BFI Top 50: The Godfather, Released in 1972, Directed by Francis Ford Coppola

What I know going in

I have seen the film once before. However, it was about 8 years ago, so I know the overall plot beats, but I am a bit fuzzy on all of the details.

Immediate reaction

In The Story of Film Mark Cousins introduces three new styles of filmmaking that came about in the 70’s as part of the New Hollywood movement. These categories were satirical, dissident, and assimilationist. The first two, are self-explanatory. The last may need to be elucidated further. According to Cousins, assimilationist films reworked old studio genres (gangster, western, noir, melodrama) with new techniques. These films such as The Last Picture Show, Badlands, and The Wild Bunch would apply the style of Old Hollywood to New Hollywood subject matter.

Of course, The Godfather is an assimilationist film. In the past, the gangster picture had stayed primarily in the realm of quick, suspenseful films with clear, black and white morals. The Godfather takes the subject of an old crime picture, the progress of a group of people in the criminal underworld, and expands it into a near three hour epic about the importance of family, the immigrant experience, and the American dream. The various characters that weave in and out of the film cannot be defined as only criminals. They all have complex motivations and histories that inform their decisions and lead to their eventual fates. Vito rationalizes his hard criminal past as a means to support his children, but has become soft in his later years. Sonny has a hot temper and seems reckless, but moves to protect his sister when she is abused. However, this decision only expedites his ultimate demise. Finally, Michael feels alternatively pushed and pulled to and from the orbit of his family. He starts the film wanting to keep his distance from them, but when his father’s life is threatened, he starts heading down the path that will leave him shut off from his wife and children.

The sequence where Michael is consecrated as godfather to his nephew while simultaneously orchestrating several hits is justly praised for interweaving scenes of religious ceremony and intense violence. However, it is simply the film in microcosm. The Godfather has been working on a similar level during its entire runtime. All aspects of these characters exist close to each other. While Vito is handling business, children play around in his yard. When Pauli fails to protect Vito, his hit is carried out while the Stature of Liberty stands in the background and amber waves of grain waft in the wind. During Michael’s preparation to assassinate two rivals, a picture of a saint stares solemnly while Michael gets used to his new pistol. This heterogeneous mix of religion, family, violence, and business is the genius of The Godfather.

Further Thoughts

I’m not one to pay too much attention to acting, but nearly all of the performance in The Godfather deserved to be discussed. This, and Apocalypse Now, are the only films I have seen Marlon Brando in, so it has for me to judge the full impact of his portrayal of Vito Corleone. I imagine for audience members who new Brando from such films as A Streetcar Named Desire and On the Waterfront, seeing him as the old, decaying head of the Corleone family must have been a revelation. Heath Ledger’s performance as The Joker in The Dark Knight or Joaquin Phoenix’s portrayal of Freddie Quell in The Master could be seen as similar transformations.

Furthermore, Al Pacino is almost unrecognizable as Vito’s brooding young son, Michael. Pacino’s portrayal of Michael is free of all the tics that would come to define in his later years. There are no big scenes of yelling or mega-acting. Pacino is capable of displaying a wide range of emotions through eye movement or small facial gestures. The best example is the scene where Michael goes to assassinate a rival gang member and a corrupt cop in a rustic Italian restaurant. Pacino displays Michael’s ambivalence about the situation and his rage about the hit on his father without even speaking.

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Why is the film on the list?

I feel like anything I say here is just going to be a cliché at this point, so I’ll keep it short and just say to watch the film and let it speak 

BFI Top 50: Taxi Driver, Released in 1976, Directed by Martin Scorsese

What I know going in

I know the film portrays New York City through the eyes of a deranged, isolated cab driver played by Robert De Niro. I am also aware of the basic plot details of the film, but don’t know all of the specifics.

Immediate Reaction

A common aspect of expressionism is “to present the world solely from a subjective perspective, distorting it radically for emotional effect in order to evoke moods or ideas (Bruce Thompson, University of California, Santa Cruz, lecture on WEIMAR CULTURE/KAFKA’s PRAGUE).” By this definition, Taxi Driver qualifies as an expressionist film. Through voiceover, the film allows us to see the interiors of Bickle’s mind. He is clearly an isolated, socially distant individual, explicating on his own state with lines such as:“Loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man.”His thoughts frequently move to describing how New York is a nightmarish hellscape, and even thanks “God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk.” Travis also has a distorted view of his own importance, claiming he “is a man who would not take it anymore. A man who stood up against the scum, the cunts, the dogs, the filth, the shit.” The film is expressionist because the exterior world exaggerates itself to match the mood and thoughts of Travis. At night, the city looks like a phantasmagoric, neon-soaked blur. Every block seems to have a porn theater, a hooker on the corner, and several drug dealers. Every person who gets into Bickle’s cab seems to be on the verge of fornication, angry, or insane. Bickle is clearly shown to be racist and appears to exchange tense stares with several African-Americans whom other characters do not even notice. Betsy appears almost angelic later in the film, reflecting Travis’s post-hero state of reverie. Even the score morphs around Travis’s shifting psyche. It starts slow in the beginning, moves to a more romantic tone as Bickle courts Betsy, and enters a clipped, jarring style as Bickle’s already fragile mental state deteriorates further.

The film is often an unnerving experience. For example, during the scene where De Niro purchases a gun, he points it out a window and aims it at two old women. Shortly after, he aims the gun almost directly at the viewer. Even though the gun is empty, the scene has an air of danger, due to the unpredictable nature of De Niro’s character. Early on, he establishes himself as some type of arbiter of moral justice. Who know what he is capable of accomplishing with a firearm?

In addition, the movie works as a rebuke to the vigilante films that were popular at the time, such as Dirty Harry and Death Wish. In these films, the main character is often depicted heroically, lionized for going outside the law and meting out justice to people who “deserve it.” Taxi Driver shows that you have to be insane to engage in this kind of behavior.Bickle could have just as easily killed his initial target, a presidential candidate. Instead he takes out several pimps and rescues an underage prostitute, more as a way to get an outlet for his violent urges and release his previous desire for Betsy, than as a true act of bravery. In the film’s final joke Travis is viewed as a hero for his actions. His glorification is a nasty comment on the backwards morals of New York at the time.

Further Thoughts

There still a debate raging today on the validity of having an unsympathetic character as the protagonist of a film. If the film were not so dedicated to portraying Bickle’s fractured psyche, Taxi Driver could easily be dismissed by morality-wielding people who take offense at being put so near to a lunatic. However, Scorsese and Schrader add one wrinkle that prevents complete disengagement with the main character. That trait is Bickle’s loneliness. Who among us have never felt a pang of isolation at some point in our lives? The tiny measure of sympathy that we feel for Travis allows Scorsese to trap us and push us further into our protagonist’s head. The camera frequently moves to Travis’s viewpoint, the city takes on a fantastical (if nightmarish) quality and the editing and score splinters further and further. As Travis circles the proverbial drain of New York City and inches closer and closer to a predestined violent outburst, the viewer can’t help but be dragged down with him.

Why is the film on the list?

While it’s not the first film to use a subjective camera, Taxi Driver uses the full power of cinema to place the viewer dangerously close to the mind of an urban outcast. That makes for an immersive and uncomfortably enjoyable experience.

BFI Top 50: Bicycle Thieves, Released in 1948, Directed by Vittorio De Sica

What I know going in

I know the movie involves a man searching for his stolen in post-war Italy. I know it is also one the first, and possibly the most famous, film in the Italian Neo-Realist genre.

Immediate Reaction

I have recently been watching The Story of Film: An Odyssey, which is an extended essay on film history put together by film historian Mark Cousins. An argument I often hear against a film is that is unrealistic. This is an area I have grappled with as well. Should film attempt realism or embrace the visual and clipped nature of its form to try to create a fantastical world? What The Story of Film has helped me realize is that neither side is right or wrong. Instead, the history of film has been a long back and forth between the display of romantic, idealistic fantasies, and attempts at depicting the world in all of its gritty glory. What a film should do however is transport you. Whether that is to the far reaches of the universe in 2001: A Space Odyssey or to the rubble-strewn streets of post-war Rome, as in Bicycle Thieves. The film is a warning shot, announcing a new cinematic movement and boldly rejecting the decadence and falseness of previous Italian features. It is also an excellent document of a city, and people, still wounded and literally in ruins after suffering the greatest catastrophe in modern history.

I’m going to make an odd comparison. I recently watched the film Alien, for the first time. It was a bit of revelation, because I realized that every science fiction film that has tinges of horror released after Alien, should be sued for plagiarism. In a similar manner, any film that deals with poverty in an honest manner or attempts to provide an unblinking view of a place or group of people, owes everything to Bicycle Thieves. Such recent films as Gimme the Loot, Fish Tank, and War Witch come to mind, and even an action film like The French Connection, with its detailed depiction of the grubby milieu of New York, seems to be linked directly back to De Sica’s classic.

Now, I should probably start talking directly about the film. At its most basic, Bicycle Thieves concerns the struggling Antonio Ricci as he drifts through the crumbling paths of Rome with his son Bruno in an increasingly vain attempt to recover his stolen bike, which he needs to keep the job that will feed his family. For the most part, the focus is on Antonio and his many trials. However, what I found I most interesting was the depiction of the other people in Rome. The city almost seems alive, with people in huge masses always gathering, running, grifting, or struggling. Antonio’s actions poke and prod at the other people around him, until they rise up against him. He enters a church in an attempt to harangue an old man to take him to the eponymous bicycle thief. As Antonio gets louder and angrier, the church-goers crowds around him, people give him side glances, and the clergy erupts in anger at him for disturbing the service. Later, near the end of the film, Antonio is at his wit’s end and is surrounded by people rushing past him on bikes. He notices a lone bike, and in an act of desperation, attempts to ride off with it. A huge group of concerned citizens bursts out of nowhere and envelopes Antonio. After being released due to the cuteness of his son, father and son are automatically moved forward by a group of people, bikes, cars, and trams. They are unable to contemplate their situation and are forced, by Rome, to face the next day.

Further thoughts

The critic Roland Barthes defined a term known as the punctum: unplanned natural details within an image that move us. I’m not sure if certain images within Bicycle Thieves were planned, but the basic point still applies. The reason Bicycle Thieve remains affecting, even today, is due to its gradual accumulation of tiny, human details. A fantastic example is when Antonio goes to hock his bed sheets not only buy a bike, but one he just pawned and has to re-buy. At the pawn shop, the camera peaks behind the counter and we see the mountains of shelves full of bed sheets. The clerk then takes Antonio’s package, climbs all the way to the top of one shelf (without using a ladder), and deposits Antonio’s linens. From a plot perspective, this serves no purpose. De Sica could easily have had Antonio go to the pawn shop, sell his sheets, and then leave, cutting out the part with the clerk entirely. Such a cut wouldn’t be noticed and wouldn’t seem jarring. However, that small moment, speaks volumes about the then-current state of Rome. Antonio’s situation in that moment is depressing enough, but when I saw the clerk’s ascension, I began to imagine the story behind each item and the terrible conditions that led to their sale. That’s pretty powerful for a “pointless” shot.

Another moment comes in the wistful sequence where Antonio, feeling guilty for slapping his son, takes him out to eat at a decent restaurant. Overall, it is one of the few happy moments in the film. There are two punctums in this scene that any parent, or child, should be able to recognize. The first is when Antonio orders a full bottle of wine and in a sort of jokey manner allows Bruno to have a sip. Antonio even amusingly flouts his wife’s authority. The second is when Bruno eats his mozzarella bread, and, like every child since the beginning of time, takes a bit and stretches out a huge string of cheese that he then linearly munches up.

Why is the film on the list?

The film is an important document of not only of a new style, but of a tragic time and place.

BFI Top 50: Journey to Italy, Released in 1954, Directed by Roberto Rossellini

What I know going in

I know the film is about the dissolution of a marriage between characters played by George Saunders and Ingrid Bergman. I also know about the famous affair with the director and how it destroyed her Hollywood career.

Immediate Reaction

This is the first Rossellini film I have seen. I primarily know him, as I expect most people do, as one the Italian Neorealist directors exemplified by films such as Rome, Open City, Paisan, and Germany Year Zero. Knowing that, I was a little surprised that he would direct a film about a huffy English couple who travels to Naples to sell a glorious house.

In a nutshell, the film charts the dissolution and eventual reconciliation of the marriage between Katherine (Bergman) and Alex (Sanders) Joyce as they travel around Naples and contemplate their lives together. Both do an excellent job of portraying characters that, at this point, are only comfortable when insulting each other. In fact, I was surprised at how hurtful they could both be. They don’t blow up at each other in a way that could be considered cliché or overblown, instead, their barbs gather to create a toxicity that I haven’t quite seen before in a film about marriage.

Bergman’s role in particular is free from any vanity that a huge star might employ to try and make their character more sympathetic. From the opening scene, she wears a sneer on her face that could whither anyone trying to engage her. I don’t know much about Sanders, but he is perfect as the “rational” unemotional Brit. He views his marriage with Bergman with a shocking degree of coldness. Also, both behave exactly as expected (for an older, wealthy couple) when they interact with the less well-off residents of Naples. Anyone with rich family members should recognize the mix of faux-politeness, annoyance, and condescension.

Even though I enjoyed the film, I’m not entirely sure why it is on the Sight and Sound List. Films on the list usually fit into a few categories: they introduced some new technique and advanced the language of film (Battleship Potemkin)), they were stylistically daring (Jean Dielman, Satantango), they were the first of their kind or are representative of particular movement (Breathless, Bicycle Thief), they are a paragon of a particular genre (Seven Samurai), or they investigated the nature of film in a unique way (Close-Up, Vertigo). I can’t really say what group Journey to Italy falls into, unless it was one of the first films to deal with divorce and alienation within a marriage. I even had a few complaints with the film. I though the couple’s ultimate reunion came out of nowhere. I could not get a sense that they had overcome the problems within their marriage. If you asked me to project their future, I would say they would probably divorce when they get back to Britain.

The film is quite lovely, many props to Criterion’s excellent transfer, but I couldn’t pinpoint a particular style, and I don’t think it really utilizes camerawork or cinematography to suggest the themes of alienation and loneliness that come up in Alex and Catherine’s discussions. It’s too clean looking to be considered neo-realist, but not striking enough to be commended for its photography. However, there is a thread that runs through the movie that I might be totally missing. Alex and Catherine’s marriage is interspersed between scenes of Catherine exploring Italy’s long, violent, and tragic history and Alex having fun with another group of ex-pats. I’m sure the movie is trying to suggest something with the scenes of Alex and Catherine responding to different aspects of Naples, but I can’t really pinpoint what that something is. Honestly, before I rate the film, I will have to go read other analyses about it.

Further Thoughts

After reading a few other pieces about the film, the most intriguing ideas Journey to Italy explores is the difference between the external and the internal and how our environment can shape our action or lead our thoughts. I initially had trouble relating to Journey, I am 22 years old, have never been married, and have never had a romantic relationship deteriorate to the point seen in the film. However, I can relate to the idea that your surroundings have a subtle effect on not necessarily your actions, or who you are as a person, but on your thought process and mood. I recently came back to the States after living in Germany for four months. My German isn’t great, it was a completely new town, I worked a new job, my roommate was very quiet and a bit impersonal, and I made very few friends. Therefore, I can relate to one of the main themes of Journey, isolation and alienation from other people caused by your surroundings. Alex and Catherine are often separate during Journey, she is more interested in visiting famous landmarks, and he is more interested in flirting with ex-pats. The new location, Naples, initially pushes them apart.

Of course, while in Germany, I visited many museums, churches, and castles. Being constantly faced with such a staggering amount of history and culture, forced my thoughts to go to a very internal and contemplative place. I believe Naples had a similar effect on Catherine. I think Bergman was trying to distract herself by doing all of these tourist activities, but found that even the grandeur of ancient Rome wasn't enough to stop her from thinking about Sanders. In fact, these visits, in the case of the Pompeii sequence, pushed her to realize that she still cares deeply about him. I think her journey was more internal than I was expecting, which is why I found the ending to be a little unearned, but now feel a bit better about it.

In addition, I like the idea that the couple needed some external force, the crowd of people near the end, to try and separate them before they were able to respond with compassion towards each other. Their marriage had probably wilted slowly away over the years, and had become an internal struggle to continue. When they were faced with an actual, physical threat toward their marriage, they found they were able to forget their issues with each other, at least for a moment, and respond with care.

Why is it on the list?

I unfortunately don’t know enough about film history to understand the context Journey was released. It has been called the first modern film by the Cahiers critics and Martin Scorsese. I can’t really say whether or not this is true, because I am not aware of the films released before and after Journey. I understand that Journey’s focus on environment was a huge influence on Michelangelo Antonioni, but I have yet to see any of his films. I can say that I see Journey’s influence on La Dolce Vita, Lost in Translation, and The Tenant. All three films focus on how a new environment can spark loneliness, isolation, and confusion. 

BFI Top 50: Psycho, Released in 1960, Directed by Alfred Hitchcock

What I know before going in

This will be my third time watching the film. It is one of my favorites.

Immediate Reaction

I think the most striking, and horrifying, aspect of Psycho is the fact that no one in the film realizes they are in a horror movie. The movie doesn’t even really reveal itself to be a horror film until the infamous shower scene. Up until that point, the film could easily pass as another entry in the crime or noir genre. Even after the shower scene, the full madness of Norman Bates isn’t apparent until the very end. The characters who become involved with Marion’s flight don’t know the dark secret lurking within the Bates Motel. Arbogast assumes he is just dealing with a standard robbery case. When Sam Loomis and Lila Crane head to the motel after becoming suspicious of Arbogast’s absence, they assume that Bates simply wanted the money Marion stole to open another motel somewhere else. Again, the fact that all parties are wrong, and the reality is so much more disturbing, is Psycho’s masterstroke.

I recently watched The Silence of the Lambs, and a big theme of that movie is how even without the presence of Hannibal the Cannibal and Buffalo Bill, the world is an awful place for women and is primarily dominated by men. That theme is quickly established when Clarice walks into the FBI headquarters and is immediately surrounded completely by men who are a good foot taller than her. I think Psycho explores a similar theme, just in subtler way. When Marion interacts with her client, the camera is positioned in such a way to make him seem totally dominate over Marion. A similar effect is employed when she is stopped by the Police Officer, and later when she enters Norman’s parlor and is surrounded by dead birds. In addition, there is a shot where standing imposingly above Lila’s heads, if you squint your eyes, it would look like several falcons are attacking her. Norman also uses a peep hole to look at her. He literally frames her when she is at her must vulnerable (right after she has decided to return the money and is undressing). I would like to think that this is a subtle critique of the way women are objectified on film, further evidenced by the camera’s slow zoom in and peak-through on Marion and Sam’s lunchtime tryst.

Like the best Noir films, Psycho also makes excellent use of shadow. There is of course the shower scene, where Marion’s appears almost totally in shadow, making him seem like some otherworldly phantom. Also, during the scene where Arbogast leaves the motel and when Sam Loomis goes there alone, Norman’s face is shadowed to make him look most sinister. The ending seems almost playful in its use of light and shadow. Lila hits a single lightbulb with her hand when she discover Norma’s corpse, the swinging bulb makes Norman’s attack even more creepy.

Further Thoughts

When someone is asked “If you had access to a time machine, what event would you go back and witness?” common answers are the Kennedy assassination, the writing of the Declaration of Independence, or some other important historical event. My answer would be “the premiere of Psycho.” At this point, we are pretty much born into this world knowing the twist of Psycho. I would give anything to go back and time and just observe people freaking out while watching the film. Not only did Psycho break all narrative conventions by killing Marion off halfway through the film, but if flew in the face of existing taboos regarding sex and violence. I am actually still a little shocked at the beginning of Psycho, due to its sexual explicitness and my association of black and white with older films. Both the leads are half-naked, and rolling around in a bed, so there is no way they didn’t just finish having sex, and to further turn the screw on conservatives, Hitchcock makes sure you know that not only are the pair not married, but Sam is divorced.

Of course, I have to talk about the shower sequence, but I’ll do my best to provide a new twist. If you really analyze it the sequence, there really isn’t anything shocking about it. You never actually see the knife enter Marion’s body. However, the shot is edited in such a staccato, impressionistic way that your mind naturally fills in whatever shots would be missing. It starts off by the killer pulling the curtain back, Marion screaming, and then a close-up of her mouth. Next, the sequence moves into the same basic repetition. We get a shot of the killer pulling back the knife to strike Marion, and then shot of her reaction to each stab. The camera basically goes from the knife to Marion’s body, which seems like a pretty logical way to shoot such a scene. However, few films seem to go for that effect. The only recent film I can think is The Grandmaster, which uses a similar technique to follow body parts as they rear back and then hit other people or objects. The key to the shower scene is its rapid nature and Bernard Hermann’s score. Both combine to create a disorienting effect, mirroring the death throes that Marion is going through.

Of course, the stabbing is followed by one of the greatest edits in film history, from the slow pan-in of Marion’s blood going down the bathtub drain to the swirling pan-out of her pupil as her life leaves her body.

I’ll just briefly copy a quote from Roger Ebert’s review, which I think better gets at what I was describing about no one the film knowing what is going on.

The death of the heroine is followed by Norman's meticulous mopping-up of the death scene. Hitchcock is insidiously substituting protagonists. Marion is dead, but now (not consciously but in a deeper place) we identify with Norman--not because we could stab someone, but because, if we did, we would be consumed by fear and guilt, as he is. The sequence ends with the masterful shot of Bates pushing Marion's car (containing her body and the cash) into a swamp. The car sinks, then pauses. Norman watches intently. The car finally disappears under the surface.

Analyzing our feelings, we realize we wanted that car to sink, as much as Norman did. Before Sam Loomis reappears, teamed up with Marion's sister Lila (Vera Miles) to search for her, "Psycho" already has a new protagonist: Norman Bates. This is one of the most audacious substitutions in Hitchcock's long practice of leading and manipulating us.

For a few brief moments, Hitchcock forces us to not only become complicit in a killer’s murderous spree, but worry about him being caught as well.

Why is the film on the list?

Psycho managed to break narrative and societal taboos will delivering some of the most purely enthralling sequences in cinema history.

BFI Top 50: Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, Released in 1975, Directed by Chantal Akerman

What I know going in

I had listened to a podcast describing the movie before watching it. So I already knew the ending, the basic structure, and the themes brought up. I did feel that this hurt my enjoyment of the film, because I was always impatient for the big finale to come. Knowing that the end would feature this huge moment,  made the rest of the film more boring than it should have been .

Immediate Reaction

"It was so boring!" is a phrase I often hear when people come upon a movie that moves at a bit slower pace, has a non-standard narrative arc, or does not reveal itself completely on a first viewing. Recently, I heard my mother use this phrase after she had watched Upstream Color and hated it. It is phrase I have come to associate with dismissal, when someone wants to quickly deride a movie without really engaging with it or trying to ponder it a little more than usual. It is a phrase I do best to avoid, because it is so commonplace that it's not really helpful when critiquing a film. It is great pain that I have to use this phrase to describe I was hoping to be entranced by. That film is Jeanne Dielman.

Jeanne Dielman was the first film in this marathon that I truly and deeply had to battle my own attention span to sit through. I would frequently become disengaged with the movie and start daydreaming about random topics, or I would stop the movie and go do something else for a little bit just to give myself a break. It was truly a passive experience. When I try to be an active viewer and either analyze what is going on or let the movie wash over me. I found that impossible to do with this film and I felt disengaged for pretty much the entire run time.

However, I'm still debating with myself if Jeanne Dielman is an effective film. The word realistic tends to get thrown around alot when talking about movies. Realistic is often used as a positive descriptor for a film and unrealistic is often used in a dismissive tone. I think those two words often get misused. Film is basically an unrealistic medium due to the use of editing. Scenes can be strung together in a way that invokes a certain emotion. Vast swaths of time can go by in a single cut. This process has no basis in the real world. Therefore, I often think words like honest or believable should be used instead of realistic and inconsistent or dishonest should be used in place of unrealistic. That being said, Jeanne Dielman may be the single, truly realistic film ever made. On the occasions I have stayed at home on my breaks from college, I will often peak on what my mom, a middle-aged housewife, is doing throughout day. The majority of her time is spent making beds, cooking supper, getting groceries, running errands, and doing laundry, with little time for much else. My mom hasn't really developed any type of hobby or random interest. Huh sounds like I movie I just watched right?

In that respect, Jeanne Dielman perfectly captures the day-to-day drudgery of being a housewife. The main character is constantly completing a chore or running errands to keep her house running for her teenage son. From the first 30 min of the film, it's pretty easy to gather that Dielman has no other purpose in life aside from being a housekeeper and lives her life as a dispassionate robot. Dielman's face seems paralyzed as her visage seems to be permanently locked into an emotionless expression. Even though she doesn't appear to get much enjoyment out of her routine, Dielman seems to get annoyed with even the tiniest amount of change. For example, she look somewhat pissed when an older woman has taken her spot at nearby cafe. Furthermore, in the few moments when Dielman has free time, she simply sits or stands motionless and stares blankly into space.

All of this, Dielmans robotic nature, the stationary, drab camerawork, and repetitive nature of the three day structure, basically forces the viewer to realize that being a Housewife is a fate worse than death. This is why I have been wrestling with this movie so much. The very aspects that help the movie make its point also make it a very disengaging, passive experience. It's the only movie I have seen that is both effective and boring. Perhaps if the camerawork had been a little bit more dynamic. Like following her down a street or employing a close-up to get a better sense of her emotional state. But that may have ruined the earthiness of the film. Maybe I just knew too much going in? I had listened to a podcast about the movie before watching. The basic themes were discussed and the ending was also talked about. As I mentioned earlier, I feel like I had already come to the conclusions the movie was pointing me towards by watching my own mother. I don't know what the social climate was like back when the movie was first released, so maybe it was very shocking for audiences to see this harrowing portrayal of a souless housewife.

I haven't even mentioned Dielmans dalliances with prostitution, the bizarre talks about sexuality she has with her son, and her eventual murder of a client. These elements stand out as they are much more lurid and pulpy in contrast to the mundaneness of the rest of the film. Although, Dielman's prostitution is displayed with same drabness as the rest of her routine. I honestly have no idea what to make of the other two elements. Her talks with her son have a slight incestuous edge to them. She also experiences her first orgasm at the end of the film and then kills the man responsible. I don't know if this is a decades in the making release of pent-up housewife frustration, her being angry at missing out on all those other orgasms, her being pissed that someone messed up her routine in such a major way, or an abstract feminist statement. Maybe Akerman just slapped the murder on at the end so people would forget the arduous past three hours and only remember the insane last 5 minutes.

Further thoughts

On first blush with these films I often have an ambivalent response. Usually, by writing about my experience and then reading other articles I am able to find a key to unlock my understanding of the film or a specific lens through which to view it. This line from Ivone Margulies’s article was that key for Jeanne Dielman: “When Jeanne sits on the mustard armchair, not knowing how to fill up her time, the anxiety is palpable.”

Dielman has scheduled her life so that she literally has no downtime. She must always be running an errand, cooking, setting her son’s clothes, or fucking a john. She has given herself no time to think. To do so would allow her mind to wander and that would lead to thinking about how monotonous her life has become. She is afraid of her own thoughts. Surprisingly, this was something I could identify with. While I don’t force to constantly do housework, I do usually try to have some extra stimulus going at all times. I listen to podcasts on my iPod constantly, even when I go to the bathroom, I fill my time up flitting around with video games, and I’m afraid of long silences around other people. Part of this is just me trying to entertain myself during odd hours of the day, but another part is similar to Dielman’s affliction. I sometimes feel afraid that if stop that extra stimulus, I will start reflecting on my own life and realize that somewhere, at some time, something went horribly wrong. Hopefully I don’t kill someone when I experience my own first orgasm.

Why is the film on this list?

It is one of the few films that fully critique contemporary womanhood. It is able to marry an extreme and daring style to the exploration of its themes.

BFI Top 50: The 400 Blows, Released in 1959 and Directed by Francois Truffaut

What I know before going in

I knew the film chronicled the life of a young boy in Paris

Immediate reaction

It’s rare to see a movie about young adulthood told in a mature manner and aimed completely at adults. I don’t know how well this film would work for someone the same age as the protagonist, but I found it to be a very honest and down-to-earth portrayal of what a latchkey childhood would be like in 60’s Paris. There is not any sentimentality applied to the film. It is told very matter-of-factly with a little bit of comedy thrown regarding Doinel’s antics. I wonder how this film influenced other famous movies about kids such A Christmas Story or The Sandlot. Again though, most movies about kids seemed to be primarily aimed at children or nostalgic adults, so The 400 Blows seems to be incomparable to other films that on the surface may seem similar.

I definitely enjoyed Doinel’s antics during the first half of the movie, especially his excuse that his mother died. That excuse was hilarious in how bold and outrageous it was for Doinel to use it, even though I can totally see a desperate kid using his mother’s death as a last-ditch effort to avoid trouble. The sequence of the teacher marching the kids through the streets of Paris was also quite humorous. The camera moves from the ground to rooftops as it slowly tracks the group, and one-by-one the kids run off from the group until only one or two are left. Perfectly observed and underplayed moments such as these are what made The 400 Blows such an enjoyable experience for me.

The film then slowly transitions to become much more harrowing during the second half. In the first half we see brief glimpses into the disorder of Doinel’s life. The apartment he lives in with his mother and not-father (a revelation that probably makes Doinel feel even more worthless) is obviously way too small. Doinel has to sleep on a couch in a sleeping bag. He also has to do this insane maneuver around the door any time he wants to take the garbage out. His parents aren’t portrayed as completely evil either. They are simply two people who probably never wanted a kid and as a result are somewhat absent from Doinel’s life. Eventually, this absence manifests when Doinel begins running away. Finally, Doinel steals his father typewriter and ends up getting caught when he tries to return. It is interesting that Truffaut chose to stage Doinel’s capture when he was returning the typewriter instead of when he was stealing. I think this was to reinforce that, at his core, Doinel is a good kid. He just likes a little structure. His interactions with his teacher also show this. He gets caught with the naughty picture in the beginning even though it’s not his. Doinel also attempts to write an excellent essay, but ends up plagiarizing from Balzac.

Doinel’s basic decency makes it all the more tragic when he ends up in the youth correctional facility. The most devastating scene being the one where he is locked up along with much older criminals and women of the night. Doinel’s misfortune is made all too clear as he cries in the back of the van. I couldn’t believe that this could happen to a 12 year old. He isn’t even a teenager yet! Doinel suffers further indignity when his mother comes to the facility explicitly to disown him. Of course, Doinel eventually escape and, in a beautiful series of tracking shots, runs to the ocean (a desire seeded earlier in the film). I can’t even imagine what must be going through Doinel’s head as he stares longingly out into the water. He is alone at this point, no friends, no family, and nowhere to go. For a 12 year old child, that has got to be terrifying. However, he is also completely free. There will be no teachers to ridicule him and not parents to abuse him. Doinel can now do anything he wants, and for a 12 year old child, that has got to be exhilarating.

Further thoughts

I sometimes wonder if huge artistic movements, such as the French New Wave, are possible in today’s world. Through the internet, everyone can essentially find their own unique niche of film, music, or literature. This is definitely beneficial in that it allows people to more easily discover weird, exciting new art. However, it may also be somewhat harmful in that less adventurous people may narrow into one specific genre and refuse to expand their boundaries. When The 400 Blows was released, there was much less in terms of entertainment, waiting out there to stimulate people. I bet a lot of people went into their local theater; saw that a movie called The 400 Blows was playing, and simply went in and watched it. Being that this movie is a highly personal and one of the first shots of a new brand of cinema (eventually leading to New Hollywood and the rise of indie movies) I would imagine that most people had their minds blown and realized they had never seen anything like this before.

I just don’t think a deeply personal film and raw films such The 400 Blows would get any play today though, even though I think all the elements are in place for a second new wave to emerge. It’s rare that I go a single week without seeing an article bemoaning the low quality of recent blockbusters or feel a little when that latest box office numbers are announced. I would imagine that the critics of Cahiers du Cinéma had similar feelings towards the “cinema of quality” that they thought was choking France’s movie industry. I would also imagine that most young adults would enjoy seeing their troubles and frustrations displayed on the silver screen much in the same manner that the youth of the 60’s latched onto the New Wave films.

And I don’t think that what’s blocking the creation of second New Wave is with viewers, it stems from a much higher level. For example, my brother and I recently went to see Before Midnight, a film that is deeply indebted to The 400 Blows, and we brought along one of my brother’s friends. Now this friend did not have the most adventurous tastes in film. However, he very much enjoyed Before Midnight. In fact, he later admitted that he could not stop thinking about the film. The film’s intensely personal conversations about life, love, and everything else were probably a shock to him. He probably did not think a film as deeply human as Before Midnight could even exist. I know if more people saw the film, I know they would enjoy on a similar level as my brother’s friend. A lot of people would also probably enjoy The 400 Blows if they were forced to sit down and watch it. If studios were only willing to promote these films more, it may be possible to recreate the radical nature of the French New Wave.

Why is it on the list?

The 400 Blows was one of the first films to establish the honesty and stylistic daring of the French New Wave.