tonosov-51238

Very informative and a quality-made documentary. Excellent narration, but in my opinion, over-reliant on shoddy dramatic music to unambiguously give a scene a sinister tone, as if the narrative doesn't do it by itself and it's worried you might miss the main idea. The documentary features interviews with a variety of individuals and genuinely seeks to explore perspectives from across Europe, spanning from Russia to Italy.

Some genuinely enlightening information is provided as a result. For example, I had no idea about Warsaw's Royal Castle annihilation. Fascinating national tragedy. The sheer malice required for an army to obliterate even the ruins of the castle for the sake of damaging morale is incomprehensible to me. Actual subhuman barbarity.

Some of the points are overly fanciful and idealistic for my taste. The plundering of art from conquered nations is not a practice invented by the Nazis; it is nearly as old as warfare itself. They did, of course, make a point out of the destruction of art they deemed decadent, but that just goes into the category of irreparable damage to humanity.

However, this attempt at preaching to the nations that they must return everything they have taken, regardless of which side of the conflict they were on, is idiotic. You go down the list of how many times one nation carries off or gets ransacked for its art, and this will just become a game of who threw the first stone. We can get to the early medieval period, if not earlier.

I understand why the documentary insists that everything must be returned, and nowhere is this exemplified better than in the Klimt dispute. The film concludes triumphantly with a glimpse of "hope," showcasing Maria Altmann's successful lawsuit against Vienna's museum to reclaim Adele Bloch-Bauer I. Pray tell, documentary, why is there no mention of her immediately selling the painting for a record-breaking sum of 135 million dollars? Oh, because it would nullify her previous assertions about how it wasn't even about the painting itself, but rather the museum's failure to acknowledge that it had been stolen from the family? And this fact of obfuscation was, in essence, the real tragedy that upset her. Poor Frau Altmann, indeed. Really makes you wonder what these reclamation demands are really all about.

For Antonioni film La Notte is remarkably comprehensible. In the sense that you can discern the thoughts and feelings of the characters without extensive presumption. Well, at least in the case of Jeanne Moreau's character. Her role as the central figure establishes a foundation from which the undercurrents of their misery sprawl.

Some people describe La Notte as a film about the deterioration of a marriage. I disagree. The marriage is already dead; it has been for an indeterminate number of months or years. What you are witnessing is two people desperately trying to ignore the decaying corpse in the living room. Giovanni looks anywhere but at it, and Lidia occasionally prods it with a stick, in a deprecatory hope that it might somehow be alive.

Marcello Mastroianni, typically dismissive of bourgeois sentimentalities, is nowhere to be seen. Whatever passion he once had for writing or his wife has long gone. Even infidelity appears to resemble a mere commercial transaction.

Jeanne Moreau gushes passive Antonioni homebrew anguish as she reflects on the time she has lost, the people she didn't marry (because he was too much of a "nice guy" and only spoke about her, which is infinitely more amusing in the contemporary context), and the unfulfilled desires she harbors. Meanwhile, she continues to prod at the lifeless remnants of her marriage, silently hoping that maybe something will arouse feelings in him. However, all you can see in the film is just further humiliation of her as a woman.

What is clearly on display is a failure to communicate, since talking about this facade of a relationship would require acknowledging the body. They would prefer to go from the restaurant to the party and then from the party to the book signing. Wistful thinking there, and a near affair over here. Who knows how long they can maintain this status quo? The only thing I know is that it took me much longer than I am willing to admit to even register that they are husband and wife. That's how disembodied their marriage feels. This feeling extends into the ending, where it is truly up to your interpretation whether quick coitus on the sand would reanimate the marriage. I don't think so. His reaction to the letter speaks for itself.

La Notte is visually stunning, particularly due to the shadow work in the party sequence and in nearly every scene featuring Monica Vitti. Coupled with an exceptional jazz score, and story that you can easily absorb and empathize with, it makes for an easy Antonioni recommendation.

The cliche saying about adventure movies is that it is not about the destination but the journey. This certainly applies to Voyage of Sinbad because I can seldom compare how handwaved the motivation for the trip is to any other adventure film. In fact, if you try to think about the setup even slightly, it becomes almost comical how unreasonable everyone is in not being able to connect the most basic dots. This accumulation of "but whys" never stops, until the end.

This comes in the form of persistent suspicion of Sokurah, while completely not even entertaining the possibility that he could be the one who shrank the princess. Having a genie in your possession and asking him for directions instead of having him transport you directly. Furthermore, it extends to that minor plot absurdity of Sokurah even needing anyone from Sinbad's crew when he has a pet dragon on the island, perfectly capable of dealing with the cyclops. You can't hire a ship, wizard? And does he truly require a crew of convicts who behave like lemmings, ignore the most basic instructions, and are seemingly ready to walk beneath a piano dangling from a string without a single second thought?

All I'm saying is that the story was seemingly written in reverse and is primarily an excuse to showcase the creatures. It should come as no surprise to anyone that Ray Harryhausen made significant contributions to the story.

Not that there is anything inherently wrong with this. As I mentioned, it is an 80-minute-long swashbuckler adventure flick. However, it would feel somewhat hypocritical to complain about how modern movies substitute CGI for storytelling while giving Dynamation a pass for doing exactly the same thing but 70 years ago.

There is much to see in terms of those creatures. Some are incredible, like Rock Birds and Cyclops. Unfortunately, others serve merely as stepping stones for future, more successful attempts. For instance, the snake woman, which I didn't buy for even a moment, wasn't a playdoh sculpture imposed into the shot.

Bernard Herrmann's soundtrack does justice to them all, featuring an incredibly soulful adventure score.

I cannot say anything positive about the acting. Torin Thatcher, as Sokurah, attempts to chew the scenery, but I think it's his noble appearance that does most of the work. My biggest confusion was Kathryn Grant's portrayal of Parisa. I don't know who advised her to adopt those constant, half-witted expressions in response to every single thing. Holding a parrot, getting kissed, seeing a chasm. Always with the same wide-eyed and dim-witted face. Oh, and Kerwin Mathews was also there. I think he even played the main character. That's how little impression he leaves. While many praise and revere him, neither the actor nor the script convey the source of that admiration.