Showing posts with label Once Upon a Time in Anatolia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Once Upon a Time in Anatolia. Show all posts

Monday, 6 March 2017

Certain Women (2016) : When flatness of affect turns leaden, and less could have been more

This is a critique of Certain Women (2016) – as against what it could have been

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2016 (20 to 27 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


6 March


Spoiler alert - to talk of the film, as here, it is almost necessarily full to the brim with them


This is a critique of Certain Women (2016) – as made, as against what it could have been (work in progress)

There is an approach in cinema, which is almost as much a state of mind for us, as viewers, as for the depicted places and persons, that is best characterized by citing Once Upon A Time in Anatolia (2011) – though, for those with no patience or feeling for mood and reflective space, Sokurov’s much, much shorter Mother and Son (1997) will seem more of an endurance than around three hours ?



In Certain Women (2016), no such ethos is evoked, but there is a flatness of affect to it from the very opening shot :

A train heads towards the bottom left-hand corner (and, there, the plant that is the only thing in focus). (Even the table-top mountain – and unmoving clouds – look as if unrealistically let into the background to the rail-road in the foreground, and the expanse behind it [i.e. done unconvincingly in post-production].) Then, of sorts, a mood is generated, but not pervasively, by a man dressing post-coitally, extreme right and in another room, and a woman seen just from below her knees, putting on socks – it is the height of trying to create a frisson of dullness around Laura, despite taking time in her lunch-break for an affair.

Laura (Laura Dern) goes on to be, if she were to have survived in the profession for any time, an implausibly malleable attorney (and Fuller, doing the manipulation, a claimant – they are still called plaintiffs in the States – to resist and reject whose demands, with dignity and justification, she seems quite unused, unsuited, and unskilled). The lingering question why Fuller feels aggrieved may deliberately only ever be given in snatches that are interrupted, and so partial, but, then, this is because the story decides to foreground the element of unreasonable expectation / unreasonable acquiescence – just as the opening image does the train, in motion – and leaves the looming question how he actually could have compromised his injury case for peanuts*.

Maile Meloy, in the stories that are Certain Women’s basis, may have evidenced better understanding of real law (practice and procedure), rather than the pretend variety that litters film and t.v., but it is not here. The boring fact of the matter (i.e. the mountain that, after the fact, has not so artfully been grafted in behind) is that attorneys specifically need and have the protection of standard protocols (because, for one thing, their professional indemnity cover would insist on following them) for dealing with clients who ill-advisedly wish to accept settlement offers that, without being as derisory as this one seems to have been, no one with a duty to advise them could recommend accepting.


That may be uncharitably against the unrealism of scenarios with a client and an attorney, and it could equally miss something in the kindred setting of Nebraska* (2013) to ask for strict verismilitude, but making a compromise with the tenable has to be for good reason (not just that it is simple to make up and fake). Whereas this story, told with unutterable flatness as if it is a virtue, and with Laura even being casually manipulated by the law-enforcement officers to endanger herself for no good reason, made one long for Steve Coogan’s take on such matters in Alan Partridge : Alpha Papa (2013) : yes, Laura is one of these ‘certain women’ of the title, and she has a particularity, but it is only of not being persuasive that she could, if twisted thus, survive in legal practice, when client-work is ever full of inter-personal traps.

Even so, the story, even in its own terms, is just as much about Fuller, which means that the film has hindered its own credibility, by making scant sense of Laura’s role as his legal adviser (none of which is much assisted by off-hand remarks from one or two others, who suggest some merit in his feeling aggrieved). Even if one shelves Laura, sitting on the floor in the middle of the night and reading out his case-file to him, onto the level of the symbolic, doing so effectively side-lines issues of whether she did right by him, if the court and she in any way wrongly facilitated a settlement that precluded considering the effect of a prognosis where a provisional award for damages was likely to be better : good law, but a poor story - which should counsel against not adapting the story in film ?


The second story takes up some more screen-time (it would have been interesting to have noted how much the first and second occupy in relation to, and before we get to, the third – after two indifferent segments, one with production values that are not just per se better, but wholly quite other, with qualities of performance / presence / poise, cinematography, editing, sound-design…).

Put more briefly, some awkwardness, along with much more flatness, in a couple’s buying (or being given), some building-stone from a man of 76, whose connection to them is wholly unapparent. (Everyone calls the material sandstone, but it little resembles what that term usually refers to, and more resembles granite ?). The wife (whose wife is she, i.e. who is he ?¹), Gina (Michelle Williams), is the moving force behind asking if they can buy it – yet, at best, it seems to be acquired for no better reason than, as she reasons to herself, if they did not take it, someone else would, because there is somehow too little left, of what was once a school-house, to do much with.


(Apart from a bit of bogus ambiguity whether Albert, the 76-year-old, feels cheated, a story about precious little, although someone somewhere must believe that it said more : it is as if, on a recommendation that one increasingly doubted, one newly started watching New York Stories (1989), but Scorsese’s incendiary opener ‘Life Lessons’, with Nick Nolte and Rosanna Arquette, had just been substituted by another segment as trite and unchallenging as what follows it, Coppola’s ‘Life without Zoe’.)

What we hear said plenty, but in emotionally largely even terms, is to care for Gina, because she does so much for them (e.g. negotiating this pile of building material, with which little can be done ?). Yet the only moment in the whole section that really spoke of anything that seemed felt was when her husband¹ makes a long reverse down to the gate, which she has opened for him, and. in doing so, he talks to their daughter Guthrie (Sara Rodier) in a monologue…

* * *

From a review by Leslie Felperin for The Hollywood Reporter :

Yet while there’s no doubt this is the work of a filmmaker entirely in command of her craft, there’s something a trifle academic and dry about the whole exercise, and slightly lacking in narrative cohesion given the nature of its origins. Unlike, say Robert Altman’s Short Cuts or other films adapted from collections, this feels like three discrete works laid alongside one another, like pictures in a gallery, not a triptych.



Post-script :

There is now another perspective to share, after chatting the film over, with someone who – on another day – just happened to have seen the film (this is the stuff of being at The Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge (@CamPicturehouse) – not just during Cambridge Film Festival (@camfilmfest)).

After agreement that the second story seemed (for want of the words used at the time) inadequately substantial (though leaving the interlocutor keen enough to read the original short stories), there was more interest in Laura, and less being distracted by the plausibility of her career in law : the suggestion is that she is a small-town lawyer, used to small-town matters, and that, when she took on this this compensation case, she had found herself out of her depth, and thus her inability to parry the demands from Fuller results from something different. Maybe…


To some, the title also appears to offer another way of understating the word ‘certain’, beyond that familiar in some forms of narration (or one could naturally say ‘certain types’), such as ’Now there were certain Greeks among those who went up to worship at the festival. Reading Certain Women this way would imply that one can ascribe acting decisively to the behaviour of the women, and – except to the extent that most films depend on something happening – might one look for that quality of certitude in vain ? (It is only essential to find if, if one wants to say that each woman acts with certainty, and that there doing so is important to the film. Words [from a review ?] that are being used to promote the film begin 'Three strong-willed women'.)


End-notes :

¹ One forgets, but state or federal law takes the usual position further that a full and final settlement should not be accepted when the prognosis has not resolved, but an interim payment : here it appears that an employer that makes a payment in settlement binds the employee against the person who might have been sued. It is vaguely enough there in the story, but really skated over.

² As in the past, IMDb, lets us down here : the last character in Laura’s story is Amituana, it then lists Gina, her daughter Guthrie (Sara Rodier), Albert (Rene Auberjonois), but not Gina’s husband, as the next character is The Rancher (Lily Gladstone), and that is the third story…



However, as looked to be the case at the time - but how does one confirm it (in a Montana ID parade, one big man with a big beard, briefly seen, looks much like any other) ? - Neil White (@everyfilmneil) clarifies, in his review : The lawyer's hook-up (James Le Gros) turns out to be the husband of a businesswoman (Williams) who goes on a weekend family camping trip and visit to an elderly man they know.

³ It would be good to have confirmation of this perception (as screen-time is not always possible to judge accurately), but the running-time of the third story may nearly equal that of the other two combined : with reprises of the latter feeling as if they have been tacked on at the end to provide a sense - not a very good one - of a frame. (Plus locating in Laura's law office in the place where Lily Gladstone's character, in the third story, drives to and makes speculative enquiries).






Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)

Thursday, 12 April 2012

A deserved winner at Cannes (2)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


13 April

Thanks to the offices of
Rotten Tomatoes, it is heartening to have found a worthwhile review of this film from Peter Bradshaw.

But he really doesn't look that young, any more than some of the jazzers or classical musicians, who show you how they looked ten years or more ago...


On the poster for the film, this comment* - from the London Film Festival - seemed pertinent:

Hugely impressive... confirms Ceylan's status as a master of cinema...Chekhovian in its piercing insights


End-notes

* In my scrawl, it looks like that of Geoff Archer** - of only the former name was I certain, and it should have been Geoff Andrew!

** Sure some Freudian thing going on!


Sunday, 8 April 2012

A deserved winner at Cannes (1)*

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)


Easter Day

* Spoilers ahead - read at your peril, if you have not viewed the film *

It is interesting that the pace of a film can change as much as that of this film did to-night from its first viewing - maybe I was more tired, but, in an unfolding that appeared to have had much time in which I could relish it, much seemed to telescope**, and I found a lot of detail to reabsorb.

Knowing that the doctor (Muhammet Uzuner), the police chief (Yilmaz Erdogan) and the prosecutor (Taner Birsel) were the main ones to watch, I was, for example, much more aware of the first of these sitting behind the second, and how he really only started opening up when talking to the chief's driver for the night, his subordinate called Arab (Arab Ali) - there, as on first sight, the fact that the person who did the subtitles did not follow convention did not help, although I did better, as it is usual to put words in italics when they are spoken by someone not in shot (and there were other pecularities, later on, that meant that I was too busy working out who was speaking to have time to read words before they disappeared).

That said, merely playing detective because one knows the end of the film already (not an inappropriate thing to do when a man (Kenan) has confessed to a killing, maybe murder, as we never really know what he claims happened, and, at a significant moment - when, I think, none of the police are in earshot - his fellow suspect (Ramazan), before silenced by Kenan, calls out that he committed the act) does not usually make the duration of scenes seem shorter, whereas here it turned it into a quite differently paced narrative, although still beautiful.

Where, though, that quicker perception of time was disadvantageous was that the Tarkovksy-like moments, when the wind is moving the crops, or the trees, as if in the guise of a character, seem less naturally poetic, and more overtly arty. In the same way, when Doctor Cemal, who is relieving himself, finds a carved face suddenly revealed by the lightning in the rock level with his own it seemed more contrived, and less convincing, seen for the second time, but these are purely momentary, and did not detract from the whole effect of the piece.

Some have exaggerated the length - or other aspects - of the sequence where we hear dialogue over shots of one apple from those shaken from a tree by Arab, following it as it rolls down a slope and then down a stream, and, although it, too, seemed a little shorter, it still had its power. As did what has been described as an epiphany, when the mukhtar's young daughter Cemile (Cansu Demirci) brings around glasses of tea, lighted by the oil-lamp in the centre of the tray.

On one very obvious level, the film takes us from what turns out to be a view through a window of a living body (Yasar, with the two men who, between them and unseen, kill and inexpertly bury him) to the same one being found and exhumed, and to the indignity of autopsy: where we are left is with the doctor and Yasar's widow Gülnaz, the one watching the other, from the autopsy room, as she walks into the distance with her son, before he turns around, and we are looking for a few seconds at that closing window, then there is a blackout on which the credits come up, but the noise of the school playground (to the left as the widow walks away) and the liquid sounds of the autopsy play over it.

Chief of Police Naci, looking at Prosecutor Nusret in his element as he gives - for dictation onto a laptop - his report from the crime investigation scene, says that a master of revels is the thing to be. Unseen, except by his excellent work, Nuri Bilge Ceylan is such a master, and, in this more intimate screening (screen 3 at the Arts Picturehouse), it was good that the humour came out of moments such as the sergeant being pedantic about distances and jurisdictions, and everyone blaming everyone else for not having a body-bag (and what they then have to resort to), as well as the shock that an autopsy was to be shown, and how affronted Naci is by what Kenan and Ramazan have done to the body.


A little more at A deserved winner at Cannes (2)...


End-notes

* Not that I dare suggest that anything unmeritorious wins!

** Lewis Carroll, in one of the Alice books, brought us this usage.