The International Lens: Past Life (dir by Avi Nesher)

Posted on April 10, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

First released in 2016, Past Life is an Israeli film about two sisters, their father, and their efforts to understand and reconcile with the past.

The year is 1977 and Sephi Milch (Joy Reiger) is determined to become a renowned classical music composer. While she has the talent and the drive, she’s also a young woman trying to find success in a field that has always been male-dominated. As a woman, she is expected to just sing and leave the composing for the men. One of her condescending teachers even smirks about how he “allows” her to take a composition class, even though everyone knows that her cause is hopeless.

As a singer, she and her class are invited to perform in Berlin. She goes to Germany, despite the objections of her father, Baruch Milch (Doron Tavory), a Polish Holocaust survivor. Following her performance, Sephi attends a reception. While her best friend admires the handsome, tuxedo-wearing men standing around them, Sephi point out that, just 40 years ago, all of those men would have been wearing swastika armbands and giving each other the Nazi salute. Sephi approached by a woman who appears to be slightly older than her father. The woman says that she recognized Sephi’s last name. She asks if Sephi is the daughter of Baruch Milch. When Sephi says that she is, the woman tells Sephi that Baruch Milch is a murderer.

Back in Israel, Sephi tells her sister, Nana (Nelly Tagar), about what happened. While Sephi wants to put the matter behind her, Nana is intrigued. Nana is a journalist who works for the type of underground newspaper where the walls are decorated with pictures of Lenin. Nana is as disorganized as Sephi is driven. Whereas Sephi keeps her emotions under control, Nana always seems to be shouting at someone and it’s rare that she’s seen without a cigarette. In fact, it turns out that the main thing that Nana and Sephi have in common is that they both have very mixed feelings about their father.

Baruch, we learn, was hardly the perfect father. He put constant pressure on his daughters when they were growing up and was seen as being a fearsome and temperamental figure. While Baruch’s disciplinary style led to Sephi being determined to succeed, it also led to Nana becoming bitter with her father. Nana goes as far as to describe him as being abusive and she speculates that he very well could have murdered someone when he was younger. (She points out that Baruch used to perform illegal abortions as proof that their father is not a squeamish man.) As Sephi and Nana discuss it, they realize that they really don’t know much about their father’s early life in Poland or what he did to survive the Holocaust. It’s something that, until now, Baruch has never discussed withe either of them.

Even when their father finally gives them an explanation, Nana suspects that he’s lying. Meanwhile, Sephi’s attempts to move on are complicated when she meets and falls in love with the son of the woman who accused her father of being a murderer….

Past Life is a frequently enthralling film, one that is all the more powerful because it’s based on a true story. It’s a film that not only inspires us to wonder about how much we truly know about the people who are the closest to us but it’s also one that forces us to consider the different ways that people deal with trauma. Every character in the film is, in one way or another, dealing with the past. Some do it through anger and some do it through denial. Baruch’s story becomes almost a Rorschach test. The two sisters each interpret it in their own way and each has their own reaction, one that is based not only on what Baruch says but also on their own unique relationship with him. The film also works as an examination of sisterhood. Nelly Tagar and Joy Reiger are instantly believable as sisters, capturing both the love and the annoyance that comes from their closeness.

Past Life is available on Prime so watch it the next time you want to be challenged.

Film Review: The Ten Commandments (dir by Cecil B. DeMille)

Posted on April 9, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though you may not know it if you’ve only seen the film during one of its annual showings on television, the 1956 religious epic, The Ten Commandments, originally opened with director Cecil B. DeMille standing on a stage. Speaking directly to the audience, DeMille explains that, though the film they’re about to see me take some dramatic license with the story of Moses, it still based on not just the Bible but also the accounts of Philo, Josephus and Eusebius. He also tells us that The Ten Commandments is more than just an adaptation of the Book of Exodus. Instead, it’s a film about every man’s desire to be free.

Demille concludes with: “The story will take 3 hours and 29 minutes to unfold. There will be an intermission. Thank you for your attention.”

To be honest, it’s kind of a sweet moment. Cecil B. DeMille is a name that is so associated with (occasionally overblown) epic filmmaking that it’s easy to forget that DeMille was one of the most important names in the artistic development of American cinema. He was there from the beginning and, unlike a lot of other filmmakers, he was equally successful in both the silent and the sound era. Say what you will about his films, DeMille was a showman and he handles the introduction like a pro. At the same time, there’s a real sincerity to DeMille’s tone. After you listen to him, you’d almost feel guilty if you didn’t sit through all 3 hours and 29 minutes of his film.

That sincerity extends throughout the entire film. Yes, The Ten Commandments is a big, long epic and some members of its all-star cast are more convincing in their roles than others. And yes, the film can seem a bit campy to modern viewers. (In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if it seemed a bit campy to viewers in 1956 as well.) Yes, The Ten Commandments does feature Anne Baxter saying, “Oh Moses! You sweet adorable fool!” But it doesn’t matter. Even the most ludicrous of dialogue just seem right. The film is just so sincere that it’s difficult not to enjoy it.

In the Book of Exodus, Moses is described as having a speech impediment and even tries to use it as an excuse to get out of going to Egypt. That’s actually one of the reasons why Moses brought Aaron with him to Egypt, so that Aaron could speak for him. In the movie, Moses is played by Charlton Heston, who comes across as if he’s never felt a moment of insecurity over the course of his entire life. But no matter. Heston may not by the Moses of Exodus but he’s the perfect Moses for the DeMille version. When Heston says that Egypt will be visited by plagues until his adopted brother Ramses (Yul Brynner) agrees to allow the Jews to leave Egypt, you believe every word. (Aaron, incidentally, is played by the legendary John Carradine. He doesn’t get too much other than respectfully stand a few feet behind Charlton Heston but still: John Carradine!)

And really, anyone who dismisses The Ten Commandments out-of-hand should go back and, at the very least, watch the scene where the Angel of Death descends upon Egypt. The scene where Moses and his family shelter in place while the screams of distraught mothers echo throughout the city is chilling. Ramses may spend most of the film as a petulant villain but you almost feel sorry for him when you see him mourning over his dead son. When he sets off after Moses, it’s not just because he’s doing what villains do. He’s seeking vengeance for the loss of his first born. For that brief moment, Ramses goes form being a melodramatic bad guy to being someone with whom the viewer can empathize. Brynner, with his burning intensity, gives a great performance as Ramses.

As I said before, this film has what, in 1956, would have been considered an all-star cast. Watching the names as they show up during the opening credits — Cedrick Hardwicke! Yvonne DeCarlo! Woody Strode! Debra Paget! — is like stepping into a TCM fever dream. Some of the performers give better performance than others. And yet, even the worst performer feels as if they just naturally belong in the world that DeMille has created. John Derek may seem rather smarmy as Joshua but his callowness provides a good contrast to the upright sincerity of Heston’s performance as Moses. Edward G. Robinson’s cries of, “Where is your God now!?” may have provided endless fodder for impersonators but just try to imagine the film without him. Even Vincent Price is in this thing! He doesn’t have his famous mustache but, as soon as you hear his voice and see that famous glare, you know that it’s him.

Of course, when you’re growing up and The Ten Commandments is on TV every year, you mostly just want to see the scene where Moses parts the Red Sea. The Ten Commandments was nominated for seven Oscars but it only won one, for its special effects. (The prize for Best Picture went to another epic, Around The World In 80 Days.) Today, the film’s special effects may no longer amaze viewers but there’s still something rather charming about the Red Sea parting and then crashing in on the Egyptian army. The scene where the Earth opens up and swallows those who worshiped the Golden Calf remains impressive, if just because all of the extras really look terrified that they might die. And while the Pillar of Fire may look a bit cartoonish to modern eyes, that’s a huge part of the film’s appeal.

The Ten Commandments is a big, long, sometimes silly, sometimes effective, and always entertaining epic. It’s a grand spectacle and one that I usually watch every year when it shows up on television. I missed this year’s showing but, fortunately, I own it on DVD. It’s a sincere epic and a difficult one not to like.

The International Lens: Breathless (dir by Jean-Luc Godard)

Posted on April 9, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1960 French film, Breathless, tells the story two people, a French criminal named Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo) and an American student named Patricia (Jean Seberg).

Michel is a criminal but it’s hard not to like him. Some of that is due to the fact that he’s played by Jean-Paul Belmondo, a charmingly off-center actor whose confidence and refusal to pretend to be anything other than what he was made him appealing even if he was not exactly handsome. The other reason why it’s easy to like Michel is because, no matter how many crimes he commits, you get the feeling that he’s just playing a role. He dresses like he belongs in a 30s gangster movie and a lot of his attitude has obviously been borrowed from Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney. Even the way he smokes a cigarette feels like an affectation. He’s a kid, playing dress-up. One almost gets the feeling that he knows he’s a character in a movie and he’s going out of his way to give the audience what they expect.

When we first see Michel, he’s stealing a car. He drives around the French countryside. He dismissively observes two hitchhikers. A few times, he appears to speak directly to the audience. Is he musing out loud or is he acknowledging that there’s a film camera in the passenger’s seat? It’s hard to say. When Michel gets pulled over by a cop, Michel shoots him. Or does he? The scene is edited in such a way that it’s hard to say for sure. Maybe the cameraman shot the cop. Maybe director Jean-Luc Godard shot the cop. Not that it matters. Michel is the one who is now wanted for murder.

With the authorities now determined to catch him and his face in all of the newspapers, Michel flees to Paris. That’s where his girlfriend, Patricia, lives. Patricia is an American student who aspires to be a journalist. She sells copies of the New York Herald Tribune while walking around Paris. Despite her journalistic ambitions, Patricia does not know that her boyfriend is wanted for murder. Then again, boyfriend might not be the right word. That would suggest more of a commitment than either one shows much interest in maintaining.

Michel hides out at Patricia’s apartment and, at one point, Patricia tells Michel that she might be pregnant with his baby. Michel promptly blames her for not being “careful” and we’re never quite sure if Patricia is telling the truth or not. While Michel hides out from the police and tries to figure out how to get enough money to flee to Italy, he and Patricia discuss …. things. (It is a French film, after all. It’s also a Godard film and, even if this film does feature Godard at his least pretentious, there’s still no way you’re going to get through a Godard film without at least a little conversation about the meaning of life.) Michel is resigned to the idea of living in the moment and seems to be somewhat death obsessed. Patricia remains optimistic and looks forward to the future. Michel complains that Americans always make heroes out of the wrong Frenchmen.

Do Michel and Patricia love each other? Who knows? By the end of the film, one of them has betrayed the other and we’re not quite sure why. One is dead and the other seems oddly ambivalent and rather confused about the whole thing.

One of the seminal works of the French new wave, Breathless was the directorial debut of Jean-Luc Godard, who was working from a story treatment that was originally written by Francois Truffaut and Claude Chabrol. When it was first released, Breathless reportedly stunned audience by using techniques — like frequent jump cuts, location shooting, and the use of a handheld camera — that are now so familiar that we take them for granted. That said, even if Godard’s techniques are no longer shocking, Breathless remains an exciting film to watch. It’s not just the Michel and Patricia are frequently breathless. One also gets the feeling that Godard was breathless behind the camera, trying to keep up with the story that he was telling. This is a film that, much like it’s lead characters, never stops moving. Indeed, a huge reason why the film’s finale remains powerful is because it’s the first time that anyone in the film truly seems to be still. The viewer has gotten so used to the film’s frenetic energy that it’s a shock when it all comes to an end.

It’s been written that there are two eras of cinema — pre-Breathless and post-Breathless. I don’t know if that’s true but it is impossible to watch Breathless and not see what a huge influence it’s had on every crime film that has followed. Every film about lovers-on-the-run probably owes at least a minor debt to Breathless. It’s one of those films that you simply have to see, both because of it’s historic importance and also just because it’s a damn good movie. It’s a film that’s in love with cinema and, by the time things come to a close, you’ll be in love with it too.

The International Lens: Aguirre, The Wrath of God (dir by Werner Herzog)

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Take a moment to picture this: Klaus Kinski, drifting by on a raft with a bunch of monkeys.

There’s a lot of memorable scenes in Werner Herzog’s 1972 film, Aguirre, The Wrath of God. However, for me, this will always be the film where Klaus Kinski ends up on a raft with a bunch of monkeys. It feels like an appropriate fate for Aguirre, the Spanish conquistador and proto-fascist who Kinski plays in this film. After spending 90 minutes listening to Augirre rant and rave about how he’s destined to conquer South America and how he will always be known as “the wrath of God,” it’s easy to look forward to him being reduced to being a somewhat pathetic figure, commanding a raft full of monkeys.

And yet, what’s odd, is that Aguirre never quite become as ludicrous a figure as you’re expecting him too. Even though he’s obviously been driven mad and the Amazon rain forest is closing in on him, there’s nothing desperate about Aguirre. He still believes in himself. He still believes in his destiny. He still believes that every decision that he’s made has been the right one. It’ll take more than a bunch of monkeys to defeat Aguirre!

Filmed on location in South America, Aguirre, The Wrath of God claims to be based on a true story. We’re told that the film was adapted from a journal that was kept by a 16th century priest named Gaspar de Carvajal. And while it is true that a Dominican missionary named Carvajal did publish several accounts of his journeys to the New World and while the film itself is full of people who share their names with actual historical figures (Pizarro, Pedro de Ursua, and Lope de Aguirre, being just three examples), the film’s story is itself fictional, though plausible. This is one of those stories that may not have happened but the viewer can’t help but feel that maybe it should have.

The film deals with an expedition of Spanish conquistadors making their way through South America, searching for the fabled country of El Dorado. The conquistadors, whio are first seen awkwardly climbing down a huge mountain in their full armor while dragging along cannons and treasure chests, are led by Pizarro (Alejandro Repullés). Pizarro orders 40 members of the expedition to scout ahead by taking a raft down the Amazon River. Pizarro places Ursua (Ruy Guerra) in charge of the scouting expedition while naming Aguirre (Klaus Kinski) as second-in-command. The hope is that the scouting expedition will return in one week with news of what’s ahead. Of course, it doesn’t work out that way.

Aguirre is Klaus Kinski’s signature role. Herzog, who knew Kinski when the latter was a young actor renting a room in Herzog’s family’s apartment, specifically wrote the role with Kinski in mind. Aguirre would be the first of several legendary collaborations between Herzog and Kinski. In Kinski, Herzog found the perfect actor to embody his belief that chaos was the determining factor of the universe. And, in Herzog, Kinski found one of the few directors who truly knew how to harness his manic acting style. They were a perfect match and, of course, they often hated each other. During the filming of Aguirre, Herzog and Kinski reportedly argued so frequently over how Aguirre should be portrayed that Kinski threatened to leave the jungle at one point. Herzog responded by saying that, if Kinski tried to leave, Herzog would first shoot him and then himself. It was not the last time that Herzog would threaten to kill Kinski. In fact, after Kinski’s death, Herzog made My Best Fiend, an entire documentary about their difficult but often worthwhile collaboration.

Kinski reportedly wanted to play Aguirre as a ranting madman while Herzog wanted a subtler interpretation. Judging from the end results, they agreed to meet somewhere in the middle. From the first minute we see him, it’s obvious that Aguirre holds everyone and everything around him in contempt. He hates the other members of the expedition. He despises the jungle that surrounds them and the river that he’s soon be floating down. Even when he’s dealing with his own teenage daughter (Cecilia Rivera), he never smiles or shows anything resembling affection. He glares at the world with distrustful eyes. And yet, everyone follows him because he seems to be the only member of the expedition who is not intimidated by the river or the jungle. He promises his followers that they will be kings and that they will be rich and he says it with such authority that it doesn’t seem to occur to anyone to ask how he can be so sure. Even when it starts to become apparent that Aguirre is losing his sanity, he’s too intimidating a figure for anyone to try to stop. When one member of the group starts to complain about Aguirre’s leadership, Aguirre chops off his head. (The head continues to talk for a few seconds before falling silent.) As the film progresses, Aguirre grows progressively more and more unhinged. By the end of the film, he’s come to stand-in for fanatics through history. Every dictator, the film seems to be saying, started out as an Aguirre.

In fact, the only things that’s not intimidated by Aguirre is the jungle that is continually threaten to swallow up the expedition. In typical Herzog fashion, the jungle is both lushly beautiful and also home to all sorts of unseen threats. As more than a few people learn as they float along the river, stopping to admire the jungle is a good way to get hit by an arrow. Amazingly, no matter how many times the expedition is attacked by the potent combination of nature and angry natives, Aguirre never seems to get a scratch. It may be that, in the end, only the insane can survive in a world with no rules beyond random destruction.

Aguirre was Herzog’s first big hit and it remains perhaps his best-known film. It’s certainly features some of Herzog’s best work as a director and Klaus Kinski’s best performance as an actor. In the end, you’ll never forget Aguirre and the monkeys.

Film Review: Charge Over You (dir by Regardt Steenekamp)

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Charge Over You, an independent Australian film from 2010, tells the story of Sarah Goodall (Danya Cox).

Having spent almost her entire adolescence dreaming of becoming a doctor so that she could find a cure for the illness that was killing her mother, Sarah finds herself struggling after her mother dies. Whereas she was once an honors student and seemed destined for greatness, she’s now haunted by a feeling that everything is pointless. Her grades are slipping. Her mentor is disappointed in her. Her friends are all turning into bad influences. Her father wants to marry some bimbo that Sarah doesn’t even know. Sarah is even starting to wonder if she even wants to become a doctor.

It’s a dark time and, even worse, Sarah makes the mistake of playing with a Ouija board! Well, technically, it was some of her friends who were playing with the Ouija board but Sarah was in the room at the time. Sarah may say that she doesn’t believe in the power of the Ouija board but does the board believe in her? That’s the question.

Suddenly, Sarah has a boyfriend! She’s not sure how she met Dane (James E. Lee). All she knows is that he’s suddenly in her life and that he has a habit of showing up whenever she’s feeling at her weakest. When she steps into her dorm room, he’s there waiting for her. When she tries to talk to other people, she’ll sometimes see him materialize behind them. Dane is cold and cruel and doesn’t even pretend to be sympathetic when she tells him about the death of her mother. Instead, Dane demands that she spend all of her time with him. Even though Sarah doesn’t even like Dane, she finds it impossible to resist him.

Of course, Dane isn’t the only man who has suddenly materialized into Sarah’s life. There’s also Mike, who appears to be a nice guy and who obviously likes Sarah. (He’s visibly hurt when Sarah tells him that she already has a mysterious boyfriend who materialized out of nowhere.) And then there’s Sam, who seems like he’s kind of dorky but who is constantly warning Sarah about guys like Dane. Sam even warns Sarah about agreeing to have dinner with her father. The dinner, of course, turns out to be a disaster and Sarah’s father reveals himself to be a disappointing human being. Why, it’s almost as if Sam can see the future…..

Charge Over You is a strange film. It starts out as a typical college horror film and then, suddenly, it swerves into overly religious territory as Sarah learns that she has both demons and angels competing for her soul. And yet, it’s an undeniably entertaining little film. Danya Cox gives a strong and sympathetic performance as Sarah and James E. Lee is magnetically evil as Dane. Director Regardt Steenekamp does an excellent job of creating an ominous atmosphere and some the scenes where Dane materializes out of nowhere are genuinely creepy. For a low-budget indie film that was reportedly filmed in just 12 days, Charge Over You is a surprisingly well-made and effective film.

It’s on Prime, so check it out during your lockdown and remember …. leave the Ouija boards in the closet!

The International Lens: Even Dwarfs Started Small and Fata Morgana (dir by Werner Herzog)

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

After making his feature film directorial debut with the well-made but somewhat predictable Signs of Life in 1968, Werner Herzog followed up with two of his most unconventional films to date, 1970’s Even Dwarfs Started Small and 1971’s Fata Morgana.

Even Dwarfs Started Small

I watched Even Dwarfs Started Small a few days ago and it was …. well, I’m not really sure what it was. This is one of Herzog’s more enigmatic films. It’s easy to imagine that the film has some incredibly deep meaning. It’s also just as easy to imagine that the film was Herzog playing an elaborate practical joke on everyone who thought they were going to see another low-key film like Signs of Life.

The film takes place in an institution of some sort. It’s implied that it’s a prison but it could just as easily be a mental hospital. Everyone in the film is a little person. The inmates are apparently rebelling against the warden. While the warden sits in his office and waits for some sort of help to arrive, the inmates run around the grounds of the asylum and break things. A van ends up driving in circles with no one at the wheel. Chickens get into fights. Piglets suckle on their dead mother. (We don’t actually see the inmates kill any animals but there’s still a lot of very uncomfortable references to animal cruelty.) Two blind inmates are taunted by the others. We’re never really sure who anyone is or why they’re in the institution. All we know is that their society appears to be crumbling and there’s no help on the way.

Even Dwarfs Started Small

It’s not a very pleasant movie to watch, though I do understand that it has its devoted fans. (Director Harmony Korine has called it the greatest movie ever made because of course he would.) You probably already guessed that my feelings about the film are mixed. On the one hand, it was a very unpleasant viewing experience. On the other hand, I do respect any artist who sticks to his vision, regardless of the risk of alienating his audience. Herzog presents a portrait of Hell in Even Dwarfs Started Small and he doesn’t waver from it so I have to give him credit for that.

Incidentally, the smallest inmate is named Hombre. He laughs nonstop through the entire film. I have never more wanted to see a random asteroid just fall from the sky and crush one character.

Even Dwarfs Started Small was such an unpleasant experience that, after I watched it, I nearly gave up on watching any more films that night. But, the fact of the matter is that I love movies and I like Werner Herzog so I decided to follow-up Dwarfs by watching Herzog’s third film, Fata Morgana. And I’m glad I did!

Fata Morgana

Admittedly, Fata Morgana has even less of a plot than Even Dwarfs Started Small. For the most part, Fata Morgana is made up of long tracking shots of the Sahara Desert. Herzog reportedly spent 13 months, off-and-on, shooting footage in Africa. At the time, he didn’t have any plans for what he was going to do with the footage, beyond perhaps using it to tell a science fiction story about a dying planet.

Fata Morgana

Instead, Herzog edited the footage together in such a way that the viewers feel as if they’re being taken on a trip across the Sahara. Though the early part of the film features a voice narrating the creation myth of the Mayan people, little context is provided for the starkly beautiful images that Herzog captured in Africa. Instead, it’s left to the viewer to determine what it all means.

Fata Morgana

The end result is a fascinating film, one that leads you pondering life’s mysteries. The combination of Herzog’s footage and the atmospheric musical score leaves you feeling less like a viewer and more like an explorer. Fata Morgana is a film that makes you want to get out and explore every corner of the world for yourself. It’s also a film that reminds us that, after we’re gone, all of our possessions and works will just be mysterious artifacts for future explorers, like an overturned car sitting in the middle of the desert. It’s one of Herzog’s best.

Fata Morgana

After these two films, Herzog would direct one of the films for which he is best know, Aguirre, The Wrath of God, a masterpiece that was predicted by both the ominous beauty of Fata Morgana and the disturbing insanity of Even Dwarfs Started Small.

Film Review: Mary Magdalene (dir by Garth Davis)

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Dress more like the Virgin and less like the Magdalene.”

That’s something my grandmother always used to tell me and my sisters. That’s because, Mary Magdalene — who is described in the Gospels as being a woman who traveled with and supported Jesus — is often mistaken for being the “sinful woman” who scandalized Simon the Leper by anointing Jesus’s feet. As such, there’s a tradition that Mary Magdalene was either a former prostitute or, at the very least, a formerly promiscuous woman who repented and followed Jesus. That said, there’s nothing in the canonical gospels that supports that tradition and, in all probability, the sinful woman was another Mary, Mary of Bethany. In 1969, Pope Paul VI officially removed all reference to Mary Magdalene being the sinful woman but it’s still fairly common for Mary Magdalene to be portrayed as being a former prostitute.

Mary Magdalene, which was released briefly in theaters last year, attempts to set the record straight by imagining a different backstory for Mary Magdalene. In fact, the whole theme of this movie seems to be, “See? She wasn’t a prostitute!” And that’s fine except, while watching the movie, I really had to wonder if it was somehow an improvement to instead portray her as being the most boring person in Judea. Watching the film, one gets the feeling that the filmmakers were so proud of themselves for making Mary Magdalene a feminist that it didn’t occur to them that they might also want to make her an interesting character as well.

In this movie, Mary Magdalene (played by a dependably dull Rooney Mara) is a young Jewish woman who rebels against the wishes of her family and refuses to enter into an arranged marriage with Ephraim (Tzachi Halevy) and who instead decides to follow a preacher named Jesus (Joaquin Phoenix). As portrayed in this movie, Jesus is charismatic but often moody, preaching a good message (though the film seems to interpret that message as mostly being vague Gnostic liberalism) while getting annoyed with almost everyone around him. Jesus often seems to be exhausted by his followers, especially Judas (Tahar Rahim) who is way too eager for Jesus to lead an armed uprising against the forces of the Roman Empire. Meanwhile, Jesus’s main disciple, Peter (Chiwetel Ejiofor), often finds himself growing jealous of Mary Magdalene and the trust that builds between her and Jesus. While this film does not go the Jesus Christ Superstar route of portraying them as being a couple, it also leaves little doubt that Mary Magdalene, who is defying not just Rome but also the entire patriarchy, understands Jesus and his teachings in a way that the male disciples never will.

As a film, Mary Magalene takes itself and its story very seriously and it generally eshews the type of grandeur that one might expect from a biblical epic. That low-key approach may be historically accurate but it’s not much fun to watch and, with a running time of 120 minutes, the action just kind of plods along. Rooney Mara can give a good performance when she has the right material but here, she’s often just reduced to just wanly staring off into the distance.

As for Joaquin Phoenix as Jesus …. well, the casting actually works better than you might think. Phoenix plays Jesus as being a passionate leader who is haunted by his destiny. With his long hair and his scruffy beard, Phoenix is not a glamorous Jesus but he’s very much a credible one. The film is probably at its best in the scene where Jesus witnesses the money changers in the temple. Rather than playing Jesus as being simply enraged, Phoenix plays him as being deeply disappointed. One gets the feeling that he’s looking at what is happening in his father’s house and he’s thinking, “These are the people I’m supposed to sacrifice my life to save?”

Mary Magdalene is one of those films that took forever to actually show up in theaters. The Weinstein Company was originally set to release the film in early 2017 but the release was pushed back to 2018, for reasons that have never been particularly clear. Eventually the Weinstein Company pulled out of distributing the film and, for that, I’m thankful. The idea of any film about Jesus carrying the Harvey Weinstein name is just too terrible to think about. The film was then picked up by IFC, who gave it a perfunctory release in 2019.

It’s a flawed film, even though it’s heart may be in the right place. The approach that it takes is just too low-key to be consistently interesting. Sometimes, bigger is better.

The International Lens: Signs of Life (dir by Werner Herzog)

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1968 German film, Signs of Life, is a deceptively simple film.

In fact, the story that it tells is so simple and so seemingly straight-forward that I’m sure some people would be surprised to discover that this was Werner Herzog’s first film. When most people think of Herzog, they think of Klaus Kinski ranting against the Amazon and maybe Herzog himself talking about how he feels that chaos is the only governing principle of the universe. Signs of Life, on the other hand, is a rather low-key and almost gentle film. That said, the film does contain several of the themes that would show up in Herzog’s later film. Even with his first feature film, Herzog already had a fairly good grasp on what he wanted to use cinema to express.

The film takes place in World War II and it deals with three German soldiers who have suffered from minor injuries in the war. Deemed unfit for combat, they’ve been assigned to guard the munitions that are being stored at an ancient fortress on the Greek island of Kos. It’s not demanding work. The villagers are largely passive and, for the most part, seem to be just waiting out the war. The leader of the soldiers, Stroszek (Peter Brogle), has recently married a Greek woman named Nora (Athina Zacharopoulou) and she is living with him at the fortress.

The film celebrates the beauty of Kos. Herzog’s camera finds poetry in the simple sight of white linens hanging out to dry. One of the soldiers explores the local cemetery and Herzog encourages us to ponder the long history of both the island and the people who live there. In perhaps the film’s best known scene, Stroszek and Nora look down on a valley full of windmills and the beauty of it is a bit overwhelming.

As would often happen in later Herzog films, the soldiers never quite appreciate the beauty of the world around them. While the audience is taking in scenes of breath-taking beauty, the soldiers are going a bit stir crazy. Could it be that, as men of war, they’re incapable of appreciating the peaceful surrounding? Perhaps but, then again, it could just be the fact that there’s not much to do on Kos other than ponder the mysteries of life and, in Herzog’s films, that often leads to insanity. Stroszek ends up threatening to blow up the munitions dump but it must be said that, as far as Herzog lunatics are concerned, he’s no Klaus Kinski.

The plot of Signs of Life is largely secondary to the images that Herzog captures. Watching Signs of Life, you get the feeling that Herzog simply fell in love with the island and that the film’s storyline is just something that he came up with so he’d have an excuse to share that love with the rest of the world. Signs of Life is an exercise in pure cinema. It’s not a perfect debut film but, at its best, it shows tantalizing hints of the great filmmaker that Werner Herzog would soon become.

Scenes That I Love: Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn at The Mouth of Truth in Roman Holiday

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Given how much I love the 1953 film, Roman Holiday, I’ve probably shared this scene before but that’s okay. It’s an incredibly charming scene and hey, it’s Gregory Peck’s birthday!

A Blast From The Past: Bette Davis Sells General Electric

Posted on April 5, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Today is not only Roger Corman’s birthday!

And it’s not just Albert Broccoli’s birthday!

It’s also Bette Davis’s birthday and there’s absolutely no way that we here at the Shattered Lens, as lovers of both classic and modern films, could let the day pass without acknowledging it.

Here’s Bette Davis in a General Election commercial from 1933. This commercial would have been shown in theaters, in between a double feature.