L'Age d'Or (Luis Buñuel)

Infamy.

A year after their aesthetically shocking "An Andalusian Dog", Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, two of the most subversive minds in all of modern art, return to form with something that's infinitely more scandalous, blasphemous and, to the eyes of many during the time, even close to pornographic. In a way, "An Andalusian Dog", a boldly offensive film in its own right, is their comparatively tamer (and saner, even) dress rehearsal for this little bad boy, an epic (yes, I think so) 60-minute dissection of societal putrescence.

     

Although the film is comprised of surrealistic images that may or may not ultimately add up to one coherent message, the individual intrigue that the images were able to evoke are truly unnerving. In my personal view, the film's visuals, in all its take-no-prisoners lunacy, is one of the most spot-on recapturing of the social, psychological and romantic insanities of our times.  So yes, despite of the film's highly blasphemous thematic texture, "L'Age d'Or" can be ironically considered as a 'miraculous' achievement in modern cinema, especially considering the fact that both Buñuel and Dali, at the time, were not that acquainted to the rigors of filmmaking.

     

In simple description, the film, at least on surface level, is the story of how two lovers, because of numerous hindrances and disruptions, can't seem to consummate their sexual and romantic longings just like how the bourgeoisie people in "The Exterminating Angel" can't seem to get out of the room they're in or how they can't even seem to eat their meals in "The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie". Ultimately, it is in the middle of this kind of futility (specifically this film's two main characters and their misfiring attempts to be with one another) that both Buñuel and Dali were able to paint the landscapes of their film's masterful social probe. By penetrating the rotting core of what founds the pillars of religion, modern society and love itself, these two surrealistic bad boys were able to unearth, with unapologetic humor and shocking images, the intense perversity of human nature and its devastating consequences.

     

Often merely described as a surrealistic satire, I think that "L'Age d'Or" should be more aptly labeled as an anti-religious social nightmare that will make even the most apathetic member of the social populace cringe. Hell, more than 80 years have passed and I still think that this film is not for the faint of heart. After all, what do you expect if you merge the minds of Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali, an elegant costume drama? This film, just like the scorpions in its opening scene, may be too small in stature and short in length, but it sure profoundly stings.

FINAL RATING

Gummo (Harmony Korine)

Werner Herzog: "This is the entertainment of the future."

The nothingness of nothing, the meaninglessness of conformism, and the ennui of existence. Sounds like the last thing for a film to be made about, right? But then there is "Gummo", a film that tackled these with such surreal handling and awkward storytelling (that mirrors the film's essentially subversive yet minimalist approach) that, although polarizing, it has nonetheless shared such an abstract yet endlessly intriguing piece of mind extracted out of some trashed and dilapidated obscurity.

The film, although revolving around different misadventures of the tornado-stricken town's (Xenia, Ohio) juvenile inhabitants and is also seemingly at ease with its own lack of direction, its focus rests deeply upon friends/partners in crime Solomon (Jacob Reynolds) and Tummler (Nick Sutton) and their several miscellaneous exploits and small transgressions. But then, although they were the ones that were chiefly followed by the camera all throughout, its ADD is still very much evident, so why is that?

'That's what it needs', Director Harmony Korine may and could have said regarding Gummo's visual and narrative style. No, not just because of glorified 'pretense': that's too vague and generalizing a word. More than anyhing else, perhaps because it complements its characters' urban journey through whatnots and into wherevers perfectly. It dared to observe this psychologically chaotic state brought forth by a natural disaster (though I think the film is not about its traumatizing effects) with a certain amoral viewpoint.

Now, I'm almost halfway done with my review yet I still haven't written anything about what the film is really all about aside from all those pseudo-nihilistic themes mentioned in the very first sentence. But here we go, a piece of my mind.

(SPOILERS)

I look upon "Gummo" not as a film dealing with the devastating after-effects of a catastrophic tragedy but as a sharply satiric, yet thematically contrasting piece of work about the endpoint of human entropy. Throughout the film, we see all these people punching each other (genuinely), wrecking inanimate tables and chairs, and even spouting racial slurs. As we adjust into the film's confused perspective, we realize that it's their way of life, and sensitization is never one of their goals.

At first look, it's really hard to notice anything even remotely profound about the whole film, but digging deeply enough, I even found the 'feline torture fixation' prevalent in the teenagers' (especially Solomon and Tummler) set of daily activities as a surprising symbolism.

The cats are the representations of an 'orderly' life. There's one scene where Tummler is about to shoot a black cat dead, only to be talked out of it by Solomon, telling him that it's a 'house cat'. The cat then ran inside the house. Later, it was immediately revealed that its owners are three sisters that, although eccentric, live a considerably simple, relatively manicured life.

Considering that many of the juvenile characters are into killing cats, it's quite given that, based on their absurd preferences, their lives are therefore rendered directionless by their penchant for destroying these 'guardians of homes' (an Ancient Roman symbol for felines).

Then after some time, the sisters lost the black cat. They printed out fliers to distribute to people in the hopes of finding the animal. But the next thing they knew, they are being sexually harassed (unsuccessfully) by an old man in a car. Yes, the deed was prevented, but it was a shape of things to come.

The next thing we see, the two of the three sisters are already half-submerged in a pool and making out with the Bunny Boy (played by Jacob Sewell, another significant character whose place in the film is really very unclear), all while a potentially heavy rain (and a menage a trois) waits on the wings. After that, there's Solomon and Tummler staring at the said 'missing' animal with cocked cap guns. They then shot the 'black' cat dead. And in the film's most haunting moment, the Bunny Boy then shows the deceased animal directly into the camera as if proclaiming another conquest. It turns out, this so-called conquest was the three naive sisters, which are finally convinced to join in the free-for-all ride towards nihilism.

Aside from that, I also like how "Gummo" was able to convey, in utter simplicity, the sheer innocence of the mentally disabled, especially the scene of the 'challenged' woman near the end talking about how she loves to take care of her dolls and toys because she wants them "straightened out".

Because of her lack of idea of the psychological milieu around her, she is therefore very much living an 'orderly' life, fully suggested by how she sings the ever-organized 'ABC' song near the beginning. And even after all of the random acts committed by the apocalyptic characters who all want to waste away in their private wasteland of Xenia, the woman still found the time to sing "Jesus Loves Me" while she's calmly lying in her bed for a peaceful sleep.

"Gummo": started up rough, ragged, and tasteless, but ended as a simple embrace of the old adage "Ignorance is bliss". As her song lingers in the end credits, a heavy metal music suddenly interrupts it; we're back in reality.

FINAL RATING

City After Dark (Ishmael Bernal)

A glimpse of death.

Film Review Archive (date seen: September 30, 2010)

Before our film industry has turned into the mainstream disappointment that it has been today, masters like Ishmael Bernal strengthened the industry's foundations, not by big-budget films that boasts of colorful, shallow nationalism, but supported its pillars with 'critical bravery'; exploring the themes, subjects, and immoralities in a time of modernistic bondage of expressive sovereignty (Marcos era).

I've always conditioned my mind that "Maynila: Sa mga Kuko ng Liwanag" is the best film to ever portray the eponymous capital of the Philippines. But witnessing this work for the first time, it has altered my perception of the Lino Brocka classic and at the same time "City After Dark", for me, has immediately entered the realms of being one of the "definitive" Filipino films with the highest artistic control.

But do not get me wrong, "Maynila: Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag" offered an unforgettably painful look of the city from the eyes of, putting it bluntly, an alienated 'promdi'. It's a film that steers raw emotions, and at times slips into complete melodrama. But "City After Dark" may have been the opposite; it explores apathy in the midst of moral decadence and hysteria without offering much mercy.

There are moments in the film where the characters asks each other artificial questions like "Do you really love me?", or "Will you really marry me?". They're not honest queries, but merely asked so to pass the time. And though same questions may have come from sincere hearts, it's beyond their grasp. Manila's too busy a city to provide secure answers.

FINAL RATING