The Language of Birds: Jacques Rivette's OUT 1 (my video essay collaboration w/ Covadonga G. Lahera)

Six months ago, I undertook a video essay collaboration on Jacques Rivette's 13-hour magnum opus Out 1: noli me tangere with Covadonga G. Lahera (whose other work can be found on Vimeo). This was the fifth entry in the Out 1 Video Essay Project created by Chris Luscri for the Melbourne International Film Festival. Earlier participants included Kevin B. Lee, Jonathan Rosenbaum, Adrian Martin, Cristina Álvarez López, David Heslin, and Chris himself. Right off the bat, Covi and I decided to take a slightly different approach. We noticed that both of us enjoyed creating non-narrated videos, establishing links between various moments via montage, superimposition, and manipulation of the image. We also frequently liked to let clips play out, so that the viewer could experience a small section of a film out of context.

We decided to design a "video letter" exchange (divided into 8 parts, just like the film itself), taking advantage of our geographical distance to establish a back-and-forth dynamic. It would begin by featuring long, unedited clips and conclude by heavily "interfering," sonically and visually, with the material from the film (and even incorporating footage from outside the film). Not only would this be a fun game, it would echo the actual film's structure since Rivette and his co-director Suzanne Schiffman slowly built improvisations and standalone ideas into a narrative of conspiracy and interconnection, escalating the pace of the cutting and experimentation as both the production and the presentation of the film advanced. I'm not sure I've had as much fun working on a video before as I did with this project and - after logistical delays throughout the fall - I'm thrilled to see it up and out there. Thanks so much to Covi, Chris, and to Danny Kasman from MUBI for making this possible.

Here is (the beginning of) what Covi and I had to say about our collaboration on MUBI (you should definitely follow this link to get a full scope of the project, both our contribution and others'):

COVI: "Our mission, as we chose to accept it, consisted of a game of exchange between strangers. Each was to give the other a video lettre which would then be returned in sequence, the final structure of the work a literal replication of this back-and-forth dialectic. In order to facilitate a wider dialogue, each letter was to be about a minute long, and constructed mostly through images and sounds from Rivette’s Out 1: noli me tangere. ..."

JOEL: "When Covi and I first exchanged emails, we toyed with different video essay formats. We decided pretty quickly that we did not want to use narration, but then we went even further—deciding that, at least initially, we would avoid dialogue altogether, though words would inevitably sneak their way into our “Language of Birds" within a few chapters. ..."

To continue reading our introductions, visit MUBI's presentation of the video.

If you enjoy this strange brew, please share it with others!

And if you like seeing clips from Rivette, check out my recent montage pairing Duelle and Out 1 with Brian Eno's "Golden Hours."

Did David Lynch fight Showtime out of loyalty to Twin Peaks actresses?

Every month, I will be offering at least one post on Twin Peaks...up until Showtime re-airs the original series. Then I will post extensive coverage of each episode (mixing new reactions with my many older pieces) immediately after they air. Stay tuned.

When David Lynch left Twin Peaks for six weeks in April 2015, declaring that Showtime would not provide the resources to adequately produce the show, speculation swirled. Was Lynch being greedy about profits? Was Showtime reneging on its promise of creative control and financial support for Lynch's avant-garde vision? Were actors not being offered enough money? When Lynch returned to the production the following month, he and the network announced that their differences had been resolved and that in fact the series would be even longer than expected. Last fall, Lynch began shooting the new Twin Peaks and has been working in near-secrecy ever since. There was never a clear answer why all the drama had unfolded.

Now, however, a strong rumor is emerging from an unnamed source, who told Twin Peaks podcaster Cameron Cloutier that Lynch's unprecedented and high-profile departure was triggered by the attitude taken by some Showtime employees and/or representatives toward members of the cast: specifically the actresses who starred as twentysomethings in the original 1990-91 cast and are now in their forties and fifties. Cameron's source claims that one of the Showtime representatives specifically said, "No one wants to see an old Audrey Horne." While there were likely other factors in the disagreement between Lynch and Showtime, there is apparently a good chance that this was - temporarily, at least - the dealbreaker.

Here is Cameron's video (if you're already aware of how events unfold publicly last spring, jump to 5:04 for the discussion of what his source has to say):

Update: As of 2024, this video is no longer available.

I am not a journalist and, as far as I know, neither is Cameron - I am not making a claim here, but rather relaying information that I consider highly plausible. I have participated in several of his podcasts, frequently spoken to and corresponded with him, and occasionally contributed to his Twin Peaks Worldwide Facebook page as an "admin." I also know that Cameron has interviewed many Twin Peaks actors as well as people in Lynch's circle like Jennifer Lynch. I believe his source is reliable, and while it's certainly possible that they are misinformed about this incident I believe it's likely to be true. Without revealing the source's identity he was able to tell me a few things, some on the record and some off. The source is not Sherilyn Fenn, who has already publicly complained about the film industry's sexism and ageism in implicit relation to Twin Peaks - meaning that at least two people close to the production have this perception. The source seems to be someone in a position to know what they are talking about and, at the very least, they are conveying information that others in the production also believe.

I think this information is important to share for several reasons:

1) I am hoping that someone who is a journalist, with greater resources or training than I have, can look further into this story and discover more. If true, it is certainly newsworthy as further evidence of the film industry's ingrained sexism (and particularly its gender-oriented ageism), even on supposedly prestige projects in which individual artists are given creative control.

2) This isn't just about the industry, but about Twin Peaks and the fact is that, for many people in the media and the industry, the series has frequently been celebrated and condescended to as light entertainment, quirky and sexy and cute but without anything substantial to say. The fact that, despite its humor and sense of fun, its central themes involve abuse, rape, and sexual trauma is something conveniently overlooked in popular perception. If this story is true, it is further evidence that Twin Peaks is too often limited to its "sexiness quotient" rather than appreciated for the deeper ways it grapples with complex social, psychological, and spiritual phenomena (many specifically dealing with obstacles faced by women of all ages).

3) Sherilyn Fenn posted a lot of accusatory and sometimes cryptic social media posts last fall (many involving statements about the patriarchy and sexism and ageism in the industry), in relation to her own questionable involvement with the new series. These were often dismissed as being too dramatic or self-serving. If this story is true, it certainly places those tweets and posts in a new context (though it also opens the question of why the contention emerged in the fall rather than the spring, when the age of the actresses was supposedly more of an issue).

4) Maybe this is a long shot, but if this story is true and it does go public I would like to think that it can have some small but necessary impact on people's attitudes within the industry; that maybe - when combined with other stories - it will become slightly less acceptable to actively push for the marginalization of middle-aged women in Hollywood. Because I haven't seen this story discussed elsewhere, because Cameron asked me to share it, and because it involves a subject I have devoted a substantial amount of time and effort to covering and dissecting, I want to do what I can to get the story out there.

Please share this information with others if you find it relevant or believable (keeping in mind that for the moment it remains in the category of plausible rumor and has not been confirmed by multiple sources). Cameron has also suggested that we tweet David Lynch to show our support for his gesture. If this story is true, it certainly speaks well of his loyalty and commitment, and makes it unsurprising that so many of these actors rallied to his defense.

The Favorites - Scarface (#72)

The Favorites is a series briefly exploring films I love, to find out what makes them - and me - tick. Scarface (1932/USA/dir. Howard Hawks) appeared at #72 on my original list.

What it is • Shot in black-and-white that glistens, and scored with a barrage of crackling machine-gun fire, Scarface is a talkie that exhibits all of the charm of Hollywood's early sound period and few of the drawbacks. Director Howard Hawks employs dozens of clever audiovisual ideas to illustrate the rise of Chicago hoodlum Tony Camonte (Paul Muni) during Prohibition. Many of these inventive techniques put a cinematic gloss on brutal murder: an opening long take that uses suggestive sound and shadow to "depict" the first of many killings; the repetition of Expressionistic "X"'s (created by crossbeams, doorways, and other props) atop dead gangsters; and the whip-pan execution of Camonte's final rival (a clipped, glowering Boris Karloff) as he bowls a perfect strike (which, of course, is marked on the score sheet as an "X"!). Collaborating with writer Ben Hecht (whose "Out of my way, Johnny, I'm gonna spit!" is pure pulp poetry), Hawks borrows from the Borgias to lend Camonte an unnatural feeling for his little sister (Ann Dvorak). Meanwhile, he pursues the moll (Karen Morley) of his boss (Osgood Perkins) whom Camonte will depose in bed, boardroom, and body. Producer Howard Hughes fought his way to big box office earnings through a minefield of censorship and opposition, filming two different endings, adding the subtitle "Shame of a Nation" and most absurdly, shoehorning in an extended sequence in which "upstanding citizen" types speak moralistically into the camera (my favorite character is the out-of-nowhere Italian-American who pops up in a cutaway to intone in a ridiculously exaggerated accent, "He is a disgrace-a to my people!"). Hawks disclaims any responsibility for this passage which stops the film cold not just narratively but aesthetically, shot as it is in a clumsy static wide shot, with poor lighting. But its unintentional hilarity actually complements the surrounding film with its sharp contrast. Scarface is beautiful as hell, but it doesn't make a damn thing look pretty: not the stupidity of its protagonist, not the rather shocking level of violence, not the lust for power of Tony's relentless rise and fall.

Why I like it •

The Prisoner - "The Chimes of Big Ben"

Welcome to my viewing diary for The Prisoner. Every Wednesday I will review another episode. This is my first watch-through of the 1967 British cult TV show so there will be NO spoilers for upcoming episodes. But I will be watching the series in this order so if you are watching along with me, keep that in mind.

Here we have a very, very unusual episode. Let me count the ways... Number Two (Leo McKern) seems less confident than usual; he even loses his temper and grows flustered at times. His blustering threats against Number Six seem vaguely out of character, even for a character who's actually a different character each time. While every episode begins with the new Number Two's vague demand for "information," "The Chimes of Big Ben" gets very specific about what information the authorities are looking for: they want to know why Number Six resigned. Number Two goes so far as to say that is all they want to know. This is a rather startling alteration, because it makes Six's situation seem less like a mindfuck limbo and more like a straightforward moral challenge. Something else is more straightforward too: the political stakes of the Village, perhaps even its location, are explicitly - if somewhat confusingly - laid out by the characters onscreen. Number Six is told by Natasha (Nadia Gray), the new Number Eight (have we met the old Number Eight?) that the Village is in Lithuania and together they are even able to chart an escape back to London. It seems very much to be a Cold War situation, with the Soviets trying to extract information from a British agent. Or is this a red herring?

The 3 1/2 Minute Review: Revenge of the Sith (video)

Update 1/12: The video is up.

With all the Star Wars hype, I was inspired to revisit the prequel films, which I haven't seen in five years. I watched Revenge of the Sith in anticipation of this video review. It's up a day late due to difficulty (ten years after it became a massive box office hit, the movie is surprisingly hard to acquire on DVD). I actually ended up watching the film twice before I made this. What do you think of Revenge of the Sith? Is it the best of the prequels by default? Is it underrated by its many detractors? How does George Lucas' visual sense compare to J.J. Abrams' The Force Awakens?

The Favorites - Ivan the Terrible, Pt. II (#73)

The Favorites is a series briefly exploring films I love, to find out what makes them - and me - tick. Ivan the Terrible, Pt. II (1946/USSR/dir. Sergei Eisenstein) appeared at #73 on my original list.

What it is • The Ivan the Terrible films are among the most unconventional biopics of all time: more about gesture and expression than action. Eisenstein stylizes his live actors and physical sets into grotesque cartoons (J. Hoberman notes that the film "approach[es] animation...Nikolai Cherkasov’s stooped, skinny Ivan might equally have been modeled on a Disney vulture"). Even so, Ivan the Terrible Pt. I (1944) comes much closer than Pt. II to conventional biopic format. Its story documents a series of notable events in Ivan's life, from his coronation and victory in battle to the loss of his wife and triumphant return to Moscow after a temporary abdication. The first film also depicts a notable physical transformation, with Ivan slowly morphing from dashing, fresh-cheeked young man to bearded, wizened old(-looking) man. The second film, on the other hand, zeroes in on one specific story, narrowing its scope in both time and space (other than the dazzling checkerboard-court sequence in Poland that opens the movie). The aristocratic boyars who plotted against Ivan throughout Pt. I are now closing in on him in Moscow and only through his diabolical cleverness and dedication is he able to outwit their attempts to humiliate and eventually assassinate him. Although Ivan's wit and charm, contrasted with the devious sobriety of his opponents, secures him as a sympathetic protagonist, he also seems quite grotesque - calling him a "good guy" would certainly be stretching it. This was ostensibly why Joseph Stalin, who had endorsed the first movie, suppressed the second, chiding Eisenstein and Cherkasov for obscuring the motivations for Ivan's "terrible" actions (something Stalin knew a bit about, and must have taken personally). However, Stalin and the censors in his employ also seemed perturbed by the film's avant-garde nature, which takes the experimentation of the first film to new levels. Pt. II mixes garish, hellish colors with stark black-and-white, playing with light and shadow across Ivan's face so that he looks more like an axe murderer than a noble head of state, and distorting its human forms until they exist more as tactile shapes in their own right than easily-understood signifiers. In short, Ivan the Terrible Pt. II is as concerned with form as content, conceiving form as content in a way that simply didn't compute with Soviet preferences for social realism.

Why I like it •

The Prisoner - "Checkmate"

Welcome to my viewing diary for The Prisoner. Every Wednesday I will review another episode. This is my first watch-through of the 1967 British cult TV show so there will be NO spoilers for upcoming episodes. But I will be watching the series in this order so if you are watching along with me, keep that in mind.

As I watch The Prisoner for the first time in 2016, I am struck by how unflappable and strong-willed Number Six is. Today's media landscape tend to prefer ambiguous antiheroes or more sensitive self-questioning protagonists but Six is very much an assertive, unapologetic Cold War-era British alpha male. His suave but still relatively square demeanor and arch sense of humor reminds me of Sean Connery's James Bond (although Six doesn't quite seem to be having as much fun as 007 - maybe that extra digit makes all the difference). This marks him out not only from later trends in pop culture, but also his environment on the show itself - where most of the other Villagers appear meek or voiceless, either placidly accepting their condition or actively working to perpetuate it. Reflecting on this quality in "Checkmate," I was pleasantly surprised to see that the episode itself actually incorporates this discrepancy into the plot: Six's take-control, unintimidated nature sabotages his escape attempt when it convinces his collaborators he is actually a mole. Six's greatest virtues are his intelligence and his stubborn will but this time at least they work at cross-purposes. In an episode that centers - none to subtly - around the metaphor of chess, his claim that "good old-fashioned brute force can be very effective" seems to be disproved by the outcome.

Fragments of Cinephilia, Pt. V

If you're looking for further details on the Maya Deren video I just posted on YouTube, here is the blog post mentioned at the end.

Short thoughts on: Fists in the Pocket • Michael Medved • Goodbye, Mr. Chips • Russian Ark • My Night at Maud's • Claire's Knee • Paris Belongs to Us • 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her • Jean-Luc Godard • Europa '51

I've become a broken record on this subject, but I swear that within a few weeks I will have a huge backlog of Monday posts, more than I know what to do with - including a video that relates to the above picture. January is going to be very busy (although the work is mostly done, I'm waiting for other sites to cross-post). Unfortunately at this moment an interview, a guest post, at least four videos, and a podcast appearance are all waiting in the wings rather than in the bag. (That said, I did finally upload the "Cinepoem" video I blogged about back in November.) So I'm turning to one of my old standbys today, the archival of my old IMDb comments, where my online film commentary began. I've done this four times before, each time moving a bit further into the past. Some of these comments are actually almost a decade old, so be advised that they may no longer reflect my opinions (hell, I even left in some of the typos!). In many cases they represent my first engagement with the work in question, as a 23-year-old hungry for as many cinematic experiences as he could devour.

In fact 2006-07 was in many ways a peak viewing period for me; I was falling back into cinephilia after many years of caring more about music than movies. Most of the topics below relate to mid-century European films, particularly French filmmakers like Rohmer, Rivette, and Godard. Some of these films I loved, some I did not, but all of them seemed to me worthy of discussion - and still do. I would like to hear your thoughts as well, if you've seen these films (and if you haven't, I hope this serves as encouragement). Did Fists in the Pocket surprise you? Is Europa '51 too didactic? Does Goodbye Mr. Chips need a stronger narrative throughline? Is Rohmer subtly encouraging us to criticize the protagonist of Claire's Knee? Is Godard an incredibly consistent genius, an emperor with no clothes, or a hit-and-miss experimenter? Let me know what you think, and I'll let you know where I do and don't agree with the old me.

(I originally used a different image, culled from a Wonders in the Dark post several years earlier, but I replaced it with this one in 2017 when I cross-posted that Wonders piece on this site.)

The Favorites - Gone With the Wind (#74)

The Favorites is a series briefly exploring films I love, to find out what makes them - and me - tick. Gone With the Wind (1939/USA/dir. Victor Fleming, George Cukor, Sam Wood) appeared at #74 on my original list.

What it is • Gone with the Wind doesn't need much introduction (but I'll provide one anyway). Seventy-seven years after its release, with virtually the entire cast, crew, and even most of the original audience long "gone with the wind" themselves (except for the game Olivia De Havilland, who will turn 100 this year), the film remains an infamous example of classic Hollywood romanticism. Ironically, despite its status as the archetypal product of the Golden Age, this isn't exactly a product of the studio system assembly line, owing its existence to David O. Selznick, an independent producer with a vision. Based on Margaret Mitchell's bestseller, the film mixes an epic historical scope with intimate melodrama, albeit not entirely evenly (the former dominates the first half, the latter the second). Scarlett O'Hara (Vivien Leigh) begins the story as a bratty teenage belle, living in splendor and luxury that she takes entirely for granted. When the tale closes four hours later, she is a thrice-married woman of the world who has experienced war, hunger, and poverty, who has worked a field and run a business, while watching many of her friends and family die off. She is not particularly admirable, wooing two lovers whom she doesn't love away from other women (including her own sister), trying to steal her loyal friend's husband, ruthlessly exploiting and manipulating strangers and friends alike to earn a living, and generally refusing to feel shame for her improprieties. She's also the best thing about the movie, rivaled only by the roguish Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) for similar reasons: both of them cut through the intoxicating but disingenuous air of Hollywood pomposity and Old South sentimentality. The film has many big setpieces but I think the cornerstone of its greatness is lain by this dynamic human element.

Why I like it •

Montage: Two and One (Jacques Rivette & Brian Eno) (video)

A new video entry in my montage series, combining movies and music. The previous entry joined two eras of horror (the first two Hellraiser films & Haxan) with duelling guitar solos from a live version of "Sympathy for the Devil." This time I have used clips of Jacques Rivette's films Duelle (1976) and Out 1 (1971) alongside Brian Eno's song "Golden Hours" from 1975.

Update (YouTube upload): 

& the Cinepoem is also available now.

The Prisoner - "Free for All"

Welcome to my viewing diary for The Prisoner. Every Wednesday I will review another episode. This is my first watch-through of the 1967 British cult TV show so there will be NO spoilers for upcoming episodes. But I will be watching the series in this order so if you are watching along with me, keep that in mind.

The last episode presented the world of The Prisoner as a cheerful totalitarian state in which it was impossible to tell the prisoners from the wardens. "Free for All" certainly doesn't run from that sense, but it amplifies it by presenting the Village as a sham democracy too. With an election approaching, Number Six is invited, encouraged in fact, to run for for the position "Number Two." Of course he has his usual headstrong plan: if he is voted in he will rip the facade from the community, discover which prisoners are biding their time until they can escape, and lead all of them to liberation. He might also get to meet the mysterious Number One and find out what's really going on. Needless to say, it doesn't work that way. The current Number Two (or is he?) (Eric Portman) stands by placidly while Six makes his incendiary speech but soon he is responding to each twitch of thought or pang of conscience with a round of brainwashing. On the previous episode, it was said that Six should not be so overtly manipulated, that he must come to provide information and accept the Village's authority of his own accord. There are no such qualms this time. Six is subjected to an ingeniously conveyed mental torture (with silhouettes of a square and circle entering the silhouette of his profile), plied with spiked drinks, and otherwise manipulated into being a grimacing tool of the establishment. This feels like the most cynical episode I've watched so far, and maybe the most hopeless.

The Force Awakens: thoughts on the phenomenon (& film)

The mega-blockbusters of 2015 are Spielberg/Lucas films, but without either Steven Spielberg or George Lucas at the helm. This is a rather depressing thought. There is a sense that Frankenstein's monster has finally destroyed even its own masters (though I doubt Spielberg is weeping too hard, having executive-produced the record-setting Jurassic World, and if Lucas is - as some allege - disappointed with the direction the franchise took after selling it to Disney, there are plenty of honors and profits on hand to soothe him). For forty years, the awe-inspiring, intimidating beast of blockbuster cinema co-existed with individual filmmakers (and they were filmmakers first and foremost) who could reign it in, using the massive tentpole format to express personal visions. The Spielbergs, Lucases, and others like them were outnumbered by directors-for-hire, executing studio committees' visions of how best to market their property. But perhaps because of the idiosyncratic fact that these almost inhuman cinematic juggernauts were born out of the auteurist autonomy of New Hollywood, for a long time the art of personal expression was able to overlap with corporate desire to attract a mass audience. No longer...now Hollywood finally has what it always wanted: complete control over the major franchises, with skilled minions like JJ Abrams or Colin Treverrow to deal with rather than creators who insist on controlling their own product (not to mention taking a huge slice of the financial pie). Auteurism is dead...long live the corporation!

Wait, wait, no, that's not right. Let's try again.

The Force Awakens, the seventh episode of the Star Wars saga (the first film in ten years, and the first sequel in thirty-two) is full of sweeping vistas and loving detail. Rey (Daisey Ridley) is a plucky new heroine, more Luke than Leia as she scavenges on her desert planet Jakku and discovers an ability to use the mystical Force. Teaming up with runaway stormtrooper Finn (John Boyega) and the lovably hilarious droid BB-8 - easily the most endearing new cast member - she makes her way across the galaxy in a stolen spaceship, the Millennium Falcon, running into the ship's former owner, aging smuggler Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and his first mate Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) along the way. At the forested way station of Maz Kanata (Lupita Nyong'o), Rey discovers the lightsaber of the legendary Luke Skywalker in a striking sequence mixing flashback and vision. The film's climax sees General Leia (Carrie Fisher) lead the Resistance (confusingly fighting for the New Republic) battling the First Order, desperately trying to reinstate the Galactic Empire with the help of renegade Sith wannabe Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) and the Starkiller, a huge planet-turned-weapon-of-mass-destruction. The film is a lot of fun, hitting the nostalgic sweet spot by evoking old memories indirectly (Jakku obviously recalls Tattooine, yet it has its own barren, exotic flavor that somehow calls to mind Ralph McQuarrie's early concept art for the series) while also playing catch-up with old characters (when Han arrives, he essentially takes over the film for a while). The Force Awakens also plays it extremely safe by - as everyone else has already noted - very closely mimicking the dramatic structure of the first Star Wars film and resting so much of the film's appeal on familiar fan favorites like the Falcon, Han, Leia, Chewie, X-wings, TIE Fighters, the third incarnation of a Death Star, comic space-age banter, and the Empire vs. Rebellion power struggle (with the roles barely switched). This leaves the heavy lifting for the next episodes in the saga, leaving us with a sense of momentary satisfaction but also the larger question, "Why?"

There, was that better?

In truth, I find it almost impossible to discuss The Force Awakens as an individual film without dipping into the larger phenomenon. This sequel finds itself on one of the most unusual missions in cinema history, and every frame is informed by that mission. However, I did want to divorce my larger Lucasfilm frustrations from the experience of watching the movie. As such, I can report that The Force Awakens provided a good night out at the movies (and that, of course, the following write-up contains spoilers). Abrams, Kasdan, et al have crafted an enjoyable work of entertainment, more satisfying than most big-screen spectacles I have seen in the past decade. And as a bonus, many moments capture a whiff of that old Star Wars magic. Does it go deeper than that? Not really, and the ways in which it falls short and limits the experience are directly linked to the motivation behind the film and the context in which it was made. But first...why do I care?