Ash is Purest White

Jia Zhangke's film Ash is Purest White (2019) is  apparently a kind of summation of all his previous films. I found his first three films on Criterion, so I'll have to watch them. I'd seen it at the PFA, so seeing it again on the small screen I was so glad I'd seen it in a theater. My first viewing of it was very emotional: the first act is a gangster story with the most arresting and engaging performance by Tao Zhao; the second act shows what happens to her after she gets out of prison where she has spent five years taking the fall for her boyfriend Bin; the last act returns to their home turf and now he is recovering from a stroke and depends on her for survival. Over seventeen years their lives are played out on the backdrop of the enormous changes to China. Her father rails against the abandonment of the mine and the miners. She rids a boat through the Three Gorges where they are told that what they see will soon be under water because of a dam projects. The raggedy workers' housing blocs set in the middle of the fields give way to block after block of high-rises, an enormous train station, a huge arena. As was the case in Bi Gan's film that we just watched, we have the impression that people are like small creatures finding shelter and surviving in a massive coral reef, but here we don't have the close-ups on the corroding walls but a sweep from back-rooms to street plazas, to trains hurtling through the landscape, to a starry sky lit up by mysterious flash that could be a UFO or that could be the forces of change. 

Tao Zhao, the lead actress, is also Jia Zhangke's wife, and has appeared in nine of his films. She was working as a dance teacher when he cast her in the film Platform, and you can see her dancer's  expressivity in her acting. I'm eager to watch the his first three films, available on Criterion, and the two that are on Mubi. 

Preston Sturges binge

Commencing a mini-Preston Sturges festival on Criterion with The Palm Beach Story! Claudette Colbert and Joel McCrae are Tom and Gerry, the screwball comedy couple, but Rudy Vallée was most charming as the rich man who falls for Gerry on the train. There's some unpleasant humor at the expense of black characters. Sigh.

Pedro Costa's Colossal Youth

 Colossal Youth is the English title of Pedro Costa's film 2006 Juventude Em Marcha, which I watched today for tomorrow's Criterion Club discussion. It's almost three hours long, and I found myself dozing midway through it because it is resolutely monotonous: very long shots whose painterly composition is mostly dark on dark with small patches of light; characters whose relations to each other are obscure; repetition of settings, dialogue, tableaux; a slow, deliberate pace with characters wandering in and out of shots; no plot. There's an anchor character, Ventura, an immigrant from Cabo Verde, who circulates among others he calls his children although it doesn't seem that they actually are his children. The opening sequence is a window with furniture being thrown through it, and then a woman named Clotilde holds a knife and tells us (she's looking straight at the camera) how she used to swim as a form of escape. Ventura then goes to see Bete who rejects him the first time we see her; he tells her that his wife Clotilde has destroyed all his furniture and left him. This would seem to set up a story, but we don't revisit it for the rest of the film. Instead, we follow Ventura as he goes on a series of visits: to Vanda who narrates her childbirth story and her drug addiction while they loll on her bed watching a TV show we can't see; to his lunches with a man who, late in the film, is identified as Vanda's husband, and who listens to him in silence; to Lento, who plays cards and sleeps with him in a hovel, as well as asking for a letter that Ventura recites but never writes for him. Is Lento his younger self? In between these visits, which repeat themselves, we see Ventura meeting an agent who is showing him the new housing he can have, as the slum he lives in is going to be demolished, rooms as blindingly white as the rest of the film's decors are dark. Ventura insists he needs a bigger space with more rooms, for his children. ("How many children do you have?" "I don't know.") The effect of these circular movements is to focus on the acts of conversation rather than on any action. It is possible that some of these events are flashbacks but the film doesn't seem interested in making temporal relationships apparent. The effect is to confront the viewer with daily life and relationships in a strange kind of purgatory.

There are a few moments that connect the to a world outside this round of visits and these black-and-white spaces. With Lento, Ventura pulls out a record player and plays a song that seems to be about the July 5, 1975 independence of Cabo Verde and Amilcar Cabral (who led the struggle but was assassinated in 1973, in events that precipitated the coup in Portugal in 1974). And there's a scene of Ventura and Lento standing in a window talking about the political events (either independence struggles or the carnation revolt) and repression in the slums. And Ventura talks of working in the construction of the Gulbenkian Museum, various banks and buildings for the rich; there is a scene where he is in the museum but is escorted out. 

The effect of using Ventura as the focal point is to make him stand in for the African immigrant experience in Portugal, in its impoverished version. What does Costa want us to take away from this experience? While I was watching the film I didn't really like it that much but it's sticking with me. Now I want to watch Vitalina Varela, (also on Criterion) which came out in 2019, and centers a woman's experience.

Here's an interview with Costa from the New York Film Festival:

Sunday morning zoom

 Every Sunday morning, I set up a zoom meeting for my family. It has allowed us to talk to each other all together for the first time in years, since my brother's family lives in Maryland. One of his daughters has been joining us too, and I'm so glad to finally get to know her. My nephew and his family are usually having breakfast, so we get to see their 2-year-old daughter when she stops running around to eat. This morning she apparently tried the cat's food. Sometimes my daughter joins us from Brooklyn, but she didn't today.  Even though I try to give us a heads-up that the meeting is about to end, we inevitably get cut off in the middle of someone's sentence.

Jo Seung Woo

I'm only watching one Korean drama right now: Sisyphus: The Myth. It's a time-travel drama, with the usual plot incoherencies of the genre, but lots of great action set-pieces in which Park Shin-Hye kicks butt while the delightful Jo Seung Woo mcguyvers things. He's had success in film and tv, but is insanely popular in Korea as a musical theater star, in shows like Jekyll and Hyde, Hedwig and the Angry Itch.  This song from the movie The Throne (Sado) "Flower Bloom and Fall" is more to my taste than some of the songs floating around YouTube:

Long Day's Journey Into Night (Bi Gan)

I saw Long Day's Journey Into Night (directed by Bi Gan) in the California theater with the last hour in 3-D, when it came out. It was a dazzling, hypnotic experience, and I enjoyed it so much that I sought out his film Kaili Blues. There are reminiscences of Wong Kar-Wai, not least in the lighting and use of color. The first half of the film is a story of blue and green. The architecture is decaying, corroded, overgrown with vegetation, about to be torn down. Every surface has texture-- peeling paint, rust, water runs down walls and from the ceiling. We see through window grids, dirty windshields, meshes, fences. One of the only smooth surfaces is the shiny green dress of the Mystery Woman.

And folks say there are many shots that recall Tarkovsky's films as well-I haven't seen them.

The trailer doesn't at all convey the sense of dreaminess:

First dose

 My excursion to get the first dose of the vaccine went well. My brother-in-law was so kind, and came to get me. I could have taken BART but I was extremely nervous and agitated, so I'm glad I didn't have to do that. Once we got to the clinic location in downtown Oakland, there were lots of signs making it really easy to find the entrance. It was in a convention room at the Marriot next to a Kaiser facility. There were greeters to check Kaiser ID, then a check-in station where they booked my second appointment and gave me a card. Next we went through a long line with markings on the floor to keep us six feet apart. There was an allergy questionnaire,  then we were waved into a section where little injection stations were set up. The nurse was very sweet and I didn't feel a thing. I was given the Pfizer.  Last, we were supposed to sit for fifteen minutes to make sure we didn't go into shock or break out in hives. I was also given a visit with a doctor although no explanation was offered as to why some of us were  seen while most people weren't. It may have been because I was due for an annual visit, but I'll be having that with my regular doctor by video tomorrow. The whole thing took about an hour and a half. Amazing.

Now it's been a few hours, and I have no side-effects or reactions yet. There's a bump and a little bit of soreness at the site if I press on it, but I can't really feel anything unless I search for it. I get to see if I have any reactions tomorrow, but now I get to wait three weeks for the second dose, and then two more weeks after that for it to be fully effective. So, mid-April.

Vaccine appointment

I have an appointment to get the covid vaccine tomorrow at Kaiser in Oakland! My brother-in-law is going to drive me there so I don't have to take public transportation and be all out of my mind with anxiety about it. I'm so grateful. I got a letter from Kaiser saying that I am eligible according to their latest set of criteria, because of my disability. If they're going to offer me the chance to get it, I'm taking it. I'll get the second dose and be cleared by mid-April. How will I celebrate? Take BART to the Ferry Building and buy myself a treat. See the Frida Kahlo show at the DeYoung Museum. Hang out with my mom at her place.

It has been almost exactly a year since we all went into lockdown: a year since I abandoned taking the bus and BART, a year since I have been to my mother's house, a year of trudging up and down the streets around my house so that I get out to get some exercise almost every day. I did make that mad trip to Minnesota with Rosemary when we just hung out at the farm before Blas and Loren went off to Spain indefinitely. It was risky but I needed to see my family so badly. And other than that, no movies, no lectures at the PFA, no restaurants, no museums, no trips to SF, no window shopping on 4th Street, no browsing in bookstores, no travel to New York or to Paris or to Spain---I still have $1200 worth of airfare vouchers I need to check up on. I've been weathering the quarantine limitations fairly well, all things considering. I struggle with boredom, sadness, anxiety, irritation with the neighbors, fear for the future, just like everyone. But I've done my gratitude lists and I don't have to deal with kids at home, with work from home, with financial woes or insecurities. My biggest enemy is sloth. I was really on top of doing yoga every day for some months and then I just stopped. Sloth.

Gohatto (Taboo)

Just watched Gohatto (Taboo) directed in 1999 by Oshima Nagisa, his last film. It's about same-sex relations in the Shinsengumi, the Shogun's militia, in 1865.  Kano, the archetypal bishonen, is one of two new recruits. Everyone has the hots for him, deadly hijinks ensue. The two senior officers, Kondo and Hijikata, are based on historical figures. 

Andrew Grossman has some provacative things to say about Gohatto, which he reads as beautiful but not as radical as Oshima's earlier films. But he doesn't talk about the ending, in which it appears that Kano is murdered offscreen. Disruptive beauty must be punished.

The score is by Sakamoto Ryuichi.

Adolescence of Utena

 Adolescence of Utena is the movie version of Revolutionary Girl Utena manga and anime. I watched about half of the anime episodes, and found a dubbed version of the film for our next cinema club chat. I tried not to compare the movie to the anime too much. I need to rewatch the subbed version because I always find dubs so annoying. The film focuses on how Utena and Anthy come together to overcome and rise above their issues to be better and stronger people.

The dance sequence:

 

 

Utena turns into a car: 

Lido Pimienta

 Just watched Lido Pimienta perform on the Grammys, where her album "Miss Colombia" was nominated (Fito Paez won).  I know her song "Nada" from NPR's alt.latino podcast. Here she is doing a Tiny Desk Concert:

Tokyo Story

 Yasujiro Ozu's Tokyo Story (1953) is widely beloved, and is often held up as one of the greatest films of all time. I've seen it but need to watch it again for tonight's cinema chat group. I'm going to pay attention to the way the film represents the post-war moment as well as family dynamics.

 

 

Here is a lovely explanation of key elements of Ozu's style:

Behind Her Eyes

 Did not see that coming!

Reading: Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay

 Now on deck is volume three of Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan series, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay. In this book Elena has finished her university studies and published a book. She has a fiance from a good family, and has managed to make her way out of her neighborhood. Lila is doing gruelling work in a sausage factory, living with her defender Enzo and her small son Rinu. The events of the students movements and poltical turmoil of 1968 are at the forefront of Elena's mind even as she deals with the transformations that marriage and motherhood bring to her.

Before I start readin, I'm listening to a podcast with her translator, Ann Goldstein. She started learning Italian while working at the New Yorker, so she could read Dante in Italian. Her private tutor was paid for by the magazine! Wow. She already knew French, Latin, and Greek. She has also written a book in Italian, about Primo Levi, whose works she has edited in English. She uses online dictionaries after her rapid first draft. The novels are not written in dialect; Ferrante tells you when a character is speaking in dialect, but then writes in Italian. She has also translated the screenplays for the RAI-HBO series. Those are written in dialect, and the actors are Neapolitan so they don't have to imitate the language. In Italy, they put subtitles on the dialect. 

Her translation relationship with Ferrante is through the publisher, and is fairly hands-off. I realized this when Rosemary's book was being translated; there isn't necessarily any collaboration, even when the writer speaks both languages. She did read the translation, and likes it, but there's not necessarily any feedback process.

Goldstein doesn't know who Ferrante is and is happy to turn away any inquiries. Ferrante's desire for anonymity predates her success and fame, and now is a statement about the market. Goldstein started as a proofreader at Esquire in the seventies, a job she got from an ad in the New York Times (those were the days!). Back then, there was more time to work on stories at the New Yorker. Writers chose to write on what they were interested in and Mr. Shawn approved or disapproved. A lot of freedom! Her work at the New Yorker today is as steward of copy. An editor, a fact-checker, legal, the editor-in-chief all read a story. Then it is put into type and reviewed by a copy-editor, to do line-editing. There's another pass by the editor to deal with queries, then it's reread by the copy-editor and a second reader as well.  This process has become more compressed, with computers to aid revising. And pieces that are being published directly online are not subject to the same process, although there is copy-editing and fact-checking.

Goldstein says that she wants the final copy to read as if it were written in English.

Land of the Giants

 Land of the Giants is a podcast about the big tech/media companies that have changed so much in the last 20 years: Facebook, Apple, Amazon, Netflix, and Google (FAANG). The series on Amazon confirmed what I already knew and my decision never to shop on Amazon if I could help it. Now I'm halfway through the Netflix series. Their corporate culture is really hateful, but the way they've changed so many aspects our media landscape is fascinating. I remember when I got my DVDs from Intercontinental video and other independent video stores. I also went to the Blockbuster on Hennepin because it was on my way home and had a big parking lot. I didn't always stay on top of the late fees. Apparently, they were the biggest source of profit for the Blockbuster, and one of the reasons that Netflix became so attractive; you could keep the DVDs as long as you needed. I churned through series and watched the commentary tracks as well, another bonus. There were a lot of good indie movies in their library in those days, but I still used the independent video stores for their eclectic catalogues. For a time I had the DVD and streaming option, and eventually I slid into the all streaming tier because it was cheaper and easier. Now I have streaming subscriptions to Netflix, Hulu (bundled with Spotify), MUBI, Criterion, HBO Max and PBS. I can't keep up with all the stuff that's in my queue, but since I'm not able to go out and spend money anywhere else, it's affordable. I refuse to get Amazon Prime which means there are some good shows that I miss out on, but that's OK; FOMO is not strong enough for me to change my mind.

White Out, Black In

 I had my first negative experience watching a film for one of my cinema chat groups, watching a Brazilian film that was billed as a low-budget science-fiction documentary about race in Brazil: White Out, Black In. It is part of the Afro-Futurist collection on Criterion. Three characters are shown in parallel: two men who were been injured by police raiding a club, one in a wheelchair and the other with a prosthetic leg,and a guy who might be a time traveler, or maybe is just crazy. A lot  of the film seemed to be long scenes of the guy in the wheelchair going up and down his lifts and smoking. I kept wondering what would happen if the power went out. The only part I really liked was a rap he did in the first part of the film. The rest of it was too disjointed, without a rhythm that made me want to look. The pieces of the plot, such as it was, were inert. I did like the use of storyboards instead of CGI to imagine the revenge at the end, but I had to really force myself to continue watching. I don't usually get bored with slow or experimental films; this one just did not connect with me. It has been well-received by some, but I am in agreement with those who like the premise but not the execution.

Reading: The Story of a New Name

I just finished The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante, book two in the Neapolitan Novels series. I'm about to start watching the next season of the series on HBO. My mother says she wanted to shake all of them. I get it, but it's gripping even if you could sum it up as men are shit and bitches be crazy. Each book ends on a cliffhanger.

Martin Eden

Based on a novel by Jack London that I haven't read, the Italian film Martin Eden (on MUBI) won an award at Venice for its charismatic star, Luca Marinelli. He has the physique of the lusty sailor, and the feverish eyes of the autodidact who swears to become a successful writer, inspired by his love for a lovely bourgeoise. Set in working-class Naples in a somewhat indeterminate time period, rather than the Oakland of the 1909 novel, the movie is best when it shows Martin as an aspiring writer. The last sequence, in which he is a jaded, disappointed success who rails at his fans and screams at his former love, is too schematic. When he commits suicide by swimming out into the ocean, we believe it, but it feels like a disease of the ego. Espousing a radical individualism and rejecting socialism, Eden ends up isolated, pretentious, and vain. Maybe that was Jack London's point, but the film leaps too quickly from his days of struggle to his burn-out, so he just comes off as obnoxious rather than principled.

Shoplifters

This will be the third time I watch Shoplifters (Manbiki Kazoku) by director Kore-Eda Hirokazu. I am so fortunate that I saw several Kore-Eda films as part of a PFA series, and all of them were marvelous. Seeing these films on the movie screen was such a great experience, and watching them again on my laptop I'm aware of how much is lost. The Red Lantern cinema chat group is going to talk about Shoplifters tonight, do I'll watch it again.

 I would like to see his most recent film, The Truth, made with a French cast, but it is not available to stream, boo. His next feature will have a Korean cast.

Watching: My Brilliant Friend

I'm on episode five of My Brilliant Friend on HBO and it's an incredibly faithful adaptation of the book, so far.  The acting is uniformly terrific, and the materiality of the locations, the objects, the clothing, is all as important as the action and the communication of the characters.

I'm fascinated by the way the characters switch between Neapolitan dialect and standard Italian. One side of my mother's family was from Gesualdo, about 90 kilometers from Naples.I asked her why she doesn't like the books and she more or less refused to tell me until I've finished them. I have the second volume, The Story of a New Name, from the library.

Here's a great little interview with the costume designer, Antonella Cannarozzi, who was nominated for an Oscar for her work on I Am Love with Tilda Swinton.