evanescent, existing in a twilight zone of cheap sets, shabby nightclub acts, and the seemingly eternal presence of Orol’s gangster alter ego. Like [Roger] Corman in his best films, his early black and white work from the 1950s, Orol presented his viewers with a world of pervasive corruption, yet infused with his own sense of indomitable optimism.
Pop culture reflects the needs and desires of the time in which it is created; at Orol’s retrospective, only a few patrons showed up, while during his heyday, his films packed movie houses throughout the country, earning record grosses, but were never really allowed to find an audience outside Mexico. In short, he knew precisely what his audiences wanted to see.
Hotwiring existing genres into a mind-bending meld all his own, Orol created a cinema that is absolutely unique, and utterly without precedent. [Directors] Emilio Fernández and Luis Buñuel, who both knew him, would agree; whatever his faults, Juan Orol was doing precisely what he wanted to, answering to no one but himself, and yet at the same time creating films that the public clamored to see, cloaking his own vision in the venerable disguise of a genre filmmaker – which he was, and yet he wasn’t. This, perhaps, is his most significant accomplishment, one any cineaste would envy.”
As this story by Leslie Reed of the UNL News Service notes, “Brugger’s first work as a director, a seven-minute film called ‘The Pursuit of Happiness,’ was among those screened at the international film festival. It was one of two films directed by UNL film studies students at the annual film festival. Collin Baker’s eight-minute film, ‘Over Forgotten Roads,’ also screened. Brugger and Baker are the first two UNL students to have a film screened at Cannes. Several thousands of short films are submitted each year for consideration by the festival; Brugger’s was one of 31 selected for screening through the American Pavilion, the center of activity for the American film community at Cannes. UNL’s Wheeler Winston Dixon, professor of film studies and English, described the Cannes selection of Brugger’s film as a ‘distinct honor.’”
On her way back to the States, Aliza filed this report – “coming from Lincoln, Nebraska and having never been in Europe, let alone Southern France, entering the city of Cannes was quite a shock. It is a beautiful city. Much like Southern California, it’s engulfed by palm trees, aqua blue water and gorgeous weather. Also much like Southern California, Cannes is engulfed by the film business.
Plastered all over the shops and walls of Cannes were advertisements for the festival and the films showing. Needless to say, as a Film Studies student, I was elated. Not only was I going to get to watch a plethora of films, but my first short film as a director was also going to be screening at the festival. I was certain it was going to be an amazing two weeks.
There were so many things I learned, and so many people I met. I met many filmmakers who were genuinely passionate about the art of film, like myself. I was able to make real and probably much longer lasting connections with my own peers. Throughout the program our mentors repeatedly told us that these are the connections that matter, and by the end of the festival I realized it to be true.
I was able to meet several young filmmakers who are also pursuing their dreams, which has given me a real sense of community. I also met many of the other interns’ mentors who were familiar with jobs and internships where I would fit in quite well, so now I have whole set of new connections. The doors are now wide open!
Some really beautiful films that I watched during the festival included Timbuktu, Lost River, Goodbye to Language, Charlie’s Country, and Finding Eleanor Rigby. The screening of my own film, The Pursuit of Happiness, really went quite well. Almost 50 people saw it, and I received a really great response from the audience, who thought it was an interesting and innovative way to tell a story, which obviously made me quite proud.
I can’t express enough how glad I am that I attended this festival. I learned so much about the business, and about how it works. More than anything, it has given me a lot to think about regarding where I want to be in the world of film, and I look forward to making new contacts, and creating new projects.”
And the winners are: Palme d’Or – Winter Sleep, dir: Nuri Bilge Ceylan; Grand Prize - Le Meraviglie (The Wonders), dir: Alice Rohrwacher; Best Director – Bennett Miller, Foxcatcher; Jury Prize – Tie - Mommy, dir: Xavier Dolan and Goodbye To Language, dir: Jean-Luc Godard; Best Screenplay – Andrey Zvyagintsev, Oleg Negin, Leviathan; Best Actress – Julianne Moore, Maps To The Stars; Best Actor – Timothy Spall, Mr Turner; Camera d’Or - Party Girl, dirs: Marie Amachoukeli, Claire Burger, Samuel Theis; Short Film - Leidi, dir: Simón Mesa Soto.
I agree with the awards, for what it’s worth – this seems to have been a lively and exciting festival, though how these films will do in the rapidly shrinking commercial marketplace is another question altogether – but we can hope. It’s nice to see Godard win something at last; nice also to see Bennett Miller, Julianne Moore and Timothy Spall emerge as victors; this year’s festival seemed to look both to the past – with Godard – and to the future, with Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Winter Sleep and Xavier Dolan’s Mommy.
The Film Studies Program at UNL had a connection to the festival, as four of our students in the Film Studies Program – Aliza Brugger, Collin Baker, Thomas Peterson and Alannah Kennedy. – were working as interns in the American Pavilion at the festival, and two students, Aliza Brugger and Collin Baker, actually had short films screened at the festival.
We’re also going to be represented at Cannes next year, as the American Pavilion was very happy with the work of our students, and they’ve already contacted us again for the next edition of the festival. Needless to say, for our students in Film Studies, this was a real opportunity, and one which we hope will continue. Thanks to Kelly Payne, our chief adviser in Film Studies, for setting this up – much appreciated. It’s one more step towards international visibility.
What’s so amazing about it? This is the sequence in which Patricia Franchini (Jean Seberg) interviews the writer Parvulesco (in real life, director Jean-Pierre Melville) at the airport; what’s impressive and inspirational here is the simplicity of the working crew, stripped down to the bare essentials. Other than Godard, seated, gesturing towards the off-screen actors, the only other person directly involved in the shooting is camera operator Claude Beausoleil (Raoul Coutard was the director of cinematography, but Beausoleil did much of the actual shooting) – one cameraman, one director, to shoot the scene – that’s all.
The sound was all post-synchronized, so there’s no need for a Nagra and a boom mike. Natural sunlight provides all the illumination Godard needs. The resulting film reinvented the cinema, and established Godard as a director of the first rank. Filmmaking should be this simple; there’s no need for thirty people to supervise a simple scene such as this. If film is to reinvent itself again, it must return to the basics; a camera, some actors, a director, and the power of the direct image – above all else.
Jean-Luc Godard’s latest feature, Goodbye to Language, shot in 3-D (see the image above, with Godard seated at the right of the frame) has just been screened at Cannes. Writing in The New York Times, Manohla Dargis filed a rave review, which reads in part “on Wednesday afternoon, the 83-year-old rock star Jean-Luc Godard shook up the Cannes Film Festival with his latest, a 70-minute 3-D extravaganza, Goodbye to Language. Finally, the competition lineup had something it has desperately needed all week: a thrilling cinematic experience that nearly levitated the packed 2,300-seat Lumière theater here, turning just another screening into a real happening. You could feel the electric charge — the collective effervescence — that can come when individuals transform into a group. ‘Godard forever!’ a voice boomed out to laughter and applause, as the congregated viewers waited for their brains to light up with the screen.
Goodbye to Language is, like much of the director’s work, deeply, excitingly challenging. The thickly layered movie offers up generous, easy pleasures with jolts of visual beauty, bursts of humor, swells of song and many shots of a dog, Roxy, but it will provide other satisfactions with repeat viewings. Divided into alternating sections (nature and metaphor), the movie is a churn of sights and sounds that opens with nods to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, a discussion of Hitler and the words ‘usine à gaz’ (French for ‘gas plant,’ as well as an idiom for something overly complicated). A man flips through a book on the artist Nicolas de Staël; someone else blurts out, ‘I am here to tell you no’; Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner smolder in The Snows of Kilimanjaro.”
My review of the new Godzilla film seems to have sparked some real response, and in the comments section, I added these thoughts, which I think should be repeated here. In response to a number of people agreeing with my assessment of the film, and some people disagreeing, I added these final comments on both the film, and on reviewing films that I’m not fond of – something I don’t enjoy doing.
“I took no particular pleasure in doling out a bad review of the film — and I really went in expecting a genuine return to the roots of Godzilla, so to speak. But we have to keep these things in perspective. On one level, the whole thing is ridiculous – I mean, who really cares if a Godzilla reboot works? On the other, the original film was such a serious and potent metaphor for the nuclear decimation of Japan in 1945 that to see the whole concept turn into just another monster movie is a real betrayal of the 1954 original.
Pop thought it may be, the first Gojira had depth, which this film lacks; then again, I wish Edwards would go back to smaller, more thoughtful projects, but now that Hollywood has him in its grasp, there’s little likelihood of that. The 2014 Godzilla reminded me most strongly of Ataque de Pánico! (Panic Attack!; 2009), a short film made by another spfx wizard, Fede Alvarez on a dimestore budget, which also led to another Hollywood deal.
So it’s like this; make one good film with no money, then Hollywood snaps you up, and you make one bad film after another which is totally compromised by studio/exec interference, but they’re still hits because the studios have sunk so much money into them that they can’t afford to let them die, so they promote the hell out of them, and thus they become ’successes,’ and so you do another.
So I’m waiting for Manoel de Oliveira’s next film, which will have no money, lots of ideas, and will no doubt challenge and engage me more than this — but circling around all of this for me is my conviction that the 1954 Gojira and Oliveira’s The Strange Case of Angelica (2011) are roughly approximate in seriousness of intent, and that a stronger case needs to be made for Ishirō Honda in the first film. The genre really doesn’t matter here; it’s seriousness of intent.” As Honda himself famously noted, “monsters are born too tall, too strong, too heavy—that is their tragedy,” and that’s the tragedy of this film, too.
As I note in Film International today, “Now, we have Gareth Edwards’ 2014 version of Godzilla, and the results are decidedly mixed. I am a great admirer of Edwards’ 2010 film Monsters, which Edwards, an accomplished digital special effects technician, wrote, directed, photographed, produced and edited on a budget of significantly less than $500,000. Unlike most tech-heavy films of its type, Monsters betrayed real signs of intelligence and originality, imbuing the aliens, who are only glimpsed in full during a final, eerily mystic mating sequence at a desert gas station, with a genuine if other-worldly presence.
Edwards made up Monsters as he went along, shooting out of the back of a van on location, improvising most of the film with just two actors, and later described it as being ‘Lost in Translation meets War of the Worlds,’ which really does sum the film up rather neatly. One might almost call it an alien romantic fantasy, and the bare bones, documentary style of the film, combined with the laid back performances of Scott McNairy and Whitney Able as the two leads, created a work of genuine quality – a rarity in effects driven films. Though the film was only a modest commercial success, Hollywood took notice, and recognizing Edwards’ skill with actors as well as CGI effects, quickly snapped him up for bigger things.
Bigger, yes, but sadly not better. Made for $160 million, with extensive location shooting, and an added promotional budget of $80 million to put the film over the top, Edwards’ version of Godzilla has benefited from a shrewd marketing campaign, with a trailer that, as with Monsters, withheld the title character from view almost entirely, while banking heavily on actor Bryan Cranston’s presence in what seems to be a leading role in the film – in the trailer, he gets nearly all of the dialogue, intercut with suitably spectacular scenes of destruction. But – spoilers ahead – the trailer is one of the most remarkably deceptive ad campaigns in recent memory.”
Agnès Varda never seems to get enough credit. The fore-mother of the French New Wave, long before Godard, Truffaut and the rest of the Cahiers du Cinéma crowd picked up a camera, Varda was making feature films from 1954, employing Alain Resnais as her editor, and pretty much setting out the basic precepts of simplicity, communality, and originality that her colleagues would later follow. But while Godard and Truffaut became art house darlings in the 60s – and certainly their work deserves the attention it got – Varda was somehow overlooked, although such films as Cleo from 5 to 7, Les Creatures, and Le Bonheur remain absolutely daring in their approach to the film medium, as well as dynamics of relationships between men and women, and particularly in affairs of the heart.
As the volume’s website notes, “Agnès Varda, a pioneer of the French New Wave, has been making radical films for over half a century. Many of these are considered by scholars, filmmakers, and audiences alike, as audacious, seminal, and unforgettable. This volume considers her production as a whole, revisiting overlooked films like Mur, Murs/Documenteur (1980–81), and connecting her cinema to recent installation work. This study demonstrates how Varda has resisted norms of representation and diktats of production. It also shows how she has elaborated a personal repertoire of images, characters, and settings, which all provide insight on their cultural and political contexts. The book thus offers new readings of this director’s multifaceted rêveries, arguing that her work should be seen as an aesthetically influential and ethically-driven production where cinema is both a political and collaborative practice, and a synesthetic art form.”
In five succinct chapters, detailing Varda’s place within cinema history, her “ethics of filming,” and the aesthetic and technical concerns that inform her films, Bénézet, who teaches comparative literature in the School of Languages, Linguistics, and Film at Queen Mary, University of London, offers a compelling case for Varda as a major filmmaker of not only 20th century, but also 21st century cinema, and one of the most successful at embracing digital cinema in her newer films, such as the transcendent documentary feature The Gleaners and I, shot entirely on a small home digital camera. Bénézet makes it clear that Varda has never stopped evolving as both a filmmaker and an artist in general, embracing new technology and the changing culture of France to create work of stunning resonance and beauty with absolutely minimal resources.
Varda has survived many of her contemporaries, and she keeps on working to this day; in the end, Varda is finally managing to get some measure of the respect and care she so clearly deserves simply by the act of sheer survival – she has outlived her detractors, mostly male, who really couldn’t see the value in her work. Dismissed or marginalized when first released, her films, now lovingly restored by Varda herself in DVD editions available throughout the world, have finally taken their place in the cinematic canon along with those of her male counterparts. There have been other excellent books on Varda, but this particular text, neatly illustrated with frame blow-ups, and graced with a detailed filmography, is one of the best, and also has the virtue of being the most complete.
About the Author
Wheeler Winston Dixon, Ryan Professor of Film Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, is an internationally recognized scholar and writer of film history, theory and criticism. He is the author of thirty books and more than 100 articles on film, and appears regularly in national media outlets discussing film and culture trends. Frame by Frame is a collection of his thoughts on a number of those topics. To contact Prof. Dixon for an interview, reach him at 402.472.6064 or email@example.com. Visit him at his website wheelerwinstondixon.com.
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