"F-R-double-E-D, D-O-M spells, Freedom!"

Premiering at the end of a decade already rife with excessive political satires from (where else?) France, is Mr. Freedom, a film that seems more a byproduct of drugs (or just flat out insanity) than a social/critical agenda. Mr. Freedom (1969) could be described as Team America: World Police shot by Lloyd Kaufman, only Team America is actually satirical, and Kaufman better at narrative coherency. There are some aspects of this movie's narrative that seriously baffle me, which is sad, because the bear bones of its plot are seriously amazing.

The plot is as follows: Mr. Freedom (geared up in attire General Patton would be proud of), the legendary hero of Freedom Incorporated, is sent overseas to stop an impending communist takeover of France from both China and the Soviets. How the combination of a plot so dynamic and cinematography so outrageous could lead to an incredibly boring (and moronically preachy) film is really a marvel in itself. The film's pacing is strangely slow (perhaps due to uninteresting camera work), and Mr. Freedom's ignorant banter on minorities only seems to reinforce stereotypes rather than combat them (banter which occurs at moments set up to make us laugh, leading to various inconsistencies in the film's overall tone). Had Mr. Freedom's psuedo-political preaching been exchanged for punches, the film could have been something great. What I mean to say is, that if the director were smarter, he would have made his film more stupid (if that makes any sense at all).

But I wouldn't have spent all this time gathering stills had I thought this film was completely devoid of enjoyment. Certain aspects of Mr. Freedom (to be listed 1 to 3) do have cause for appreciation, and do set it apart from your typical low-budget farce.

"All those moments will be lost in time...like, tears, in rain..."

Everybody, quick! Burn all your trash, take up Chinese, start studying robotics, and invest all your money in hover-car technology, because Blade Runner takes place in 2019, and we're only seven years away.

Ridley Scott's Blade Runner is one of my absolute favorite films. It's a brilliant exploration of basic human inquiry (What is my role in life? How long do I have to live? Does my existence justify my being?), shown through the lives of beings both human and synthetic. It depicts a biomass settled at the bottom a mythical metropolis; a community whose only light is neon, whose existence is as negligible as rain.

I can't think of many fictional cities in film that come to life quite like Blade Runner's future L.A. As the film progresses, we fall into the city's rhythm - pick up on its patterns, its aura. Mobs of people migrate from one bus stop to the next, while blimps fly overhead, advertising off-world colonization. Monolithic superstructures tower over the public, supporting Coke ads that ask us to "Enjoy". We look up, and a smiling geisha pops yet another pill. We may question how we got here, but never have to ask where we are.

"I'll shoot you all for your anti-fascist laughter:" Young Fritz

Submitted for your approval, a completely disgusting, but darkly and perversely funny, piece of Soviet WWII propaganda. Thought to be a lost film, Young Fritz tells the bizarre story of what happens when a baby joins the Nazis. It's just as hilarious and frightening as you'd think a film with a description like that would be. 

So first off, there's this guy. Everyone knows him. He's a racist. Like Hitler, he professes the superiority of the Arian race, but is not actually a member of it himself. Another level to the absurdity comes when the doctor tells the audience that he can always tell a member of the Nazi party by tapping on their skulls. "They ring!" he says, beating on the skulls with a hammer, a hollow "ting" sound emitting from them. The staging of this sequence sets the precedent for the rest of the film. With the stark, black backgrounds it retains the look of a stage play, or perhaps a surreal, horrifying lecture from hell.

"I threw away love, for honor. Ah, Tokyo drifter."

 

Tokyo Drifter is so fucking cool. The film's leading man, Tetsu, is a beast in powder blue, with a trigger finger quicker than the jazzy beats that accompany him. He's a lone gunman of Bebop-esque proportions (32 years before Spike Spiegel ever uttered the word "Bang.").     

For me, Tokyo Drifter could be seen as the forerunner of modern anime; a 46 year old living comic book that still looks so unbelievably fresh and new (and a lot hipper than most animes today). Maybe it's the vibrancy of its sets, or the way Tetsu keeps his cool even in the most heated of battles - or even the amalgamation of styles Tokyo Drifter exhibits that makes this film so great. Or maybe it's the daring nature of the film itself - a constant expression of style over narrative that frequently got its director, Seijun Suzuki, in trouble with his studio (so much so that he was eventually fired from Nikkatsu for "incomprehensibly"). Whatever the case may be, Tokyo Drifter remains quite the amazing film; one rather potent in affect and design.   

Like the fantasy horror film Hausu that would come after it (a film I most definitely need to post about), Tokyo Drifter is a beautiful expression of color and excess - a must see for any action aficionado (or any lover of film in general). 

 

Eliminating the Ninnies and the Twits: Devo and the Art of the Music Video

In 1979, Devo completed their first long-form music video, entitled The Men Who Make the Music. It was an ambitious, inventive piece of work that remained shelved for years due to its anti-music industry content. It ended up getting released around the same time as their second long form video, We're All Devo! (more of a music video compilation that TMWMTM). In any event, during a time when most music videos consisted of little more than the artist playing on stage and some flashy quick cutting, Devo used the music video to further their own artistic agenda. Like most every facet of their career, Devo's music videos were often misunderstood and attacked by the mainstream music press. The video for "Whip It," for example, was labeled as sexist and offensive by women's groups.

In truth, Devo's videos, like their music, were designed to mock and satirize the faceless conformity of the technocracy that we find ourselves in. It's no coincidence that in every shot of the band they're all dressed exactly the same, down to the shows. "Express your individuality," they said in an ad for Honda Scooters in which they all wore the same white button ups and rode the same white scooter. It's a post-post-modern attack on America after Watergate, the Kent State massacres, and the emerging Conservative movement. In Devo's world, rebellion is obsolete; the only way to attack the system is to completely blend in.

Apologies for the low video quality of these stills (they were ripped from a VHS tape), but I feel that they need to be seen. Devo's work is more relevant than ever in the technologically fascist world in which we live.

"Jocko Homo"

"We should always believe children. We should even believe their lies!": The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T

In 1953, Columbia Pictures had the bright idea to bring in Dr. Suess to write and design a major motion picture. What came of this experiment was Roy Rowland's The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T, possibly the most whacked out, psychotic musical of all time.

The film starts with a dream sequence in which our hero, Bart, is being menaced by these crazy guys with spotlights on their heads. It sets up a generally paranoid feeling that permeates the film. It's sort of reminiscent of a prison break film, but told from the perspective of a precocious, imaginative child. This brings sense to the bizarre, expressionistic set design.

Much of the structure of the film is obviously influenced by The Wizard of Oz. A young protagonist is trapped in a boring home life where adults dismiss him. He escapes into a dreamy musical fantasy, but finds that his dreams are just as dangerous and frightening as real life. A good portion of the film is just Bart attempting to get away from his pursuers and lights following him as he runs. It's full of paranoid images, and it seems to be a forgotten Cold War-era musical.

I don't want to spoil these images with commentary, but I think the production design and costuming is fantastic.Think The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, but made as a technicolor musical. Totally brilliant design work and, if nothing else, it's an original looking film. Like Saul Bass and Phase IV, it's a shame Suess never got the chance to make more live action features. I think that with a bit bigger of a budget he might have made something really splendiferous.

"It is better we should both perish than that my enemy should live."

Drive unfolds like a beautiful dream. It's a self-reflexive action film that never beats us over the head with its own reflexivity. It would rather take its time to lull us into its narrative, to subdue us with its trance inducing style, than to insult our intelligence with any cheap tricks. It's as though the entire film takes place in perpetual, rhythmic slow motion, whereas the contemporary use of slow motion seems to be showing things more forcibly. I could see another director taking this plot and interpreting it as a high-octane thrill ride (or any other terribly cliched description), but with Drive, the fuel's been used up, and it's operating on auxiliary. 

The film's protagonist (simply named, the driver) seems like an alien in the reality he inhabits. He is the film's hero, I guess, but I'd be hard-pressed to describe him in that fashion. It's as though the Driver has been displaced from an actual action film, and placed within this one - a world where stomping a man's head in isn't framed as anything heroic. I always wondered how John McClane could stab a man in the eye, yet walk away relatively unaffected - or how spouting one-liners after executing your wife isn't seen as sociopathic (although I would never make an argument against action movie puns). In most movies, it's all fun and games. In Drive, it's pretty fucking crazy. 

Watching this film again (taking these stills constituted my third viewing of it) has really revealed for me its connection between style and narrative. I'll probably be a tad more talkative than usual in this post (but you can always forgo my commentary and view the images in slideshow).