End Of The Week Shorts #99
Much more could be said, but, put simply, Captain Marvel is very mediocre.
Boden and Fleck construct a sci-fi world tonally reminiscent of both Star Wars and Guardians of the Galaxy. Fail this does, however, to successfully utilise melodrama and to hold the audience at an intimate and comedic reach from the central characters. And it is characterisation that fails most in Captain Marvel. The drama is not managed at all well, the conceptualisation of events and situations awkward and unimaginatively brought to the screen, and such leaves Captain Marvel little more than something of a tool. We do not feel her humanity, rather, perceive (with some respect, I must say) her as a symbol of female empowerment. Such leaves Captain Marvel a film without a heart, one or two laughs, some impressive CG de-ageing... and that's about it. Mediocre.
A painful and subtly harrowing product of French 'female cinema,' a cinéma du femme, Fat Girl operates like a clock whose beating heart fears time. Most effective in Fat Girl is its oblique characterisation, a key element of cinéma du femme it seems; we never get to know our central character, but experience her body and being enduring definition after definition by external minds. There is no psychological exposition, no active creation of drama. Themes whirr around our central character and tear at her flesh; her sister an extension of her body, abused and manipulated, self-loathing and deceitful; her parents absent and unloving; male sexuality seemingly a scourge of intent. How food gums up the soul, slows its operation and prevents the reception of feeling. How amorality frees the mind. "He did not rape me."
Body horror of an austere and very French breed.
Slightly pretentious, In My Skin hasn't much to say, but has much for us to indulge in - namely a scopophilic sadomasochism. Organ becomes alien, the limb a disembodiment, ones existential and tangible existence a question and a stare of fascination. Why don't I fall apart? In My Skin has its central character engage in this introspective immersion and pulls the viewer down the rabbit hole. Not far do we fall, however; the hole, quite shallow. In the end, we have felt the sensation of falling, but haven't had much sense knocked into us. Not the most successful foray into self-satisfying self-harm.
I estimate that about 1 in about 35-40 jokes made me giggle.
The timing is an issue; the persona is eh; the faces, too much; I'm very familiar with Carr's comedy and... again... eh.
It is near-impossible to reduce Deren's cinema to anything approximating concrete. Her moving imagery appears above all else introspective, Meshes of the Afternoon an impression of personal experience. But, how do you give more words to this?
The interpretation of this as an exploration of sexuality - the flower, one's virginity (placed into the frame by a disembodied arm like a mother may place a toy into one's cot as a baby) - is fascinating. However, whilst there is an internal conflict in this abstract narrative, is it reducible to a conflict between a man and woman? Deren's imagery is far too consciously manifested for me to want to assume anything--yet simultaneously, what is being said? I still do not know.
Deren's manipulation of time intensifies incredibly in her second film. The opening shoots of an ocean's waves rolling back upon themselves are truly astounding, our main character washing ashore like Aphrodite emerged from foam. She exits the realm of unconsciousness, climbing from a tree to a wooden table, confined to nature, stuck in a social milieu which we believe she is alien to. Where is our protagonists place in this world?
Maybe Deren's most political film, At Land seems to say much about the place of the female in higher society. But, as always, I have my reservations. There seems to be more.
Solid. Widows is more than the high concept movie I thought it was going to be; one that simply reverses roles as to create an alternative heist film. Widows centralises psychological realism, constructing a rather real and bitter underworld in which criminals operate, and into which our widowed characters venture. This transformative movement into darkness is multi-toned, providing many dimensions of emotion that are associated with each and every character in nuanced and evocative ways. Interestingly, almost all men in Widows are composed as warm yet treacherous, lovable but violent, virtuous yet corrupted. It is this that manifests the criminal and political chaos, and this that our female characters must endure and sort through. There is then a subtle understanding of each and every minor character that makes for a rather brilliant piece of storytelling about, simply put, prevailing against the odds. And, for that, I have to say that Widows is incredibly respectable.
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End Of The Week Shorts #100
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