Songs from the Second Floor, made after a staggering gap of 25 years after
his previous feature Giliap, kick-started
‘Grandeur of Existence’ trilogy,
Andersson’s darkly funny, quietly melancholic and deeply existential
meditation. Though this too was an episodic film like Du Levande, the central story focused on Kalle (Lars Nordh), a
rotund, middle-aged furniture seller, depressed that his shop has been gutted
by fire, even though, as is eventually revealed, it was a deliberate case of
arson for collecting the insurance money; he’s distressed by the mental
breakdown of his elder son and is being constantly haunted by the ghost of a
man he’d once borrowed money from. The narrative comprised of various other
vignettes – a depressive man, who refuses to take a day off for his wife, finds
upon arriving at office that he’s been fired; a magic sequence gone horribly
wrong when the portly magician ends up accidentally severing the stomach of a
volunteer; a young blindfolded girl being thrown off a cliff as part of a
religious carnival; a businessman finds his ingenious idea of selling Christ’s
idols not taking off; a wealthy but senile former General celebrating his 100th
birthday. Meanwhile a massive traffic jam, reminiscent of the Tati masterpiece Playtime, has gripped the city. Andersson
covered such diverse themes as religious bigotry, cold-heartedness of
corporates, varying repercussions of economic meltdown, frenzy and hysteria surrounding
the new millennium, the cruelty of ageing, etc., through the idiosyncratic
array of tableaus, for this artistically ambitious film that was
simultaneously, hilarious, witty, grim, farcical, surrealistic, poignant,
satirical, bitter and mordant, having minimal dialogues, composed by former
ABBA member Benny Andersson, and marvelously shot using long, static takes.
Director: Roy Andersson
Genre: Black Comedy/Social Satire/Religious Satire
Language: Swedish
Country: Sweden
The Wayward Cloud was a pseudo-sequel to his masterful What Time is it There? as the two key protagonists
from the earlier film returned here, even though they were poles apart
thematically, tonally and stylistically. Using environmental crisis as the
springboard, Tsai made an alternately vibrant, madcap and dreary film that can
be classified, in absence of a better word, as weird. Hsaio-Kang (Lee
Kang-sheng), formerly a street hawker selling watches, is now a puppet in adult
films, while Shiang-chyi (Chen Shiang-chyi) is back from Paris; meanwhile
Taiwan is in the middle of an acute water shortage prompting the government and
media to promote watermelons as a viable alternative. The drab, directionless,
vacuous and lonely existences of the two characters suddenly get a kick upon
their chance encounter in a park, and a strange liaison that borders between
love and lust ensues. Tsai valiantly experimented with form (the dull, muted
and colorless narrative, portraying the ‘real’, is regularly punctuated with
flamboyant, colourful and farcical ‘musical’ sequences, reminiscent of Lars von
Trier’s Dancer in the Dark) and
content (even those attuned to Tsai’s idiosyncratic style and flair for dry
humour would be left flummoxed by the outlandish developments, while moralists
are sure to be outraged by the queasy trip). The film reinforced Tsai’s pet
themes of urban alienation, ennui, loneliness and longing for human connection,
and also made forays into such topics as moral questions on pornography, exploitation,
voyeurism and a twisted take on tender romance; however, Tsai’s audacity aside,
the end result was rather oblique, unconvincing and bizarre, making this an
alternately provocative and confounding watch.
Director: Tsai Ming-Liang
Genre: Black Comedy/Social Satire/Musical/Experimental Film
Language: Mandarin
Country: Taiwan
Swedish
filmmaker Roy Andersson produced something incredibly unique with his ‘Grandeur of Existence’ trilogy. On first
glance they might seem Scandinavian cousins of Wes Anderson’s works on account
of the dazzling visual style, quirky humour, serio-comic tone and idiosyncratic
characters; but the deep undercurrents of melancholia, existential gloom and
mordant take on what it means to be alive, truly set them apart. Du Levande, the highly episodic second
chapter in the trilogy (sandwiched between Songs from the Second Floor and A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence – released 7 years apart on either
side), provided whimsical and darkly hilarious, but essentially tragic,
portrayals on quotidian life. The loosely connected vignettes, fabulously
played by its ensemble cast, chronicled disparate tableaus – a depressed, obese
woman (Elisabeth Helender) lamenting to her placid boyfriend on how no one
cares for her; a man slyly stealing the wallet of a gregarious and wealthy man,
and buying a nice dress with the money; a lonely young lady (Jessika Lundberg),
hopelessly in love with a rock musician, dreaming of their marriage post which
they reside in a traveling house; a cynical, misanthropic psychiatrist (Håkan Angser) who prescribes pills as opposed to
providing therapy to his patients; a xenophobic white collar man who gets a raw
deal while getting a haircut from a Muslim barber; a man (Leif Larsson) who has
a nightmare about being executed by the state for having destroyed expensive
dinner-set at a party. The characters' miseries, bitterness, crises and
failures were accentuated by the misty, radiant cinematography using long takes
and static, wide-angle shots, a deliberately jumbled narrative that regularly
switched between real and surreal, and an upbeat score.
Director: Roy Andersson
Genre: Black Comedy/Social Satire/Ensemble Film
Language: Swedish
Country: Sweden
Il Bidone formed the middle segment in Fellini’s ‘Trilogy of Loneliness’, both in terms of
chronological placement and darkness quotient. La Strada was incessantly grim and harrowing, while Nights of Cabiria, despite its
melancholic air, had an underlying sense of heartwarming optimism. Though it
ended on an intensely lonely and bitter note that was completely bereft of any
chances of personal redemption, it had its share of lighter moments and humour
which wryly commented on the larger societal tragedy that it contextualized. The
plot followed the exploits of a group of scamsters who swindle the gullible, ignorant
and poor – their cunning ploys, in a sly and acerbic nod to cold corporations
that build their wealth through cynical and opportunistic exploitation of the oppressed
masses, involve giving hope to the have-nots while milking out what little they
do have. The group is led by the middle-aged career conman Augusto (Broderick
Crawford), and comprises of the naïve Carlo (Richard Basehart) and the brash Roberto
(Franco Fabrizi). The film’s first half devoted time on the group’s inner
dynamics and Carlo’s poignant relationship with his loving wife (Giulietta Masina
in a smaller role vis-à-vis the two films sandwiching it) who suspects his
shady involvements; the second half, however, focused solely on Augusto’s lonely
and heartbreaking existence, his palpable weariness, his futile attempts at
rekindling his bond with his daughter and the debilitating comeuppance in store
for him. Crawford gave a fabulous, poignant and profoundly affecting turn that
memorably complemented the film’s somber tone and richly humanistic theme. A party
sequence, littered with decadent, hedonistic and vacuous rich folks, provided a
terrific peak into the distinctively Felliniesque world exemplified by La Dolce Vita.
Director: Federico Fellini
Genre: Drama/Crime Drama/Psychological Drama
Language: Italian
Country: Italy
Somewhere in the Night was one of those lesser-known noirs that,
nevertheless, had the necessary wherewithal to keep one engaged through
infusion of noir archetypes with a script that was never short of dramatic
moments. Its intriguing tale of an amnesiac, who may or may not have committed
crimes in his past, putting together the various jigsaw pieces of his lost
memories, reminded me a little bit of Nolan’s Memento. George Taylor (John Hodiak), a cynical war veteran and a
quintessential noir protagonist who has just woken up from a coma, remembers nothing
of himself and his past. A handsome but cryptic some of money left by a
mysterious Mr Larry Cravat, who no one knows well but everyone seems to be
after, forms the starting clue in his labyrinthine journey to unearth his past,
his identity and possibly a huge stash of money with links to Nazi Germany. Along
the way he becomes acquainted with beautiful nightclub singer Christy (Nancy
Guild), Christy’s overly philanthropic boss (Richard Conte), a slippery and
unctuous thug (Fritz Kortner), a surprisingly even-natured cop (Lloyd Nolan),
among others. The film painted a downbeat picture of the seedy underbelly of
post-War America, with the socio-political context providing a relevant undercurrent
to the tale of deceit, double crossings and crime. The excellent B/W
photography, with a heavy dose of static expressionism, added to its moody
atmosphere, which compensated for the rather lackluster lead performances. Even
though the premise asked for an unpredictable storyline, it felt tad too
serpentine at times. The length, too, could have been made crisper. On the
whole it was a decent thriller served straight up.
Director: Joseph L. Mankeiwicz
Genre: Film Noir/Crime Thriller
Language: English
Country: US
