movie film roundupFebruary 26, 2007
I have recently taken in a number of films. Surprisingly, all of them I wished to ingest afterwards (not to poop them out, but so that they can become officially and forever ingrained in me). Usually there’s at least one craptastic mistake in there, but not so. Here is a rundown:
First of all, Gael Garcia Bernal, put it in me. Second of all, the English chick in this film reminds me of my dear friend Caroline from the UK in that she is adorable and wiry thin and wears glasses. Stephane confuses his dreams with reality, something that I’ve experienced a lot lately as well. In waking up: wait, did I dream that, or did that really happen? I dream that I send angry emails to my boss at 9:30 about leaving me off the schedule. I dream that my friends slept over and prevented Chris and I from sleeping and when I woke up the next day, I was super tired on the way to work. Also, Cella called me last night to ask me if I was mad at her because she had a dream that I was. No, I’m not, and will never be, and also, wasn’t that an episode of Friends?
After much pondering, I’ve found the perfect comparison for this movie: Gwen Stefani’s ‘Wind It Up.’ The song, when I first heard it, was a massive collision of weirdness and things that made me feel funny. Like, I don’t want to be reminded of The Sound of Music, OK? But then the sounds of the horse shoes clacking, the synthy beats behind the breakdown … mmm … now I can’t get enough! Gwen was like, fuck you guys, I loooove Julie Andrews and I’m going to make this song the way I want to. I feel that Sophia did the same thing, like, hey, I like these bands, I like these designers, I like this cinematographer, and shit, I got permission to film at Versailles! I’m gonna make a movie! Total style, about half substance, and I don’t care. I’m going to now compose my movie soundtrack to be used at a later date when I come across millions of dollars and make a modern film about, oh, I don’t know, President Taft.
Bunuel takes some of my favorite paintings of all time — La Conditione Humaine, The Enigma of the Hour, A Little Night Music, and Cut with the Kitchen Knife — and sets them in motion. Bunuel’s imagery is less nighmarish and more fantastic than these examples, more Magritte and Duchamp in its absurdity. The entire film is based around events where this group of rich and needy friends schedule get-togethers that always fail. A new disturbance always occurs to prevent them from eating or having affairs during periods specifically designated for those events. It’s brilliant. Italian and Belgian and French surrealism, you are my favorite.