Roulette chinoise

A R.W. Fassbinder double-feature binge (Chinese ROULETTE 1976 and QUERELLE 1982, his swan song) coincides with a starting point for me to access his oeuvre, as one of the pioneer of modern German cinema, Fassbinder has a burning-too-fast career orbit, as if he was exerting all his energy in cranking out films before his dooming self-indulgent suicide at the age of 37 (with more than 40 works done in 15 years). Yet two films must have its restricted view, but Fassbinder films' mindset nevertheless more or less could be conjectured from them, and his stylish flourish is also mesmerizingly toxic.

Both films could adopt themselves comfortably into a theatrical play not the least courtesy of their (mostly or exclusively) in-door locales, for Chinese ROULETTE, it has a secular tone, 90% of the film takes place inside a rural mansion, with familial secrets, connubial deceptions, mother-daughter hatred, the divide of social strata, vindictive self-destruction viciously unfold and infuse a deleterious corruption even to the onlookers, all is triggered by the innocuous eponymous game. While QUERELLE is projected on more ritualized dark amber light sepia background setting stimulating a claustrophobic oppression of lust and desire within a handful locations (the faux-deck of a ship ashore, the phallus worship Hotel Feria Bar, an underground tunnel for hideaway), a male-dominant sexual obsession mingled with blatant homosexual thrust to an astounding incestuous extremity, brilliantly done via an intuitive candor.

Mirror is a recurrent item in both films, exposes the other-half which reflects the true id inside one's soul, in Chinese ROULETTE the stunning flux of the stationary tableaux interlacing two or three out of the eight characters orchestrates a scintillating picture of a guilt-and-punishment visual symphony with swishy panache; in QUERELLE, mirrors reduce their occurrence but the conscientiously measured compositions transpire an even more ostentatious narcissism with a sultry plume of hormone-excreting rugged contours of male bodies.

QUERELLE is adapted from Jean Genet's novel "QUERELLE DE BREST", whose literature text also introduced through the soothing voice-over of an unknown narrator, the film does stage a sensible amount of poetic license to filter a vicarious compassion through a singular mortal's inscrutable behavioral symptoms; in Chinese ROULETTE, a prose (or poem) soliloquy of androgyny also contrives to reach the same effect (but sounds a trifle recondite when contextualizing it under the film's incumbent situation). Anyhow Fassbinder is a trailblazer in defying the mainstream's prejudices, and very capable of visualize and dissect the tumor of humanity.

The cast, there are 8 characters in Chinese ROULETTE, with almost equal weight in the screen time, but it is the youngest one, Andrea Schober (under Fassbinder's guidance for sure), the crippled girl seeks for revenge to her parents' betrayal and negligence, teaches all of us a lesson (how selfish we are to find a scapegoat for every bit of repercussions happen to us) with such acute insight, fearless audacity and extreme measures. While big name (Anna Karina) and other Fassbinder's regulars (Margit Carstensen, Brigitte Mira, Ulli Lommel) all end up licking their own wounds in the corner.

In QUERELLE, Brad Davis (a real-life AIDS fighter then) is valiant, his masculinity and sinewy physique defies all the stereotyped treatment of gay men in the media, injecting a raw and visceral complexity into Querelle's spontaneous promiscuity and sporadic anger. Hanno Pöschl may fall short to guarantee the vigorous duality required for his two roles, but the gut- bashing combats (or playing) between two brothers fabricate the most erotic intimacy has ever been presented on the screen. Two veterans, Franco Nero is either recording his secret affection in the cabinet or wandering near Querelle from oblique angles; the fading beauty Jeanne Moreau, hums "Each man kills the things he loves", and is lost in her own fantasy of the banquet she can savor.

Personally I incline towards QUERELLE's unconventional approach to kill off the ambiguities of sexual orientation and examine the most primal desire made with blood and flesh, but Chinese ROULETTE achieves another form of success, it maintains a serene aplomb above all the vile assault and bitter turbulence, like the unspecified pistol shot at the coda, no matter who bites the dust, a bullet is never an ultimate solution to all the problems.

Believing that her parents' longtime extramarital affairs caused her physical ailments, a teenage cripple arranges for both sets of adulterers to unexpectedly meet at a country home in this Rainer Werner Fassbinder thriller. The film is gloriously photographed by Michael Ballhaus, with the camera giddily spinning around to reflect nervousness when the four adulterers first meet, and the very deliberate framing (some actors turned to faced the camera; others not) throughout adds tension. The juice of the film comes from both the girl's initially elusive motives and the sense of emotions about to explode; at one point, her own mother almost shoots her through an open window. Oddly, the film never explores why the daughter has more hostility towards her mother (and vice versa) than her father, but this aside, the only significantly underwhelming aspect of the film is the title game. Nowhere near as dangerous as Russian roulette on the surface, Chinese roulette -- a game that seems to only exist in the film's universe -- is merely a guessing game of sorts, albeit one in which deep resentment is able to surface. Whatever the case, the film is a surprisingly tense ride considering the minimal sets and small cast. It also offers food for thought in terms of who is to blame and whether indeed the girl's parents brought the situation upon themselves through emotionally (if maybe not physically) injuring their daughter.

With this film, director Rainer Werner Fassbinder delivered a verdict on the entire established German society of that time. Using the example of a rich married couple and their lovers, the director, in his unique manner, showed the moral principles and stereotypes of the bourgeoisie.

The picture is quite difficult to understand, it is made in a sluggish manner and everything interesting in it comes right at the end. Gravitating towards art-house and intimacy, the film nevertheless makes a lasting impression and provokes reflection after viewing. This topic will probably always be relevant. The new cannot be built without the merciless eradication of the old, as is the main conclusion of the picture.

Sometimes directors guarantee a place in Cinematography Hall of Fame and all of a sudden every work from them become masterpieces. "Chinesisches roulette" is a nice example of an overrated movie. The messed up family and the psychological battles are nice, but no espectacular work for sure. The actors sometimes seem to be intentionally exaggerating, sounding and looking completely artificial. Save a coin for the little girl. Das ist alles.

Chinese Roulette is a film fraught with cruelty and downright evil, lurking beneath sinister grins and betrayed by disconcerting laughs, waiting to be inflicted on everyone. Revolving around a married couple who are both having affairs, it's also a film of fraudulence and dishonesty. Just like Frau Kast's reaction after seeing the beggar who's been pretending to be blind all along taking off his glasses, the couple's, Kolbe and Ariane, reaction at seeing each other with their respective lovers is laughter; just jarring laughter, followed by silence and awkward intimacy. Then, themes of questionable and twisted morality are on full display, as we see Fassbinder toying with our views of what's right and wrong regarding fractured marriage and infidelity, while instilling it with a provocatively dark comedic tone in the process.

Michael Ballhaus's camera constantly moves around people, going to and fro and switching the perspectives between them. Often through over-the-shoulder shots, which are predominantly used throughout, we see the four characters perceive each other's feelings while their minds concurrently preoccupied by the same thoughts and concerns. In a Persona-like style, Michael Ballhaus' blocking uses the profile of one actor to cut off the other, so that each two actors of the four seem to occupy the same space at the same time. We also get shots through glass and see-through objects, and doors unlocked or left ajar. Yet, and as Angela says, "Eavesdroppers often hear the false truth," what our characters see in, or hear about, each other couldn't be further from the truth, which is demonstrated by shallow, medium close-up shots, where a certain character is showcased in crisp focus and from the chest up, yet somewhat also noticeably distant.

"In their hearts, they blame me for their messed-up lives." In a world where love is neither important nor fulfilling, and marriage is as brittle as glass, it is hardly surprising that it has stony-hearted and awfully terrible parenting. The cheating spouses' daughter, Angela - who's disabled, walking with crutches - has one of the revoltingly cruelest mother-daughter relationships I've seen depicted in film. Nothing comes close to it save for the one in Autumn Sonata. However, in Bergman's film, mistreatment and neglect built up a charge over the years, exploding in the form of spitefully hurtful remarks, whereas here we're witnessing the build-up, displayed growing in silent insinuations, until eventually blowing up - at the wrong target. In the climactic protracted sequence of the titular guessing game, the film contorts itself into a game of allusions to the characters' identities. This is where the film is at its most suffocating and claustrophobic despite the plenty of room given to decipher each enigmatic character. Personally, I feel that what's revealed about them leaves much to be desired, but that's perhaps its intended purpose. Hence, the ambiguous ending.

It's insane how every main character in Chinese Roulette is hateful and despicable. Like, there's not a single one of them that could be called 'nice'. Nevertheless, it's easy to understand their deeds and comprehend their feelings. They feel like flawed, real people; incredibly horrible but real. Neither the husband nor the wife shows a visible sign of remorse whether towards one another or their daughter. Instead, they couldn't care less about any of these matters, and their actions appear to be solely driven by lust or unabashedly ruffling each other's feathers. Though undoubtedly a victim of a dysfunctional family and one whose only outlet to speak is through sign language with her governess, Trauntiz, Angela herself certainly ain't no angel. She even has some sort of a malevolent omniscient ability, enabling her to see through the rest of the characters and ultimately seems to have the upper hand on them. That's not mentioning there's a clear sense of creepiness about her, symbolised by her dolls. Kast is a cranky old woman confined to household chores who looks at anyone with a jaundiced eye, Gabriel Kast is a murky character trapped in adolescence and adulthood. He's the only one besides Angela, however, who seems to seek the truth, which explains the odd bond between the two of them.

Chinese Roulette is a bleak and distressing chamber piece that demands contemplation, but it's surprisingly accessible due to the stylish camera work and fleshed-out, if deliberately vague, characters. Set in a world of heinous people hiding their deep-rooted nastiness with lies and silence, the film shows an edifice of fascism of family, which they built, coming down upon them. Chinese Roulette also has a warped sense of humour at play, manifested in its absurdist undertones, and further reinforced by a light classical music. It's a film that doesn't stop at seeing the parents' failures paid for by the children, and decides to offer them a chance to revenge themselves in the most wicked of ways. Crude, cold and intellectual, my first Fassbinder sure won't be the last and most likely would serve as a springboard into his filmography.