Irma Vep (1996, France, Olivier Assayas)

The process of film-making is an often used concept in film; just think of Truffaut's 'Day For Night' and Godard's 'Le Mepris' for the definitive examples of this. Not that it's just a French preoccupation of course, but Olivier Assayas follows in the f...(read more)ootsteps of the aforementioned New Wave film makers with 'Irma Vep', which like their films, traces the hazards and pitfalls of making films, in this case a remake of Feuillade's 'Les Vampires'.

The start lets us know we're in dangerous territory; frantic discussions about finance and locations, arguments amongst the crew, a missing director - scenes and conversations which all overlap but relate to each other. At the centre of this intended film is Maggie Cheung (herself), the Hong Kong actress who was specifically cast by Vidal the director (Truffaut veteran and alter-ego Jean-Pierre Leaud) for the part of the title character. Here she gently spoofs herself; an actress who for years was cast in action films as little more than the heroine playing second fiddle to her male star but managed to break out of this stereotype thanks to directors like Wong-Kar Wai and Stanley Kwan. Discussing the film she has just completed, she cites a rather ridiculous and contrived plot, almost a parody of the action films she was once cast in. We see scenes of 'The Heroic Trio' (1993) later, which appears ludicrous, yet Vidal cast her on the basis of this film, though we suspect he just likes the idea if her as a slinky heroine in latex. Of course when journalists interview her about her career, all they are interested in is working with the likes of Jackie Chan on such films. 'Irma Vep' shows Cheung to be an accomplished comic actress with a nice line in self-deprecation.

We then witness event after event that shows the incompetence behind the film, even putting the entire production at risk at times, such as struggling to buy a PVC catsuit in a sex shop, early rushes from the film meeting unanimous dissatisfaction, and Vidal's nervous breakdown. All the while, Cheung has to deal with the romantic intentions of a female crew member, as well as take a slightly sinister interest in her part, almost living the role for real, as she walks the roofs of Paris on wet nights. The entire narrative more or less exists within the film production besides one dinner party. Assayas shows the intimacy of the film making processes, and whilst he shows the production of a fairly lousy looking film made by an over the hill director, it's never nasty in tone. It has the right satirical edge to it, and says plenty about contemporary film in both France and the United States. French journalists criticise the kind of films Vidal makes; dull, intellectual films that represent an older French cinematic tradition, whilst remaining enthusiastic about popular and mainstream films, as well as the action films of Hong Kong and the United States. It's thr triumph of commercialism over art, which is a pretty apt summation of the times in which we live.

It's a neat gimmick, even if it seems a bit disposable. I know the likes of Jonathan Rosenbaum have described this as a masterpiece in the past, and I can kind of see his point. It makes a number of salient points about contemporary film making but ceases before it really gets going. That said, it was written and shot on the hop. Rosenbaum also criticised the interpretation of many critics of 'Irma Vep' existing as a self-examination of French cinema. It does, but also much more. This is a film that examines cinema globally. 4/5

Masculin Feminin (1966, France/Sweden, Jean-Luc Godard)

'Masculin Feminin', a film in fifteen chapters, is not so much a film about youth, but in Godard's own words a film about "the idea of youth" and as one of the chapter titles suggests"the children of Marx and Coca-Cola". This is a generation which is both political but reared on pop culture, and Godard captures it at a very specific time, nominally expressed through the awkward courtship between Paul (Jean-Pierre Leaud) and Madeleine (Chantal Goya).

He's just completed his national service and works as a journalist; she's an aspiring pop singer (Goya was a real life ye ye singer). They meet, discuss politics and culture, though they barely have a thing in common. He seems a lot more interested in her than she does him and therein lies much of the comedy, such as his terrible attempts to flip his cigarette into his mouth as if he's Jean-Paul Belmondo in 'Breathless'.

Typically radical with narrative and structure, Godard throws in numerous random and bizarre events - a couple arguing behind Paul and Madeleine in a cafe, then the wife shoots the husband as they leave, a man intimidating Paul inexplicably sticks a blade into his chest, a woman shoots two black men on the Metro, a man borrows matches and then sets himself alight - all of these are random acts of violence which have no real impact on the film whatsoever, but remain anarchic and spontaneous, in keeping with not only this film but much of Godard's work to date. As befitting the increasing influence of Godard's leftist politics into his films, the spectre of Vietnam and US involvement is everywhere. The self-immolating man performs this act in protest, whilst Paul participates in the vandalism of US vehicles, daubing anti-American slogans on them - 'Peace in Vietnam' etc. France at that point was politically to the right with the re-election of De Gaulle as president. Godard had always been critical of the de Gaulle regime, describing the upheaval in Paris in 1968 as the direct result of the authoritarianism of the republic.

There are the usual pop culture references (Bob Dylan, Sandie Shaw) and film intertextuality (Bridgette Bardot, star of 'Le Mepris' rehearses lines, Paul and Madeleine watch a parody of Bergman's 'The Silence', Madeleine mentions Godard's own 'Pierrot le Fou'). However the disconnected structure feels a bit too alienating, though maybe that's the point. Godard favoured Brechtian methods of distancing audiences from his films, removing them from any natural and realistic context. Godard's weaker films are usually more interesting than most directors better films, and 'Masculin Feminin' certainly is not short of ideas. It just didn't engage as much as Godard's classics of the era; the likes of 'Pierrot le Fou' and 'Le Mepris. 3.5/5

The Leopard (1963, Italy/France, Luchino Visconti)

Visconti's 1963 Palme D'Or winner is epic film making in the best sense, recording the consequences of revolution and social change upon an aristocratic family, headed by Prince Don Fabrizio Salina (Burt Lancaster). Their Sicilian paradise is threatened by the rise of the Risorgimento, the political movement which included Garibaldi, which set out to unite the states of Italy and instigate a new social order - that of democracy and the rise of the bourgeoisie at the expense of the aristocracy. Visconti had personal reasons to make this film. He was from aristocratic stock himself, but also considered himself a Communist. This conflict between his background and his political thinking is apparent in this film, and also explains why he is able to handle the material so sensitively, sympathetically and without judgement.

The film's opening scenes are a masterclass in cinematography as Giuseppe Rotunno's (who worked on several Fellini films) camera roams around the sprawling country estate of the Salina family. Their communal prayers are then interrupted by news of rioting in the city (a dead soldier is found in the garden) and the fleeing of several similarly aristocratic families. This is one of several superb set pieces that Visconti choreographs. The battle scenes between Garibaldi's Red Shirts and loyalist forces which inspired Scorsese's 'Gangs of New York' (Scorsese is a fervent admirer of this film) and the astounding 45 minute ballroom sequences which concludes the film are amongst the most memorables scenes you will ever see in the cinema.

As the momentum towards Italian unification is in full flow, Don Prince Fabrizio tries to remain as pragmatic as he can despite the impending replacement of his social class by another (the aspiring middle classes). He accepts it's just the substitution of political groups; that the middle classes just want to replace the upper classes, not destroy them. In a conversation with a Father, he notes that in a world of radical change, the church has immortality, social classes do not. The church manages to co-exist with the new ruling class rather well. Further evidence of how much the Salina family's world is in flux is shown in the marriage of Prince Don Fabrizio's nephew Tancredi Falconeri (Alain Delon) to Angelica (Claudia Cardinale), the daughter of a wealthy merchant and politician. Whilst not a marriage of convenience, it is mentioned that her family has considerable wealth, even if she lacks the manners and values of aristocratic birth. Don Prince Fabrizio defends the union, that they must move with the times and it is best for the survival of the family, even though the rest of his family largely disapprove, stating that it is tantamount to surrendering to their enemies.

Visconti also shows that even during periods of great upheaval, normality is restored very quickly. As said, all the revolutionaries genuinely believed in was substituting one ruling class with another. The church was restored and respected. Aristocrats were invited to sit in the Senate (which Don Prince Fabrizio rejects). Garibaldi's unruly rebels just morphed into a respectable army under the command of King Emmanuel the Second. As Tancredi, who is more adept at changing with the times than anyone else explains; "If we want things to stay as they are, things will have to change", whilst his uncle remains far more rueful about what has been lost.

'The Leopard' is a stunning achievement. Three hours long but without any padding - every minute of this film matters. Visconti documents a snapshot of Italian history with such meticulous detail and insight. Watch the effort that goes into the ballroom sequence, with hundreds of extras and elaborate costumes. Whilst the plaudits will naturally be the director's, the cast are all superb and Visconti's co-writers collaborate on a perfect script. Virtually flawless. 5/5

Lift To The Scaffold (1958, France, Louis Malle)

Though the advent of the Nouvelle Vague is usually credited to the first features of its most prominent film makers (Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol), it might be said that its roots existed in certain early features by Jean-Pierre Melville, and also 'Lift To The Scaffold' which preceded the likes of 'Breathless' by a year or two. They were not part of the movement perhaps, but they shared several things in common with the early Nouvelle Vague films - outdoor location shoots, natural acting and dialogue, low budgets; essentially rejecting the traditional production and shooting methods of conventional French film making, which the Cahiers du Cinema collective denounced as too literary and classical.

'Lift To The Scaffold' unfolds in typical noir fashion. Two lovers speak on the telephone, both repeating "I love you" over and over. We can sense they are not married, and when we see Julien (Maurice Ronet) with a gun in his possession, we sense murder is on his mind. The pair have been plotting the perfect crime, to kill Florence's (Jeanne Moreau) husband, a wealthy arms dealer, so that they might be together. Of course we know what they say about the best laid plans. What Malle does though is show the preparation involved in committing the crime in painstaking detail, though refrains from actually showing us, or letting us hear the actual act being carried out (he cuts to Julien's secretary sharpening pencils, which would also block out the sound). Malle then shows the aftermath, as Julien tries to make Florence's husbands death look like suicide.

The irony here is that the crime has been conducted so well that police assume it was suicide. However, Julien's attempt to retrieve evidence he left at the scene sets in motion a chain of events that would have greater consequences for him than being charged with the murder he actually committed. His car is stolen by a young couple who then kill two German tourists, and everything points to Julien having committed the crime, whilst he unknowingly is trapped in a lift back at his place of work. All the while, Florence searches the streets of Paris for him as he failed to meet her at their designated time and place. Picked up by the police for having no ID, she inadvertently increases the suspicion against Julien by jealously suggesting he was cavorting with another woman (the murder of the Germans was carried out by a couple).

'Lift To The Scaffold' also features an excellent Miles Davis score which has been rightly considered famous in its own right, capturing the sounds and atmosphere of Parisienne nights and the loneliness of Florence as she wanders in the wet early hours, wondering what became of Julien. Malle's debut is a film whose strengths reside in its economy. Though the plot twists and turns, he doesn't try to overcomplicate things; he keeps it natural and simple. The set up is familiar from dozens of films before it and after, but retains a sense of freshness and vigour that sets it apart from films you could compare it to. It's the film that introduced the wonderful actress Jeanne Moreau to the world and which started Malle's long and successful career both in France and latterly the US. 4/5

Ivan's Childhood (1962, Soviet Union, Andrei Tarkovsky)

'Ivan's Childhood' was the debut feature of the great Soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky. It was one of a number of films made during the Krushchev Thaw which focused on the Second World War in a human context rather than pure political propaganda exto...(read more)lling the heroics of the Great Patriotic War. 'The Cranes Are Flying', a sublimely poetic account of lovers separated by war is perhaps the peak of these such films, but 'Ivan's Childhood' is no less effective, and Tarkovsky works wonders from deceptively slight material.

Ivan, a twelve year old boy is seen looking through a cobweb, running through the forest and then levitating. It is a dream which ends with the boy calling for his mother. The reality is then shown; Ivan wading through muddy waters to reach a group of Soviet troops, arriving in a shivering and half dead state. It emerges that he has been on spying missions for the Soviet high command, something he has been able to achieve due to his small and slight stature.

Ivan is a boy in an extraordinary situation, and Tarkovsky shows how he deals with this through contrasting reality and dreams. Where reality is manifested by dark and claustrophobic environments where troops await the advance of the Nazis, Ivan's dreams are of happier times with his mother and sister, on sunlit beaches. Are these dreams a reflection of a past reality or just Ivan's imagination at work? We later discover just why Ivan is so determined to put himself at risk on dangerous missions; he vowed to avenge the death of his family at the hands of the Nazis - in his dreams, Ivan's mother asks him to avenge them. Even when Soviet officers attempt to send him to military school, he threatens to leave and join the partisans. Despite this maturity and dedication, Tarkovsky does not over-emphasise Ivan's heroism, making it an emotive decision that risks his own life.

Nearly twenty five years later, 'Come and See', directed by Elem Klimov followed similar themes - an orphaned boy thrown into the horrors of war and the psychological effects of this, so they make pretty useful companion pieces in that respect. Even at this stage though, the poetic and artistic dimension of Tarkovsky's film making approach is evident; recurring motifs of the elements (dripping water) etc, but the effectiveness of this film lies in its simplicity, which contrasts with the greater depth and ambition of Tarkovsky's subsequent films. A film that has been considered an inspiration by no less than Bergman, Paradjanov and Kieslowski, there are surely few better debut features. 4/5

The Conformist (1970, Italy/France/West Germany, Bernardo Bertolucci)

Having been on something of a creative slump over the last two decades, it's quite easy to overlook Bertolucci's achievements as a film maker. The Last Emporer was the last film of his that genuinely could be described as anywhere near greatness. Eve...(read more)rything since seems to be less than fully realised and disappointing in comparison to his greatest films. Of course when you attain so much so young (Bertolucci was just 30 when he made this film), that creativity can be difficult to sustain long term. Still, this is nothing short of astonishing considering the youth of the director. It seems the work of someone far more mature.

A huge inspiration on New Hollywood, primarily Scorsese and Coppola, who paid tribute to one scene from this film in The Godfather Part Two. Such was the effect that it had on the latter that he hired Bertolucci's DoP Vittorio Storaro to work on Apocalypse Now. It's easy to see why because Storaro's work on The Conformist seriously is amongst the greatest cinematography you will ever see. Exceptionally innovative; shooting Trintignant's character (Clerici) from strange angles, using an incredibly fluid camera that seldom stays still (for instance, when Trintignant visits the Minister and the camera zooms out as he walks in the opposite direction), and capturing such iconic scenes, such as the opening scene with Trintignant's face coloured a shade of red from the neon lights outside his hotel room, and the leaves blowing in the wind in his mother's garden that Coppola would later reference.

The Conformist works so well because there are numerous remarkably talented individuals involved - the source material is derived from Alberto Moravia, who wrote the novel on which Godard's 'Le Mepris' was based (which is one of my favourite films). Georges Delerue, who scored 'Le Mepris', 'Jules et Jim' and 'Shoot The Pianist' was the film's composer, and then you have Jean-Louis Trintignant who was so great in Kieslowski's 'Three Colours Red' and the stunning Dominique Sanda in lead roles.

Trintignant is a mid-level civil servant in 1930s Italy who throws his lot in with the Fascists, not solely to enhance his career prospects, but mainly to achieve normality. He wants nothing to be anonymous and blend in with the crowd - he takes a wife he doesn't really love (he explains that normality is marriage, children, having a family), joins the Catholic faith, etc. But why this obsession? Does it go back to a nightmarish incident he experienced as a child, which Bertolucci shows us in flashback? Or the issues with his parents - his father is now in an asylum and his mother is drunk and seemingly having a fling with the chauffeur. The repeated emphasis on normality arguably reflects Bertolucci's thoughts about the nature of Fascism; that it can be achieved through mere compliance and acceptance.

The ultimate act of fitting in becomes accepting an order to assassinate his former university professor, now a dissident living in Paris with his young wife, and considered dangerous and provocative by the authorities. However, the feelings that he starts to develop for the man's wife complicating matters. Professor Quadri and his wife immediately suspect Clerici and question his motives to reacquainting himself with them, although this never dissuades them from meeting, or Quadri's wife having a short-lived affair with Clerici. After the inevitable, Bertolucci shows the aftermath of defeat in war; scenes of Mussolini's statue stolen and dragged through the streets, of young Italians celebrating freedom from dictatorship, and former Fascists turning on each other. Clerici is shown as a political chameleon in that sense, changing his political stance according to the status quo, according to what would help him achieve "normality".

I'm reminded of the phrase attributed to Edmund Burke; "the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing" when watching The Conformist. For Bertolucci, Fascism is the desire not to act, to accept and to remain passive. 4.5/5

The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972, France/Italy/Spain, Luis Bunuel)

The winner of the 1972 Academy Award for Best Film in a Foreign Language, The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie is a typical surrealist satire from Luis Bunuel. Whilst it's targets are just the same as they always were - the middle classes, the army, the church, politicians and so on, the approach of the satire is more subtle though no less effective.

A number of guests arrive at a dinner party. They discover that they were expected the next day. This is the first of a chain of events in which the guests find themselves unable to eat dinner anywhere. In many ways, this is an inverted version of Bunuel's earlier 'The Exterminating Angel' (1962), in which a number of dinner party guests find themselves unable to actually leave (which in itself had parallels with the Czech film of the time - 'The Party and the Guests'). The dinner party and its social significance is clearly of interest to Bunuel. It provides him with the scope to skewer the values and aspirations of middle class society.

The circumstances in which the guests fail to eat become increasingly absurd, starting from a mix up over the day they agreed to meet, to the guests being gunned down by terrorists or finding themselves on stage in the performance of a play. Bunuel dispenses with logic and conventional rules concerning narrative. Scenarios are revealed as dreams by individual protagonists, therefore they are always unpredictable and anything is in the realms of possibility.

As mentioned, it's not just the middle classes and their vanity adultery, social pretences and shallowness that is being satirised. There's also the clergy as represented by the priest who dons gardener's clothing and is shown shooting the man who apparently killed his parents after giving him absolution. You have Don Rafael, one of the guests who is ambassador of a fictional South American country named Miranda, which is suggested to be a corrupt and repressive country with a widening gap between rich and poor, which also home to ex-Nazis, who Don Rafel describe as "perfect gentlemen".

Made during what might be seen as his most productive period in the ten years or so in which he made 'The Exterminating Angel', 'Belle du Jour', 'Viridiana' and 'Tristiana', this is a biting and wicked satire that is very much effective because of its surrealism and absurdity rather than relying on heavy handed sermonising. 4/5