Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Benjamin Belloir | Beautiful Stranger / 2021

getting into gear

by Douglas Messerli

 

Benjamin Belloir (screenwriter and director) Beautiful Stranger / 2021 [26 minutes]

 

Romain (Baptiste Carrion-Weiss) has just broken up his boyfriend in a taxi on the way to the train that would him back to him. His telephonic furor causes the taxi driver to toss him out into the street into a rainy night, and Romain has nowhere to go but a small nearby hotel where he hooks up online with an American (Shane Woodward) who can barely speak French.

     This short Belgian-French film doesn’t hint at great possibilities for our hero who is even maltreated by the hotel clerk (Daphné Huynh), who herself is in the middle of a breakup with her boyfriend.


    Romain sends a requested face picture, he’s cute, but the American answers with a photo of a huge cock which if nothing else looks very promising. Romain goes to the bathroom mirror and practices his English.

    The American almost immediately appears as if by magic, demanding a rather S&M situation.

   Romain explains, using the metaphor of a car, that he doesn’t “roll” in that direction. “I am not an automatic car…I need time to travel down the motorway calmly. Shifting gears, clack, clack, before accelerating and launching myself.”

     Frustrated, the American begins to masturbate, finishing himself, as he puts it, “off alone.” At least, he pleads, suck me. Give me just a kiss.

     But Romain, now disgusted by the situation, declares he doesn’t kiss strangers.

     His actions lead to a fairly sarcastic conversation with the American revealing that his visitor may be bisexual or maybe even something else. The beautiful stranger turns out the lights, switches on music and brings out a lamp to create a simulation of a gay dance bar, finally breaking down the uptight Romain’s inhibitions. They dance, the American trying to convince him that sex is not that complicated. He chose him on the app simply because he was the closest.


      They finally begin to connect when the clerk knocks on the door complaining of the noise and joins them. She loves to watch guys get it on, she declares. She drinks down nearly an entire bottle of scotch from the cold bar before joining them in bed. Posting herself between the two, she asks Romain, “So you still believe in it? Love.”


      She suddenly demands Romain pretend to make love to her, passionate love so that she can send a picture back to her ex. She too demands he kiss her nipples, make immediate love with her, as the American stranger snaps photos. But Romain is not convincing and she turns to the stranger, asking if she can kiss him instead with Romain taking the pictures. Her passion will be far more convincing with the American.

   Almost immediately the two of them, long after the pictures, go into a seemingly ecstatic sexual engagement, and poor Romain, feeling totally left-out gets thoroughly and justifiably jealous.

     She leaves in a fury, the American commenting “Boy, she was a firecracker.”


     Finally Romain is in gear and ready for deep and passionate sex. Or is the intense sex scene filmed in red all in his head?

      He awakens to find no one there. No one in the bathroom. But a scribbled note appears wrapped in the bedding: “I let you sleep. You looked happy.”

      This delightful comedy seems at one with the delirious sad-sack sex dreams of Pierre Étaix if he had been gay.

 

Los Angeles, November 6, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (November 2024).

Sunday, November 3, 2024

Jacob Brown | Blinders / 2011

pretty young things

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jacob Brown (screenwriter and director) Blinders / 2011 [10 minutes]

 

Jacob Brown’s short film Blinders is a short film seemingly itself affected by its central metaphor. It pretends complexity and applies an often-expressed trope that doesn’t even explore its own possibilities.

     A couple (Nathaniel Brown and Byrdie Bell) attend a local bell where their eyes both take in the beauties of a local. almost transsexual boy beauty (Luke Worall).

      Although the couple returns home for sex, it’s clear that the male is totally attracted to the boy, and soon after we see the two engaged in homosexual sex. Can Brown return to his Juliet after his clear homosexual transgression?


      The intruding boy himself describes the situation in terms of the horses of Central Park, which are led on through life to play out their role with blinders, unable to change course, which, if nothing else suggests that he sees his young momentary Romeo as someone who will not be able to alter the sexual course of normality.

      One might have thought this short work would have explored the possibilities of bisexuality, but it is far more interested in its quite pretty images and sexual quirks than actually dealing the issues of sexuality about which it hints.

      And in the end, there’s little chance that the “romance” of this film will provide anyone with anything but a one-night stand.

      Sorry, but this film is just fluff. And one doesn’t get truly excited by anything going on in the movie unless you can’t control yourself over seeing pretty young things.

 

Los Angeles, November 3, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema (November 2024).

 

Friday, November 1, 2024

Kenji Mizoguchi | 山椒大夫 Sanshō Dayū (Sansho the Bailiff) / 1954

to save the soul

by Douglas Messerli

 

Fuji Yahiro and Yoshikata Yoda (screenplay, based on a story by Mori Ōgai), Kenji Mizoguchi (director)  山椒大夫 Sanshō Dayū (Sansho the Bailiff) / 1954

 

Critic Anthony Lane’s comments about Kenji Mizoguchi’s 1954 film, Sansho the Bailiff pretty much sum up my own feelings after watching this film the other day:

 

"I have seen Sansho only once, a decade ago, emerging from the cinema a broken man but calm in my conviction that I had never seen anything better; I have not dared watch it again, reluctant to ruin the spell, but also because the human heart was not designed to weather such an ordeal."


        Although Mizoguchi characterizes the story as a folktale, which has led some critics to describe it as a simple story, I’d argue it is deeply complex, not just in its meanings, but in its narrative pattern, and a great deal is expressed in what does not get told or said. What we can say that is simple about this work is its morality: on the one side we have the kind and merciful men such as the governor father, who at the beginning of this historical drama is exiled for refusing to punish the rebelling peasants under his rule; and on the other we have the cruel, greedy Sansho who uses hundreds of slaves to attain his notoriety and wealth. In between are most of the other figures, although it is clear that the governor’s wife, Tamaki (Kinuyo Tanaka), his daughter Anju (Kyōko Kagawa), and Sansho’s son, Tarō (Akitake Kōno) all attempt to follow the higher principles of life; but even the governor’s loving son, Zushiō (Yoshiaki Hanayagi) wavers in his commitment to the good, when, as a slave overseer, he brands a fellow slave for having attempted to escape.


        The story actually begins as a voyage by Tamaki, Zushiō and Anju years after their husband and father’s exile, as they attempt join him. In a region where they are told bandits and slavers abound, they can find no inn for the night, and are forced to camp out-of-doors. There they encounter a seemingly kind priestess who invites them into her home; but the next day, she insists that they should continue their trip by boat in order to protect them; when they meet their carriers, however, we quickly realize that they have been betrayed, as the mother is separated from her two children, she to be sold into prostitution, the children sold to Sansho as slave laborers.

      Immediately the children are set to hard work, with only the kindness of other slaves and the caring Tarō to protect them. Tarō, to whom the children finally confess their identities, cautions them they must work hard and bear the suffering so that they might later find a way to escape. Meanwhile, disgusted with his own father’s treatment of his slaves, Tarō, himself, leaves, hoping in Kyoto to find someone to hear his complaints.


      The children grow up, behaving, as I mention above, in opposing ways, Anju retaining the lessons of her father, while Zushiō submits—in a manner not so dissimilar to the Jewish capos and workers in the Nazi camps in World War II—to the orders of his other superiors.

       One day, when a new girl appears, Anju hears her singing a sad song that employs both her and Zushiō’s names; it is immediately clear that the lament has been sung by her own mother, who must, accordingly, still be alive and desperately seeking her children. She encourages her brother to escape the camp with her, but he dismisses her by questioning how they might survive without papers and money.

      Soon after, however, the two are sent out to accompany the body of a dying worker—a woman who had befriended Anju—whom they are ordered to leave in the woods to die. Anju begs the guard to let them gather wood and rushes so that they might, at least, build a small roof over her to protect her from frost. As the two work in gathering these materials, Zushiō recalls the time years earlier when they had done the same thing for their stay in the woods overnight with their mother. Suddenly he becomes determined to escape; but Anju insists that he go alone, taking the elderly woman with him, instead of her; she will provide a temporary ruse for his absence.


       With regret, Zushiō leaves for a nearby Imperial temple, while Anju, returning back to camp reveals that her brother has escaped. As Sansho’s guards rush in chase of the escapee, Anju once again leaves the camp to walk into a nearby lake and drown herself so that, if tortured, she cannot reveal her brother’s destination.


       At the temple, Zushiō discovers that the head priest is none other than Tarō. Sansho’s son. The monks give the elderly women medicine and hide the two as Shanso’s soldiers search to discover where they might have gone. Determined to travel on to Kyoto to plead to the Chief Advisor about the condition of the slaves, Zushiō begs Tarō to care for the woman; Tarō, in turn, gives him papers of identity Zushiō to the Advisor.

       Yet Zushiō is denied entrance to the Advisor’s palace, and even after slipping in undercover and confronting the administrator, is taken away and imprisoned. Only after guards discover a statuette of the god of mercy, given to him by his father, on Zushiō’s body, does the Advisor agree to meet with him, telling him that his father has died, while awarding him the governorship of Tango, the same province where Sansho lives.

       When Zushiō suggests he will outlaw slavery, however, he is reprimanded by the Advisor, and told that he has no role over personal property, only public lands.

       As Zushiō arrives in Tango, nonetheless, he announces a ban of slavery on all lands, public and private, insisting, over his assistant’s protests, that his soldiers close down Sansho’s estate.

       They are met with justified resistance—given the laws—but are defeated by Zushiō’s men. Zushiō, himself, apologizes to the old man who he had formerly punished. But he also discovers the fact that his sister has killed herself to protect him. As Zushiō and his men leave, the freed slaves burn down Sansho’s house.       

       Zushiō, having accomplished his goal, resigns his position, traveling to Sado, the island to where his mother has been taken to become a courtesan. There he finds another woman who has taken on his mother’s name, but can find no woman in the house of his mother’s age. Told that she had probably been killed in a local tsunami, he walks to the beach where she must have died.


       There he finds an old, blind woman singing the same song his sister had heard. Recognizing her as his mother, he attempts to tell her who he is, but she rejects him as a liar until he presents her with the same statuette of mercy that has saved him in the past. Zushiō reports of the deaths of both his father and Anju, as the two sadly fall into one another’s arms—too late, obviously, to redeem either of their lives.

        That is the story. But I have left everything out. Mizoguchi’s film is so beautifully, yet simply, shot that telling this tale is not as important as how it is visually represented. Along with Fumio Hayasaka’s memorable musical score, the beautiful early scenes, as the family attempt their long walk to reunite with their father, the terrible vision of the split of their family into two boats, the scenes of loving intimacy between Anju and her slave friend, Anju’s suicide by downing, the scenes which show the yearning Tamaki, and hundreds of other frames of this film literarily overwhelm the viewer with their beauty. There are very few black-and-white films that one might describe as so ravishingly beautiful: Marcel Carné’s Les Enfants du Paradis, Satyajit Ray’s Pather Panchali, and Federico Fellini’s 8 ½ spring to mind. Yet Mizoguchi’s film, with its simple moral premise that there are those who abuse their fellow beings and a very few who manifest their love for the world, has never been better revealed. Those who care, obviously, lose nearly everything but their souls—souls which seem glowingly alive in Mizoguchi’s art.

 

Los Angeles, May 23, 2016

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (May 2016).

            

Thursday, October 31, 2024

Laura Huertas Millán | Jeny303 / 2018

elsewhere

by Douglas Messerli

 

Laura Huertas Millán (screenwriter and director) Jeny303 / 2018 [6 minutes]

 

Apparently when Laura Huertas Millán began interviewing a transsexual named Jeny, she discovered her film was accidently superimposed on the same 16mm film stock that she had used to film one of Bogotá’s architectural icons, building 303 of the University, a modernist Bauhaus structure in which her father, on the architecture faculty, had taught and had asked her to film.

     The building had also been the center of many student uprisings, and their political slogans had been registered across the walls of the former architectural wonder, a building demolished in 2015.


     By odd coincidence the ugly imitation of basically male German architecture is also rubbed out by the voice of the transsexual she had recorded, Jeny, who explains that she had gone to a party. “Passing by a bedroom, at a party, I saw people heating heroin. I wanted to try it out on my body.”

     Apparently the lesbian couple, helping each other to inject the heroin, quickly acquiesced, since Jeny became an addict who spends most of this 6-minute tape explaining how she attracted men who wanted a man looking like a woman while still displaying a penis.

     She describes the men she attracted putting their hands upon her thigh to make sure at the very moment when her boyfriend would suddenly appear, threatening them for being faggots and, with a gun, sometimes beating them as they robbed the supposed sexual assailants. In therapy, Jeny admits to her playing along in the game of sexual abuse to get more money for her and her boyfriend’s drug habit.

     The important metaphor of this film appears early in the short work, when Jeny describes her first experience with the drug: “I felt my heart beating very fast. My lips were dry, I was very thirsty. It was like being elsewhere.”

      The accident of the superimposed film image does in fact take us to that strange elsewhere, a world created out of the German experiments of the Weimar Republic from 1919-1933, imposed upon the 1960s South American Columbian city of Bogotá, which itself came to be desecrated as Hitler had the German experiment, by a later youthful generation in the architecture’s displaced location. This is a film about dislocation, the lack of the proper identity which attracts many a male, perhaps even, in a metaphoric sense, the filmmaker’s own father, precisely because it isn’t what it seems, but represents some sort of imitation.

      For all of this, however, Jeny303 is at heart a film about drug addiction, speaking only metaphorically of the transgender dysphoria. It might have been a far more interesting work if the director had been able to further explore what sexual joys Jeny, who after all was a human being with a heart and a body, not a building made of brick, felt about her male admirers, and how/if she finally grew to resent her boyfriend’s attack of those would-be sexual partners. Or might there be a far deeper story about how their abuse sexually satisfied her in revenge for her own obvious societal difference and ostracization? These are not the concerns of this far more formally concerned short cinema.

 

Los Angeles, October 31, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (October 2024).

 

 

 

 

Eric Steel | Minyan / 2020

leaving by remaining

by Douglas Messerli

 

Eric Steel and Daniel Pearle (screenplay, based on the story by David Bezmozgis), Eric Steel (director) Minyan / 2020

 

It is sometimes difficult for me to comprehend why a fine feature film like Minyan does virtually no business at the box office. While the film directed by Eric Steel may not be visually spectacular—although there are some very nice street and club scenes, and the couple of sexual encounters between the character David (Samuel H. Levine) and Bruno (Alex Hurt) are as hot as any non-porno out there—the narrative of this film is a nuanced and quite complex story involving religion, sexuality, politics, disease, culture, and history. Perhaps I just answered my own question, I’m afraid. Are contemporary film-goers still afraid of just those topics, particularly when they are woven together into a net so tight that they actually trap their major characters into their weave.

     Perhaps the fact that there are no true villains in Steel’s Minyan sets it apart. The viewer can be disgusted about various characters and their control over others, but gradually Steel’s and Pearle’s screenplay reveals that even the apparent controllers have been forced into their positions. There are no true heroes here; perhaps as in far too many Jewish and gay movies, there are only survivors.


     Yet the humanity of this film, which reveals nearly all its characters’ passions and flaws, is so overwhelming that one might imagine that empathy alone might have sent this film into major theaters. Perhaps today we are asked to share far too many lives of others outside of our immediate experience so that we have become numb and uncaring. I wish I might be able to wipe that sentence out with a simple backspace, but I’m afraid it may be true. Some of us, at least, seek out those experiences outside of the narrow confines of our own births, nurture, and subsequent values.

    Perhaps it’s simply the numerous seeming contradictions of the world presented in this film that kept audiences away. Steel’s landscape is, after all, the narrowly confined world of basically Russian Jewish immigrants in the 1980s Brighton Beach area of Brooklyn.

     The central character in this film is a rather typical 17-year-old boy, David (Levine) who, under the control of his somewhat embittered mother, Rachel (Brooke Bloom) and an always-straying sexist and violent father, is forced to attend a Jewish school, despite his desire to be acclimated into the new world into which they’ve entered. His mother, however, sees herself as protecting her son who she believes, unlike back in Russia, will not get daily beaten for being a Jew.


      We later discover that she was trained as a dentist, but in the US can only get a job as a dental receptionist, seeing some real clients after hours. Her husband Simon (Gera Sandler), a former boxer, is a physical therapist, using his employment mostly as an excuse to massage and pleasure willing women.

     Understandably, David, increasingly realizing the difference of his sexual desires from his friends such as Nathan (Zane Pais), gravitates to his far more open-minded, but still religious grandfather, Josef (brilliant played by Ron Rifkin). Josef is what you might describe as an intense realist, one who sees his faith as important in a larger context, but doesn’t perceive the laws of the Torah as being as confining as the Rabbis see them to be. He is for love and kindness. And when his wife dies is both saddened and relieved to move on into a smaller space that perhaps might not remind him of her more literal-minded views of life. The problem is in all of New York, how does an older man with little income to find a reasonable apartment. Even in his smaller space, David is willing to move in, just to escape his parent’s control and his father’s occasional brutality when he thinks his son is behaving as a “passive pansy.”


      Moreover, as he travels into the East Village with his friends at night, who visit the local whore houses, he is attracted to a local gay bar, Nowhere. Moreover, his grandfather allows him to enroll in a public school, where he meets up with a local teacher (Chinaza Uche) who has assigned them to read James Baldwin, and after David makes a brilliant interpretive comment about the book, quickly becomes a favorite student.

     Finally, a rabbi named Zalman (Richard Topol) who evidently controls the choice of tenants in a high-rise building has agreed to see Josef, whom David accompanies to the interview. The rabbi, barraged by a long list of possible renters, is mostly in search of religious Jews who might make up the minyan necessary to provide a religious service, and agrees to Josef’s occupation only if David moves in with him, making up the necessary 10 males they need for the ceremony.


     Next door to them are two elderly Jewish men, Herschel (Christopher McCann) and Itzik (Mark Margolis), who have been fellow soldiers together back in Russia and, having both lost their wives, have moved in together. But David soon perceives through the film’s subtle clues (their two toothbrushes sharing a small bathroom container) and the single bed they share, quickly realizes that they are actually gay, perhaps having been in love since their long-ago military service. David lovingly attends to their needs for a simple change of a kitchen light bulb and correction of their toilet. Josef, meanwhile, finds an elderly woman friend in his new building.

     In a shocking turn of events, David discovers that his best friend Nathan has just volunteered for the Israeli army and will clearly be leaving his life forever.

    He begins to seek elsewhere for his personal pleasure. He discovers the joys of sex in the local public library bathroom and, finally, after daring to visit the Nowhere bar, he begins a brief intense relationship with the bartender Bruno.


      If at first, Bruno seems a loving protector of the new kid (he also is seen to be reading James Baldwin, a rather unsubtle message that needn’t have been part of the narrative), but eventually pushes his away, warning him of the rising issues of AIDS, a subject that this film might easily have skirted, but was brave enough to embrace.

      A beautiful young girl, Alicia (Carson Meyer), who meets him in their schoolroom, also takes an interest in David, her presence in his life immensely pleasing David’s mother, who suddenly becomes almost a younger woman as she treats them to laughing gas in her after hours dental work.

      By this time, however, David has finally begun to understand who he truly is, and now finds himself as a protector of Herschel when his lover Itzik dies, after observing Itzik’s family, which includes his former bartender-lover Bruno, attempting to oust Herschel from the apartment.


    Desperate to protect Herschel, David pleads with Zalman to allow Herschel to remain, even as their apartment furniture has been mostly moved to the street or hauled off by the relatives. Only Herschel’s books remain, some of which, including the stories of Isaac Babel, he shares with the loving and caring David.

      In a final and sudden twist of the plot, we discover that the rabbi has long ago determined to let Herschel remain. As he puts it, "Thieves, adulterers, homosexuals. I take them all, without them, we would never have our minyan, but the one that I was most worried about was you.”

      It appears that David, no matter how he might wish to escape, is swept up into the very world into which he was born, a part of a community who care enough about each other to remain in their increasingly meaningless faith, while seeking temporary escape in a world outside. They are, after all, simple humans, not brilliant interpreters of the Torah or Jewish mystics.

     In the end, perhaps, it is that basically stoic view of an escape by staying put, or leaving by remaining that probably turned off some viewers and critics such as Rafaela Sales Ross, who argues that “all that is left is a nagging hunger for what could have been.” I truly and fully escaped in my personal life, but this film helps to comprehend the lives of those who remained in the worlds in which they grew up without going crazy.

 

Los Angeles, October 31, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (October 2024).

       

My Queer Cinema Index [with former World Cinema Review titles]

https://myqueercinema.blogspot.com/2023/12/former-index-to-world-cinema-review.html Films discussed (listed alphabetically by director) [For...