ericcaers Reviews

The Graduate (1967)

The Scourge of the Sixties

[10/10 · 25 March 2006]

"The Graduate" scourges the shallowness of the sixties, kicks against its smug and sanctimonious middle classes: xenophobic, materialistic and spoiled. Mrs. Robinson is the epitome of the devil-may-care LA bourgeoisie and represents the darker side of America's American Dream that is sedated by pills, desensitized by liquor, mind dulled by television, sanitized by the latest Tupperware and gleaming colors to sugarcoat the humdrum of suburban life (Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word. - Benjamin: Yes, sir. - Mr. McGuire: Are you listening? - Benjamin: Yes, I am. - Mr. McGuire: Plastics.). The adulterous relationship between Mrs. Robinson and Ben is sex for sex only and is cast in terms of indifference, coldness and vulgarity. Mrs. Robinson is like a beast of prey, hungering for sex, absorbing young men's bodies to fight off the specter of old age, hysterically suppressing the anxiety that it causes, keeping her young daughter, whom she regards as her competitor and therefore, adversary, neurotically at bay. The true love between Elaine and Ben, on the other hand, surpasses the tasteless, the absurd and offers hope of a better generation to come (Mr. Braddock: What's the matter? The guests are all downstairs, Ben, waiting to see you. Benjamin: Look, Dad, could you explain to them that I have to be alone for a while? Mr. Braddock: These are all our good friends, Ben. Most of them have known you since, well, practically since you were born. What is it, Ben? Benjamin: I'm just... Mr. Braddock: Worried? Benjamin: Well... Mr. Braddock: About what? Benjamin: I guess about my future. Mr. Braddock: What about it? Benjamin: I don't know... I want it to be... Mr. Braddock: To be what? Benjamin:... Different.) Truly, a bridge over troubled water...

Evita (1996)

Nothing compared to Hal Prince's stage version

[6/10 · 1 February 2006]

Director-producer Harold Prince changed the face of Broadway as its preeminent showman of the second half of the 20th Century by pioneering the so-called "concept musical", a show built around an idea that incorporated fluid, cinematic staging, a strong score and utilitarian scenery. His creative powers culminated in "Evita" in which the true life story of Eva Peron "on stage" is accurately enhanced by the projection of historical cinematic snapshots. The song "The Art of the Possible," in which a game of musical chairs is used to represent the power struggle and eventual rise of Juan Peron in the Argentine military, is pure directorial brilliance. The staging and choreography for "Peron's Latest Flame" is likewise splendid. There are several other great moments provided by Prince and Fuller that also produce theatrical magic. The only drawback to their continued involvement is that today the production doesn't feel fresh anymore. The "Bus-and-Truck-version" that brought the "Evita tour" to Europe in 1989-1990 featured a dazzling Florence Lacey as Evita, an imposing Robert Alton as Juan Perón and a charismatic James Sbano as Ché, but was already then somewhat compromised by the reduction in size and orchestra. Still, "Evita" was a box office hit in Germany and the Benelux countries and made Flo Lacey the uncrowned queen of all Evitas. In this respect, the film adaptation is a treat: big orchestra, huge choirs, lavish costumes and scenery, with "Don't cry for me Argentina" for the first time delivered by Madonna on the balcony of the Casa Rosada. All true and worthy of respect, only... the core competence and poignance of "Evita" is lost: Jonathan Price is a sleepwalking Peron, morose and lethargic throughout the movie, Antonio Banderas is a plain Argentine student who bears little resemblance to the political Ernesto Ché Guevara. The complex psychological insights into the main characters drown into the opulence, the lushness, the screaming colours, the noise. In conclusion: better see the "concept musical" with Hal Prince's utilitarian scenery which really puts the finger on it.

The Leopard (1963)

A lamenting farewell to vanishing beauty

[8/10 · 24 December 2005]

Following his personal motto, "something has to change in order to keep everything in place," authoritative prince Fabrizio di Salina (Burt Lancaster) secures his position, and that of his social class, by resigning himself to the "Risorgimento" and making a pact with the representatives of the bourgeoisie. He marries his nephew, Tancredi Falconeri (Alain Delon) to the daughter of a nouveau riche mayor (Claudia Cardinale), who should infuse fresh blood into an old bloodline threatened with extinction: the alliance between "the Leopard" and "the Jackal" exemplifies the blend between old and new. The collector's box of this film includes an interview with Alain Delon who, in retrospect, claims that Visconti had almost played the role of prince Salina himself, given the analogies between the two characters. Like Salina, Visconti preoccupied himself with questions of disappearing social class and transience. Beyond the splendour and revelry in his films always lies a dark horizon, the imminence of death, whose premonitory signs are perceived everywhere. The closing marriage scene is a lamenting farewell to vanishing beauty. Awesome Burt Lancaster in tuxedo looks into the mirror and tears well up in his eyes. Outside, a coffin is brought out. Majestic grandeur and striking dignity intertwine with elegiac melancholy, grief and regret. The perfect illustration of Friedrich Schiller's definition of tragedy: "Tragedy is not synonymous with suffering. Rather, tragedy is the futile protest of the individual against inevitable suffering". Delon claims that today he finds himself unable to watch the film, which evokes memories and images from a world long since forgotten, let alone listen to the soundtrack, "qui me fait pleurer"...

The Name of the Rose (1986)

No hope of finding the Super-Signifier!

[8/10 · 16 July 2005]

For centuries, Western metaphysics and philosophy have, by means of according a "super-signifier" (God, natural law or essence), tried to restrict the limitless possibilities for interpretation that constitute the basis of any discourse. Umberto Eco, who specialized in semiotics, must have been familiar with the ideas of Jacques Derrida, when he wrote "The Name of the Rose", which puts forward the (subversive) ideas of poststructural deconstruction. Jacques Derrida in "Structure, Sign, and Play in the Discourse of the Human Sciences" claims that history in terms of structure must be thought of as a series of substitutions of center for center. Both Derrida and Eco recognize the lack of centered structure as necessary to allow unlimited interpretation. There has to be confusion and destruction of the abbey, which has represented a center haven for truth-seeking (epitomized in Jorge of Burgos who eats pages of the Aristotle manuscript in order to protect and preserve his notion of purity). William of Baskerville is presented as the charismatic intellectual who espouses Scholasticism in an attempt to understand reality from the viewpoint of a human being. The philosophical aspects of Scholasticism were not dictated strictly by a set of theological dogmas but rather worked with both faith and reason. However, both dogmatism imposed by the holy inquisition and contentious Thomism are subject to elimination as subversive forces constantly threaten the established frameworks: (homo)sexuality, irrationality, doubt. The Aedificium and the monastery are destroyed by fire. Without the commotion, Adso may have received a definitive response. The confusion and Adso's unanswered question continues the novel's pattern of ambiguity necessary to invite interpretation and provide limitless possibilities...

Het verdriet van België (1995– )

Flanders and the War Years

[6/10 · 28 June 2005]

I remember the film adaptation of Hugo Claus's "The Sorrow of Belgium" quite well. Sunday evening, December 1994. The premiere was a heavily mediated event with broadsheets containing interviews with Hugo Claus and Claude Goretta. Flemish families were hooked on the television and were entranced by the angelic appearance of Mathias Engelbeen (silverblond, long eyelashes, you know the type), who makes an endearing Louis Seynaeve, epitomizing (and romanticizing) Flemish boyhood. Apart from this cuteness, however, the film has little to offer. Hugo Claus's novel investigates the psyche of an adolescent who discovers his true identity in a society that is first scourged by catholic propaganda, then by Nazi propaganda and finally by American gung-ho. Hugo Claus has always been keen to incorporate some Freudian ideas into his works and "The Sorrow of Belgium" establishes a link between unresolved oedipus complex and totalitarian thinking in fear of "The Other". As Louis struggles with his obsession for the mother, Flanders sees the German occupation as an opportunity to restore its 'natural condition' but finds its ambitions quashed by the restoration of Belgium in 1945. Castration anxiety operates at two levels; Louis' confusion is that of his country. After some flirts with catholic orthodoxy and Hitler Youth, Louis realizes that the obsessive quest for purity is always a death-dealing illusion and he abandons his childhood haunts and hang-ups as he decides to become a writer, thus replacing the modernist imperative of truth-seeking and purity by postmodern deconstruction. The film falls short of conveying this message. The script is an insult to the novel, all propped up by a band of Flemish well-known actors, Marianne Basler as the object of oedipal love, and bad sync to boot.