FACES

The contrast between surface-level frivolity and the turmoil it masks makes this film remarkable. Redolent of La Notte, Faces has the uncanny ability to universalize domestic misery and, deliciously, teach us nothing but that we are accountable for our own suffering. I love the scene at the end when husband and wife sit on the staircase, the morning after both have explored the mixture of melancholy and liberation in adultery. It occurs literally minutes after the wife recovers from a suicide attempt. On the staircase, they smoke cigarettes which they've lit with a grudgingly shared lighter. At a certain point they both cough violently. There's a certain elegance in this tragic moment: a marriage has just ended, but the habit of idiotically seeking happiness continues.

Faces (1968) - Criterion Collection

I'm back, on Marathon Man

It's been nearly three years since my last post but I haven't lost my deep suspicion of cliche'. I recently saw Marathon Man and despite celebrating Obama's victory last week in earnest, I can remain terrified by formula.

I may be jaundiced by the revolting, totally scarring experience of having seen 88 Minutes. That film should never have been made, and once produced it the script should have been edited to exclude all references to personal psychology. Total garbage and a disgrace for all the actors. I can picture distribution people in a smoke-filled room rolling on the floor laughing their hearts out at this film--it's a compendium of hollywood genre cliche's and will be studied by historians developing an expertise in American cultural decay.

Back to Marathon Man and Obama. So I'm running high on hope and earnestness and I still can't get that excited by the supposed classic performance by Dustin Hoffman. There's nothing genuine about his psychology--his obsession with recovering the honor of his dead father provides incredibly thin character development beyond his decision to be a graduate student. And the endless footage of him jogging in New York? Why? To make it likely that he'll be able to outrun the bad guys at the end? To add poetry to his perseverence? I can't even talk about the ending without cracking up...Olivier swallows a diamond before drowning, makes me cackle.

The only part of the film I found touching was the Shoah survivors recognizing their torturer on 47th St. But even those scenes are mired in unfortunate stereotyping and, 30 years later, the whole concept seems crusty.

Marathon Man