The Criterion Collecton has opened up an online streaming shop, where twenty films can currently be watched online for $5. Your five dollars gives you the right to watch the film as many tines as you like for a week, and for a full year after that they’ll apply a $5 credit to the purchase of that DVD from their online store. Titles available now includeJuliet of the Spirits,Cleo From 5 to 7, and Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil.
Also — and this may be old news, but it’s new to me — Criterion is curating a “festival” of free films every month in partnership with The Auteurs. This month’s festival focuses on “Cruel Stories of Youth,” and includes such films as Sweetie, Ratcatcher, and Fat Girl. More here.
By all accounts, Douglas Sirk’s 1950s melodramas rocked Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s world when he first saw them in the early 70s. In “Imitation of Life: On The Films of Douglas Sirk,” a 1971 essay on Sirk included in the Criterion edition of Sirk’s All That Heaven Allows, Fassbinder presages his own late-career turn towards films centered around female protagonists by marveling at Sirk’s unique way with women. “In Douglas Sirk movies the women think,” Fassbinder writes, as if this plain realization has knocked the wind out of him. “I haven’t noticed that with any other director. With any.” He also marvels at the Hollywood director’s ability to subvert dominant society via low art, sneaking radical critique into “films that people in Germany with his level of education would have smirked at.”
What Fassbinder must have seen that those academic stiffs would have missed, was that Sirk needed the smirk in order to mask what he was “really” up to. When Fassbinder reworked Heaven’s basic plot and ideas into his own Ali: Fear Eats the Soul 18 years later, he dispensed with the beard. Refusing to allow the audience the option of wallowing in redemptive fantasy and ignoring the subtext, he brought the tragedy up to the surface where it couldn’t be missed.
The gorgeous Criterion version of Jean Luc-Godard’s Pierrot le Fou hits stores today. Because I’m date dyslexic, I accidentally posted my review of the film and the set a week early, but you can read it here. To get in the mood, watch the film’s original trailer above.
I watched the new Criterion edition of Pierrot le Fou, a film I’ve seen many times but not once in at least five years, with Glenn Kenny and Nathan Rabin’s wildly divergent reads swirling in my head. I am not in a place in my life where I’m particularly open to romance as either a nostalgic concept or present-day reality, but this recent viewing of a film that I loved long ago left me wondering how it could be received with anything but a swoon. Pierrot le Fou can be distant and opaque, for sure, but necessarily so––it’s about a couple’s inability to overcome the opaque distance that lies between them. More than that, its blend of cinematic Cubism and stylized hyper-realism is deeply evocative of a love that’s literally out to sea. There’s no question that it works as a romance about the death of a romance. In fact, what may be up for debate, is whether it works as anything else at all.
I was nudged down this path of questioning by two elements of Criterion’s special edition package, both of which illuminate Pierrot’s relevance as an extremely thinly-veiled autobiographical portrait of the disintegration of Jean-Luc Godard’s marriage to Anna Karina. The first is Richard Brody’s liner notes essay, “Self-Portrait in a Shattered Lens,” which meticulously breaks down how a film ostensibly based on an American crime novel called Obsession, infused with two Balzac works which Godard conflated into one, became, through a necessity of casting, an accident of timing and a desperate need for catharsis, “an angry accusation against Anna Karina, and a self-pitying keen at how she destroyed him and his work.”
Godard, l’amour, la poesie, a documentary on the package’s second disc, doesn’t fully explicate that”destruction”, but it does offer some clues as to the mindset that transposed it into film. Filmmaker Luc Lagier introduces Anna Karina as “a woman to be filmed and loved,” which is our first indication that said accusations towards Karina’s almost mystical-sounding ability to drive Godard to ruin with her love will be taken at face value.
For years, Armageddonwas certainly the most surprising movie to receive admission into the prestigious Criterion Collection. Technically it hasn’t been supplanted, but what if Criterion really did put out a special edition DVD of Will Ferrell and Adam McKay’sThe Landlord – you know, that hilarious little sketch that put Funnyordie.com on the internerd map. I’m not sure if the whole company is endorsing it, but on the Criterion blog (”On Five”), there’s at least acknowledgement and support for the recent “Criterion Edition” clip of The Landlord, featuring a commentary track (and video) from Ferrell and McKay.
The video itself is pretty funny, though it goes on way too long. They really should have stopped commenting when the short ends. Instead, they ramble on about Ferrell’s ego and then ultimately get serious and thank the fans for making it so popular. Also, it would have been more interesting or appropriate to the Criterion model to be more than simply a commentary. Maybe ten years ago commentary and Criterion were synonymous, but not anymore. Where is the film historian/professor? Where is the new interview with Pearl McKay? I love the reference to Rick Baker, but otherwise isn’t this a bit of a missed opportunity, as well as an overdone one?
We’ve had a bit of trouble getting this episode to go through the iTunes feed, so we hope this re-post will fix the problem. The original post, with episode description and embedded player, is here.
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